I Reincarnated as the Counselor NPC in a Dating Sim, and Now Every Heroine I Treat Becomes Obsessed with Me - Chapter 41: “Midori on Tuesday, Mio on Thursday—And What Haruto Noticed”

Chapter 41: “Midori on Tuesday, Mio on Thursday—And What Haruto Noticed”

First week of December.
Second week of the schedule.

Tuesday. Midori’s time.

After Akane and Rin left, Midori came in. 

5:40 PM.

She wasn’t carrying her binder.

“Excuse me, Asagiri-sensei.”

“Welcome. I’ll make some tea.”

Midori sat down in the chair. 

This time she leaned against the backrest.

It wasn’t the first time. She had leaned back once before, on a day she arrived late. 

But back then, she had only done it because she was too tired to hold herself upright. 

Today—she chose to lean back on her own.

“No report today?”

“Yes. Today—I just came to drink tea.”

Midori had said it herself. 

She came to drink tea. No excuse attached.

I served the tea. Midori wrapped both hands around the cup. 

She took one sip, then let out a quiet breath.

“…It’s quiet.”

“Yeah. Maybe it feels that way because Rin-san and Akane were just here.”

“Kagurazaka-san’s voice could be heard all the way into the hallway.”

The corners of her lips softened slightly.

“Asagiri-sensei. Thank you for making the schedule.”

“Is it working out?”

“Yes. —To be honest, before this, I often wasn’t sure when to come. Sometimes I would arrive, see someone else here, and turn back.”

“I noticed.”

“…You noticed?”

“I saw your eyes whenever you smiled at the door and said, ‘May I change it to tomorrow?’”

Midori took another sip of tea.

“…So you saw right through me. But now that I know Tuesdays are my time, I can come here without hesitating.”

Silence followed.

The comfortable kind.

Midori looked at her cup as she slowly began to speak.

“The other day—something a little interesting happened in class.”

“What happened?”

“It was during a group-work lesson, when we had to choose a leader for the team. Normally, I naturally become the leader. No one objects, and I accept it.”

“Yeah.”

“This time—Hanasaki-san volunteered to be the leader.”

“Haruto-kun did?”

“Yes. He said, ‘I want to try it.’ —For just a moment, I almost raised my hand too… then stopped.”

She slowly turned her cup.

“You stopped yourself.”

“Yes. The moment I stopped—it felt strange. I couldn’t tell if the version of me that didn’t raise her hand was being lazy… or growing.”

“Which do you think it was?”

“…I watched Hanasaki-san’s group work. His management wasn’t as efficient as mine. There were moments when the discussion went off track. But…”

Midori paused for a moment.

“The group members spoke more than they do when I’m the leader. When I’m the leader, things run efficiently, but the members don’t speak much. They know that if they follow my instructions, nothing will go wrong. But when Hanasaki-san was the leader—everyone shared their own opinions. Even when things went off track, Hanasaki-san would laugh and guide it back.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“…I felt jealous. And then—I realized there are times when it’s better if I’m not the leader.”

She finished her tea.

“It may not be right to score other people, but I think Hanasaki-san was about a 75-point leader. A 75-point leader can sometimes produce better results than a hundred-point leader. —Strange, isn’t it?”

I poured her a second cup.

“Because Midori-san stepped back, Haruto-kun got to experience being a leader. The group members got to speak too. —What you did wasn’t laziness.”

“…”

“Letting others take the role is also a kind of leadership.”

Midori accepted the second cup of tea.

“…When you say it, Sensei, I almost feel like I can believe it.”

“You can believe it.”

She smiled slightly.

Not the usual mask, but a smile carrying her real feelings.

“Then—I’ll try believing in the 75-point version of myself.”

—

Thursday. Mio’s slot.

This week—she came.

No knock. The door opened.

“…………”

Mio entered and sat in her usual chair. 

I served her tea. She took one sip.

“…My voice went hoarse from rehearsal.”

Now that she mentioned it, Mio’s voice was lower than usual. Rougher too.

“Your throat okay?”

“It’s fine. —If you’re going to tell me to rest, I’ll leave.”

“I’m not saying that. Stay and drink some tea. Warm things are good for your throat.”

She silently drank her tea.

“…The ensemble play rehearsals are reaching the final stage. Two weeks until the December performance.”

“Is it going well?”

“—I don’t know myself whether it is or not.”

Mio wrapped both hands around the cup.

“Yesterday, a junior told me, ‘Kujou-senpai, I like your acting lately. Compared to before, it feels more alive.’”

“That’s a good compliment.”

“I don’t understand it. What exactly is different from before? What does she mean by ‘more alive’?”

“Maybe you don’t need to understand it. What the audience feels isn’t something the actor can fully control.”

“…Is that how it works?”

“It is. The fact is, Mio-san has changed. That change is showing in your acting. Your junior noticed it.”

She stayed quiet for a while.

“…There’s one thing to report.”

“Yeah?”

“During rehearsal—I almost cried because of a junior’s line.”

