The classroom was quieter than usual after school. Chairs were half-tucked in, sunlight stretched across the floor in long stripes, and someone's pencil case had been left behind again.
Sota sat by the window, chin in hand, not really looking at anything. Junpei and Ryota were off somewhere — snack run or just loitering in the hallway, he couldn't remember.
She walked by his desk like she always did, like it was nothing.
Kana.
She had her bag slung over one shoulder and a book in her hand, not a textbook — something with a blue cover and a worn spine. She paused at the door and glanced back.
"You're always the last one here," she said, not unkindly.
Sota blinked. "Yeah. Guess I like the quiet."
She smiled a little. "I get that."
And then she left.
That was it.
Just a moment. Just that. But for some reason, it echoed.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty doorway. He could still hear her voice, just a little. She didn't say anything special — she never did. But somehow, he always remembered it more than anything else people said all day.
Ryota returned, holding a plastic bag. "You alive?"
Junpei followed behind, biting into melon bread. "We got snacks."
Sota nodded absently. "Cool."
Ryota tossed him a bottle of tea and sat on the edge of the desk. "You good?"
"Yeah."
Junpei squinted at him. "You've got the face of someone who just realized they like someone."
Sota froze for a second too long.
"Ah," Ryota said.
"Shut up," Sota muttered, cracking the cap open and sipping the tea.
They didn't push it. They didn't need to.
Instead, Junpei flopped into the seat in front of Sota and started going on about how the snack aisle at the convenience store was arranged wrong again, like that was the bigger mystery of the day.
And Sota just sat there, nodding occasionally, but thinking about a blue book, a soft smile, and a voice that stayed in his head long after the room emptied.