I Reincarnated as the Counselor NPC in a Dating Sim, and Now Every Heroine I Treat Becomes Obsessed with Me - Chapter 06: “The Lie of ‘I’m Fine’—The Mood-Maker Who Doesn’t Know How to Cry”

Chapter 06: “The Lie of ‘I’m Fine’—The Mood-Maker Who Doesn’t Know How to Cry”

Twelfth day after my assignment.
The turning point came from the infirmary.

Lunchtime.

I had just returned from the rooftop and was spending a quiet moment in the counseling room with Shizuku—

When a voice rang out from the infirmary next door.

“Tsubaki-sensei! Sorry—this girl got hurt!”

A bright voice.

Clear and ringing—like sunlight itself.

Even through the wall, I recognized the owner of that voice from my game knowledge.

Rin Kagurazaka.

The ace of the soccer club.
The mood-maker.

“Everyone’s Rin-chan,” popular with both boys and girls.

In the game, she filled the childhood friend role—the classic type who says, “It’s not like I like you or anything!” while still fussing over the protagonist—

“Huh? Tsubaki-sensei’s not here… Lunch break? Seriously?”

The infirmary door slid open.

Then came an awkward silence.

I stood up.

When I glanced at Shizuku, she kept her eyes on her book but gave a faint nod.

I took that as a quiet “You can go.”

I stepped into the infirmary.

A girl in a soccer jersey stood there, supporting a small underclassman who was clutching her knee and crying.

Rin was—

Exactly as I had imagined.

Short brown hair.
Lively eyes.

Healthy, sun-kissed skin.

A flexible, athletic build visible even through the jersey.

Tall enough that she didn’t look out of place standing beside the boys.

And right now—

She held the younger girl by the shoulders, glancing around with a troubled look.

“Ah—”

Rin looked at me.

“Sensei…? You’re not the school nurse, are you?”

“I’m the counselor from the room next door. Ren Asagiri. Tsubaki-sensei stepped out during lunch. —An injury?”

“Ah, yeah! This girl tripped during practice and scraped her knee. It’s bleeding kinda bad.”

I examined the girl’s knee.

A scrape.

There was blood, but it wasn’t deep.

Disinfect it and apply a bandage—that would be enough.

“The infirmary’s first-aid kit should be available. I’ll take care of it.”

“Seriously? That helps a ton!”

Rin’s face lit up instantly.

We helped the younger girl sit down, and I opened the first-aid kit.

Disinfectant. Gauze. Bandages.

Even in my previous life, I had handled basic first aid.

“This might sting a little. Try to bear with it.”

The underclassman—her name tag showed she was a first-year—gave a small nod.

I disinfected the knee, wiped away the blood with gauze, and placed a slightly larger bandage over the scrape.

“All done. Try to avoid intense exercise for a while, okay?”

“Thank you very much…”

The girl bowed politely.

Beside her, Rin flashed a wide grin.

“Sensei, you’re amazing! That was smooth! You’re a counselor but you can do the nurse’s job too?”

“Basic first aid, at least. Counselors learn the fundamentals of physical care as well.”

“Huhhh. I didn’t know that. I thought counselors just listen to people talk.”

“Well, that’s mostly true.”

The younger girl bowed to Rin.

“Senpai, thank you very much.”

She left the infirmary.

“Take it easy, okay!”

Rin waved her off cheerfully.

Now it was just the two of us.

She remained standing there.

Maybe she had missed the timing to leave.

Or maybe—

“You’re Rin-san, right? From the soccer club.”

“Ah, yeah. Rin Kagurazaka. Second year. …Wait, you know my name?”

“I’m the counselor. I keep track of the students’ names.”

Half a lie.

I knew from the game.

But that wasn’t something I could say.

“You brought that girl here yourself.”

“Ah, well. She fell right near me during practice. The others were just standing there panicking, not sure what to do, so I figured I had to bring her.”

She said it lightly.

As if it were nothing.

But I had noticed.

The taping wrapped around her left ankle.

For soccer taping, it was a little too thick.

Wrapped in a way that restricted movement.

That was—

A sprain. Or something close to it.

And the edge of the tape peeking out from under her shorts was faintly red.

A sign of swelling.

Rin had brought the injured underclassman here—

While being injured herself.

“Rin-san.”

“Yeah?”

“What about your own ankle?”

Her smile froze—for half a second.

Different from Midori’s blankness.

Rin’s pause came from her will to maintain that smile falling half a beat behind.

In other words—

She was trying to hide it.

“Eh? Oh—this?”

She lifted her left foot lightly and gave it a small spin.

“It’s nothing serious! Just twisted it a bit at practice yesterday. As long as I tape it, I’m totally fine.”

A smile.

A bright, sun-like smile.

I’m fine.
It’s nothing.
I’m totally okay.

How many times had she used those three phrases in this short conversation alone?

(…I knew it.)

I recalled Rin’s character settings from the game.

“Straightforward personality.” “Reliable childhood friend.” “The mood-maker.”

During her route, there was only one event where she showed weakness—

Late in the game, when affection was almost maxed out.

Other than that, she was always cheerful.

