Sincerely, Me [Kindaichi Yuutarou] | ✔

Fly

"Have you heard?" a female student said to her friend as they walked down the corridors of Aobajosai during lunchtime. "Iwasaki Shino hasn't shown up for a week."

"Who?" her friend wondered.

"A first year. She was well known because she and a friend help her entire year group in a mass-tutoring session for mathematics. Have you seen the exam scores? All the first years' averages have risen up dramatically."

"Wow, she must have been nice and popular..."

They passed Kindaichi, who was standing in front of a vending machine and deciding what drink to buy before practice—which was in five minutes—started. Nice and popular, he repeated in his head with fond exasperation. Yeah, right. More like completely clueless in life. A tight smile appeared on his lips and he crouched to pick up his drink—he'd decided on strawberry milk; if Kageyama hadn't tarnished the drink by being associated with it during middle school, Kindaichi would definitely have drank it more often. But nice... yeah, she's nice, in the most roundabout way. He sipped his milk, strolling down the corridor to the gym. There's still not a whole lot I know about her.

He chugged the rest of his milk down, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and tossing the carton away in a nearby bin before entering the gym.

But I would like to.

The door made a loud noise as it swung open, and Kindaichi was surprised to see the entire team gathered around the coaches, looking faintly stricken. Mizoguchi's face was stoic, but Kindaichi could tell that it was a lot of effort for the younger coach to have that kind of mask up. Kindaichi was hesitant to approach them at first, but as soon as the word 'her' was thrown around in hushed-but-not-hushed-enough voices, his reluctance disappeared.

"What the hell is going on?" Kindaichi demanded as he shouldered his way between Yahaba and Watari, completely missing the pitying looks they gave him. "Oikawa-senpai? What...?"

Oikawa looked up from the letter he was holding, the paper crinkled at the sides from how tightly he clutched it. His eyes were filled with regret. "Kindaichi."

"What is this?" Kindaichi asked curiously, tilting his head to try and read the letter. "Is it from Iwasaki?" His eyes brightened ever so slightly despite the rock he was currently feeling in his gut. "Did she get our card?" A thank-you note? But...

He looked around at all their despondent faces. Even Kunimi was looking put-out and a little pale, and he hadn't even acknowledged the appearance of his best friend.

Irihata let out a sigh. "Might as well get this over and done with," he said to no one in particular, and Mizoguchi shot him a side glance. "Kindaichi, Iwasaki's not going to be our manager anymore."

"What?! Why?" Kindaichi frowned. But this means she's better, doesn't it? So why won't she come back?

"Because she's not even in Japan anymore," Mizoguchi said calmly, closing his eyes as he dropped the bomb.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi spoke to his best friend, "Give him the letter."

"Not... in Japan?" Kindaichi was failing to compute, numbly accepting the piece of paper. Where did she go, then?! He wanted to scream and shout—hurl abuses at them even, but he knew that would only be detrimental to, well, everything. So he clenched his fists, trying to keep his temper and questions down.

"She..." Makki scratched the back of his head, a slight frown on his face. "It doesn't really say in the letter why she left. It was mostly just thank-yous and..."

"'I'm sorry's," Mattsun supplied helpfully, looking more solemn than Kindaichi had ever seen him outside of a match. He passed his hand through his hair in frustration. "But she says that in order to get better, she has to go somewhere else for treatment."