It was one morning, with midterms drawing steadily closer and the pace of classes growing denser.
Yuki walked her usual early-morning route to school, eyes narrowed against sleepiness.
A dull headache lingered in the morning air. Lately, the intensity of studying had ramped up, while the frequency of her outlets had dropped. Mostly she relieved stress through masturbation, but there was still a part of her that could only be eased by venting to someone, and her heart was calling out for Aya.
Maybe it’s about time to go see her again — muttering to herself the English vocabulary she’d crammed late into last night, patching the leaks like stickers over a burst pipe, she walked to school, when—
“Oh, Kayano-senpai? Morning.”
A familiar voice reached her, and Yuki’s eyes shot wide open toward it.
Coming around the corner in a navy school coat was Tokiwa Sakura. She waved and hurried over with a surprised expression, as if running into someone unexpected. A little startled herself, Yuki said “Tokiwa-san,” her cheeks softening, feeling a little lighter, and made room beside her as she walked.
“Morning. You’re early, huh?”
“I usually draw design sketches in the morning, but I left my sketchbook at the sewing room. Couldn’t be helped, so today it’s an early one. What about you, senpai?”
“I’m usually at school around this time anyway. Studying’s the same intensity wherever I do it, and it’s a change of scenery.”
Saying this with a weak laugh, Sakura pointed at her own eyes and asked, sounding worried.
“You’ve got a bit of a shadow there. Sleeping okay?”
“Just couldn’t focus at all yesterday — might be a little short on sleep. But it’s fine. I won’t make mistakes that’d interfere with daily life. Thanks for worrying.”
The words of thanks came out surprisingly smoothly.
Given how they’d first met, Aya had a tendency to speak a little poorly of Sakura, but Yuki knew that Sakura was actually a good kid who could worry about others and be kind to them. Aya might be the exception.
A little bashfully, Sakura broke into a smile and said “not at all.” Really, a good kid.
“Oh, right — thanks for hearing me out the other day. Sorry for the late report, but I’ve decided to go back to the sewing club. Haven’t told my parents yet, though.”
“Ah, yeah. Mizuki-san mentioned a bit of it. Go get ‘em!”
Yuki gave her a light pat on the back, and Sakura scratched the back of her head, embarrassed, with a “thanks.” Then, as if suddenly remembering something, her smile dimmed a little, and she pursed her lips, looking troubled.
“—Oh, right, I never got to ask last time, but do you two actually meet up regularly? Like, in that special sort of way…”
If that were the case, it would’ve eased her own heart a little. Yuki let out a wry laugh.
“No? It’s not that kind of relationship. I’m just the one who gets to lean on her for advice.”
Hearing that, Sakura stared seriously at Yuki for a moment, murmured “then, I guess it’s fine,” hand over her mouth, and stopped walking. Yuki, blinking, tilted her head and stopped too. Sakura, with a slightly tense expression but firm resolve, said:
*
“I’m after Mizuki-senpai. Just wanted to let you know that much.”
*
After. Meaning, well, exactly that.
Yuki stared at Sakura, wide-eyed, and Sakura, receiving that gaze, swallowed hard with tension. The sound brought Yuki back to herself, and she let her eyes wander, covering her mouth, falling silent.
She understood she needed to say something, but her thoughts raced ahead and the words wouldn’t come.
—Envious. She envied the courage to put your own feelings into words so plainly, and to act on them. If she had that too, she’d have clearly told her family how she felt by now, and would have been able to put the admiration she held for Aya into words.
But Yuki was afraid of change. Afraid of disappointing people. Afraid of failing. And yet she also hated a life that never went her own way.
How foolish and selfish a coward she was. A self-mocking smile rose behind the hand covering her mouth, and Yuki’s brows furrowed. A terrible headache struck — a dull ache like something crawling inside her skull. Closing her eyes, turning her gaze away from every thought, Yuki forced a smile, took her hand from her mouth, and let it show.
“—I’ll root for you. It’s fine, I’m on your side.”
At that, Sakura let out a relieved breath, hand on her chest, and broke into a cute smile.
“Thank you!”
“If anything, thanks for going out of your way to tell me.”
