The sun was setting by the time Kazuki left Aira's house.
He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, his brain in chaos.
"It was just a project meeting."
"Nothing happened."
"...Right?"
But then, why the hell was his chest so tight?
Why did her laugh echo so clearly in his head?
And why — why — did the scent of strawberry shampoo still haunt his nose like a ghost?
He kicked a pebble on the sidewalk.
"Damn it."
This was dangerous.
He wasn't supposed to be like this.
He wasn't supposed to care.
Feelings? Romance? That stuff was for people who didn't know how cruel the world could be.
He wasn't like them.
He had walls.
Thick, tall, emotion-proof walls.
But somehow...
That girl.
That annoyingly cheerful, overly friendly, strawberry-scented girl—
She was climbing over them like it was a playground.
—
The next day at school, Kazuki sat at his desk, staring blankly at the board.
He didn't even realize Aira had entered the classroom until she leaned in and whispered:
"Morning. Still thinking about last night?"
Kazuki jumped. "W-What are you talking about?!"
Aira smiled. "You were staring at the wall like you saw a ghost."
"I was just... tired."
She leaned closer. "Hmm~ Or maybe... you caught feelings?"
Kazuki immediately turned away. "Keep dreaming."
Aira giggled. "If you say so."
But as she walked away to her seat, Kazuki caught himself staring again.
And this time, he didn't look away.
He didn't know what it was — her smile, her voice, her presence — but something had changed.
And no matter how much he denied it...
His heart was racing.
And it wasn't slowing down anytime soon.
The school cafeteria was as noisy as ever—
Chairs scraping, trays clattering, the faint smell of curry and cheap sandwiches filling the air. Kazuki sat at his usual spot by the window, where the light hit just right for him to pretend he wasn't people-watching.
He poked his curry bread without really eating it.
His drink? Untouched.
His mind? Somewhere else entirely.
"She's late today," he mumbled.
Of course, by she, he meant Aira. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud.
He checked the time again.
12:15 PM.
Lunch break had already started 10 minutes ago.
Just as he was about to give up and eat like a normal human being, the cafeteria door opened—
—and there she was.
Aira Vellione. Radiant, cheerful, and—
Wait.
Who the hell is that guy beside her?
Kazuki's eyes zeroed in on the stranger.
He was tall.
Wavy brown hair.
Basketball club jacket.
And most importantly—
He was walking side by side with Aira. Laughing.
Kazuki felt something twitch inside his chest. It was unfamiliar. Annoying.
He watched them sit—together—at a table just across from his.
Kagami, the guy, leaned in as he talked. Aira laughed, brushing her bangs behind her ear. Her whole face lit up, the way it usually did when she teased him.
Except right now, she wasn't teasing him.
She wasn't even looking at him.
Kazuki looked down at his curry bread.
He stabbed it with his chopsticks like it had committed a crime.
"Why does it taste bland today?"
Frustrated, he stood up, holding his milk carton. He didn't even know where he was going—just moving, acting like it didn't bother him. Like he wasn't... annoyed.
But his legs had a mind of their own.
They led him right past Aira's table.
He didn't mean to stop.
He didn't mean to speak.
But he did.
"Oh. You made a new friend?"
His voice was flat, but there was something sharp underneath it.
Aira looked up, blinking like she didn't expect to see him there. "Kazuki! Yeah—this is Kagami-kun. He helped me when I dropped all my notes near the gym."
Kagami stood, friendly as ever. "Nice to meet you. You must be Kazuki-kun, right? Aira mentions you a lot."
Kazuki's eyes didn't blink.
She talks about me...?
But instead of letting it affect him, his pride took the wheel.
"Tch. Whatever."
He turned and walked off before anyone could say anything else.
Back at his table, the curry bread was still there. Still bland. Still annoying.
His chest felt tight, but not from nerves like before. This was different.
It was jealousy.
The kind he didn't expect to feel.
The kind that hit harder than he wanted to admit.
Because this time, it wasn't about being shy.
It wasn't about being confused.
This time—
It was real.