044. Sorrow Like a Tide

"Hum."

As the Precept activated, the air seemed to grow a fraction quieter for a fleeting moment.

The power of rules, perceptible only to Nagumo Amuru, slowly unfurled, spreading outward like a transparent ripple toward Toyokawa Sakiko.

The very instant the "Precept" washed over her—

Nagumo Amuru caught sight of a nearly transparent, misty shadow hovering over Toyokawa Sakiko's shoulders and back, undulating in a bizarre manner.

The mist was a pale gray, light and thin. It flickered once and vanished without a trace.

"?"

Nagumo Amuru's gaze narrowed.

He continued to monitor Toyokawa Sakiko's condition, but the mist had been like an illusion, leaving no evidence behind.

The "Precept" remained in active operation.

He focused the range of his perception entirely on covering Toyokawa Sakiko's body.

Yet, apart from that single instant, everything was as calm as an unruffled pond.

Her consciousness, emotions, and mental fluctuations were all well within normal ranges, showing no signs of losing control.

"Strange."

Nagumo Amuru withdrew his gaze, turned slightly, and murmured to Wakaba Mutsumi:

"Toyokawa-san looks quite well. Is something the matter?"

He deliberately kept his tone steady as he spoke.

Wakaba Mutsumi shook her head.

Earlier, Nagumo Amuru had detected a hint of hidden anxiety in Wakaba Mutsumi's expression, which was why he had deliberately invoked the "Precept" to verify things.

Immediately afterward, however, Nagumo Amuru also cast the Precept over Wakaba Mutsumi to ensure she, too, was safe and sound, finally setting his mind at ease.

His greatest worry was that Wakaba Mutsumi and Toyokawa Sakiko might lose control of their Verbal Spirits.

As for psychological issues, there was plenty of time; he could slowly help them untangle those knots.

Just then—

"Ring-a-ling—"

The class bell rang.

The mathematics teacher walked into the classroom and announced:

"Let us begin class. Please turn your textbooks to—"

Before the sentence could finish, the classroom fell instantly silent.

The math lesson proceeded at a steady pace, accompanied by the scratching sound of the teacher writing on the blackboard.

Outside the window, the sunlight slowly shifted from left to right. The shadow of the blackboard stretched out inch by inch, and the entire class seemed to be pulled straight to the finish line in a single breath without anyone even noticing.

***

The lunch break, the afternoon... Time was swallowed up in that even, unrippled rhythm. Everything was no different from any other day.

It wasn't until the dismissal bell finally rang that the classroom suddenly burst into life.

"Hey, tomorrow is the weekend!"

"We finally don't have to wake up early..."

"Next week is the Music Festival. It happens once a year; I wonder what kind of programs there will be this time."

"I really hope I can get up on stage and perform next year..."

"Do your best, do your best."

Everywhere there were lowered voices buzzing with excitement, the harsh scraping of desks and chairs being moved, and the hurried rustling of people searching through their bookbags.

Nagumo Amuru also began to tidy up the items on his desk.

He had only read a third of Natsume Soseki's *Kokoro* that he brought today, so he tucked the book into the slot of his desk rather than carrying it back home.

As he packed up, Nagumo Amuru glanced sideways at Wakaba Mutsumi sitting beside him.

Wakaba Mutsumi remained in her seat.

Her expression was calm to the point of silence; only an uncapped pen on her desk rolled around a single turn, emitting a soft *thud* in the rays of the setting sun.

Unlike the other students in the classroom, the closer it got to dismissal, the more her heart tightened.

School was over... It was time to go home.

The weekend... She didn't want the weekend to come.

Wakaba Mutsumi simply sat there quietly, her eyelids lowered, completely out of tune with the noisy classroom.

The world seemed to grow dim, and then, just as he had awakened her that morning, Nagumo Amuru gently poked her arm:

"I'll come find you over the weekend."

Wakaba Mutsumi raised her head, her gaze meeting his, her voice somewhat low:

"Invitation."

To translate that slightly: this time, the Wakaba family dinner was unlike previous ones. The entire guest list had been drastically trimmed down, and only a very small handful of people had received word.

This was no ordinary weekend banquet; rumor had it that extremely important guests were coming, and many who had been invited multiple times in the past were not qualified to step foot through the gates of the Wakaba estate this time around.

For instance, the light novel author Nagumo Amuru had not received any invitation at all.

Nagumo Amuru was momentarily stunned, and then he smiled.

"Don't worry," he said.

"When you have the exact time, remember to send me a message and let me know."

Wakaba Mutsumi nodded without speaking.

The two of them walked out of the classroom one after the other, threading through the stream of students finishing class and strolling down the sun-drenched corridor.

They didn't part ways until they reached the school gates.

***

The crowd surged between them, filled with laughter and brisk footsteps.

Nagumo Amuru did not leave immediately. Instead, he watched Wakaba Mutsumi's receding figure, deep in thought.

***

Meanwhile,

Toyokawa Sakiko, who had just been dismissed from class, felt an inexpressible sense of dejection.

She did not say goodbye to anyone as she usually did, nor did she chat with the classmates currently discussing the Music Festival, nor did she go look for Wakaba Mutsumi. She simply walked out the classroom door alone, pacing slowly down the corridor.

Toyokawa Sakiko couldn't quite explain what was wrong with her. Ever since the afternoon, she felt as though her heart had been completely blanketed by sorrow and loss, making everything she did carry an inexplicable melancholy.

Yet clearly... nothing particularly unusual had happened today...

Toyokawa Sakiko thought quietly to herself.

Especially after school, when she heard a few classmates in the front rows excitedly discussing the Music Festival, she suddenly thought of her mother.

Toyokawa Sakiko still remembered when she was little, how her mother would sit before the upright piano in the living room, her fingers wandering gracefully among the black and white keys.

She would always teach her the melody bit by bit, her tone gentle and earnest.

"Slower, relax your right hand... Yes, just like that."

However, her mother's voice was something she would never hear again.

It had been a very long time since Toyokawa Sakiko had last recalled these things.

She had hidden those memories deep away—so deep that they weren't easily brushed against in daily life.

Yet this afternoon, for reasons unknown, this tide of longing had surged up without warning, floating silently to the surface.

Toyokawa Sakiko assumed it was because of the upcoming Tsukinomori Music Festival.

In the past, she had always looked forward to the day when her mother could watch her perform under the spotlight.

Perhaps it was precisely this anticipation that made Toyokawa Sakiko suddenly realize her childhood dream had shattered.

And so, her heart sank heavily.

It is said that humans possess a trauma-shielding mechanism; the brain filters out and blocks overly painful events so the body can continue to function normally.

Yet one never truly forgets them.

Nor, naturally, does the feeling of sorrow vanish.

This sadness was not the sharp, violent grief of suddenly hearing devastating news,

but rather a quiet, spreading melancholy, much like falling leaves.

Toyokawa Sakiko did not cry; she simply lowered her head to watch her own shadow stretched across the corridor, remaining entirely silent.

The shadow quietly kept her company as she walked onward, gradually lengthening into the golden light at the end of the hallway.