Returning genuine gratitude for the trouble she’d gone to, to do things properly, Sakura started walking again and said:
“Kayano-senpai’s kind of my benefactor, in a way. And I know about your relationship with her too, so I figured I should keep things proper.”
Yuki, following a step behind Sakura’s back, murmured, “‘Proper,’ huh.”
Returning a vague smile to Sakura, who tilted her head, puzzled, looking back at her, Yuki sank into thought.
Going out of her way to declare this to Yuki probably meant a request: I’m keeping things proper, so you keep things proper too.
She’d overheard talk like this occasionally back in elementary school — essentially a way of saying, he’s someone I like, so know your place.
She didn’t like the concept itself, but she understood it.
But Yuki held about as much envy and affection for Sakura as she did admiration for Aya. Short as their acquaintance had been, there was something saving in the way Sakura expressed her feelings so honestly. So if a girl like that wanted her to “know her place,” maybe Yuki should go along with it.
Aya had said friendship deserved as much respect as romantic love — but that was just Aya’s own logic. Not the logic of a girl who’d fallen for Aya. Whatever Aya wanted didn’t necessarily mean Sakura, who admired Aya, would want the same thing — reasoning her way to that conclusion internally, Yuki let out a dry laugh.
*
Having stayed up late studying again last night, she’d overslept this morning, rare for her.
Her eyelids felt unpleasantly heavy, and there was a hot ache behind her eyes. Her brain felt rusted, sluggish. Forcing her body, which grew heavier with each breath of morning air, to move, Yuki pressed down on her stubborn bedhead with one hand as she changed her shoes. Just then, a voice called from behind her.
“Oh, rare sight.”
Turning around, there stood Aya, the usual latecomer.
“Ah,” Yuki said, bashfully trying to hide her uncooperative bedhead. But Aya, noticing something off, said “overslept?” with a mischievous grin, and Yuki, laughing with embarrassment, confessed, “shamefully, yes.” Lowering her hand, the bedhead sprang right back up, and Aya, covering her mouth, teased, “such a cute little split end.”
With every exchange, the sleepiness and headache eased a little more. Her cheeks softened without her noticing.
She really did love the time she spent talking with Aya. The words that protected the weak parts of her heart, wrapping the painful spots and pouring water on the dry ones, soaked so deeply into her chest.
What would happen if she just — grabbed Aya’s arm right now, dragged her out through the school gate, into a movie theater? Would she resist? If she could do that, would this ache deep in her head disappear? Lightly scratching the inside of her left arm as she mused on this, Yuki suddenly came back to herself, realizing she really must be short on sleep, and laughed self-deprecatingly, digging her nails hard into her left arm, scratching it firmly to wake herself up.
“Ah, you’re both here!”
A voice snapped her back. Sakura was walking over from the direction of the staff room, alongside the sewing club advisor, Saeki. She waved this way, her beautifully combed chestnut hair swaying. “Yo,” Aya waved back, and “Morning,” Yuki followed, though her thoughts drifted back to their earlier conversation.
—I’m after Mizuki-senpai.
Realizing this, Yuki tried to make an early exit from the scene, but Sakura, having said goodbye to Saeki, came jogging over and, as she did, her eyes landed on Yuki’s hair. Yuki’s cheeks flushed faintly. Confirming from that reaction that she hadn’t imagined it, Sakura grinned and reached out a hand.
“Bedhead—!”
“Ah, knew you’d say that. Had a bad feeling.”
Laughing with embarrassment, Yuki fended off her hand. As they carried on their little skirmish, she noticed her headache had eased somewhat. — Sakura, like Aya, was a kind girl too.
Whatever Sakura thought of her, Yuki thought of her as a precious underclassman.
Which was exactly why she didn’t want to get in the way of her romance. Yuki cooled her heart and shifted her mindset.
“Guess even you get bedhead, Kayano-senpai.”
Sakura poked at the split end, amused, and Yuki shot back with a wry laugh.
“I’m human too, you know. If you’ve got hair, you get bedhead.”
Saying this, Yuki checked her phone’s clock as if just remembering something, and let out a deliberate “ah.”
