The hallway was warm with the steady glow of morning sunlight spilling through tall windows. The light cut across the polished floor, highlighting every speck of dust that drifted in the air. The faint hum of the air conditioning mixed with the uneven rhythm of footsteps and the low murmur of passing conversations. Lockers banged shut in sharp bursts, followed by quick shuffles of movement. A faint scent of chalk hung in the air, mixing with traces of laundry detergent from freshly washed uniforms.
Naomi moved at an easy pace beside Sachiko, her track bag brushing against her hip with each swing. The nylon straps shifted against her shoulder, and the zipper jingled faintly with every step. Sachiko kept her clipboard tucked firmly to her side, her fingertips tapping in a steady rhythm against the wooden edge—an absent habit she didn't seem to notice.
Naomi tilted her head toward her friend, a playful grin already forming.
"Hey, you're early again, Sachiko. What's the deal? You secretly planning to join the track team or something?"
Sachiko let out a quiet sigh, the sound carrying a hint of amusement.
"Please, the only running I do is from more student council work. Trust me, no one wants to see that."
Naomi's grin widened as she gave her shoulder a light nudge, the contact brief but firm.
"I swear, you'd smoke half the team if you actually trained. You've got it in you."
Sachiko's lips curved slightly as she shook her head.
"Maybe. But someone's gotta keep you and the track team from blowing the entire club budget on Taiyaki and Dorayaki. Requesting snacks as official equipment? Ridiculous."
Naomi raised both hands like she was making an oath.
"Snacks are essential gear! You've seen how much energy I burn out there."
Sachiko's eyes flicked toward her, a faint glint of humor in them.
"Pretty sure you burn more energy gossiping after practice than running laps."
Naomi pressed a hand to her chest, feigning offense but unable to hide her grin.
"Hey! That's called team bonding. Totally different."
Sachiko's laugh came easily this time, the sound carrying just enough warmth to soften her words.
"Mhm. But hey, the council still needs the final roster and the real equipment list today. So, don't forget to let your coach and captain know."
Naomi groaned, her shoulders sagging before she gave a half-hearted nod.
"Ugh, fine. But you better be cheering for us this year. Front row and loudest, okay?"
"Obviously," Sachiko replied without hesitation, her tone steady. "I'll yell so loud, you'll be embarrassed."
Naomi's grin brightened, her energy spilling into her stride.
"That's why you're my best friend."
Sachiko's eyes lingered on her for a moment, a faint spark in them.
"Exactly."
Naomi pushed ahead a step, her pace quickening as her voice rose with sudden determination.
"Alright, now I'm fired up! I'm gonna make sure I run so fast this season I break my record."
Sachiko let her shoulders relax, the corner of her mouth lifting.
"Sure you will."
They reached the classroom door just as the steady hum of voices from inside spilled into the hallway. The air felt slightly warmer here, carrying the faint scent of floor polish and fresh chalk. Students were already moving about inside—some sliding into seats, others leaning over desks to trade last-minute gossip.
Sachiko stepped in, setting her bag down on the desk nearest the window. The wood surface was cool under her palms as she exhaled, easing some of the tension from her shoulders. Her clipboard made a soft tap as she placed it beside her bag. She reached for her pen case, fingers brushing against the zipper—then froze mid-motion.
Her chest tightened.
Oh right… I didn't give the budget report for the judo club to Yoshida.
The thought jolted her fully awake. Without a second's hesitation, she slid the pen case back inside her bag, pushed her chair in until it lined neatly with the desk, and turned toward the hallway. Her shoes made light, quick clicks against the smooth floor as she picked up her pace. The sound echoed faintly against the walls as she rounded the corner—
—and collided with someone.
"Oof! Sorry—Tetsuo!" Her voice came out sharper than intended. She stepped back, straightening quickly, and looked up.
He stood there, posture steady, meeting her gaze without flinching. His expression was calm, almost flat, but it wasn't cold. "Hey," he said, voice low and even.
She gave a faint smile, lifting a hand to sweep a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Tetsuo gave a small shrug. "Not really. I see you around every day."
