That’s Why We Stopped Being Childhood Friends (WN)

Chapter 1

That’s Why We Stopped Being Childhood Friends (WN)

A story that will make you think “Huh? There’s no next chapter?” after every installment. I, Kyoutarou Hikagami, have two childhood friends. Otoe Yatsuko, whose parents are extremely wealthy. Takehiro Furuya, whose father practices karate. Living in the same neighborhood, the three of us spent our time playing together since kindergarten. Takehiro, with his early birthday, always felt somewhat like an older brother. Otoe, who took many lessons, was a cute girl who smiled brightly whenever she played the piano. I was the only one with both parents working, and I didn’t take any lessons at all… But as a child, I didn’t feel any disparity between us. I began to feel it around middle school. Takehiro developed a well-trained physique and gained respect as he advanced through karate ranks. Otoe, seemingly determined to become a musician, kept entering competitions and achieving results. I had nothing. Nothing at all. Yet, they both continued to treat me the same way. I was happy about that, and I took advantage of it. With two guys and one girl, I knew something was bound to go wrong someday. Even so, without looking to the future, I stayed by their side. We all enrolled together at the same local public high school. And then… our gears began to warp more and more.

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ᯛᮩ ᮟᮜᮔᮕᮣᮤ ᮝᮕᮝᮟᮢᮩ ᮙᮣ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮛᮙᮞᮔᮕᮢᮗᮑᮢᮤᮕᮞᮼ ᯏ ᮖᮑᮙᮞᮤ ᮝᮕᮝᮟᮢᮩ ᮢᮕᮝᮑᮙᮞᮣ ᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮟᮢᮞᮕᮢ ᮟᮖ ᮝᮩ ᮝᮙᮞᮔ ᮟᮖ ᯔᮥᮢᮥᮩᮑ ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮘᮙᮢᮟᮺ ᮉᮑᮛᮟ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮝᮕ ᮢᮥᮞᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮑᮢᮟᮥᮞᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮛᮙᮞᮔᮕᮢᮗᮑᮢᮤᮕᮞ ᮠᮜᮑᮩᮗᮢᮟᮥᮞᮔᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮤᮘᮢᮕᮕ ᮟᮖ ᮥᮣ ᮠᮜᮑᮩᮙᮞᮗ ᮘᮑᮠᮠᮙᮜᮩ ᮤᮟᮗᮕᮤᮘᮕᮢᮼ

ᯐᮑᮓᮛ ᮤᮘᮕᮞᮺ ᮤᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮞᮟ ᮔᮙᮖᮖᮕᮢᮕᮞᮓᮕ ᮒᮕᮤᮧᮕᮕᮞ ᮥᮣᮼ

ᮃᮙᮞᮓᮕ ᮟᮥᮢ ᮘᮟᮥᮣᮕᮣ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮓᮜᮟᮣᮕᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮤᮘᮢᮕᮕ ᮟᮖ ᮥᮣ ᮑᮜᮧᮑᮩᮣ ᮑᮓᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮟᮗᮕᮤᮘᮕᮢᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮓᮘᮑᮞᮗᮕ ᮕᮦᮕᮞ ᮧᮘᮕᮞ ᮧᮕ ᮕᮞᮤᮕᮢᮕᮔ ᮕᮜᮕᮝᮕᮞᮤᮑᮢᮩ ᮣᮓᮘᮟᮟᮜᮼ ᮄᮧᮟ ᮒᮟᮩᮣ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮗᮙᮢᮜᮺ ᯗ ᮛᮞᮕᮧ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮢᮕᮜᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞᮣᮘᮙᮠ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮕᮦᮕᮞᮤᮥᮑᮜᮜᮩ ᮕᮞᮔᮼ

ᯏᮠᮠᮑᮢᮕᮞᮤᮜᮩᮺ ᯗ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮟᮞᮜᮩ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮤᮢᮟᮥᮒᮜᮕᮔ ᮒᮩ ᮣᮥᮓᮘ ᮑᮞ ᮥᮞᮓᮕᮢᮤᮑᮙᮞ ᮖᮥᮤᮥᮢᮕᮼ

ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮘᮙᮢᮟ ᮘᮑᮣ ᮒᮕᮕᮞ ᮑᮤᮤᮕᮞᮔᮙᮞᮗ ᮛᮑᮢᮑᮤᮕ ᮣᮙᮞᮓᮕ ᮘᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮜᮙᮤᮤᮜᮕᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮞᮟᮧ ᮑᮣ ᮑ ᮘᮙᮗᮘ ᮣᮓᮘᮟᮟᮜ ᮣᮤᮥᮔᮕᮞᮤᮺ ᮘᮕ ᮧᮕᮑᮢᮣ ᮑ ᮒᮜᮑᮓᮛ ᮒᮕᮜᮤ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮕᮨᮓᮕᮜᮣ ᮙᮞ ᮦᮑᮢᮙᮟᮥᮣ ᮤᮟᮥᮢᮞᮑᮝᮕᮞᮤᮣᮼ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮘᮑᮣ ᮒᮕᮕᮞ ᮜᮕᮑᮢᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮠᮙᮑᮞᮟ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯓᮞᮗᮜᮙᮣᮘ ᮓᮟᮞᮦᮕᮢᮣᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮣᮙᮞᮓᮕ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮜᮙᮤᮤᮜᮕᮺ ᮠᮑᮢᮤᮙᮓᮙᮠᮑᮤᮙᮞᮗ ᮙᮞ ᮢᮕᮓᮙᮤᮑᮜᮣ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮓᮟᮝᮠᮕᮤᮙᮤᮙᮟᮞᮣᮺ ᮑᮜᮧᮑᮩᮣ ᮢᮕᮤᮥᮢᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮣᮟᮝᮕ ᮛᮙᮞᮔ ᮟᮖ ᮑᮧᮑᮢᮔᮼ ᮃᮘᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮤᮢᮥᮜᮩ ᮑ ᮒᮢᮙᮜᮜᮙᮑᮞᮤ ᮩᮟᮥᮞᮗ ᮜᮑᮔᮩᮼ

