"You're not continuing?"
Utaha Kasumigaoka's voice cut through the air, snapping Natsukawa Kanade out of his momentary daze.
"Huh?"
His mind took a second to register what she meant.
"Of course, I'm talking about the date," she clarified, her tone carrying its usual mix of amusement and curiosity. Then, as if it were an afterthought, she added, "Junior, you must have other places you want to go, right?"
Kanade turned to look at her. He considered complaining about how she was always putting him on the spot like this, but in the end, he simply sighed and nodded.
"I do… but is that okay with you, Senior? Don't you have places you'd rather go?"
Utaha tilted her head slightly, her lips curving in a teasing smirk.
"I don't mind."
Her tone carried a faint, almost imperceptible rise at the end—the signature of a well-practiced tease.
"Since I said I'd accompany you, I'll naturally keep you company until the very end. So no matter what kind of unspeakable places you want to drag me to… or what kind of unspeakable things you want to do…" She trailed off, letting her words hang in the air before finishing with a playful smirk. "I'll keep my promise. Okay?"
Kanade met her gaze, unimpressed. "Thank you for your kindness, Senior, but I'd rather hold onto my humanity for now."
He had long since grown resistant to her constant teasing. A few months ago, this might have flustered him. Now, it barely registered as a nuisance.
But the real issue at hand remained—where should they go next?
For someone like him, going out wasn't a frequent occurrence. If he had no obligations, he could easily stay home all day, playing games, listening to music, and idly browsing the internet. His one exception was travel, but that required proper planning, and today's outing had been anything but structured.
Originally, he had thought a bookstore visit and a brief arcade session would be enough to kill time, but unexpectedly, he was already feeling drained.
Which brought him back to his current dilemma.
"Senior, is there anywhere you'd like to go?"
This wasn't him trying to cater to her—he genuinely couldn't think of anything. So instead of wasting time, he decided to shift the responsibility to her.
"Me?"
Caught off guard by his sudden question, Utaha blinked. But after a brief moment of thought, she recovered quickly.
She had plenty of places she wanted to visit—after all, she had invited him out today with a clear purpose in mind. But those places were meant for future "research dates." If she rushed things now, it would mess with her plans.
"How about… a movie?"
It was an old-school choice, but classic for a reason. More importantly, it fit her persona perfectly.
Kanade barely reacted. "A movie, huh? Yeah, I guess that works."
Honestly, considering Utaha's personality, he doubted she'd suggest anything else. She was just like him—someone who could spend an entire day at home without issue. The difference was that she would be reading, while he preferred gaming.
"Is there anything specific you want to see?"
Utaha nodded, already prepared with an answer. "There are quite a few. Like 'Norwegian Wood' and similar films..."
"'Norwegian Wood,' huh..."
Kanade nodded slightly, immediately pulling out his phone to check nearby screenings.
As a classic film, it had long passed its mainstream cinema run, but some theaters still held special showings from time to time.
Luckily, they managed to find a cinema playing it today.
The only catch? The screening was an hour from now, and the theater was a bit far—they'd need to take the train.
"An hour… If we leave now, we should make it."
He shared the location with Utaha, who quickly checked the details before nodding.
"I have no objections."
With that settled, the two made their way toward the nearest train station.
=====================
The train ride was uneventful.
Since it wasn't rush hour, the cabin was relatively empty, leaving them plenty of space. They found seats next to each other without issue.
Kanade, uninterested in starting a conversation, pulled out his phone and started idly scrolling through Twitter.
Utaha, surprisingly, didn't complain.
Instead, she casually reached out, tugged on his sleeve, and murmured, "Move a little closer, I want to see too."
Before he could react, she leaned in, her shoulder brushing against his.
Kanade shot her a side glance, mildly annoyed. But in the end, he relented, slowing down his scrolling so she could follow along.
Time passed quietly.
Just as Kanade thought they would reach their stop without incident, Utaha suddenly reached out and tapped the screen.
"This couple is so miserable."
"Huh?"
The unexpected comment caught him off guard, prompting him to look at what she was referring to.
It was a short tragic story, the kind that occasionally went viral.
A girl diagnosed with cancer, requiring urgent surgery.
But because she had no surviving family to sign the consent forms, the hospital refused to operate.
Her boyfriend stayed by her side, caring for her until the very end—but there was no miracle.
It was the type of tale that didn't need excessive words to convey its weight. The emotions were simple but heavy.
Kanade read through it without much change in expression, but he could tell Utaha was affected.
