1
As expected, once Minase Mishio and I suddenly started getting along, the people around us got noisy. Mostly the guys—jealous, curious, and throwing endless questions my way.
Kuki turned out to be a huge help. With just one line—“Those two live near each other, apparently”—he managed to settle most of the commotion. On top of that, Minase was naturally the type who could get along with anyone, boy or girl, which probably helped calm things down even faster.
Sometimes we’d go to and from school together, and sometimes not. Once, I waited around thinking she might show up, only to find out she’d already gone ahead by herself. After that, I stopped worrying about it. If she came by before I left, we’d walk together. If she called out before I left the classroom, we’d go home together. That was the unspoken rule we’d fallen into.
About a week passed like that, and we were already past the midpoint of April.
That day, unusually, I went the entire school day without exchanging a single word with Minase and came home alone.
After getting back and taking a short break, I stepped out onto the balcony to bring in my laundry.
“Hey, Sakura, you home?”
A voice came from above.
Of course, it was Minase. She must’ve heard the sound of me stepping outside and realized I was there. She was probably out on her balcony too.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
I leaned against the railing and looked up. There she was, smiling brightly down at me, her face cheerful and carefree as always.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just thought I heard you, so I called out.”
“That’s it?”
It really seemed to be that simple. She called because I was there—no hidden reason behind it.
“Still, this kind of thing’s nice, isn’t it?” she said with a soft smile.
“Is it?” I replied, not entirely convinced.
It was the sort of thing you’d see in manga or dramas—neighbors chatting from their balconies, like childhood friends living side by side. Except in our case, her unit was above mine, so the angle made my neck hurt. Not exactly an ideal setup for long conversations.
Then, I noticed something. Resting on the railing in front of her was her clenched hand—holding what looked like a piece of white fabric. I really hoped it was just a handkerchief.
“Ah…”
Minase followed my gaze, realized what I was looking at, and immediately blushed. She yanked her hand back in a hurry. That reaction told me everything I needed to know about what she’d been holding.
“You’re way too careless…” I muttered, resisting the urge to hold my head in my hands.
“A-anyway!” she blurted suddenly, clearly trying to change the subject.
“You free right now? If you are, wanna come over?”
“Your place? What for?”
“Hmm… I can at least make some coffee?”
So, basically, no real reason at all.
Normally, inviting a guy into your apartment when you live alone is a bad idea—and accepting such an invite isn’t exactly smart either. But after spending the past week with Minase, it felt kind of pointless to overthink it.
“You any good at making coffee?” I asked.
“Not really. I just let the coffee maker do the work.”
And yet she still thought offering coffee was a good pretext.
“Well, whatever. Fine, I’ll come over.”
Maybe it was time to loosen up a little anyway.
“Should I head up right now?”
“Um… give me like five minutes.”
“Got it.”
Alright then—time to finish bringing in the laundry before heading up to her place.
2
Even though I actually finished folding the laundry in just five minutes, it took me nearly ten before I was standing in front of Minase’s door—thanks to changing clothes and fixing my appearance.
I rang the doorbell, and almost immediately, Minase’s voice came through the intercom.
『Yes?』
“It’s me. Aoi.”
She should’ve recognized me from the monitor, but I introduced myself just in case.
『I’ll open it now.』
The intercom cut off, and after a short pause, the door opened. Minase appeared in a casual home outfit—something like a short mini skirt and a comfy top.
“You’re slooow.”
That was her first line.
“Took longer than I thought to get ready.”
“I see. Well, come on in.”
Minase stepped back to let me in.
After spending time with her this past week, I’d noticed how expressive she was—quick to anger or sulk, but it never lasted long. She always followed her emotions honestly. Once I realized that, I stopped overreacting to every little mood shift of hers.
“Here, use these.”
She pointed at a pair of slippers lined up right past the entryway. Apparently, they were for guests.
I slipped them on but froze after taking just one step.
“What’s wrong?”
Minase tilted her head, noticing I hadn’t moved.
“Just making sure… you didn’t leave your laundry lying around or something, right?”
“Of course not.”
Minase puffed out her cheeks in mock offense.
“Who’d leave their laundry out for guests to see? I’d rather you saw under my skirt than that.”
“Wait, that part’s fine?”