“—Oh, sorry. Actually, there’s somewhere I need to stop by this morning. Sorry, but I’ll head off first. See you!”
Saying this in a rapid burst, she left the two of them behind with a “see ya” and “got it.” Leaving Sakura and Aya behind, Yuki dashed up the stairs, and once on the second floor, hearing their laughter drift up from below, slowed her pace.
Headache. Fatigue. Drowsiness. Feeling all the symptoms that could headline a medicine ad at once, her breathing grew ragged in no time, and she scratched at the inside of her left arm. Her nails, usually kept carefully trimmed, had grown a little without her noticing. Looking down at her now-reddened left arm, Yuki narrowed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.
*
“Kayano. You haven’t turned in your career survey yet, have you?”
Called to the staff room during lunch break, the first thing her homeroom teacher said, sitting in his chair studying a checklist and scratching his clean-shaven chin, was that. Standing awkwardly nearby, Yuki said “ah,” remembering she’d forgotten. Seeing that reaction, her teacher gave a wry, exasperated laugh.
“Well… I get it, you’re busier with studying than most students right now. I won’t push too hard. Besides, ‘medical school’ covers a lot of different places, right? Talk it over properly with your family, think it through, and decide.”
—What would happen if, right here, she confessed that she didn’t actually want to go to medical school? Would her teacher accept it, push her forward? Or try to talk her out of it? Maybe he’d land safely on suggesting she consult her parents. Yuki stayed silent for a moment, clenched her sweaty fists, and tried to say something. But—
“Make sure you pick somewhere good. You’ve got good genes from your parents, after all.”
His follow-up left her with no choice but to close her mouth. Smiling, lowering her eyes, Yuki gave a dutiful nod.
“Yes.”
“Do you have the form?”
“Should be at home. Sorry, I’ll make sure to turn it in soon.”
“Well, I know how things stand, no need to rush. Today was just a check-in anyway. More importantly — midterms are coming up. Do your best, okay? All the teachers have high hopes for you.”
Her homeroom teacher pumped a fist encouragingly, and Yuki nodded with a placating smile — “I’ll do my best.”
If the conversation was over, she should head back to prep for fifth period. Thinking this, she lowered her head and started back toward the classroom, but her teacher’s “oh, right,” as if remembering something, stopped her.
“—We’re not exactly a prestigious school, but on a rare exception, we’ve got one designated-recommendation slot for a top-tier medical school. Nothing’s confirmed yet, but with your current grades, you’d easily be a candidate. Can’t say more specifically given my position, but, well — keep up the good work like last time!”
Following her teacher’s encouragement, other teachers nearby who’d been eating lunch while listening chimed in too — “exciting stuff,” “go get ‘em” — from various directions. Yuki forced a smile, bowed to them, and headed for the staff room exit with heavy steps.
Just then, a classmate, apparently called there for some other matter by another teacher, was released at the same time, and they naturally ended up walking out into the hallway side by side.
Her name was Hashimoto — a girl distinguished by her naturally permed long bob. Her grades sat second in the year, consistently just below Yuki’s. Students who cared about rankings often brought up their rivalry, but the two had never actually talked face to face.
Given they barely knew each other, Yuki gave a small nod and tried to move away.
“Overheard that. Nice, a designated recommendation. Jealous.”
Hashimoto murmured this out of nowhere, and Yuki stopped, turning back to her.
In her eyes: envy, jealousy, and displeasure. Amid the admiration born of understanding the gap between their abilities, a clear, unmistakable trace of bitter feeling seeped through. Yuki tried to say something in response, but no words came to mind, and she fell silent. Perhaps her silence itself was unpleasant, Hashimoto’s face twisted, and she turned away, spitting out:
“Here I am, not even dating anyone, working part-time on top of studying like crazy — stuck second in the year and getting nagged by my parents about it. Must be nice, being able to do what you want and still focus on studying.”
Yuki listened silently to Hashimoto’s lament, a little too painful to dismiss as simple spite.
“From a family of doctors, right? Born into a good household, blessed. Really, I’m jealous.”
