Today, my life as a middle school student came to an end.
The graduation ceremony passed without incident—just the usual farewell speech from the student council president. And yes, in case you're wondering, student councils exist in both middle schools and high schools.
After that, diplomas were handed out to each student. Standard school protocol.
Once it was over, everyone exited the auditorium and reunited with their parents or relatives waiting outside, sharing brief but warm moments together. Scenes like that always feel the same—predictable, yet comforting.
I even ran into Yumiko's parents, Emiko-san and Takeshi-san, who had taken the day off to attend their daughter's graduation. During our brief encounter, they took a commemorative photo of Yumiko and me together. Afterward, they invited me out to eat with them, an offer I politely declined while thanking them sincerely.
It was a family moment, and I preferred that Yumiko spend it with them and keep that memory for herself.
After hearing my response, they simply nodded and said their goodbyes. Before leaving, Yumiko told me we'd see each other again in a few days at Sobu High.
Soon enough, the rest of the students began to leave as well, heading off with their families to restaurants or other places to celebrate.
As for me, like a small number of others, I left the school grounds on my own and started walking toward my destination.
Now, you might be wondering—where are my parents? Did they forget that today was their eldest son's graduation? Or did they choose work over family?
Neither is true. They wanted to come, but I told them it wasn't necessary. Both of them have heavier workloads this week, and taking time off wouldn't have been very productive.
Besides, I'm not the kind of person who takes these things too seriously. It's just another day—nothing particularly meaningful or worth making a fuss over.
That's how I truly feel.
With that thought, I nodded to myself and quietly took in the scenery of the park near my school.
After walking for a few minutes, I decided to stop there instead of heading straight home.
My little sister was at a friend's house, my parents were—unsurprisingly—at work, and Kuro, my cat, was probably wandering around the neighborhood. Even if I went home now, I'd still be alone.
"Mom, that boy is all by himself."
"Don't point, dear."
The child's mother gave me a slight bow from a distance when our eyes met.
Children can be so cruel with their words…
Then again, that's just their innocence.
Sometimes, being alone is necessary. It clears your head—and for some people, it's even relaxing.
As for me, ever since I started school, I've never really had people I could call close friends. Throughout both elementary and middle school, I was alone—excluding, of course, that one blonde-haired girl who suddenly declared herself my friend out of nowhere.
The reason I never got close to others is simple: I have little interest in forming connections.
It might sound ridiculous coming from someone who, in a previous life, was close to graduating from college and already had a job—and friends. Even so, my lack of interest in others, combined with my limited empathy toward strangers, means I'm not particularly inclined to interact with new people unless it's truly necessary.
That doesn't mean I struggle to talk to strangers. If anything, it's easier when I don't know them. Or at least, that's how it feels to me.
Letting out a quiet sigh, I leaned back against the bench, resting my head against the backrest as I stared up at the blue sky.
For some reason, doing this makes it easier to let go of lingering thoughts and relax. Maybe it's because, in the final moments of my previous life, this was the last thing I saw—if only for a brief second.
Or maybe it's just a vivid memory from a nightmare I had during my early years. After all, I doubt the sky was really that blue on that day.
Those years… they're something I don't want to remember. Desperation, uncertainty, fear, denial—emotions no newborn should ever experience. But if that baby remembered his past life, then there was nothing that could be done.
Sometimes, I can only laugh inwardly at the idea that I once wanted to end my life back then…
But… a part of me still does.
Thinking about things like that won't do me any good. I shook my head, forcing those thoughts out of my mind.
After all, I...
"What are you doing?"
My view of the blue sky was abruptly replaced by an even deeper shade of blue. Blinking, I forced my eyes to focus on the intruder, only to find myself face to face with a familiar figure—a blue-haired girl blocking my entire field of vision.
"A delinquent?" I said without thinking.
"Who are you calling a delinquent?" Kawasaki frowned.