She was always like this—an emotional person at her core, despite the teasing, despite the aloof attitude.
"The deceased are gone, but the living have to move forward." Her voice was quiet, almost thoughtful.
Then, after a pause, she murmured, "Even if people say that, it must be unbearable for the ones left behind."
She sighed. "I don't like tragic endings."
Kanade hummed in response. "Really? But aren't most of the 'great works' in history tragedies?"
Utaha's lips curled into a small, bittersweet smile.
"That's exactly why I don't like them."
It was a simple truth—tragedies lingered in people's minds far longer than anything else. That was why they had such an undeniable presence in storytelling. But somewhere along the way, modern creators had lost sight of what made tragedy meaningful. Instead of weaving narratives that naturally led to heart-wrenching conclusions, they seemed to be chasing misery for the sake of it, crafting stories that felt more like suffering simulations than genuine emotional journeys.
True tragedy wasn't just about the misfortunes that befell the characters—whether it be an untimely accident or an illness cruelly cutting a life short. The real essence of a tragic story was in the irreplaceable value of what was lost. It wasn't the suffering itself that resonated with people, but the beauty of what once was. In this case, it was the love shared between the two protagonists that truly mattered.
Kanade Natsukawa, however, didn't seem moved. He simply shook his head, dismissing the sentiment entirely.
"I don't agree."
Utaha Kasumigaoka turned to him, visibly taken aback. A strange chill ran down her spine at his sudden response.
"…What do you mean?"
Kanade exhaled, then spoke in an even, matter-of-fact tone.
"If I were that guy—"
"If it were you… you'd just get over your girlfriend's death quickly?" Utaha interrupted, her voice quieter than before.
For the first time, she felt as though she didn't quite understand the person sitting next to her.
"What kind of nonsense are you talking about?" Kanade frowned before continuing. "If it were me, this situation wouldn't have happened in the first place."
Utaha blinked. "Huh?"
"That so-called surgical consent form," Kanade explained, "in most cases, the patient themselves should be able to sign it. But hospitals, being the bureaucratic nightmares they are, don't want to take responsibility, so they insist on getting a relative's signature instead. But the thing is, there's a really simple way around that."
He shot her a knowing look, as if waiting for her to figure it out herself.
"…?"
Seeing her confusion, Kanade clicked his tongue in mild disappointment. "Marriage registration. Just sign the paperwork and register as husband and wife. If he was legally her husband, he'd be able to sign the consent form, no problem."
"...…"
Utaha was speechless.
Seeing that she still hadn't fully grasped his point, Kanade leaned back in his seat and continued. "That's why I don't agree with this whole story. If the girl had no other relatives, then the hospital staff would have explained this option to the boyfriend. And if he was truly desperate, he would've asked about it himself. The fact that he didn't do it means he had his own doubts—maybe he was already thinking about what came after."
He shrugged. "Not that I blame him. Avoiding risk is human nature. The fact that he still stayed by her side and took care of her is admirable, but personally? I would've made a different choice."
Kanade spoke so matter-of-factly that it was almost chilling. And before he could say anything else, Utaha suddenly cut in.
"If it were me, would you do that too?"
She turned to him, her gaze unwavering. This time, she wasn't joking. She genuinely wanted to hear his answer.
"Huh?" Kanade paused, caught off guard. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he smirked slightly.
"Unfortunately…"
"...…"
Utaha immediately regretted asking.
"All things considered," Kanade continued, "if it were you, I wouldn't even have the chance to step in. I mean, your parents are perfectly healthy, right? They'd be the ones handling everything long before it got to me."
"...…"
Utaha didn't respond right away. Instead, she just stared at him, her expression unreadable.
For the first time, Kanade found himself slightly concerned. Had he gone too far?
Then, after what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke—her voice laced with an almost unsettling sweetness.
"As expected of you, Scumbag-kun." She smiled, tilting her head slightly. "Your ability to play with a girl's emotions is truly impressive."
"...…"
"My personal suggestion?" she continued, her voice still dangerously light. "You should just drop dead. Preferably right here in front of me, so I can observe firsthand what it looks like when a human writhes in their final moments."
"…H-Huh?" Kanade visibly flinched.
What kind of psychopathic monologue was this?!
Where was the need for this level of murderous intent?!
PS:
Ugh. I kept tweaking this over and over. Trying to strike the perfect balance with Utaha's sharp tongue is harder than I thought. Too much, and it gets downright mean. Too little, and it loses flavor. Maybe I just need to argue with people more often… Anyway, another chapter done! But man, I'm exhausted.