“Almost cried?”

“Third act. There’s a scene where her character says to mine, ‘You are not alone.’ It’s just a line in the script. I’ve heard it dozens of times. And yet yesterday—”

Mio’s voice trembled, just slightly.

“Only yesterday, it got through to me. Her voice—didn’t sound like a line anymore. It sounded like she truly meant it.”

“…You didn’t block it out.”

“I didn’t. Just once. I shut it back out right after—but for a moment, I was shaken.”

Mio placed her cup down.

“This is the first time something other than your words has shaken me.”

She said it quietly.

I was happy.

At the same time, that same needle-like pain I had felt before stabbed into my chest again.

Mio’s world was expanding.

It wasn’t only my words anymore. Her junior’s words had shaken her too. Voices other than mine were beginning to reach behind the mask.

“That’s a good thing, Mio-san.”

“…Is it?”

“I’m looking forward to the performance.”

Mio stood up.

“Did you give the tickets to Hinomiya and the book girl?”

“I’ll give them next week.”

“…………Slow.”

“Sorry.”

Mio left.

—

Friday. Shizuku and Akane’s day.

Before Shizuku arrived, there was a visitor.

It was Haruto.

“Sensei, got a minute?”

“Sure. Have a seat.”

Haruto sat down in the chair. His usual natural, easygoing self. 

But today—his expression was slightly clouded.

“Sensei. I wanted to ask about Yukimura-san.”

“I’ll answer within the limits of confidentiality.”

“Uh, lately—Yukimura-san seems a little different.”

“Different?”

“When I see her in the library, the amount of notes she writes has gone down. Before, she used to write pretty long notes for me. But recently, it’s just one or two lines. Even when I ask her something, she only replies with notes saying ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

The amount of Shizuku’s notes had decreased.

Not only in front of me—but in front of Haruto too.

“And also—before, she used to actively help with rearranging books and stuff in the library. But lately, she just sits by the window and looks outside. She has a book open, but it feels like the pages aren’t moving.”

Haruto had been observing her.

He had noticed the changes in Shizuku.

“Did I say something bad or mess up somehow? I can’t think of anything. The last time we talked, everything seemed normal—”

“I don’t think it’s because of you, Hanasaki-kun.”

“Then did something else happen—”

Haruto looked straight at me. Serious eyes.

“Sensei… do you know? Did something happen to Yukimura-san?”

I knew.

The reason for Shizuku’s change was—the schedule.

The place she used to come to every day had been reduced to only three days a week.

And on the days she wasn’t there, she heard other people’s voices inside.

But I couldn’t explain that to Haruto.

What happened in Shizuku’s counseling was protected by confidentiality.

“I can’t tell you the details. But—I’m grateful that you noticed Shizuku-chan’s changes.”

“…………”

“Hanasaki-kun. I want you to keep treating Shizuku-chan the same as always. Even if her notes are shorter. Even if she isn’t reading her book. Just go to the library like usual, and talk to her like usual.”

“…That’s enough?”

“That’s enough. —Right now, what matters most for Shizuku-chan is that Hanasaki-kun stays ‘the same as always.’”

Haruto thought quietly for a while.

“…Got it. I’ll keep going like usual. —But, Sensei.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re properly watching over Yukimura-san too, right?”

“I am.”

“Then—I’ll trust you, Sensei.”

Haruto left.

Ten minutes later, Shizuku came.

Five minutes after that, Akane arrived.

Shizuku sat in her usual seat.

Akane sat in a chair farther away from Shizuku.

These two had already shared the same space many times now.

Shizuku opened her book, while Akane drank tea and looked out the window.

There was no conversation, but there was no hostility either.

But today’s Shizuku—didn’t hand me a note.

She drank her tea, opened her book, and sat there silently.

Akane glanced at Shizuku once, but said nothing.

One hour passed.

Akane stood first.

“I’m leaving.”

At the door, she looked toward me, then toward Shizuku—as if she was about to say something, then stopped herself.

She left without a word.

Shizuku remained.

When she was about to leave, she handed me only one note.

『Ren-sensei. I will come on Monday.』

I replied, “Yeah.”

After Shizuku left, I was alone in the counseling room.

The eight drawings pinned to the wall.

The first one—an apple tree with two figures beneath it.

The eighth one—an apple tree with no figures at all.

Haruto had noticed Shizuku’s change.

Even in the library, her notes had decreased.

She had changed outside as well.

This wasn’t something happening only inside the counseling room.

The effect of the schedule—was spreading through Shizuku’s entire daily life.

The schedule I created.

The time slots I decided.

“I’m watching over her,” I told Haruto.

And I was. 

I was watching—but.

Was watching alone enough?

Watching someone and taking action were two different things.

If I canceled the schedule at this stage, Midori and Mio would lose their time slots.

But if I made an exception only for Shizuku, fairness with the other heroines would fall apart.

There was no right answer.

There was no answer that was right for all five of them.

I opened my notebook to write today’s record.

My pen refused to move for a long time.