I can't really blame myself for jumping to that conclusion. She wore her school uniform sloppily: the top buttons of her blouse undone, her jacket tied around her waist. Add to that her short green skirt and her sharp expression, and she perfectly matched the textbook image of a delinquent girl.
And if I shift my gaze just a little...
Yeah. Two white mountains completely blocking the scenery. Honestly, that's a far more impressive sight than the blue sky ever was.
"Should I call the police?" I said, forcing my eyes back up to her face.
"I'll beat you up!"
I'm not sure if that was because of what I said, or because she noticed my not-so-subtle glance—which, let's be honest, probably wasn't subtle at all.
"Even threatening me now? The streets of Chiba have become so dangerous for an average student like me…" I muttered in a dejected tone.
"An average student? Don't make me laugh. That's an insult to actual students." She mocked me shamelessly, wounding my poor heart.
"From any angle, I'm just an ordinary student you could find anywhere." I made sure my tone sounded calm and polite.
"You look more like a delinquent than I do."
"Huh? You want a beating?!" I cracked my knuckles without taking my eyes off her.
We stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.
It was a huge contrast compared to our first meeting.
"Nothing better to do?" she said as she walked over and dropped onto the bench, forcing me to sit properly again.
"I could say the same. Aren't you with your parents?"
Graduation day is the same for all middle schools, and Kawasaki's school was no exception.
"I shouldn't be surprised by your terrible memory," Kawasaki sighed. "I told you yesterday that Keika has an event at her kindergarten today, so I told my parents to prioritize her."
Right… Yesterday, on our way back from the karate dojo at night, she mentioned that Keika had some kind of performance with the other little girls. Since it was also Kawasaki's graduation day, she chose to have her parents focus on her little sister instead.
"A model big sister," I said, acknowledging her efforts.
"The best you'll ever meet," Kawasaki replied, her words dripping with arrogance.
I shook my head. "The best you'll ever be is a good big sister. The title of best big brother belongs to me." My voice was filled with confidence and pride.
"In your dreams, siscon." She mocked.
"I don't want to hear that from you, delinquent," I shot back.
We locked eyes, neither of us willing to back down. In that sense, we were both incredibly stubborn.
After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, we both looked away. This was going nowhere—neither of us was going to give in. Besides, I'm clearly the better big sibling.
"So, aren't you going to where Keika and your parents are?"
Considering it was Kawasaki, it felt strange that she wouldn't go see her younger sister after her graduation ceremony.
"The performance is still ongoing, and it'd be hard to get in anyway. It's probably packed with parents," she replied calmly.
"I see… and the real reason?" I raised an eyebrow. She's terrible at lying.
"Why do you think I'm lying?"
"Call it instinct. Or the fact that you always avert your gaze when you do."
"Are you some kind of stalker or something?"
If I had a coin for every time someone called me a stalker—directly or indirectly—I'd have two. Which isn't much, but it's strange that it's happened twice.
"We're talking about you, not me. So back to the point—what's the real reason you're not going?"
She's good at changing the subject. Kawasaki met my eyes for a few seconds before letting out a quiet sigh.
"When I was little, my parents couldn't attend the events I took part in, because they had to take care of Taishi, who was still just a baby. It was the same during elementary school, since Keika had been born by then. That's why I want her to be able to enjoy moments like this."
"I'm sure she would have liked to spend time with her older sister too."
"Keika spends more time with me than you think, so it's good for her to have some time alone with our parents as well." Kawasaki smiled softly, as if she were completely convinced by her own words.
"And what about Taishi?"
"He's with his friends; their classes went on as usual."
While the final-year students were graduating, the lower grades still had classes like any other day. It varies from school to school, but at least in both mine and Kawasaki's, that's how it works.
"So we both have nothing better to do. How amusing." I smiled as I said it.
Words people our age would never normally say, since we're usually bursting with energy and capable of finding fun anywhere.