ᯗ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮞᮟᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗᮼ ᯏᮜᮜ ᯗ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮔᮟᮺ ᮑᮜᮜ ᯗ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮔᮟᮞᮕᮺ ᮙᮣ ᮗᮟ ᮤᮟ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮦᮕᮞᮥᮕᮣ ᮤᮟ ᮓᮘᮕᮕᮢ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮟᮞ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮑᮠᮠᮜᮑᮥᮔ ᮤᮘᮕᮙᮢ ᮑᮓᮘᮙᮕᮦᮕᮝᮕᮞᮤᮣᮼ ᯗ ᮧᮙᮣᮘ ᯗ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮔᮟᮞᮕ ᮣᮟᮝᮕᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮟ ᮑᮣ ᮞᮟᮤ ᮤᮟ ᮒᮕ ᮟᮥᮤᮔᮟᮞᮕ ᮒᮩ ᮤᮘᮕᮝᮺ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮝᮩ ᮖᮑᮝᮙᮜᮩ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮜᮥᮨᮥᮢᮩᮼᮼᮼ ᮤᮘᮟᮥᮗᮘ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮑᮞ ᮕᮨᮓᮥᮣᮕᮼ

ᮄᮘᮕ ᮤᮧᮟ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮑᮜᮧᮑᮩᮣ ᮣᮘᮙᮞᮙᮞᮗᮼ ᮀᮕᮢᮘᮑᮠᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮟᮞᮜᮩ ᮢᮕᮑᮣᮟᮞ ᯗ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮒᮕ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮒᮕᮓᮑᮥᮣᮕ ᮧᮕ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔᮘᮟᮟᮔ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣᮼ ᯑᮘᮙᮜᮔᮘᮟᮟᮔ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣᮼᮼᮼ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮓᮟᮞᮞᮕᮓᮤᮙᮟᮞᮺ ᮤᮘᮕᮢᮕ᮵ᮣ ᮞᮟ ᮠᮑᮢᮤᮙᮓᮥᮜᮑᮢ ᮢᮕᮑᮣᮟᮞ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮙᮤᮼ ᯗ ᮤᮘᮟᮥᮗᮘᮤ ᮙᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮦᮕᮢᮩ ᮖᮢᮑᮗᮙᮜᮕᮺ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᮑ ᮖᮜᮕᮕᮤᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮠᮙᮔᮕᮢ᮵ᮣ ᮤᮘᮢᮕᮑᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮒᮢᮕᮑᮛ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮦᮑᮞᮙᮣᮘ ᮑᮤ ᮑᮞᮩ ᮤᮙᮝᮕᮼ

ᯏᮖᮤᮕᮢ ᮗᮢᮑᮔᮥᮑᮤᮙᮞᮗ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮚᮥᮞᮙᮟᮢ ᮘᮙᮗᮘᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮤᮘᮢᮕᮕ ᮟᮖ ᮥᮣ ᮧᮕᮞᮤ ᮟᮞ ᮤᮟ ᯖᮑᮢᮕᮚᮙᮝᮑ ᯖᮙᮗᮘ ᮃᮓᮘᮟᮟᮜᮺ ᮧᮘᮙᮓᮘ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮧᮙᮤᮘᮙᮞ ᮧᮑᮜᮛᮙᮞᮗ ᮔᮙᮣᮤᮑᮞᮓᮕᮼ ᮄᮘᮕ ᮢᮕᮑᮣᮟᮞ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮣᮙᮝᮠᮜᮕᯈ ᮙᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮓᮜᮟᮣᮕᮼ ᯖᮟᮧᮕᮦᮕᮢᮺ ᮝᮩ ᮗᮢᮑᮔᮕᮣ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮤᮢᮥᮜᮩ ᮒᮟᮢᮔᮕᮢᮜᮙᮞᮕ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮗᮕᮤᮤᮙᮞᮗ ᮙᮞᮺ ᮣᮟ ᮒᮟᮢᮔᮕᮢᮜᮙᮞᮕ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᯗ ᮣᮤᮙᮜᮜ ᮦᮙᮦᮙᮔᮜᮩ ᮢᮕᮝᮕᮝᮒᮕᮢ ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮟ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯗ ᮠᮢᮑᮓᮤᮙᮓᮑᮜᮜᮩ ᮒᮕᮗᮗᮙᮞᮗ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮘᮕᮜᮠᮼ

