"Is this outfit not okay?"
Wearing a simple knit sweater, Haruto glanced down at his clothes, then looked over at Mari beside him. He couldn't see anything wrong with how he was dressed.
"It's not that it's not okay. I was just... surprised, that's all."
Mari paused for a moment. The boy standing in front of her was just a normal teenager, and it was his first time attending such an event. Of course, he couldn't be expected to think through every detail. If anything, it was her oversight. But when she thought about it, it really wasn't a big deal.
Standing inside the bookstore, Haruto looked toward the autograph table and glanced at the posters decorating the walls. Even though he had mentally prepared himself for this moment, now that he was actually facing it, he couldn't help but feel awkward.
"Should I go sit now?"
"Mm… yeah, it's time."
Mari checked the time on her wristwatch and nodded.
With one more glance at her, Haruto walked over to the signing table. He took a seat and propped his chin on one hand, silently observing the layout and atmosphere of the store.
This was a large bookstore located in Bunkyō Ward, apparently affiliated with the Sakura publishing company. According to Mari, the location had been chosen after what she called "a fierce discussion."
"There's really nobody here, huh…"
Haruto glanced at the customers coming and going. Few even looked in his direction. He turned his eyes toward Mari, clearly disheartened.
"The store just opened not long ago," she said, trying to reassure him. "People will start coming eventually."
She glanced at Haruto again, silently muttering to herself. She had somewhat anticipated this kind of turnout—but even so, the reality was bleaker than expected. Still, there was no way she could let them give up halfway.
"We can probably wrap up around noon, right?"
"Not yet. We're scheduled to go until about 2 p.m."
"Isn't that going to get boring?"
Some people had looked in their direction briefly, but none approached. Haruto tugged down the brim of his carefully chosen baseball cap, hiding the frustration on his face.
"Hey, at least I'm here to keep you company, right?"
Mari sat down beside him, watching the uninterested bookstore patrons while letting out a small sigh.
"It's kind of depressing. Have your sales improved at all lately?"
"They've gone up a little. After some promotion, sales have reached about 2,000 copies."
"Only twice as much as the release day? That's not much."
"We've started the marketing push, but it takes time to build momentum. It's not like people suddenly get interested in a book all at once and rush to buy it."
Mari herself found the slow sales growth frustrating. Haruto's writing wasn't subpar by any means—if anything, it was well above average. So she couldn't understand why his work hadn't gained more traction.
"Honestly, with the quality of your writing, selling ten thousand copies shouldn't be strange at all. We've already begun promoting, so there should be a noticeable increase by the end of the week."
"Have you reached out to any online reviewers or influencers?"
"Online? Not yet."
Not fully grasping Haruto's intention, Mari blinked and shook her head slightly.
Haruto was about to continue the conversation when someone suddenly approached the table. A young man walked up, holding a book, and stopped in front of him. Just as Haruto opened his mouth to speak, he closed it again, looking down at the book—his own work—and then back up at the person standing there.
"Excuse me, is this the signing table? Are there any requirements?"
The young man looked like an ordinary guy, his curious gaze scanning Haruto. He probably didn't expect someone so young to be an author.
"No, nothing like that."
Taking the book, Haruto quickly signed it with his pen name: Miyamizu Yuka. He gave a polite smile and thanked the young man for buying his book. The customer returned the smile, then walked away.
Turning his head toward Mari, Haruto spoke softly.
"That's the first one."
"There'll be a second and third soon enough, I'm sure."
"I heard famous authors sign so many books at these events that their hands go numb, and they can't lift their arms the next day. Am I supposed to consider myself lucky?"
"Wouldn't it be better to have more books sold, even if your hand gets sore?"
"Good point."
Haruto nodded. Ideally, he did want to sign more books. But looking at how things were going now, that hope seemed distant.
"Few books sold means my hand is spared. Many books sold means a sore hand. I guess that's just the trade-off."
Listening to Haruto's murmuring, Mari didn't know how to respond. She simply sat silently nearby, watching the empty bookstore. No one else seemed interested in approaching. Remembering she would be stuck sitting here with Haruto until the afternoon, she couldn't help but feel a wave of helplessness.
"Who would've thought that doing absolutely nothing could feel this torturous?"
"So… can we leave early? Do we really have to stay until two?"
She pointed at the event poster showing the end time.
"It says two o'clock," she said. "If we leave early, it'll leave a bad impression. You don't want someone to dig this up in the future and use it against you, do you?"
"I thought maybe coming here would help boost sales a little," Haruto muttered. "But with only one person showing up so far, I guess it says everything about how badly my book is doing."
"Every new author starts like this. Things will get better—eventually."
Trying to comfort him, Mari studied his expression. But he didn't react at all. That lack of response made her bite her lip. Her words felt utterly powerless—empty. It left her with a small, stinging sense of defeat.