"Speak for yourself. I actually had somewhere to go, but on my way I saw a suspicious guy sitting in the park." Kawasaki flashed a teasing smile.
"I see… As for me, I was just relaxing, admiring the beautiful blue sky, when a delinquent suddenly approached me. I was even ready to hand over my wallet."
We both burst into laughter at each other's words.
"Who are you calling a delinquent?!"
"And who are you calling suspicious?!"
Before I knew it, our hands met and we started struggling against each other, each of us trying to overpower the other.
I've said it many times before, but this girl is incredibly strong. Even when we're just playing around, the difference in our strength is obvious—especially when I compare her to someone like Yumiko. Ironically, they're the same age.
"Come on, Kawasaki, I'm waiting for your apology!" I put more force into my push.
"When hell freezes over!" To my surprise, she pushed back, regaining control of the situation.
"You know you're not going to win. In fact, you never have." I couldn't help adding a mocking tone.
"There's a first time for everything. You should know that." Her expression didn't waver for a second.
We kept struggling, neither of us willing to give in.
"Mom, they're holding hands."
"Don't point, dear."
It was the same mother and child from earlier.
The moment we heard that, we immediately let go of each other.
I exchanged a brief glance with the boy's mother. She simply smiled apologetically for interrupting and continued on her way with her child.
"You got lucky," I said, trying to break the awkward atmosphere.
"You took the words right out of my mouth."
After that, silence settled between us, neither of us quite sure what to say next.
I sometimes forget, but Kawasaki is a girl—and in my own way of seeing things, if you ignore a lot of details, she's actually pretty cute.
"You have somewhere to be, right? I won't take up any more of your time." My tone was calm and sincere.
She paused when she heard me. She had already told me she was on her way somewhere, so there was no real reason for me to stop her any longer.
Our brief encounter had been fun, though I'd be seeing her again in a few hours at the karate dojo anyway.
"I guess… I'll see you later, Tsurumi."
After saying goodbye, Kawasaki stood up and started walking toward her destination.
Maybe I should thank her later—she helped clear my mind of some intrusive thoughts without even realizing it.
So now what? Should I go home, or just waste some time somewhere?
"Tsurumi."
"Hm?" I turned back toward Kawasaki, who, to my surprise, hadn't left yet.
"If you don't have anything better to do… want to come with me?" She scratched the back of her head, as if the idea had just occurred to her and she wasn't entirely sure how to phrase it.
Without realizing it, I smiled.
"I don't have anything better to do," I replied, stating what she already knew.
With that, I stood up, and we started walking together.
"So, where are you planning to go?" I asked once we left the park.
I couldn't imagine where Kawasaki might go to pass the time; unlike most girls, I doubted she'd suggest a café or karaoke.
"A batting center downtown. It's about a fifteen-minute walk."
"You play baseball?"
It's a very popular sport in Japan; even in middle school there are dedicated clubs for it.
"A few months ago, during P.E. class, we played baseball between two of the girls' sections."
Basically, girls' baseball.
"Right, the same thing happened in my class, but most of the girls weren't really into it."
Part of the physical education curriculum involves trying out different sports so students can at least get a taste of each one.
"Same at my school. The girls got bored, but I actually found it fun."
"Hitting a ball with a wooden bat?"
Kawasaki nodded in response.
Given the image I have of her, that answer doesn't surprise me in the slightest.
"Have you ever played baseball?"
"That day, I was in the infirmary." I sighed as the memory surfaced.
"Did you get sick, or did you just skip class?"
"I got sick. Turns out mixing different kinds of sweets is a terrible idea."
While my classmates were in P.E. that day, I was lying on a bed in the infirmary, having been given pills for a stomachache.
"Only an idiot would get sick from eating different kinds of sweets."
"I agree. I now limit how many kinds I mix—four seems to be the safe limit."
"I'm surprised you can say that with such a straight face." She looked away, focusing on the path ahead.
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," I replied arrogantly.