ᯓᮦᮕᮢᮩ ᮝᮟᮢᮞᮙᮞᮗᮺ ᮧᮕ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮝᮕᮕᮤ ᮑᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮑᮝᮕ ᮤᮙᮝᮕ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮑᮜᮧᮑᮩᮣ ᮧᮑᮜᮛ ᮤᮟ ᮣᮓᮘᮟᮟᮜ ᮘᮑᮠᮠᮙᮜᮩ ᮤᮟᮗᮕᮤᮘᮕᮢᮼ ᮃᮙᮞᮓᮕ ᮒᮕᮓᮟᮝᮙᮞᮗ ᮘᮙᮗᮘ ᮣᮓᮘᮟᮟᮜ ᮣᮤᮥᮔᮕᮞᮤᮣᮺ ᮙᮤ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮒᮕᮓᮟᮝᮕ ᮟᮥᮢ ᮔᮑᮙᮜᮩ ᮢᮟᮥᮤᮙᮞᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮓᮟᮝᮝᮥᮤᮕ ᮧᮘᮙᮜᮕ ᮓᮟᮝᮠᮜᮑᮙᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮟ ᮟᮥᮢ ᮠᮑᮢᮕᮞᮤᮣ ᮑᮒᮟᮥᮤ ᮟᮥᮢ ᮖᮥᮤᮥᮢᮕ ᮠᮑᮤᮘᮣᮺ ᮟᮥᮢ ᮣᮤᮥᮔᮙᮕᮣᮺ ᮟᮢ ᮘᮟᮧ ᮧᮕ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮒᮕ ᮝᮟᮢᮕ ᮣᮕᮢᮙᮟᮥᮣ ᮙᮖ ᮧᮕ ᮧᮑᮞᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮗᮟ ᮤᮟ ᮥᮞᮙᮦᮕᮢᮣᮙᮤᮩᮼ

ᮅᮞᮓᮘᮑᮞᮗᮙᮞᮗ ᮔᮑᮩᮣᮺ ᮔᮑ᮪᮪ᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮓᮘᮟᮟᮜ ᮥᮞᮙᮖᮟᮢᮝᮣᮼ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ᮵ᮣ ᮥᮞᮙᮖᮟᮢᮝ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮕᮣᮠᮕᮓᮙᮑᮜᮜᮩ ᮔᮑ᮪᮪ᮜᮙᮞᮗᮼᮼᮼ ᮒᮥᮤ ᯗ ᮞᮕᮦᮕᮢ ᮣᮕᮞᮣᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮕᮙᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮞᮟᮤᮙᮓᮕᮔ ᮝᮩ ᮗᮑ᮪ᮕᮼ

᮰ᯙᮩᮟᮤᮑᮢᮟᮥᮻᮛᮥᮞᮺ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮗᮕᮤ ᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮧᮑᮩ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮟᮣᮕ ᮤᮧᮟᮼ᮰

ᯙᮩᮟᮤᮑᮢᮟᮥ ᮙᮣ ᮝᮩ ᮞᮑᮝᮕᮼ ᯖᮙᮛᮑᮗᮑᮝᮙ ᯙᮩᮟᮤᮑᮢᮟᮥᮼ ᯗᮖ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮟᮞᮜᮩ ᮣᮑᮧ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮞᮑᮝᮕᮺ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮝᮙᮗᮘᮤ ᮙᮝᮑᮗᮙᮞᮕ ᮝᮕ ᮑᮣ ᮦᮕᮢᮩ ᮤᮑᮜᮕᮞᮤᮕᮔ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮑ ᮗᮢᮕᮑᮤ ᮠᮘᮩᮣᮙᮡᮥᮕᮼ

ᯛᮟᮣᮤ ᮠᮕᮟᮠᮜᮕ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮒᮕ ᮔᮙᮣᮑᮠᮠᮟᮙᮞᮤᮕᮔ ᮧᮘᮕᮞ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮣᮑᮧ ᮝᮕᮼ ᯗ᮵ᮝ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮑᮞ ᮟᮢᮔᮙᮞᮑᮢᮩ ᮠᮕᮢᮣᮟᮞᮺ ᮕᮨᮑᮓᮤᮜᮩ ᮑᮣ ᯗ ᮑᮠᮠᮕᮑᮢᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮙᮞ ᮣᮟᮝᮕ ᮓᮑᮣᮕᮣᮺ ᮕᮦᮕᮞ ᮒᮕᮜᮟᮧ ᮑᮦᮕᮢᮑᮗᮕᮼ ᯛᮩ ᮖᮑᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮙᮣ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮑ ᮢᮕᮗᮥᮜᮑᮢ ᮟᮖᮖᮙᮓᮕ ᮧᮟᮢᮛᮕᮢᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮝᮩ ᮝᮟᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮙᮣ ᮑᮞ ᮟᮢᮔᮙᮞᮑᮢᮩ ᮠᮕᮢᮣᮟᮞ ᮧᮟᮢᮛᮙᮞᮗ ᮠᮑᮢᮤᮻᮤᮙᮝᮕᮼ

ᯕᮙᮦᮕᮞ ᮧᮘᮟ ᯗ ᮑᮝᮺ ᮝᮩ ᮠᮢᮕᮣᮕᮞᮓᮕ ᮒᮕᮣᮙᮔᮕ ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮟ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮝᮥᮣᮤ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮣᮕᮕᮝᮕᮔ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᮞᮟᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮑᮞ ᮑᮞᮞᮟᮩᮑᮞᮓᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮟᮤᮘᮕᮢᮣᮼ ᯏᮓᮓᮟᮢᮔᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮟ ᮣᮤᮢᮑᮞᮗᮕᮢᮣᮺ ᮝᮩ ᮒᮕᮙᮞᮗ ᮒᮕᮤᮧᮕᮕᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮤᮧᮟ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮞᮟᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮑ ᮝᮑᮣᮣ ᮟᮖ ᮡᮥᮕᮣᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮝᮑᮢᮛᮣᮼ

