SS: Spring’s Bread Festival
“Yuri, can I have the sticker on your sweet bun bag?”
“Ah, that once a year campaign that gives dishes in return? Just the usual commoner,” she dissed.
“Call me a son with filial piety. My mom’s been collecting unflaggingly.”
“By the way, is it already a year? I thought we talked about this just a while before?”
“I want you to notice the flow of time with something more worthwhile than a bread campaign… But yeah.”
Next year, we won’t be highschoolers anymore. One year later, I would have been out there, drawing, while Yuri–this genius, would be doing who knows what in who knows where.
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One day ahead was easy to predict, yet one year later was shrouded in mystery. Was this only applicable to highschool students, or a common fact that would remain the same even as adults.
The peach colored stickers I collect in my pencil case, if this rate continues, then the future that I get the dish would be sealed. Yet our future wasn’t something cognizable.
“What’s with that puzzling face? You’re coming up with another lame poem? Stop while you can. I’m sure the Yamazaki higher-ups pray for that.”
“Yeah… Breads are to be enjoyed while eating. And collecting the stamps for mom, that should be all.”
When I graduate, I will move away and can no longer help mom collect stickers.
Then, for one last year, I should fulfill my duty as a dutiful son. And so I swore, to the peach colored sticker.
[TN: What a sentimental SS.]
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