Sachiko's eyes shifted away for a second, her lips pressing together.
That's not what I meant…
The silence between them carried a weight she couldn't quite shake. It wasn't tense, but it wasn't easy either. Her mind flicked back to their recent conversation—the one where they finally sorted out the misunderstandings from when they were younger. Still, somehow, the distance felt the same. She buried herself in council tasks; he buried himself in basketball. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her clipboard, the hard edge digging lightly into her palm.
"So…" she began, her tone careful, "how's basketball practice going?"
Another shrug. "It's okay, I guess."
She nodded, trying to keep the conversation alive. "I see. Oh! We're having a meeting soon about budgeting for the sports teams. I might be able to get you some extra funding—for jerseys, maybe transportation."
He looked at her then, his eyes steady but giving nothing away. "Do as you please. Just check with Coach Nanaho first."
Without waiting for her response, he turned and began walking down the hall.
Sachiko watched him go, her brows lifting slightly.
Wow… that was harsh.
Then, unexpectedly, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Oh… and thank you, Sachiko."
Her breath caught for a moment, eyes widening at the sudden shift in tone.
"Um… Tetsuo?"
He half-turned toward her. "Yeah?"
Her grip on the clipboard eased. She hesitated, then let a shy smile form. "If you don't mind… would you like to have lunch on the roof today? With me?"
He blinked once, a small pause before answering. "Sure. I don't see why not."
The weight in her chest loosened, replaced with a lighter warmth. "Then it's settled. See you at lunch."
The sharp clang of the school bell cut through the room, breaking up the chatter and pulling students back into their own routines. Chairs scraped against the floor as bags shifted and desks rattled from hurried movements. Sachiko slid her clipboard into her bag, the papers inside rustling softly. She stood quickly, pulling the strap over her shoulder.
From across the room, Naomi's voice rang out, bright and familiar. "Hey, Sachiko! Where're you off to so early?"
Sachiko felt heat rise in her cheeks. She kept her eyes on the desk, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Uh… somewhere."
Across the room, Noboru leaned back in his seat and lifted his lunch box high with a smug grin. "Behold! My lunch today is home-cooked, prepared with care."
Makoto barely moved his head, his tone flat. "Nobody asked."
Noboru waved a dismissive hand. "I wasn't talking to you. I know your cooking skills are… limited."
Makoto's gaze shifted to the lunch box, one eyebrow lifting. "Judging by that box, I bet it's Shino's aunt who made it."
Noboru blinked, his confidence faltering. "What? How'd you know?"
Shino rubbed the back of his neck, his laugh coming out small and awkward. "Well, I bring home-cooked meals every day. It's natural I'd recognize my aunt's style."
Makoto smirked. "Nope. Just a lucky guess. You can't even cook rice properly."
Noboru's shoulders tensed. "What was that?"
Makoto gave a slow shrug. "Want me to say it again?"
Shino's hands shot up in a quick gesture to calm them down, his voice stumbling. "Alright, guys, settle down before the whole class hears."
Near the door, Tadao stood silently. His arms were locked tight across his chest, his gaze fixed somewhere past the room. He muttered under his breath, just loud enough for himself to hear. "No way I'm eating with those nerds. That'd wreck my tough-guy reputation."
Without another glance, he pivoted and walked out, his steps heavy against the hallway floor.
Tetsuo rose from his seat, his lunch box in one hand. He adjusted his grip and turned toward the door.
Noboru opened his mouth, ready to say something, but Makoto cut him off, voice firm. "Don't bother, Noboru. Just let him be."
Noboru exhaled sharply through his nose and sank back into his chair, muttering something under his breath.
Out in the hallway, Tomoe walked slowly, her thoughts wandering. Her lunch bag was in her left hand, a small box tucked under her arm. Her steps were light but unhurried.
She caught sight of movement ahead—Tetsuo walking in the opposite direction, his attention forward.
Her lips parted as she called, "Tetsuo"
But the sound didn't reach him. He kept walking, his pace steady, disappearing around the corner before she could try again.
