The sun had already begun to melt into the horizon, tinting the quiet streets of Minamiyama in a soft, amber haze.
Jousuke walked home alone this time, his bag heavier than usual—not because of the textbooks, but because of the weight of the day.
He still couldn't wrap his head around it.
Five boxes.
Five chocolates.
From Leah, who smiled too softly to be just a friend.
From Sakurai-san, who had been surprisingly straightforward.
From Kaede, who... avoided his eyes but whispered his name as if it meant something.
From Poku-san and Jitsukawa-san, the friendly kind—student council camaraderie kind.
And yet, out of all of them, the one that lingered in his mind was Kaede's.
Her words, her faint trembling when she handed it to him—those small moments clung to him like gentle rain on a quiet night.
He exhaled, brushing his hair back as he passed under the shadow of a streetlamp.
"Man..." he muttered to himself, "Valentine's really takes the life out of you."
But deep down, his thoughts weren't exhausted—they were restless.
Kaede's face kept flickering in his mind, the way her gaze met his for a fleeting second. He knew there was something in those eyes, something unspoken.
As the colors of dusk deepened, he slowed his pace. The air grew cooler, carrying the faint hum of the city at a distance.
(What if she really meant something by that gift?)
(No... I'm reading too much into it.)
(But... that tone when she said my name—)
His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting through his thoughts.
The screen lit up.
Kaede.
His heartbeat quickened.
He hesitated before answering. "...Miyaza— I mean, Kaede?"
A soft laugh came from the other side. >"Still awkward calling me that?"
He smiled faintly. "A little. You caught me off guard. What's up?"
There was a brief silence, only her quiet breathing heard through the receiver.
Then her voice came, small but deliberate:
> "What's your comfort place?"
He blinked. "My... comfort place?"
> "Yeah." she said, pretending to sound casual, but her tone wavered. "You know, somewhere that makes you feel... at ease. Just curious."
He chuckled. "That's a random question, Kaede."
> "Answer it." she said, half-pouting, half-shy.
He looked around at the fading sunlight, the quiet rows of houses, the empty street ahead. "Hmm... a not-so-popular park, I guess. The one behind the old library. No one really goes there, and it's peaceful."
> "Oh." she said softly, as if memorizing it.
He tilted his head. "That's all? What's the real point of your call?"
Another pause.
Then, a small giggle.
> "Open the box! Bye!"
The line went dead.
He stared at his phone. "Huh? The box?"
He hurried home, curiosity gnawing at him.
Once inside, he set his bag on the table, took off his jacket, and carefully opened the small heart-shaped box Kaede had given him earlier.
Inside wasn't just chocolate.
A folded piece of pink paper rested neatly on top, its edges slightly curled from the warmth of his hands.
He opened it.
There were paragraphs—long, handwritten lines that wavered with emotion.
Her handwriting wasn't perfect, but it was hers.
And it spoke straight from her heart.
> "You probably won't believe this, but I've liked you for a long time, Jousuke."
"Every time I see you smile, my day feels a little lighter. You're not the loudest person in class, but you have a warmth that stays."
"I didn't give this chocolate just because it's Valentine's Day. I gave it because I wanted you to know… that you've changed me."
"If you ever feel tired, or lost, or unsure of yourself, remember that someone out there sees you clearly—me."
"I know it's selfish, but even if you never feel the same, I'm glad I met you."
Jousuke froze.
The paper trembled in his hands.
He reread every line, every curve of her words, trying to absorb what it all meant—what it really meant.
Kaede.
She'd confessed.
In her own quiet, roundabout way, she'd told him everything.
He exhaled shakily and leaned against the wall, the corners of his lips curling into a helpless, stunned smile.
"Kaede..."
Her name left his lips like a whisper, gentle and disbelieving.
He folded the letter carefully, setting it back inside the box with trembling hands.
But his thoughts—his heartbeat—wouldn't settle.
He stepped into his room, dropping his bag and the rest of the gifts onto his desk. His fingers were still clutching the box when he turned to reach for the light switch—
And froze.
His breath hitched.
His body locked in place.
Something—someone—was there.
His grip on the box loosened. It fell to the floor, scattering the chocolates, the letter unfolding at his feet.
The color drained from his face.
"...What... is this..."
The sound of his heartbeat filled the silence.
His eyes widened, disbelief freezing every muscle.
The world around him dulled into silence.
The street outside was quiet. The sunset glow faded completely.
And in the dim light of his room—
He saw something that made his stomach twist, his heart sink, and his breath stop.
Something—or someone—that shouldn't be there.