“Only if it’s an accident.”
Well, good to know I’d be forgiven for an accident. I’d prefer not to be punished for acts of God.
She turned on her heel and walked ahead. I followed.
“But any guy who tries to peek on purpose—no mercy for him.”
Minase said it with a teasing smile as she walked down the short hallway. When we reached the end, she suddenly turned back toward me.
“Sakura, are you the type who’d want to look?”
“No comment.”
“Whoa, you’re more honest than I thought.”
She giggled softly.
“Shut up.”
I turned my gaze away from her and looked around the room instead.
Her apartment was laid out exactly like mine—one-bedroom, living room, kitchen. Since her place was directly above mine, everything was structurally identical.
The door to the next room was closed—probably her bedroom.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
I looked where she gestured: a stylish two-seater sofa and a low coffee table. Unlike my place, which had a floor table and a kotatsu in winter, her furniture felt more refined. It hit me again—this was a girl’s home.
I sat down on the sofa.
“Give me a second. I’ll make some coffee.”
Right after she said that from the kitchen, the low hum of a machine filled the air—probably a single-serve coffee maker.
“Milk and sugar?”
She called out after the sound stopped.
“Just milk.”
“Okay. Here you go.”
She came back quickly with a mug and two tiny milk pods, placing them on the table before returning to the kitchen. The machine hummed again.
As I poured milk into my cup, I watched her work busily in the kitchen. She really did seem like a hard worker—maybe just naturally caring.
Before long, she returned with her own cup in hand.
“Alright, scoot over a bit.”
Without hesitation, she plopped down right next to me.
“Too close.”
I stood up immediately.
“What? It’s the only seat here.”
“Fine. I’ll sit on the floor.”
Minase Mishio really had no sense of personal space. Sure, it was a two-seater, but that didn’t mean two people should actually sit on it. It felt cramped, our shoulders almost touching.
Just as I was about to sit down on the floor—
“Ah…”
Minase let out a small sound.
I froze mid-motion, one knee bent. “What?”
“If you sit there, we might have an accident. You sure you’re okay with that?” she said with a mischievous grin.
Right—her short skirt and me sitting on the floor. Yeah, that’d be an “accident” waiting to happen.
I straightened up again.
“Sorry to ask this of the host, but could you sit on the floor instead?”
“You could’ve just let it happen once, you know.”
She pinched the hem of her skirt teasingly as she said it.
“If you do that on purpose, it’s not an accident—it’s a crime.”
Finally, she stood up and switched spots with me.
“How should I sit?”
“Normally.”
We both sat down—me on the sofa, her on the floor, sitting like a proper girl.
“So? What do you think of my place?”
After we both took a sip of coffee, she asked.
I hadn’t looked around much out of respect, but now I let my eyes wander. From what I could see of the kitchen and living area, she had most of the same stuff I did—just better quality versions. More refined, but not overly girly. Maybe that was intentional, to make it feel calm and neutral.
“It’s nice. Feels like you put a lot of thought into it.”
“You noticed?”
Her face lit up. “It took me a whole month to figure out the right layout. I’d think I had it perfect one day, then come home after school and feel something was off, so I’d move things again.”
“You did that for a month?”
“Yup!”
She laughed cheerfully.
I couldn’t help but smile. I’d never have that kind of patience. But maybe that’s what made her place feel so balanced.
“What about your place?” she asked.
“Mine? It’s normal.”
I didn’t fuss over it as much as she did, but since I’d be living there for three years, I at least chose furniture I liked.
“Bet it’s a total mess, huh?”
“Sorry to disappoint. I keep it clean.”
If I let it get messy once, I’d never stop. Discipline from my athletic background probably kept me in line.
“Can I come over sometime?”
She asked with a hopeful smile.
“Well… maybe. We still have that curry-and-pork-soup combo to settle.”
We hadn’t decided whose place that’d be at, but if it was mine, I wouldn’t mind—so long as it wasn’t out of nowhere.
Minase grinned slyly. “So you’re not saying no anymore.”
“Told you—I stopped caring about that.”
She laughed softly. “You know, I think that’s one of the things I like about you, Sakura.”
My heart skipped for a moment.
“But really,” she continued, “since we’re neighbors and classmates now, we should help each other out. Being sick alone is seriously tough, you know?”