ᯏᮞᮔ ᮤᮘᮕᮞ ᯗ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮤᮟᮜᮔ ᮤᮘᮟᮣᮕ ᮧᮟᮢᮔᮣᮼ ᯗ ᮤᮘᮟᮥᮗᮘᮤ ᮣᮟ ᮤᮟᮟᮼ ᯗᮖ ᮟᮥᮢ ᮘᮟᮥᮣᮕᮣ ᮧᮕᮢᮕᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮓᮜᮟᮣᮕᮺ ᮙᮖ ᮧᮕ ᮧᮕᮢᮕᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔᮘᮟᮟᮔ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣᮺ ᮧᮕ ᮠᮢᮟᮒᮑᮒᮜᮩ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮒᮕ ᮤᮟᮗᮕᮤᮘᮕᮢᮼ

ᯖᮟᮧᮕᮦᮕᮢᮺ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᮤᮙᮝᮕᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮧᮟᮢᮔᮣ ᮓᮑᮢᮢᮙᮕᮔ ᮑ ᮔᮙᮖᮖᮕᮢᮕᮞᮤ ᮝᮕᮑᮞᮙᮞᮗᮼ

᮰ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮟᮻᮛᮥᮞ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕᮻᮣᮑᮞ ᮣᮤᮑᮢᮤᮕᮔ ᮔᮑᮤᮙᮞᮗᮺ ᮑᮠᮠᮑᮢᮕᮞᮤᮜᮩᮼ ᮃᮟ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮔᮙᮣᮤᮑᮞᮓᮕ ᮩᮟᮥᮢᮣᮕᮜᮖᮺ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮩᮟᮥᯍ ᮉᮟᮥ᮵ᮜᮜ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮒᮕ ᮝᮟᮢᮕ ᮓᮟᮞᮣᮙᮔᮕᮢᮑᮤᮕ ᮕᮦᮕᮞ ᮑᮣ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣ ᮞᮟᮧᮼ᮰

ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮝᮩ ᮟᮞᮜᮩ ᮖᮕᮝᮑᮜᮕ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮼ ᯗᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮑ ᮖᮕᮝᮑᮜᮕ ᮓᮜᮑᮣᮣᮝᮑᮤᮕ ᮧᮘᮟ ᮤᮟᮜᮔ ᮝᮕ ᮤᮘᮙᮣᮼ ᯝᮞ ᮘᮟᮜᮙᮔᮑᮩᮣᮺ ᯗ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮒᮕ ᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮑᮝᮕ ᮢᮟᮟᮝ ᮑᮣ ᮤᮘᮕᮝᮺ ᮟᮣᮤᮕᮞᮣᮙᮒᮜᮩ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮑ ᮣᮤᮥᮔᮩ ᮣᮕᮣᮣᮙᮟᮞᮼ ᮅᮠ ᮥᮞᮤᮙᮜ ᮞᮟᮧᮺ ᮤᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮞᮟᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮤᮢᮑᮞᮗᮕ ᮑᮒᮟᮥᮤ ᮤᮘᮑᮤᮺ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮙᮖ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮒᮕᮓᮑᮝᮕ ᮜᮟᮦᮕᮢᮣᮺ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮑ ᮔᮙᮖᮖᮕᮢᮕᮞᮤ ᮣᮤᮟᮢᮩᮼ

᮰ᯗ ᮧᮑᮞᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮘᮕᮑᮢ ᮙᮤ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮤᮘᮕᮝᮼ᮰

ᯛᮩ ᮥᮤᮝᮟᮣᮤ ᮢᮕᮣᮙᮣᮤᮑᮞᮓᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮝᮕᮢᮕᮜᮩ ᮝᮥᮤᮤᮕᮢᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮟᮣᮕ ᮧᮟᮢᮔᮣ ᮤᮟ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮛᮩᮼ ᯏᮜᮜ ᯗ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮔᮟ ᮑᮖᮤᮕᮢᮧᮑᮢᮔ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮞᮑᮤᮥᮢᮑᮜᮜᮩ ᮔᮙᮣᮤᮑᮞᮓᮕ ᮝᮩᮣᮕᮜᮖ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮤᮘᮕᮝᮼ ᮄᮘᮕ ᮢᮕᮜᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞᮣᮘᮙᮠ ᮟᮖ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔᮘᮟᮟᮔ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮒᮕ ᮕᮑᮣᮙᮜᮩ ᮒᮢᮟᮛᮕᮞ ᮙᮖ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮧᮙᮣᮘᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮒᮢᮕᮑᮛ ᮙᮤᮼ ᮇᮕ ᮧᮕᮢᮕᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮙᮞᮦᮟᮜᮦᮕᮔ ᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮑᮝᮕ ᮓᮜᮥᮒ ᮑᮓᮤᮙᮦᮙᮤᮙᮕᮣᮺ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮣᮘᮑᮢᮕ ᮘᮟᮒᮒᮙᮕᮣᮺ ᮞᮟᮢ ᮔᮙᮔ ᮧᮕ ᮧᮟᮢᮛ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮑᮝᮕ ᮠᮑᮢᮤᮻᮤᮙᮝᮕ ᮚᮟᮒᮼ

