Tada, Sore Dake de Yokattan desu Epilogue

“Because you wish for others to hear you, don’t you?” Sayo’s voice chimed in.

I hadn't realized I was muttering until she pointed it out, and it seemed I had spoken my thoughts aloud subconsciously. This was incredibly mortifying. I quickly covered my mouth. Before I knew it, I'd developed this embarrassing habit of 'storytelling,' a way for me to blend into this harsh world where I struggled to connect with society.

Sayo offered a smile right beside me.

While I disliked that knowing look, I lacked the strength to push back.

“Takkun, you could never be trash. You care too much about humanity for that.”

Sayo continued,

“In the end, you didn’t harm anyone. What was that about wielding a knife? Even if you just stood there, you wouldn't have been able to aim properly.”

“…”

“Didn’t I tell you? Rely on me a little more. Come on, tell me your story.”

“Why…?”

It was a question I had always wanted to ask her.

“Are you on my side, Sayo?”

She had been encouraging me, assisting me, and even helped me meet Sanae. She had consistently been in my corner.

“Because I was cheering you on,” she replied with a playful grin. “My name is Sayo Fujimoto. My birth parents gave me up, and my uncle, the Principal, raised me single-handedly.”

“My family secret is so hidden that not even Sanae knows about it,” Sayo added.

At that moment, her secrecy finally made sense.

Having been raised by the Principal, a man obsessed with education, she must have been exceptionally sharp. She likely used her connection to her uncle to gain insights, which greatly aided Sanae in her research.

And she was Sou's niece.

She then began to elaborate,

“My uncle told me about a certain middle school boy’s background and his tenacious spirit, the one who refused to yield to anyone and kept going. Because of that, I’ve been rooting for him the whole time. I never imagined he’d be the boy I saw crying at the food court.”

“How was that tenacious?”

“I told you not to put yourself down. I feel a connection to you, having also been coldly abandoned by my parents. Hearing about how you dared to face this world head-on was inspiring. Even now, your efforts move me.”

As we stood on the bridge, Sayo embraced me with unexpected tenderness, saying,

“This world isn’t as bleak as you believe, Takkun. I love you, so please don’t call yourself trash again.”

Trapped in her embrace, I couldn’t move a muscle. My body felt weak, my thoughts adrift. I had never experienced anything like this before, yet it felt strangely familiar, almost nostalgic.

Something in my heart felt like it was shattering.

I wanted to cry out, but an odd sensation prevented me from making a sound.

Memories, stretching back to my childhood, began to burst in my mind like fireworks.

I was neglected by my parents, mistreated constantly, and forced to sleep outside in the cold every night. No one taught me how to bathe, and no one bought me proper clothes. During elementary school, no one would come near me. Whenever I cried, I’d hear, “We shouldn’t have given birth to you.” Seriously, they’d say, “You’re trash.” I was made to sit in front of a mirror and repeat those words. By the time I was ten, all the household chores fell to me, and any mistake resulted in a harsh beating. There were so many times I wished for death, so desperately wanting to vanish from this world.

“Don’t just disappear. There are still people in this world who want to know you.”

A boy, it seemed, had seen through my despair when he said those words to me.

“…Don’t say that,” I pleaded. “Why would you love someone like me… such comfort is utterly meaningless.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

From the depths of my heart, I growled, wanting to extinguish any pointless hope.

Yet, because I had received Sayo’s love, an impossible delusion flickered through my mind, so potent it eclipsed my self-loathing.

It was replaced by a foolish, lingering possibility.

Masaya’s final testament was brutally harsh: “Taku Sugawara is the devil.” Those words, undoubtedly, would ignite a sense of righteous anger in everyone. But was Masaya truly someone who refused to admit his own faults, someone to unjustly brand others as guilty? No, that genius wasn't that foolish as a human.

The message Masaya left for me felt strange. ‘Traitor’—it implied I was the one who broke the promise, while Masaya upheld it, right? Or did it mean only Masaya remained loyal to the ‘TakuMasa Alliance,’ formed from their twisted familial bonds?

Only one conclusion could resolve these two mysteries.

That Masaya had utterly destroyed my family, thereby freeing me from my parents’ influence.

Such a preposterous delusion clung to my thoughts. How could this possibly be true!?

“Besides, this isn’t the redemption I seek… what I desire is a different conclusion…”