“You’ve been sick before?”
“Just once last year. Caught a cold.”
So that’s what she meant. She’d been up here, right above me, alone and sick. Back then, we barely knew each other. For some reason, I felt a little guilty.
“One of my clubmates came over after school, though,” she added.
“I see.”
Clubmates… so, the drama club, huh?
Come to think of it, this might be the first time she’s mentioned it directly.
“Hey,” I asked, “did you quit the drama club?”
“Huh?”
Her eyes went wide. She probably didn’t expect me to know that.
“Heard it in a rumor or something,” I lied.
In truth, I’d just noticed she stopped staying late for club activities. But saying that would make me sound like I was watching her, so the lie would have to do.
“Yeah,” she said simply. “I quit. Some things happened.”
“I see.”
She didn’t elaborate. Still, it was clear something had gone wrong.
“Did you know Kazamigaoka’s a regular at the national drama competition?”
“Drama competition? No, first I’ve heard of it.”
Apparently, even acting had a national stage—like sports tournaments. Makes sense, I guess.
“So that’s why you live alone here, huh?”
I’d wondered about that before. Turns out it was the same as me moving here for soccer. Guess this school attracted more than just athletes.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I thought I could really dedicate myself to acting here.”
Her smile was faint—almost sad.
“Well, quitting’s a valid choice too. I quit my club, after all.”
“Wait, really?”
She blinked in surprise.
“Yeah. You wouldn’t know. I quit during summer break last year.”
We were in different classes back then, and even my old classmates had probably forgotten.
“What club?”
“Soccer. You know how Kuki hangs around me a lot? That’s the connection.”
“Ahh, that makes sense.”
She nodded as if things finally clicked.
“So you quit too, huh…” she murmured.
From the look in her eyes, I could tell—she still felt bad about quitting. I understood that feeling all too well. You join with a dream, but quit before finishing. No matter the reason, it leaves a scar.
That’s why I’d told her what I did earlier. If starting is a choice, quitting should be one too. Who decided quitting means losing?
Still, saying it out loud made it sound like I was justifying my own weakness.
“It’s a shame,” I said, “but—”
“Then we’re the same!”
She cut me off, leaning forward over the table, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Huh?”
“We both quit our clubs!”
Well, yeah… that was true.
“Honestly, I’ve had way too much free time since then.”
“Wait—so that’s why you’ve been clinging to me!?”
I mean, I get it. When you suddenly lose what filled your days, it’s hard to know what to do. But still, I didn’t want to be her boredom cure.
“Don’t be like that. I really do want us to be friends, you know.”
She brushed off my complaint easily.
“Anyway, that makes us teammates now!”
“Teammates? Of what?”
“Hold on—I’m thinking of a name.”
She folded her arms and looked up at the ceiling in thought. I caught myself staring at the underside of her chin, realizing how rare that view was.
Then she suddenly smiled and faced me again.
“How about ‘The Club-Quitters Alliance’?”
“That’s… awfully straightforward.”
What a name.
“It’s easy to understand though, right?” she said, pouting a little.
“Well… yeah, but…” I hesitated. Then, against my better judgment, I actually started thinking about it seriously.
The past few days flashed through my mind—walking to school together, going home together, the randomness of her moods. Some days she’d ignore me completely, other days she’d show up for coffee. Maybe… this distance wasn’t so bad after all.
“What exactly would this alliance do, anyway?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. I just wanted it to have a name.”
She smiled softly.
“Is that okay?” she asked.
“Yeah… I get what you mean.”
I sighed quietly.
When I quit soccer, I’d felt the same emptiness. With no club and no team, the days just… stretched on. Maybe she just needed something—a name, a sense of belonging—to fill that gap.
“Alright,” I said finally. “I’ll join.”
“Really!? Yay!”
Her face lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning.
“You’re way too happy for someone who doesn’t even know what this alliance does.”
“We’ll figure it out as we go,” she said with a playful grin.
Maybe that was enough for her. Maybe belonging somewhere—even to something silly—was what she needed.
“Nice to have you, Sakura.”
She knelt up slightly and reached her hand across the table. After a moment’s pause, I took it.
And just like that, the “Club-Quitters Alliance” was officially formed.
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