Hatoful Boyfriend Stories

Fujishiro Nageki Short Story

Okay, so this is probably my favorite of all the short stories cause it's amazing!! And you will only get the spoiler if you wanna understand everything deeply or something. So.. yep.

Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too.

... How absurd. I know it's unproductive to complain about characters that only appear in books, but I have nothing else to do. After all, yesterday, today, and the day after tomorrow, I live in a cycle of being surrounded by books.

For one thing, this patient is too self-conscious. Leaves will fall eventually- that's nature. Why would it be decided whether or not they fall based on the life of a single human? Does this girl think the universe revolves around her? What a bad case of megalomania.

In the past, it was said that a star would fall in the sky whenever a great person died. If you think about it, that's also pretty strange. Whether people live or die, the stars in the night sky will still fall. I don't know how vast space is, but it could be infinitely large, to the point that I most likely couldn't imagine it, only being aware of this small room as I am. A single life, on a single planet amongst the countless stars in space- it's conceited to think that the night sky would shed a tear for such a trivial thing. Just who do they think they are?

Whether we birds live or die, the seasons flow on. Winter will come again.

The grove of trees outside the library window are all dyed in autumn colours, too. This academy's library is cold. Even if I can't feel the change in temperature, the number of students visiting the library drops as the end of autumn approaches, so I can more or less tell when the season changes.

What day is it today, I wonder. I get the feeling that it's already been some time since the school festival, so I think it's the latter half of the second term, but I have no way of knowing for sure.

I watch as the leaves of the plane trees are blown away towards the sky by a gust of wind. It's an autumn sky, covered by thin, fleeting clouds. You can almost hear the approaching footsteps of winter. Birds everywhere will soon start to molt.

It's all part of the same indifferent, automatic cycle.

I was the same. Indifferent to everything, simply repeating the same things no matter what happened around me. As such, I didn't really mind. After all, I wouldn't have been bothered by it if I had been one of those leaves or stars, incapable of feeling emotion.

... There's something wrong today, though. Something that means I'm getting irritated at characters in books who don't even exist, and becoming irrationally angry with them.

I wonder why my thoughts are in such disarray. It's as if someone has thrown a rock into a body of water, which has known nothing but calm both afternoon and evening. The one holding the rock would be, of course, that busybody. They should be appearing soon as usual, come to think.

It isn't that I look forward to seeing them, but because of their meddling, it's become harder to be how I was before. I don't understand why, though. It's frustrating.

I wait for that person to come again today with the same vague sense of uneasiness.