"Maybe I should've tried submitting to a contest first. Something more visible."
"But your writing style... it's literary. There aren't many awards open for that kind of work. With this release timing, the Akutagawa Prize is already out of the question. You'll have to wait until next year. And the Mishima Prize is already done for this year too."
Haruto was well aware that he wouldn't be eligible for any major awards this year. And honestly, he hadn't held much hope for them anyway.
"Even if I were eligible, it's unlikely I'd win. The Akutagawa is tough for complete unknowns. The Mishima Prize leans more toward new writers, so I might have stood a chance—but that's gone now too."
"There's always next year."
"Next year... huh."
By then, Haruto felt his book would already be long forgotten.
He shook his head slightly, ending the conversation there. His eyes wandered around the nearly empty bookstore. No one approached the signing table. As he sat in silence, his mind began seriously questioning whether he should continue writing at all...
_ _ _ _
It was the weekend. Mito Yuka slowly opened her eyes, dark circles still lingering beneath them. She sat up slowly in her tiny room. The familiarity of the cramped space made her bite her lip, a heavy feeling rising in her chest. No sunlight reached in.
She quietly left her room, dressed and walked into the café. A glance around told her he wasn't there. That familiar silhouette was nowhere to be found. She poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to her room.
She closed the door behind her—and locked it.
Sitting back down, she stared at the book on her desk. She'd read most of it the night before, but exhaustion had overtaken her before she could finish. Somewhere past midnight, she had dozed off.
"That dream..."
It had felt like she was someone else entirely—someone who had never met Haruto. Just from reading his book, that alternate version of herself had risen in a dream. A version of her that had never crossed paths with him.
With pale fingers, she flipped to the next page and resumed reading where she had left off...
_ _ _ _
From 9 a.m. to 2 p.m., Haruto had signed a total of just under fifty books.
"Fifty-seven, to be exact," Mari corrected, eyes on the tally.
Haruto sat slumped at the table, elbows on the surface, exhaling deeply.
"The number doesn't matter. It's over now, right? Can I go home?"
"Yeah, it's two. We're done here."
Haruto stood up and glanced at Mari, who looked just as exhausted as he felt.
"You have any plans after this?"
"What, are you trying to ask me out?"
Knowing Haruto had a girlfriend, Mari smiled teasingly, though her words were light and playful.
"No, just asking. I figured today was your day off, right?"
"Yeah, but there's nothing to do at home anyway."
"Well, thanks for today. You should head back and get some rest. I'm beat too. Sitting around for hours like this... I feel like I'm going to suffocate. I'm heading back to sleep."
Waving half-heartedly, Haruto walked toward the exit. Mari watched him leave, then turned to the posters and props still set up around the table. She sighed.
She didn't have to clean everything herself. After tidying the smaller items, she left the rest—chairs, posters, displays—for the bookstore staff to handle. Then she quietly made her way back to her apartment for some much-needed rest...
Haruto didn't go anywhere else afterward. After spending half a day stuck inside, he was mentally drained. He quietly returned to his apartment.
He pulled out his key, opened the door, and walked in. Then, without even changing clothes, collapsed onto his bed.
Thanks to last night's emotional whirlwind with Setsuna, he hadn't gotten to sleep until late. This morning, Mari's call had dragged him out of bed far too early. He hadn't rested at all.
After sitting around doing nothing for hours, his whole world felt blurry.
His familiar bed welcomed him. The scent of Setsuna still lingered faintly. He closed his eyes, breathing it in softly—and before he knew it, sleep took him.
_ _ _ _
"He's not home again on a weekend?"
Sekai glanced at Setsuna, who had shown up alone once more. Sekai's expression was subtle, but curious.
"I get that you go to different schools during the week," she said. "But now even weekends? Doesn't it feel weird not knowing where he goes? Aren't you even a little curious, Setsuna?"
Setsuna, quietly sipping her juice, turned her gaze toward Sekai.
"Are you curious?"
"Well... maybe a little. But I'm more surprised you're not. Aren't you even the slightest bit curious?"
Setsuna didn't reply. She just kept sipping.
Beside them, Kotonoha watched their exchange and wasn't sure what to say. Somehow, conversations like this always left her out of place. She could only stay silent and sip her tea.
When Setsuna didn't respond, Sekai's gaze drifted toward Kotonoha instead. Remembering her earlier conversation with Haruto, she gave her friend a more curious look.
"...What is it?" Kotonoha asked, noticing the sudden scrutiny.
"Say, Kotonoha, you're scared of boys, right?"
"Mm."
"Ever thought about changing that? If you're always afraid, you won't ever be able to get a boyfriend, you know?"
"..."
Kotonoha didn't really want to talk about this—especially not with these two. She was painfully aware of how complicated and messy their romantic dynamics were. The last thing she wanted was to be dragged into that chaos herself.
But...