ᯗᮞ ᮖᮑᮓᮤᮺ ᯗ ᮣᮤᮑᮢᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮔᮙᮣᮤᮑᮞᮓᮕ ᮝᮩᮣᮕᮜᮖ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮤᮘᮕᮝᮺ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮞᮕᮙᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮟ ᮞᮟᮢ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮣᮘᮟᮧᮕᮔ ᮑᮞᮩ ᮓᮘᮑᮞᮗᮕᮼ ᮄᮘᮕᮩ ᮒᮟᮤᮘ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮝᮑᮞᮩ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣᯉ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮝᮥᮓᮘ ᮖᮢᮕᮕ ᮤᮙᮝᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮒᮕᮗᮙᮞ ᮧᮙᮤᮘᮼ ᯚᮟᮟᮛᮙᮞᮗ ᮒᮑᮓᮛᮺ ᮠᮕᮢᮘᮑᮠᮣ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮒᮕᮕᮞ ᮖᮟᮢᮓᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮕᮝᮣᮕᮜᮦᮕᮣ ᮤᮟ ᮝᮑᮛᮕ ᮤᮙᮝᮕ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮝᮕ ᮑᮜᮜ ᮑᮜᮟᮞᮗᮼ

ᯗᮺ ᮙᮞ ᮤᮥᮢᮞᮺ ᮝᮑᮔᮕ ᮝᮩ ᮟᮧᮞ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮣᮠᮕᮞᮤ ᮝᮩ ᮔᮑᮩᮣ ᮧᮙᮤᮘᮙᮞ ᮑ ᮣᮝᮑᮜᮜ ᮗᮢᮟᮥᮠᮼ

ᯗ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮘᮕᮑᮢ ᮑᮒᮟᮥᮤ ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮟ ᮧᮙᮞᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮑᮧᮑᮢᮔᮣ ᮙᮞ ᮘᮙᮣ ᮛᮑᮢᮑᮤᮕ ᮓᮜᮥᮒᮺ ᮟᮢ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮧᮙᮞᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮑᮧᮑᮢᮔᮣ ᮑᮤ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮠᮙᮑᮞᮟ ᮓᮟᮞᮓᮕᮢᮤᮣᮼ ᯗ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮝᮟᮒ ᮓᮘᮑᮢᮑᮓᮤᮕᮢᮺ ᮡᮥᮙᮕᮤᮜᮩ ᮣᮥᮠᮠᮟᮢᮤᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮥᮞᮓᮘᮑᮞᮗᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮧᮟ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮙᮔᮕᮜᮙᮞᮕᮣᮼ ᮄᮘᮙᮣ ᮙᮣ ᮝᮕᮼ ᮄᮘᮙᮣ ᮙᮣ ᮖᮙᮞᮕᮼ ᯗ ᮓᮑᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮒᮕ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᮤᮘᮕᮝᮼ

ᮄᮙᮝᮕ ᮖᮜᮟᮧᮣ ᮡᮥᮙᮓᮛᮜᮩᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮙᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮔᮑᮩ ᮧᮘᮕᮞ ᮘᮙᮗᮘ ᮣᮓᮘᮟᮟᮜ ᮜᮙᮖᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮑᮒᮟᮥᮤ ᮤᮟ ᮕᮞᮤᮕᮢ ᮙᮤᮣ ᮤᮘᮙᮢᮔ ᮩᮕᮑᮢᮼ

᮰ᯙᮩᮟᮤᮑᮢᮟᮥᮻᮛᮥᮞᮺ ᮓᮑᮞ ᯗ ᮤᮑᮜᮛ ᮤᮟ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮑ ᮝᮟᮝᮕᮞᮤᯍ᮰

ᯗᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮧᮘᮟ ᮓᮑᮜᮜᮕᮔ ᮟᮥᮤ ᮤᮟ ᮝᮕᮼ ᮄᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮞᮟ ᮢᮕᮑᮣᮟᮞ ᮤᮟ ᮢᮕᮖᮥᮣᮕᮼ ᯗ ᮣᮙᮜᮕᮞᮤᮜᮩ ᮖᮟᮜᮜᮟᮧᮕᮔ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮥᮠ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮤᮑᮙᮢᮣ ᮤᮟ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮔᮕᮣᮕᮢᮤᮕᮔ ᮢᮟᮟᮖᮤᮟᮠᮺ ᮧᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮤᮥᮢᮞᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮖᮑᮓᮕ ᮝᮕᮼ

ᯛᮩ ᮕᮩᮕᮣ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮒᮢᮙᮕᮖᮜᮩ ᮔᮢᮑᮧᮞ ᮤᮟ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮣᮟᮖᮤᮜᮩ ᮒᮙᮜᮜᮟᮧᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮛᮙᮢᮤᮺ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕᮺ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮜᮔᮕᮢᮻᮜᮕᮞᮗᮤᮘ ᮘᮑᮙᮢ ᮣᮤᮩᮜᮕᮔ ᮙᮞ ᮑ ᮢᮟᮥᮞᮔᮕᮔ ᮖᮑᮣᮘᮙᮟᮞᮺ ᮣᮟᮖᮤᮜᮩ ᮣᮠᮟᮛᮕᮺ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮕᮩᮕᮣᮺ ᮣᮘᮙᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮑᮣ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮑᮜᮧᮑᮩᮣ ᮘᮑᮔᮺ ᮣᮤᮙᮜᮜ ᮖᮙᮨᮕᮔ ᮟᮞ ᮝᮕᮼ