Still met with no response, Hashimoto looked at Yuki with a face close to tears, scoffed at both of them, laughed, and, covering her mouth, murmured:
“Ha, sorry, venting. Well, midterms are close. Let’s both do our best.”
Saying whatever she pleased and walking off, Yuki watched Hashimoto’s back go, scratching her arm.
*
“Man, I want a boyfriend too.”
Once all her classes ended and Yuki finished packing to head home, one of the friends chatting nearby her desk let that slip. The girl was Iida, medium height and build, glasses. Apparently a girl in the next class over was dating a good-looking guy who went to medical school, and the comment had followed naturally from that topic.
“There’s guys around, aren’t there,” Shinozaki said.
“Ugh, Shinozaki, you don’t get it at all. When a girl says ‘I want a boyfriend,’ she means ‘I want to be doted on by a handsome, understanding guy who’s tall, smart, and well-off.’”
“Iida doesn’t get it either. When a guy says ‘there’s guys around,’ he means ‘face reality.’”
Overhearing Shinozaki and Okabe’s bickering, Okabe, who’d been about to head off to baseball practice, stopped and mediated with a wry “come on, come on.” But Iida wouldn’t stop.
“Dummy, might as well dream big, it doesn’t cost anything. Endo, Kayano, you two want that kind of thing too, right?”
Iida looked to the two of them for agreement, and the other friends gathered there turned their eyes that way too.
Endo, having listened quietly, let her eyes wander, troubled.
Yuki, without any particular reaction, stayed silent. She thought about it a little, but Aya’s face wouldn’t leave her mind. She did admire someone kind like her, and there was — no small amount of — a desire to become that kind of relationship with her. But the moment she pictured the face of the precious underclassman who’d fallen for Aya, that desire vanished in an instant, and she tried to cover it with a vague answer. But—
“No, Kayano’s busy with studying, no time for that! R-right?”
Endo, trying to back her up, forced out a smile and interjected. It seemed the lecture Aya had given her a while back was still having an effect, and she was doing her best to defend Yuki. Yuki pressed her lips together and looked at Endo, who returned an anxious, wandering gaze.
The other classmates looked to Yuki too, waiting for an answer.
What did they want from her? — Since she was aiming for medical school, should she play the part of someone too high-minded to want such a base thing as a relationship? Or was agreement the right answer?
But Hashimoto, earlier, had believed the rumor and criticized her for the detour. Did that mean she shouldn’t be dating at all? In truth, she wanted romance too, and wasn’t uninterested in it. And yet, thinking of Aya and Sakura, her thoughts scattered to nothing. Yuki, utterly exhausted from thinking about it any further, smiled to wipe the extra thoughts away.
“Yeah. Right. No time for that.”
*
—It wasn’t that she disliked doctors. It was just that she hated how, without ever having chosen the goal of becoming a doctor herself, every other option had quietly gotten erased from her life without her noticing.
Coming from a family of doctors going back generations, she’d thought as a child that she’d surely walk that same path too. But as her studies piled up, doubts about her own path had seeped in, and over the years crystallized into a compound of dissatisfaction, skepticism, and self-loathing.
If she hated the idea of becoming a doctor, she should just tell her family directly.
She’d lost count of how many times she’d thought that. But every time she steeled herself, she balked at the last moment and clammed up. The looks her parents got from relatives. The path her brother and sister had walked. The money her parents had poured into raising her. All of it transformed into expectations for the path Kayano Yuki would walk, clinging to her shoes like mud.
Rather than keep feeling like this, shouldn’t she stop making excuses, steel her resolve, and lay her true feelings bare to her family? She wanted to choose her own path. She wanted to explore paths beyond medicine too. She wanted the time to do that. She wanted to spend her own time on a path she’d chosen herself.
—Today, for real, I’ll tell them properly.
The instant she firmly resolved this, her rotted heart snapped the resolve off at its root.
—But if I run from the path of becoming a doctor, what’s left for me?
In the end, she was just harboring dissatisfaction over never having chosen her own path — but was that really reason enough to step off a road that most people would call the right one, on her own two feet?
