I shouldn't have walked it down myself.
Anyone could've done it. The form was already signed. Already approved. All I had to do was hand it to the admin office and be done with it.
And yet here I was, still carrying it like it meant something.
I blamed the soda machine. It was on the way.
Club: The Broken Compass.
President: Akizora Ranjiro.
Advisor: Hashimoto-sensei.
Members: Morisaki Rika, Minazuki Iroha.
I folded the paper and kept walking.
It wasn't nerves. Obviously.
The admin office was quiet, just Fujimoto-sensei at her desk, pen tapping against a half-finished crossword.
"Oh, Iroha-chan," she said, glancing up with a smile. "Is there something you need me to file?"
I slid the form across the desk.
"Yes. New club application," I said, keeping my voice level. "Don't worry it's already stamped. All the signatures are there."
She picked it up and skimmed the front page.
"The Broken Compass?" she repeated. "Not like you to join a club, Iroha-chan."
I nodded once. "Yeah. I know."
There was a pause.
"What's it about, darling?"
"Fantasy storytelling," I said. "We'll try not to summon Satan."
She chuckled and began scanning the form through the machine, her hand steady, her eyes kind.
"Want me to add it to the Club Showcase list?" she asked. "They're locking in which clubs get stage time, so new ones are getting flagged early."
I shrugged. "Not necessary."
And just like that, the form was in. The club was real.
And yet, the moment it became official… the victory felt hollow.
Not because it didn't count but because it didn't belong to me anymore.
It felt like second place dressed in paperwork.
And I'd worn that feeling before.
Outside, the breeze stirred weakly through the courtyard, the kind of spring air that doesn't move your hair but makes your sleeves flutter just enough to feel seen.
I stood beside the vending machine, unopened lemon soda in hand. Not because I wasn't thirsty. I just didn't feel like moving. Not yet.
Somewhere in the mesh of voices and sneakers and windblown worksheets, Rika was probably already back in her seat. Planner out. Pens color-coded. Probably writing notes before the lecture even began.
Ranjiro?
Most likely halfway into a scene breakdown of what just happened, categorising our group dynamic like a party of adventurers who'd bonded in battle. He lives for that kind of thing.
Me?
I just stood there, the can sweating slightly against my palm.
"Hello, senpai!"
I didn't jump. I already knew who it was.
The voice alone gave it away, high-energy, vaguely theatrical, and just a beat behind the rhythm of normal conversation. Like she was narrating her own arrival, out loud.
"Fujikawa," I said, not turning. "Didn't I tell you to stop loitering while class is in session?"
"You're just in luck," she chirped, appearing beside me. "To catch me being on my way to that right now."
Naru Fujikawa, second-year. Walking metaphor for a sunshower.
She appeared with a half-finished strawberry milk in her hands, holding it like it might be stolen… or might sprout wings and escape her.
Her silver bob-cut was slightly uneven, eyes warm and focused in that too-sincere kind of way. Judging by the state of her blazer, one sleeve rolled, the other forgotten, she'd probably worn it to sleep.
Scratch that. She'd definitely worn it to sleep. Twice.
"You're supposed to be in PE," I reminded her. "And the gym is the other direction."
"I was in PE," she said, not even trying to sell it. "But I came here to get another drink."
To prove her point, she finished her current one and tossed the carton into the recycling bin. A clean shot.
I sighed. I was too mentally constipated to deal with Naru Fujikawa.
She pointed to my hand. "Did the vending machine say something mean?"
"You could say that."
"You look like someone who lost an argument against it."
"That's because I did."
She didn't press. Just slipped a few coins into the machine and pulled out another strawberry milk. Then her eyes flicked to my unopened soda.
"You gonna finish that?"
I handed it over without protest.
She blinked. "For me?"
"Take it before I change my mind."
She hugged the can to her chest like it was a love confession. "Senpai, I knew today would be lucky."
Even as she smiled, I could see it, the quiet pause. The unspoken question behind her eyes.
"You okay?"
I looked away. "I'm fine."
Because I had to be.
She nodded, not convinced, but respectful enough to leave it alone.
"Well," she said, stepping back, "if you ever feel like not being fine, you know where to find me."
I gave a short breath. "Yep. Right here. At 10:43 a.m. on the dot."
She blinked. Then smiled again, not the bright, toothy kind. Just a soft curl of the lips. Steady. Grounding.
"Get back to class," I said, turning.
"Yes, ma'am~!"
She spun on her heel and bounced off, sipping lemon soda like it was a trophy she'd earned.
She always showed up at the weirdest times.
Never asked for explanations.
Never gave them either.
Just enough presence to remind me that not everything needed fixing.
Some things… just were.
I stayed behind, arms crossed, head gently resting against the cool face of the vending machine.
It kept humming, steady and indifferent, like it had no stake in anything.
Still, my thoughts didn't shut off.
I'd already filed the form.
The club was real. Official.
But the moment it stamped… something felt off.
I hadn't won anything.
There was no advantage.
No measurable gain.
And yet, I was the one who carried it to the end.
Even after the point had been made.
Even after the outcome was already written.
I could've walked away.
But I didn't.
What was I chasing?
The vending machine kept humming.
The silence didn't offer an answer.