[ With a little huff of a laugh, the edges of it tinged in self-depreciation, Itsuki squeezes his hands around the mug. Logically, he knows that he didn't... really do anything wrong, exactly. But it's hard to listen to reason when he considers everything that happened, everything he said, everything he did. So it stings, after it'd felt like they were getting somewhere, finding the foundation of the trust they need to grow as a battery in Amoi's skinship. ]

I told him he was the reason I applied to Inashiro - because I saw him pitching on TV when he was a first year. [ His shoulders curl in again. ] And then I confessed to him. I said it was fine, if he didn't reciprocate, because it is, but this is...