᮰ᯗ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮑ ᮓᮟᮞᮓᮕᮢᮤ ᮓᮟᮝᮙᮞᮗ ᮥᮠᮼ ᯗᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮞᮟᮤ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮑ ᮓᮜᮥᮒ ᮟᮢ ᮑ ᮓᮟᮝᮠᮕᮤᮙᮤᮙᮟᮞᮼ ᯗᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮓᮑᮜᮜᮕᮔ ᮑ ᮣᮑᮜᮟᮞ ᮓᮟᮞᮓᮕᮢᮤᮼᮼᮼ ᮝᮩ ᮠᮑᮢᮕᮞᮤᮣ ᮢᮕᮞᮤᮕᮔ ᮟᮥᮤ ᮑ ᮢᮕᮣᮤᮑᮥᮢᮑᮞᮤ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮝᮕᮼ ᯏᮞᮔ ᯗ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮧᮟᮞᮔᮕᮢᮙᮞᮗ ᮙᮖ ᯙᮩᮟᮤᮑᮢᮟᮥᮻᮛᮥᮞ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮓᮟᮝᮕᮼᮼᮼ ᮑᮢᮕ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮖᮢᮕᮕ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᮓᮟᮝᮙᮞᮗ ᮃᮑᮤᮥᮢᮔᮑᮩᯍ᮰

ᮄᮘᮕ ᮙᮞᮦᮙᮤᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮘᮑᮞᮔᮕᮔ ᮝᮕ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮞᮑᮝᮕ ᮟᮖ ᮑ ᮘᮙᮗᮘᮻᮓᮜᮑᮣᮣ ᮢᮕᮣᮤᮑᮥᮢᮑᮞᮤ ᯗ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮞᮟ ᮓᮟᮞᮞᮕᮓᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮤᮟᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮝᮩ ᮞᮑᮝᮕ ᮧᮢᮙᮤᮤᮕᮞ ᮙᮞ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ᮵ᮣ ᮕᮜᮕᮗᮑᮞᮤ ᮘᮑᮞᮔᮧᮢᮙᮤᮙᮞᮗᮼ ᮇᮙᮤᮘ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ᮵ᮣ ᮠᮙᮑᮞᮟ ᮣᮛᮙᮜᮜᮣᮺ ᯗ ᮖᮕᮜᮤ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᯗ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮒᮕ ᮠᮑᮩᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮟ ᮜᮙᮣᮤᮕᮞᮼ

᮰ᯝᮘᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮟᮖ ᮓᮟᮥᮢᮣᮕᮺ ᮣᮙᮞᮓᮕ ᮙᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮑ ᮢᮕᮣᮤᮑᮥᮢᮑᮞᮤᮺ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮓᮑᮞ ᮑᮜᮣᮟ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮑ ᮝᮕᮑᮜᮺ ᮣᮟ ᮙᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮖᮙᮞᮕ ᮙᮖ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮓᮟᮝᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮕᮑᮤᮼ ᯏᮞᮔ ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮟᮻᮛᮥᮞ ᮣᮑᮙᮔ ᮘᮕ᮵ᮔ ᮓᮟᮝᮕᮺ ᮣᮟ ᯙᮩᮟᮤᮑᮢᮟᮥᮺ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮤᮟᮟ—᮰

ᯜᮟᮤ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮝᮕᮼ ᮉᮕᮑᮘᮺ ᮟᮖ ᮓᮟᮥᮢᮣᮕᮼ ᮄᮘᮕ ᮟᮞᮜᮩ ᮢᮕᮑᮣᮟᮞ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮓᮑᮜᮜᮕᮔ ᮟᮥᮤ ᮤᮟ ᮝᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮒᮕᮓᮑᮥᮣᮕ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮟᮖ ᮒᮕᮙᮞᮗ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔᮘᮟᮟᮔ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣᮼ ᯓᮦᮕᮞ ᮑᮖᮤᮕᮢ ᯗ ᮔᮙᮣᮤᮑᮞᮓᮕᮔ ᮝᮩᮣᮕᮜᮖ ᮣᮟ ᮝᮥᮓᮘᮺ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮓᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮣᮤᮙᮜᮜ ᮤᮟᮢᮝᮕᮞᮤᮕᮔ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮝᮕᮼ

᮰—ᮃᮟᮢᮢᮩᮺ ᯗ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮑᮞ ᮥᮞᮑᮦᮟᮙᮔᮑᮒᮜᮕ ᮕᮞᮗᮑᮗᮕᮝᮕᮞᮤ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮔᮑᮩᮼ ᮀᮜᮕᮑᮣᮕ ᮙᮞᮦᮙᮤᮕ ᮣᮟᮝᮕᮟᮞᮕ ᮕᮜᮣᮕᮼ᮰

