Naruko Anjou, nicknamed Anaru, anchors the narrative as a childhood friend within a tightly bonded group. In her youth, she grappled with insecurity over her curly hair and glasses, fostering envy toward a peer admired for silver hair and beauty. This jealousy deepened when the group’s leader favored that friend, climaxing when a question from Anaru inadvertently led to the friend’s fatal accident—an event etching enduring guilt into her psyche. By adolescence, she reinvents her image with dyed orange hair, contact lenses, and trendy attire, masking childhood vulnerabilities. Though she projects aloofness, especially toward the group’s reclusive former leader, quiet concern persists: she delivers his school assignments and tentatively seeks connection. A job at a video game store reignites ties to old friends, her vast manga and gaming collection serving as nostalgic common ground—a testament to her unspoken loyalty to their shared history. Her emotions churn with contradiction: she mimics peer-approved behaviors she inwardly scorns, yet falters in voicing true feelings, particularly romantic affection for the childhood friend. This tension fuels tsundere-like swings between detachment and covert care. Gradually, she confronts her lingering guilt from the accident, inching toward emotional openness despite resistance. A decade post-main events, official narratives unveil a pivotal shift. Years of unresolved grief and mutual tension culminate in a marriage proposal from the childhood friend, bypassing traditional courtship—a leap from passive yearning to decisive action. Her wry acknowledgment of the skipped dating phase underscores their complex, evolving dynamic. Lesser-detailed familial elements include a younger brother, though the narrative prioritizes her role in mending the group’s fractures. Through tentative steps toward self-acceptance and candidness, she becomes a linchpin in their collective healing, bridging past wounds with fragile hope.