With that exchange over, we continued walking for a few more minutes, letting the city's noise fill the silence, until we reached an area packed with recreational spots—game centers, karaoke places, and everything in between.
Kawasaki led the way inside one of them. The place was spacious, lined with billiard tables, dart boards, and other attractions clearly meant for groups of friends looking to kill time together.
"I've already paid. We've got about two hours."
As she headed to the counter—clearly familiar with the place—I wandered around, taking in the interior.
"How much do I owe you?" I asked, reaching for my wallet.
"No need. I was planning to come alone anyway." She shook her head and kept walking.
If she's paying, who am I to argue?
After moving further inside, we arrived at a large enclosed batting area. The space was divided into several sections, each with its own practice zone. Every station had a bat resting nearby and a pitching machine set at a comfortable distance. Baseballs were scattered across the floor—some neatly stacked, others abandoned where they fell.
While Kawasaki adjusted the pitching machine—something I had zero experience with—I waited in the resting area beside it, where you could order drinks or food during breaks.
"All set. Want to go first?" she asked, holding out a bat.
"Sure, why not?"
I took the bat and stepped into the beginner's zone. For some reason, the look on Kawasaki's face seemed almost mocking.
This can't be that hard… right?
…
I take that back. It was incredibly hard.
"I never thought I'd see someone this bad at hitting a ball."
"It's my first time doing something like this," I replied, letting out a tired sigh.
Even in my previous life, I wasn't exactly what you'd call athletic.
"You've got good reflexes. So how did you miss that much?"
A fair question. Unlike training—where you gradually get used to your opponent's speed—this was different. Adjusting to the speed of the ball, the timing of the swing, and the weight of the bat all at once wasn't easy. Still, by the time we were about to leave, my performance had improved compared to my first attempts.
"It's not something I've practiced before, so it's normal to be this bad."
"I didn't expect you to make excuses like that."
"What did you expect—that I'd be good at something I'm doing for the first time?"
"Yes," she said without the slightest hesitation.
"You overestimate me." I shook my head.
"I know. But now I see you're not that different from everyone else in some ways."
"Like I said, I'm just an average student you can find anywhere."
"An average student you'd find anywhere wouldn't start dodging baseballs fired from a pitching machine," she replied, raising an eyebrow.
"I was just curious."
During a short break to get some drinks and food, that curiosity got the better of me. I started dodging the balls, partly to kill time, partly to see how sharp my reflexes really were.
The result wasn't exactly ideal. When one of the staff members came over with our order, I ended up getting scolded for doing something so dangerous.
"That curiosity of yours got us in trouble," she said, looking at me sternly as she recalled it.
"Still, none of the balls hit me."
"According to you, that's not something an average student would say with pride."
"There are plenty of average students in the world," I replied confidently.
"That makes no sense!"
"In life, many things don't make sense. Our mission is to give them meaning." I scratched an imaginary beard, as if my words carried some kind of profound wisdom.
"What are you, some kind of wise old sage?"
"When you grow up, you'll understand my words. You're still too young," I said with feigned confidence.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, old man." She turned her attention back to the road.
By the time we finished batting, several minutes had already passed. Since it was getting late, we started walking back to our academy.
Despite how that conversation ended, batting together with Kawasaki had been genuinely fun. Of course, when it came to performance, she completely outperformed me.
That doesn't matter. If there's a next time, I'll make sure to do better—or at least, that's what I want to believe.
The rest of the walk passed mostly in silence. We had already talked for most of the way, and after spending so much time together that afternoon, there wasn't much left to say.
Even so, walking like this with Kawasaki felt pleasant. It's hard to explain—it just does.
I could stop and think about why that is, but honestly, I don't want to.
Pushing those thoughts aside, we kept moving beneath a sky that was slowly changing color. The sun sank toward the horizon, signaling the approach of night, while long shadows stretched around us and the cool evening air wrapped everything in a calm, almost comforting atmosphere.