Typos and Five O'Clock—"Azaleas by the Water" ep.36

Washing my face with toothpaste and brushing my teeth with face wash.
To the me of that day who would have scoffed at the idea that such a ridiculous mistake could ever happen.

You'll do it, six years from now.
Well, if I had actually washed my face with toothpaste—if I had done that, I might not be remembering you like this, but...
I was teary-eyed and foaming at the mouth.
I'm just like the crab from the old folktale.
I rinsed my mouth over and over again.

Only when I'm in a rush do I get the urge to take a strangely long detour.
That's my bad habit.
I know it, but I couldn't stop.
Thanks to the air conditioner being left on for three days and nights, the room was warm enough for a hibiscus to bloom.
I hung a towel around my neck and changed the water for the poinsettia cutting I got at my part-time job.

I stapled together five sets of three pages of a collection of knowledge called a "report," spat out by a printer that was in a slightly foul mood.
The staples ran out after three sets, so I refilled them.
Before I knew it, the "report" was dotted with gray smudges here and there.
—This is bad.
I tapped the smartphone screen.
—This is extremely bad.
I rushed to the washroom, putting on the clothes closest to me... the clothes I had been wearing until just a moment ago, which were unpleasantly warm.
I grabbed the hair dryer.
At the end of that hot air were the five stacks of paper.
Hurry, hurry, hurry...

My shoulders and back were starting to feel damp.

From there on, it was almost unconscious.
The stacks of paper, pencil case, USB memory stick pulled from the computer, the textbook for the exam subject...
I shoved them all into a random tote bag and ripped my coat off the hanger.
Finally, I slid in the paperback book that was third from the left on the shelf.

My sneakers and leather shoes were lined up.
I shoved my feet into the sneakers without hesitation.
I untied the dirty laces, pulled them tight, and retied them.

"Ah..."
Not again.
Only the right one is tied vertically.
I felt a cold sweat run down my spine.
I untied it once more.
It became a vertical knot again.
Having lost all hope for the third time being the charm, I turned the key and pushed down the lever.
This door always hesitates for a moment.
But today, it opened with a lightness that felt like it might be carried off somewhere.
Caught off guard, I tumbled out.

In an instant, the cold air combed through my damp hair.
"Cold..."
"Tough..."
I muttered to myself, using only the stems of the words, and locked the door.

Instead of the key, I lit up my smartphone screen.
—9:01 AM
The submission deadline is 9:30 AM.
It takes about ten minutes to get to the university from here.
Plenty of time.

...Assuming there isn't a line at the academic affairs office.

I had started running.
The fierce dog at the corner house kept barking shrilly.
I couldn't tell anymore if the dog's barking was faster or my breathing was faster.
I could see Monoto-san sweeping the front of the used bookstore.
He nodded broadly and waved at me.
I intended to give him the best smile I could, but it might have been a strange face filled with agony.

Still, I kept running.

—It's fine! Mizuki-kun is slow at running! It's fine!

Suddenly, her words crossed my mind.
Not in my mind, but right before my eyes.

I looked at the smartphone screen.
—9:11 AM.

My temporal artery was throbbing deeply and heavily.
I pushed deeper into the campus, crushing the blood vessels that were pushing back.
The scenery distorted because of the pulse raging near my temples.

As expected, I could see a line of people in the distance that seemed to be stretching from the academic affairs office.
"…Mizuki-kun?"
The hem of my coat was pulled.
When I turned around, she was looking at me with eyes that were already half-closed.
"Hehe... it really is... Mizuki-kun..."
What was she going to do if it had been someone else?
"Yes, it's Mizuki-kun."
We lined up at the end of the queue.

I flipped through the report, checking for any typos or omissions.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her yawning repeatedly.
"Couldn't you sleep?"
"It wasn't the time to be sleeping..."
She suddenly leaned her head against me and went quiet just like that.
Ignoring my flustered state, her body's balance kept collapsing further.
"Yuka?"
When I was at a loss because it was starting to look like I was holding her, she pouted her lips and said, "Twenty minutes. It's twenty minutes."
I looked up at the clock.
"It's eighteen minutes, you know?"
"No... I'm talking about my sleep time..."
I knew that, but "sorry."
I started checking for typos and omissions again.

"Eh?"
"Mizuki-kun? What is it?"

I timidly held out the report in front of her.
Of course, with my finger pointing to the place I wanted her to see.

"Chi, a, n, i, ji..."
She read it out as if tracing the letters.
"Rei..."
Then she looked up at my face and said,
"Public Security Spirit..."
It was a sleepy, drawn-out voice.
She rubbed her eyes and her shoulders were shaking.
It seems I had summoned an outrageous spirit into my report.
"What are you going to do about this?"
"Maintaining public security is too heavy a burden for a spirit, right?"
"U...n?"
"I'll reprint it."

Leaving her in the line, I started running again.
"Mizuki-kun!"

—It's fine! Mizuki-kun is slow at running! It's fine!

I was chanting those words again.

"The 24th is..."
"Part-time job!"

I couldn't turn around, go back, and turn around again.
Because of the guilt of having cut off her words.

"I see."

I cut through the wind.
Her warmth still remained on my right arm.

Maybe I should have just left the typo as it was.

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[Creative Awards 2026]
Currently entered in the Romance Novel category.
At the end of the year, the university was very busy with exams and report submissions.
I had already reached this age by the time I realized the biggest victims were the staff in the academic affairs office.
I'm sorry.

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In the Taisho era, the term for "carbon monoxide poisoning" was quite unique!

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[Essay]
A story about an old composition.

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Yukio-sama's commentary
They provided a commentary.
I see, so this is another way to read it...
I thought.
Interpretations are as varied as the people who make them.
That's why it's interesting.