Always strong.

Always “fine.”

Looking at it through my counselor’s eyes from my past life—

That setting was abnormal.

Humans are fragile.

Everyone has moments when they struggle.

There are only two types of people who insist they are “always fine.”

Either a superhuman with nerves of steel—

Or someone who has been “forbidden” from showing weakness.

Rin was the latter.

I had been certain of that ever since I played the game in my previous life.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Huh?”

“Your ankle. Over the tape is fine.”

For a brief moment, she hesitated.

Her smile remained in place.

But deep in her eyes, something flickered—

I don’t want to show it.

I didn’t miss it.

But I didn’t corner her either.

“I won’t force you. I was just a little concerned about how it’s taped. If it’s wrapped too tight, it can affect circulation.”

I framed it as a technical observation.

Not “I’m worried about you,” but “I’m concerned about the taping.”

For someone like Rin, practical reasoning worked better than emotional appeals.

“…Okay, just for a sec then.”

She sat down again and rolled up the hem of her shorts.

I touched the tape gently.

On the surface, I was checking for swelling—

But I was really watching her expression.

A mild sprain.

The taping itself wasn’t bad, just slightly too tight.

With this level of swelling, running around would hurt quite a bit.

“You wrapped it a little tight. It’d be better to loosen it about half a turn here. …You’ve been running on this?”

“Eh? Well, I can still move.”

“Being able to move and being fine aren’t the same thing.”

“…………”

“I’ll adjust the tape for now. Just loosen it a little.”

“Ah, sorry…”

“And you should probably let the team trainer take a look.”

“Nah, it’s not serious enough to show the trainer.”

—There it was again.

“Not serious enough.”

She minimized her own injury.

Decided it wasn’t worth showing anyone.

Handled it herself.

Didn’t rely on anyone.

She rushed her injured underclassman to the infirmary—

Yet brushed off her own injury as “nothing.”

She could take perfect care of others.

But couldn’t take care of herself.

That—

Was the behavior pattern of someone who had learned that her own pain had no value.

As I adjusted the tape slightly, I asked casually—

“Rin-san, are you always taking care of the other girls like that?”

“Huh? Well, I’m a senpai. Looking after the juniors is just normal, right?”

“Normal, huh. Doesn’t it get tiring?”

“Not at all! I’ve got tons of stamina!”

Instant reply.

No hesitation.

Full-power smile.

A flawless “I’m fine.”

I finished adjusting the tape and pulled my hands away.

“—Rin-san.”

“Yeah?”

“If anything ever comes up, you can come to my place too. The counseling room. Right next to the infirmary.”

“Ahaha, me? Counseling? I’m totally fine, so I’m good!”

She laughed.

She really was a girl who laughed often.

But I knew.

Her smile was a mask too—just a different kind from Midori’s.

Midori was slowly losing touch with her emotions.

Rin was burying hers beneath a bright smile.

Midori’s mask was made of emptiness.

Rin’s mask was made of cheerfulness.

If I had to say which one was more dangerous—

It might be Rin.

Midori “felt nothing.” So when she broke, it would be quiet.

Rin “felt everything, but hid all of it.”

So when she broke—

Everything she had bottled up would burst at once.

How many hundreds of times had she said “I’m fine” in her life?

“Yeah. I’m glad you’re fine.”

I smiled.

For now, I wouldn’t step in any further.

“Alright then, I’m heading back to club!”

She waved and left the infirmary.

Her ponytail bounced energetically as she walked away.

Watching her back disappear down the hallway, I thought—

For Akane, it was the Lunchbox Strategy.

For Shizuku, quiet acceptance.

For Midori, I still hadn’t found the right approach.

And for Rin—

What?

This girl would only come here “for someone else.”

She wouldn’t come for herself.

In that case—

(…I’ll use caring for others as the excuse. Let her stop by for that reason. Little by little, I’ll lower the hurdle of coming here for herself. It’ll take time—but for someone with Rin’s personality, that’s the most natural way.)

I returned from the infirmary to the counseling room.

Shizuku was in her usual seat, reading.

—Except the book was held higher than usual.

It covered most of her face.

As if she didn’t want her expression seen.

“I’m back. Sorry it took a while.”

She lowered the book slightly and looked at me.

Her eyes peeked out from between her bangs.

The same deep color as always.

But today—

They felt… damp.

Shizuku didn’t write a memo.

She closed her book, placed it in her bag, and stood up.

Earlier than usual.

She stopped at the door and turned back.

Her lips moved.

But no sound came out.

She bit her lower lip softly—

Then left the counseling room.

I looked at the desk.

No memo.

Since she started coming here—

Today was the first time she left without leaving a note.

(…………)

A bad feeling crept in.

Shizuku must have heard what happened in the infirmary through the wall.

Rin’s bright voice.

My calm responses.

The first-aid treatment.

And the words, “You can come to my place too.”

How did she feel hearing that?

Maybe I was overthinking it.

It had only been twelve days since my assignment.

My relationship with Shizuku was still shallow.

There would be days when she didn’t leave a memo.

There would be—

I told myself that.

There would be.