Never ever had I found any special meaning in the date July 7th.

Thus, I had no idea as to the reason why I wrote the tanzaku that was distributed by the school, on July 7th—on the day of Tanabata Festival in my eighth grade.

I was not supposed to have any wishes.

I didn’t think I lacked anything nor did I think there was anything more I needed.

So, yes, my tanzakus should have been left blank.

For all eternity.




There were a lot of things I wished for.

I wanted to correct my shyness, and I wanted to have more friends. I wanted to have more money to buy books, and more time to read.

But for some reason—the wishes I wrote on the tanzaku were always different.

On the July 7th of my eighth grade—Tanabata, I wrote my wish on a tanzaku handed out by the school, as I always did.

My shyness would improve if I worked hard at it. I was certain that I could make friends. I was sure that I could find the money to buy books, and the time to read them.

But it would take a miracle or fate to make it happen.

There was nothing I can do about it, except to pray to a god I had never met—


I prayed year after year, time and time again, yet my wishes didn’t come true.

There was one thing different that year, however.

Before I hung my own tanzaku bamboo branch, I spotted someone else’s wish.


‘I wish for other people’s wishes to come true.’


I didn’t know if the person who wrote that was being kind, did it on a whim, or was being mean.

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

If the wishes on the other tanzakus were to come true, this wish too would be fulfilled—that’s quite a paradox.

In hindsight, there was only one person who would hang up such a twisted wish for a middle school kid without a second thought.

I didn’t know of it back then, and I hung my tanzaku next to the weird one in the spur of the But I didn’t know that at the time, and on a whim, I hung my own strip of paper next to the strange one.


‘May you find someone who can make the same wish.’




And so a year passed.

Various things happened, started, deepened, and ended.

And at this moment, our relationship had gone cold, wrecked, crumbled—

—But there was still a little bit of hope.


That’s why, I had to write this wish on the tanzaku, even though I had never made a wish before.




I had no choice but to ask God.

I was immature, stupid, and I just found it difficult to make amends with him—


That’s why, for this year, I wrote a different wish for the first time.




‘May we be together again next year.’ 


‘May we be together again next year.’ 




—And so, another year passed.





The end of terms was right around the corner, and the tension in the Irido household was palpable, to the point where our conversations were reduced.

Of course, Tanabata’s a kid’s event, and of course we wouldn’t have it in high school.

I didn’t have any tanzakus with me this year, and I wouldn’t have written any even if that was the case.

After all—look at the situation now.

It’s not reliable at all.


—Damn you God!


—This isn’t what I mean!


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