The Lie and What Follows

An afternoon overwhelmed by the communication skills of handsome and stylish guys.

After lunch break, it was the fifth period, Classical Literature class. The classroom was filled with a relaxed atmosphere. Naturally, after moving around freely in PE and then having lunch, a Classical Literature class is the perfect sleep inducer. I wish I could tell this to people suffering from insomnia nationwide. Come to school!

Even in such a classroom filled with lethargy, I, a serious loner, was earnestly taking the class. Well, I hadn’t really done much in PE either… It’s not that I did nothing; it was just a habit from my past life. Or rather, there just wasn’t anyone to compete against my team (me). It’s like winning without fighting. I wish I knew defeat.

I turned my gaze to the elderly teacher explaining past exam questions. “Spring, dawn, the hairline gradually whitening…” Such is the impermanence of all things.

Looking at the teacher’s shining head, which I don’t want to include in my future plans, I start feeling a bit sad, so I shift my gaze to the entire class. Even those seated in front, fighting sleepiness, seem to be trying to follow the class, propping their cheeks with their hands. They haven’t moved in a while though, are they okay?

The central group of handsome and stylish guys is almost completely knocked out. Only Adachi-san is quietly facing the blackboard, which has nothing written on it. Maybe if I look at it differently, I might see something. I try squinting and focusing, but nothing appears. There must be something invisible to loners like me. Or maybe she’s just spacing out.

After confirming that half of the class is down, I return my gaze to the front. I thought Ninomiya-san, who is usually called the “Sleeping Beauty” (as per my research), would be off to dreamland as usual, but she seems to be moving her mechanical pencil towards her desk.

…Is she awake?

I can hardly believe what I’m seeing.

Even on days when her attendance number coincides with the date, making her likely to be called on, or even if she’s selected to write homework on the board, she values her sleep through all seasons. She wouldn’t be taking notes during class, a sacrilege to her sleep. …My values have been seriously distorted.

What is she doing? Logically, she should be taking notes on the class, but the old teacher, having finished his explanation, is now leisurely talking about his hobby, gateball. He won a tournament, apparently.

Is it the right time to take notes? Maybe Ninomiya-san was attracted to gateball.
She must have a different perspective from mine, someone who might become a big spender on social media. I hope she doesn’t appear in my recommended feeds though I don’t follow her.

As I ponder over Ninomiya-san’s future, she stops her scribbling, stretches her arm towards me while still facing forward, and places a small piece of paper from her notebook on my desk.

Uh, scary.

I realize that this piece of paper she was writing on is for me. It’s folded into quarters, and although I can’t see what’s written, it’s likely a message she wants me to pass on.

Since she passed it to me, sitting at the back, the recipient must be someone near me. As I sit by the window, I check beside me…

…Everyone’s asleep.

Wait, Sawatari-kun, second row from the corridor, isn’t asleep. He’s slumped forward, looking like he’s boycotting the class, but his hands are furiously doing something under the desk.

He’s playing a game.

Sawatari-kun, fully utilizing his back seat, is engrossed in a popular mobile game console. In a way, I respect him.

So, is Sawatari-kun the intended recipient of Ninomiya-san’s message? To warn him about gaming? Makes sense. Typical of Ninomiya-san, considering the risk of getting caught and confiscated. But there’s a two-seat gap between him and me, with both occupants in deep slumber, making it hard to pass the message.

While I’m thinking about how to deliver this message, Ninomiya-san taps her desk with her finger, signaling me to hurry.

But it’s difficult. I decide to write back to Ninomiya-san, explaining that it’s impossible.

“Sorry. It’s a bit difficult to pass it to Sawatari-kun.”

I jot this down on a scrap of paper, lightly tap Ninomiya-san’s shoulder, and place my note in her outstretched hand. Goodbye, message.

Ninomiya-san quickly pulls back her hand and starts scribbling again.

About 10 seconds later, she roughly places another piece of paper on my desk,

unfolded, with “Look at this” written in big letters for me to see. I open the note.

“I didn’t write for you to pass it to Sawatari-kun. Look at the previous one.”

Her neatly written words seem to carry an unexpected irritation. So both were meant for me. I finally understand and open the first letter.

“It’s a really nice day today, what were the boys doing in PE?”

If I had read this earlier, maybe a dream-like letter exchange could have happened. Even a friendless guy like me understands I missed the timing. No wonder Ninomiya-san is upset.

But I can’t leave her angry.

I write a new note with my answer.

“Yeah, it’s nice. The boys were playing soccer.”

Perfect.

I fold the note, tap Ninomiya-san’s shoulder more gently this time, and she quickly takes my letter.

“…”

I can’t see her face, but I sense she’s really angry.

Maybe my response wasn’t what Ninomiya-san expected.

Then the third letter comes.

I open it smoothly.

“Just that?”

She was indeed angry.

As I ponder what to write, feeling like crying, the old teacher begins to move around the classroom, probably to wake up the sleeping students. This means an end to our letter exchange.

It’s not good to leave her upset, but any more exchange risks getting caught. I quickly write on a scrap and pass it to Ninomiya-san.

Safe.

The old teacher starts waking up students, beginning from the corridor side.

Oh.

When he reaches Sawatari-kun in the last row, a sad story unfolds. Namu.

Back home, while cleaning, I get a notification on my smartphone.

“Let’s keep in touch from now on!”

My contact list just grew by one.