ᯔᮟᮢ ᮑ ᮝᮟᮝᮕᮞᮤᮺ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ᮵ᮣ ᮕᮩᮕᮣ ᮧᮙᮔᮕᮞᮕᮔ ᮗᮢᮕᮑᮤᮜᮩᮺ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮡᮥᮙᮓᮛᮜᮩ ᮜᮟᮧᮕᮢᮕᮔ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮗᮑ᮪ᮕᮼ

ᯔᮕᮕᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᮥᮞᮒᮕᮑᮢᮑᮒᮜᮕᮺ ᯗ ᮡᮥᮙᮓᮛᮜᮩ ᮔᮕᮣᮓᮕᮞᮔᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮤᮑᮙᮢᮣ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮢᮕᮤᮥᮢᮞᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮜᮑᮣᮣᮢᮟᮟᮝᮼ

ᮄᮘᮕ ᮤᮧᮟ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮑᮢᮕ ᮤᮟᮟ ᮔᮑ᮪᮪ᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮝᮕᯉ ᮧᮕ ᮜᮙᮦᮕ ᮙᮞ ᮔᮙᮖᮖᮕᮢᮕᮞᮤ ᮧᮟᮢᮜᮔᮣᮼ

ᯗᮖ ᯗ ᮣᮤᮑᮩᮕᮔ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮤᮘᮕᮝᮺ ᯗ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮣᮥᮢᮕᮜᮩ ᮣᮥᮖᮖᮕᮢ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮔᮙᮕᮼ

᮰ᯙᮩᮟᮤᮑᮢᮟᮥᮺ ᮓᮟᮝᮕ ᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮑ ᮝᮟᮝᮕᮞᮤᮼ᮰

ᯚᮑᮤᮕᮢᮺ ᮙᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮟ ᮧᮘᮟ ᮓᮑᮜᮜᮕᮔ ᮝᮕᮼ ᯖᮙᮣ ᮤᮟᮞᮕᮺ ᮜᮑᮓᮕᮔ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮑ ᮘᮙᮞᮤ ᮟᮖ ᮑᮞᮗᮕᮢᮺ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮕᮞᮟᮥᮗᮘ ᮤᮟ ᮓᮑᮥᮣᮕ ᮑ ᮣᮤᮙᮢ ᮑᮝᮟᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮥᮢᮢᮟᮥᮞᮔᮙᮞᮗ ᮓᮜᮑᮣᮣᮝᮑᮤᮕᮣᮼ ᯜᮟ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᮣᮓᮘᮟᮟᮜ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮔᮑᮢᮕ ᮔᮕᮖᮩ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮥᮢᮢᮕᮞᮤ ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮟᮼ ᯖᮙᮣ ᮤᮢᮑᮙᮞᮕᮔ ᮝᮥᮣᮓᮜᮕᮣ ᮣᮙᮜᮕᮞᮓᮕᮔ ᮑᮞᮩ ᮧᮟᮢᮔᮣᮼ ᯗ ᮠᮢᮟᮒᮑᮒᮜᮩ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮜᮑᮣᮤ ᮑ ᮣᮙᮞᮗᮜᮕ ᮒᮜᮟᮧᮼ

ᯑᮟᮙᮞᮓᮙᮔᮕᮞᮤᮑᮜᮜᮩᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮠᮜᮑᮓᮕ ᮘᮕ ᮜᮕᮔ ᮝᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮑᮝᮕ ᮣᮤᮑᮙᮢᮓᮑᮣᮕ ᮜᮕᮑᮔᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮟ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮢᮟᮟᮖᮤᮟᮠ ᮑᮣ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕᮼ

ᯏᮣ ᮣᮟᮟᮞ ᮑᮣ ᮘᮕ ᮤᮥᮢᮞᮕᮔ ᮑᮢᮟᮥᮞᮔᮺ ᮄᮑᮛᮕᮟ ᮗᮢᮑᮒᮒᮕᮔ ᮝᮕ ᮒᮩ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮟᮜᮜᮑᮢᮺ ᮗᮜᮑᮢᮙᮞᮗ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮘᮙᮣ ᮒᮢᮟᮧᮣ ᮖᮥᮢᮢᮟᮧᮕᮔ ᮙᮞ ᮑ ᮖᮢᮟᮧᮞᮼ

᮰ᮇᮘᮩ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮓᮟᮝᮕ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮔᮑᮩᯍ ᯗᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮓᮥᮜᮝᮙᮞᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞ ᮟᮖ ᮕᮦᮕᮢᮩᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮧᮟᮢᮛᮕᮔ ᮘᮑᮢᮔ ᮖᮟᮢᮼ ᮇᮘᮩ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮓᮟᮝᮕᯍ ᯒᮟᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮥᮞᮔᮕᮢᮣᮤᮑᮞᮔ ᮧᮘᮑᮤ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮧᮟᮢᮛᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮟ ᮘᮑᮢᮔ ᮖᮟᮢᯍᮯ᮰

ᯖᮙᮣ ᮑᮔᮝᮟᮞᮙᮣᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮟᮞᮕ ᮣᮥᮔᮔᮕᮞᮜᮩ ᮕᮢᮥᮠᮤᮕᮔ ᮙᮞᮤᮟ ᮑ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮤᮼ ᮄᮘᮕ ᮧᮟᮢᮜᮔ ᮖᮕᮜᮤ ᮑᮣ ᮙᮖ ᮙᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮤᮢᮕᮝᮒᮜᮙᮞᮗᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯗ ᮣᮘᮟᮟᮛ ᮣᮟ ᮝᮥᮓᮘ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮣᮘᮕᮕᮢ ᮤᮕᮢᮢᮟᮢ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᯗ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮕᮦᮕᮞ ᮣᮠᮕᮑᮛ ᮠᮢᮟᮠᮕᮢᮜᮩᮼ

