Chapter 9: Friends

It's been a few years, and I've come to understand Momo Yaoyorozu better. She is a beautiful person, both inside and out, but her struggles are deeply painful.

As I walk around the school, I often notice how Momo remains on the periphery of the bustling student life. While groups of students chat and laugh, she sits alone, often by a window or under the cherry blossom tree where we first met. The vibrant activity around her contrasts sharply with her solitude, as if an invisible barrier keeps her from fully joining in.

In the cafeteria, I see her at a corner table, her posture rigid, her gaze distant. Students pass by, barely glancing at her before joining their friends. During group activities, she participates minimally, her presence is acknowledged but rarely embraced.

The growing realization that I might be one of the few who genuinely engages with her fills me with unease. It's not just that she is alone; it's the palpable loneliness that surrounds her, an emotional isolation that seems to go beyond social circles. I see her making attempts to engage—offering polite smiles, initiating small talk—but there's a noticeable lack of warmth from others.

Reflecting on this, I'm struck by the unfairness of the situation. Momo's grace and kindness stand in stark contrast to the isolation she faces, seemingly due to her family's wealth and the expectations tied to it. Her situation resonates with me because, while my own struggles with "Programmatic Control" have felt isolating, her loneliness seems rooted in broader social dynamics.

Determined to support her, I resolve to bridge that gap and show her that she is valued for who she is. My commitment to being her friend becomes more profound as I recognize the societal barriers she faces. I want to offer her a sense of belonging and counteract the isolation she endures.

One afternoon, as we sit under the cherry blossom tree, Momo's voice trembles slightly as she speaks. "Ren-san, you're the only person who's really talked to me. I don't know if it's because of my background or something else, but it's been so lonely."

I look at her, sensing the pain behind her words. "Why is that? What's been happening with the other students?"

Momo takes a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I think it's because of my family's background. We've always been wealthy, and it feels like that puts me at a distance from others. They see me as different, and it makes me feel isolated."

Her voice breaks, and she quickly wipes away a tear. "It's not just the wealth. It's like they see me as an outsider, someone who doesn't belong. No matter what I do, I'm always on the outside looking in."

As I listen, my heart aches. Her hurt mirrors my own experiences of feeling separate due to "Programmatic Control," but her isolation stems from something as fundamental as her background. It's painfully unfair for someone so kind to be pushed away because of factors beyond her control.

"Momo-san, I'm really sorry to hear that. It must be incredibly tough to feel like you don't belong."

Momo nods, her expression softening. "Yes, it is. But talking to you today has been a relief. You're the first person who's made me feel like I'm not completely alone here."

I reach out and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. My thoughts swirl with sadness and determination. Seeing her so alone is difficult, but I'm grateful for the chance to be a friend. I hope our bond can provide some relief and support.

"I'm really glad we met, Momo-san. You're a remarkable person with so much potential. I hope that with time, things will start to feel better for you."

A small, genuine smile appears on Momo's face, and she seems to relax a little. "Thank you, Ren-san. Your kindness means more to me than you know. It's comforting to have someone who understands."

As we continue talking, I feel a profound connection forming between us. Despite her struggles, our shared understanding creates a space of solace and hope. I realize that our friendship is not only a beacon of light for her but also a source of strength for both of us. Through this, I understand that our struggles often make us more compassionate and empathetic. Momo's courage in sharing her loneliness highlights the value of true friendship, and I hope we can navigate the challenges ahead together.