Episode Eight: The Thick, Firm Line ―July 2032―

“Hey, sensei.”

“What is it?”

“Give me your contact details.”

“I can’t.”

“Eh? Come on, it’s only fair!”

“Exchanging contact details with students is prohibited.”

The teacher was simply acting as one should, as an educator, as an adult, in a perfectly reasonable… or rather, sincere manner.

　I should have been impressed, yet I kept voicing my dissatisfaction after being so flatly refused. But the teacher began tidying up as if to say, “This conversation is over.” They clearly intended to leave the classroom.

I find the thick, firm line of “status” the teacher draws between us bothersome, but I want to cross it. I never imagined such proactive power existed within me.

“Alright then, I’ll give up for now.”

“What a good girl. That’s a relief.”

I straightened up abruptly and met the teacher’s gaze.

There were many things I wanted to say, but this one thing had to be said today, right here.

“Sensei, thank you for this past week.”

“You worked hard, Uehara-san. Have a lovely summer holiday.”

Watching the teacher bow and swiftly leave the classroom, I found myself thinking the unbelievable thought, “I wish there were extra lessons,” as I faced the start of summer break.

　　　　　　　　　　☆

With the closing ceremony and the last homeroom of term over, Ryoka and I were chatting idly in a shop near school.

“I’m going on holiday with Sōma tomorrow, so I want to buy some extra sun cream.”

“Sounds good. Wait, tomorrow? Will you have time to get ready?”

“It’ll be fine. Second-year summer holidays only come once, and next year I’ll be too busy with exams to play around. I want to pack this year full.”

　The couple of Ryōka and Fuwa, who’d been arguing over infidelity, had made up in no time. It became clear from the girl’s testimony that Fuwa had decisively turned down his junior.

…Well, ‘made up’ might be putting it… you could say Ryōka was just angry on her own.

“Second-year summer holidays only happen once, huh… It’s obvious, but it really hit home. I want to do something this summer too…”

　As she murmured this, the face that suddenly popped into her mind was, for some reason, the teacher’s. “Why on earth?” she mentally retorted to herself, exhaling.

That pale skin and monotone voice made it hard to associate with the summer season. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what the teacher, whose private life was completely hidden, did on her days off.

　Ryōka peered intently at my face.

“Hey, Meisa.”

“Wh-what?”

I’d been thinking about the teacher again, and Ryōka’s round eyes made me flinch, wondering if she’d seen right through me. But then she said,

“…I hope you find someone to fall head over heels for soon, Meisa.”

…Apparently, she’d been worried. I felt relieved. I exhaled and took a sip of my latte.

“You’re far too love-obsessed, Ryōka. There are plenty of fun things to do even without a boyfriend.”

Later, while chatting aimlessly and checking each other’s summer holiday plans on our schedule apps, I suddenly realised something.

Ryōka had always said “it’d be nice if you got a boyfriend” before, but just now she’d said “lover”.

—What on earth did that mean?

　Possible explanations flashed through my mind, making me feel like blushing, but the coarse voice of a high school boy nearby shouting, “Wanted a girlfriend before summer break, man!” cooled my thoughts and my heat.

Even in the city, I was confronted with the rigid, adolescent view of love, seemingly free yet deeply entrenched.

Surrounded by lines and walls and all sorts of things, I – for now, could only look up at the sky.