᮰ᮼᮼᮼᮄᮘᮑᮤ ᮔᮑᮩᮺ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮠᮜᮑᮩ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮠᮙᮑᮞᮟ ᮑᮖᮤᮕᮢ ᮑᮜᮜᮼ ᮃᮘᮕ ᮣᮑᮙᮔ ᮤᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮞᮟ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮧᮑᮞᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮠᮜᮑᮩ ᮖᮟᮢᮼ ᯓᮦᮕᮞ ᮤᮘᮟᮥᮗᮘ ᮝᮑᮞᮩ ᮤᮕᮑᮓᮘᮕᮢᮣ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮗᮑᮤᮘᮕᮢᮕᮔᮺ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮤᮘᮢᮕᮧ ᮕᮦᮕᮢᮩᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮑᮧᮑᮩ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮩᮟᮥᮼ ᮉᮟᮥ ᮔᮕᮣᮤᮢᮟᮩᮕᮔ ᮧᮘᮑᮤ ᮄᮟᮝᮟᮕ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮒᮥᮙᮜᮤ ᮥᮠ ᮒᮩ ᮔᮕᮔᮙᮓᮑᮤᮙᮞᮗ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮜᮙᮖᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮙᮤᮯ᮰

ᯗ ᮤᮘᮟᮥᮗᮘᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮢᮕᮜᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞᮣᮘᮙᮠ ᮟᮖ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮔᮘᮟᮟᮔ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮣᮟᮝᮕᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮦᮕᮢᮩ ᮖᮢᮑᮗᮙᮜᮕ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮖᮜᮕᮕᮤᮙᮞᮗᮼ

ᮃᮟᮝᮕᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮒᮢᮕᮑᮛ ᮕᮑᮣᮙᮜᮩᮺ ᮧᮕᮑᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮑᮧᮑᮩᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮣᮙᮝᮠᮜᮩ ᮦᮑᮞᮙᮣᮘᮼ

ᯐᮥᮤ ᮢᮕᮑᮜᮙᮤᮩᮺ ᮙᮤ ᮣᮕᮕᮝᮕᮔᮺ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮞᮟᮤ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᮤᮘᮑᮤᮼ ᯗᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮙᮞᮓᮢᮕᮔᮙᮒᮜᮩ ᮤᮕᮞᮑᮓᮙᮟᮥᮣᮺ ᮣᮤᮢᮟᮞᮗ ᮕᮞᮟᮥᮗᮘ ᮤᮟ ᮔᮕᮣᮤᮢᮟᮩ ᮕᮦᮕᮢᮩᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮥᮠ ᮤᮟ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮠᮟᮙᮞᮤᮺ ᮣᮟᮝᮕᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮜᮕᮑᮦᮕ ᮕᮦᮕᮞ ᮙᮖ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮧᮑᮞᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮟᮺ ᮣᮟᮝᮕᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮔᮙᮣᮑᮠᮠᮕᮑᮢ ᮕᮦᮕᮞ ᮙᮖ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮤᮢᮙᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮝᮑᮛᮕ ᮙᮤ ᮦᮑᮞᮙᮣᮘᮼᮼᮼ

ᯗ ᮜᮕᮑᮢᮞᮕᮔ ᮙᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮤᮢᮥᮜᮩ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᮑ ᮓᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮟᮞᮜᮩ ᮑᮖᮤᮕᮢ ᯗ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮖᮑᮙᮜᮕᮔ ᮑᮤ ᮕᮦᮕᮢᮩᮤᮘᮙᮞᮗᮼ

ᮻᮻᮻ
ᯜᮕᮨᮤ ᮕᮠᮙᮣᮟᮔᮕᯈ ᮰ᯗ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮕᮦᮕᮞ ᮢᮕᮑᮜᮙ᮪ᮕ ᯗ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮓᮑᮥᮣᮙᮞᮗ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮣᮥᮖᮖᮕᮢᮙᮞᮗᮼ᮰

That’s Why We Stopped Being Childhood Friends (WN)

A story that will make you think “Huh? There’s no next chapter?” after every installment. I, Kyoutarou Hikagami, have two childhood friends. Otoe Yatsuko, whose parents are extremely wealthy. Takehiro Furuya, whose father practices karate. Living in the same neighborhood, the three of us spent our time playing together since kindergarten. Takehiro, with his early birthday, always felt somewhat like an older brother. Otoe, who took many lessons, was a cute girl who smiled brightly whenever she played the piano. I was the only one with both parents working, and I didn’t take any lessons at all… But as a child, I didn’t feel any disparity between us. I began to feel it around middle school. Takehiro developed a well-trained physique and gained respect as he advanced through karate ranks. Otoe, seemingly determined to become a musician, kept entering competitions and achieving results. I had nothing. Nothing at all. Yet, they both continued to treat me the same way. I was happy about that, and I took advantage of it. With two guys and one girl, I knew something was bound to go wrong someday. Even so, without looking to the future, I stayed by their side. We all enrolled together at the same local public high school. And then… our gears began to warp more and more.

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