She didn’t think he really thought that. He just wanted to be able to say he’d visited her. If she came back, it would mean one less problem for him, and if she didn’t, he didn’t really care. That was the vibe she picked up from him.

They were changing classes anyway, and he wouldn’t be her homeroom teacher any more.

It seemed possible she could repeat a year, if she wanted to. But that was the one thing she wanted to avoid. So she would just be moved up, along with Miori Sanada and Tojo-san.

‘Well, see you later, Kokoro.’

‘Um, OK,’ she nodded.

Mr Ida seemed as if he had more to say. And Kokoro, too, felt like she should say something – but she had no idea what.

‘If you feel up to it, do you want to write a reply?’

‘A reply?’

‘To the letter from Sanada-san.’

The moment she heard her name, she felt faint. She held a hand to her stomach and patiently waited for the feeling to pass.

Mr Ida sighed. A huge, over-the-top sigh.

‘It bothered Sanada,’ he said. ‘She felt you were making fun of her.’

Kokoro took a short breath, and held it in.

‘When she wrote it, in her own way, Sanada was trying her best. So think about it, OK?’

As she listened to the sound of the front door closing, Mr Ida’s steps becoming fainter, she stood on the other side, stupefied.

Some people would never understand each other.

In their world, Kokoro was the one at fault.

The stronger ones could boldly attack her because they felt nothing they did was questionable.

She felt you were making fun of her. The words whirled in Kokoro’s head.

She was on the verge of tears. But it was galling to fall victim to their logic, and the tears wouldn’t come. She beat the wall in frustration and the more she did, the more her palms throbbed with pain.

That girl robbed me of time.

She breathed out and gritted her teeth. How could people like that remain at the heart of school life, as if the world revolved around them? The thought made her want to tear her hair out.

How long she was standing there, she didn’t know.

She suddenly heard a clatter outside.

Kokoro held her breath. Mr Ida was long gone. So it wasn’t him. And she hadn’t heard the postman’s motorcycle. So it must be Tojo-san. Perhaps bringing over the last school notice of the third semester.

After several minutes she ventured outside, but there was no one near the front gate or by the mailbox. Relieved, Kokoro opened it. And there, along with the folded school newsletter and some other printouts, was something else. A sealed envelope.

It was addressed to her: Kokoro Anzai-sama.

On the back, Moé Tojo.