If her own family reasoned with her the way Sakura’s mother had, did she have any material for a counterargument? Just thinking about it, she felt all the fight drain out of her at once.
Having finished the walk home from school, Yuki arrived at her house in a residential area a few minutes’ walk from the station, pushing open the gate with a churning knot of conflict inside her.
In the garage sat a car that wasn’t the family’s own, one she vaguely recognized.
Opening the front door, sure enough, there sat two unfamiliar pairs of shoes in the entryway.
“I’m home.”
Peering into the living room, she found her uncle and his wife and her mother seated facing each other at the six-person table. All three greeted her in unison: “Welcome home.”
“Oh, Yuki-chan! Sorry for intruding.”
“You’ve gotten so big, already in high school.”
Her aunt by marriage and uncle exchanged pleasantries after their long-overdue reunion.
Her uncle was her father’s younger brother, mid-forties this year; his wife was around the same age. Her mother and this aunt seemed closer than the blood-related father and brother, apparently getting tea together often in places the rest of the family didn’t know about.
Yuki responded to them with a tense expression. “It’s been a while. Uncle, Auntie.”
Now, what to do. Her mother had invited these guests, but heading straight to her own room would create a bad atmosphere. Yuki’s eyes wandered for a moment, but her mother, without missing a beat, smiled and gestured to the chair beside her.
“Want to chat a bit? Or go rest in your room? You must be tired.”
Yuki swallowed down various words and, forcing back the drowsiness dominating her brain, smiled.
“No, I’m fine — it’s been a while since I’ve seen you both.”
Saying this, she sat down, and the two of them, who used to seem like they towered over her, had gotten startlingly closer to her own height.
“Oh my… you really have grown.”
“You think so? I don’t really feel it myself.”
Her aunt covered her mouth, moved, and her uncle studied Yuki intently with a nostalgic, deeply moved expression. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Yuki managed to keep a pleasant face on. Normally, she could probably come up with something more clever to say to the two of them, but sleep deprivation had her brain running slow.
What had they talked about last time? What should she talk about now?
“Oh, right, I heard — Yuki-chan’s going to become a doctor too, huh? Studying going well?”
Her uncle, a little lacking in tact, got scolded by his wife — “hey! Pressure!”
Yuki was at a loss for how to answer, hesitating. — Now. If, right now, in this flow, she confessed she didn’t actually want to become a doctor, would something change? No — something definitely would change.
Her brain rationally reached that conclusion, but her mouth stayed heavily shut, refusing to open.
She was scared. What if all three pairs of eyes here filled instantly with disappointment? Her uncle and his wife were both in medicine too. Her mother had stepped back from the front lines after marrying her father, but she still worked in the medical field even now. They’d invested so much hope in Yuki’s future — could she really just brush that aside?
A faint sweat broke on her back. Her throat trembled with tension, and she swallowed hard.
Then, noticing Yuki’s state, her mother cheerfully draped an arm around her shoulders.
“You know, Yuki’s amazing! Perfect scores in every single subject on the first-term finals! My pride and joy!”
“Oh! Oh my, my, my! That much?!”
Her aunt echoed the enthusiasm, seeming to catch on to why her mother had forced such a bright tone, and her uncle rode along with a somewhat apologetic look. “That’s incredible!” he said, a little too obviously, earning an elbow from his wife — but Yuki thought, brows drooping, that she was the one who deserved the scolding, for not being able to answer at all.
“No, um. Sorry… I’m a bit short on sleep, my head’s a little foggy…”
Blushing at her own pathetic excuse, “You’ve been working so hard!” her mother said, patting her head, and Yuki, embarrassingly, nearly teared up. Her aunt made a sympathetic “that must be tough” sound, worried, and her uncle nodded emphatically, over and over.
“If you want to get into a proper university, you want to start studying early. Right now, everyone around you might look enviable, but this is exactly the time to push through! Let your guard down and you’ll fall behind in no time, but the gap built from effort now only widens as ten, twenty years pile up. Keep at it! I’m sure Yuki-chan will make a wonderful doctor!”
Her uncle declared this with a clenched fist, and Yuki managed a nod and a smile.
“Yes. I’ll do my best.”