Tomoe slowed, her gaze lingering in the direction he went before tightening her grip on the box in her arm and continuing forward.
Outside, the rooftop was still. The faint sounds of traffic below blended into a low, distant hum. A breeze moved across the open space, stirring the clipped papers on the notice board so the corners lifted and fell in uneven intervals.
Sachiko sat cross-legged on a bench near the railing, her lunch box balanced in her lap. The sun pressed gentle warmth into her shoulders, and the cool metal railing beside her reflected light in small flashes when the wind shifted. She leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms loosely on her knees as she waited.
The door hinges gave a soft creak.
She looked up immediately. "Hey. You made it."
Tetsuo stepped onto the rooftop, his steps measured and quiet. He gave a short nod as he approached, the sunlight outlining his figure for a moment before he crossed into the shaded section near the bench. Without a word, he lowered himself onto the seat beside her, setting his lunch box down with deliberate care.
Sachiko waited a beat before letting her lips curve into a small smile. "I was worried you'd forget."
His fingers lingered on the lunch box clasp, pressing it once before flicking it open. "I didn't."
His hands moved to unwrap a rice ball. The faint crinkle of the wrapping filled the pause between them.
She held back a small laugh. "Of course not. You've always been the type to keep your promises, even the little ones."
He didn't respond, but his gaze shifted toward the line of rooftops in the distance, watching the slow movement of laundry swaying from a far-off balcony.
Sachiko peeled the wrapping from a rice ball, her fingers brushing against the smooth grains. She glanced sideways at him without turning her head. "I come up here a lot when I need a break."
He didn't reply, but she could tell from the way his posture tilted slightly in her direction that he was listening.
"The classrooms can get really loud," she continued, adjusting her grip on the rice ball. "And the student council room's always noisy with discussions. It's hard to get any peace."
The wind picked up again, and the papers on the board rattled softly. She leaned forward, pressing them down until the clips held steady.
"You're really hard to talk to sometimes," she said quietly, the words slipping out before she fully considered them.
A sudden gust rattled the papers on the notice board, one corner snapping loose until the clip caught it again.
He turned to her then, holding her gaze a fraction longer than usual. His voice was low, almost careful. "I'm here, aren't I?"
The answer caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came right away. She blinked once, then let out a soft breath. "You are. Sorry—that was unfair."
They settled into silence after that, eating at their own pace. The air between them felt lighter, and the only sounds were the muted hum below and the soft clicks of chopsticks against lunch containers.
The breeze eased into a calmer rhythm. From somewhere below, a bell chimed faintly, marking the time.
Sachiko cleared her throat. "I've been thinking about our talk the other day."
He didn't look up from his food, but his attention didn't feel far.
"I thought things would feel different afterward," she said, her voice low but steady. "Like we'd just pick up where we left off. But life's complicated. You with basketball, me with council stuff… We barely see each other unless we meet by coincidence."
He gave a slow nod, acknowledging the truth in her words.
"But I'm glad we talked. I'm glad we cleared the air."
This time he met her gaze directly. "Me too."
She let her shoulders relax, drawing in a breath before speaking again. "Hey… would it be okay if we made this a thing? Lunch on the roof? Sometimes I might even make lunch for you."
He paused mid-motion. "…Sure. But you don't have to cook for me. My sister's lunch is pretty good."
A quiet laugh escaped her. "Are you saying mine's bad?"
"Not yet. I'll decide after I've tasted it."
"Just wait. My cooking will blow your sister's away."
Her smile widened at his reaction. "Okay. See you tomorrow then. Same time?"
He gave a short nod, closing his lunch box and standing.
"Thanks for coming," she said, her voice softer now.
He glanced back once, his expression steady. "Thanks for asking."
He stepped through the doorway, the sound of it closing behind him carried lightly on the breeze.
Sachiko stayed seated, the wind lifting strands of hair across her cheek. She looked toward the skyline, her smile deepening—not because of the view, but because for the first time in years, lunch with Tetsuo felt like something she could look forward to.