The morning after the festival meeting felt surreal.
Class had barely begun when I caught her out of the corner of my eye—Izumi, sitting at her desk like the world outside her couldn't touch her. Her silver-white hair was tied up today, a simple ribbon holding it in place. I don't know why, but it made her seem... softer.
She hadn't said a word to me since the rooftop. Not even a glance.
You'd think I imagined it all—her defending me, the conversation under the twilight sky, her wearing my blazer like it was second nature. But the blazer was back in my locker this morning, neatly folded, not a single wrinkle in sight.
She didn't even leave a note.
> Did it mean something? Or am I just reading into everything?
The teacher droned on about something in world history, but I wasn't paying attention. I kept thinking about that moment… that strange paper crane from my locker.
> The sakura tree still waits.
It sounded like a riddle. A whisper from the past.
I glanced sideways. Izumi was scribbling something in her notebook. Her expression was calm, but her eyes... distant. Like she was somewhere far away.
Before I could stop myself, I leaned in and whispered, "Hey."
No response.
"Hey, Ishikawa-san—"
"Not now," she muttered, barely moving her lips.
That stung a bit.
I sat back in my chair and folded my arms, trying to focus, but by the time lunch rolled around, I'd given up pretending to be productive.
I wandered to the courtyard alone. Students milled around—laughing, eating, gossiping. No one seemed to care about the "panty incident" anymore, but some of the stares still lingered. Not that I blamed them. It's hard to live down infamy when you've seen what I've seen.
I sat beneath a sakura tree, the leaves above rustling gently in the breeze. Despite it being late autumn, a few blossoms clung stubbornly to the branches.
> The sakura tree still waits...
This was the only blooming sakura on campus. Did the note mean this tree?
As I stared up at the branches, I heard footsteps.
"You're in my spot."
I looked up to see Izumi standing above me, arms folded.
"I didn't know this spot was claimed."
She sat beside me anyway.
"I always eat lunch here. Alone."
"Then... why are you letting me stay?"
She pulled out a neatly wrapped bento from her bag. "Maybe because I'm tired of being alone today."
I blinked. "That... was unexpectedly honest."
She sighed. "Don't get used to it."
We sat in silence for a few moments, the occasional chirp of birds or distant laughter drifting in the air. I nibbled at the sandwich I bought from the school store. She ate slowly, methodically. Every movement of hers seemed rehearsed, yet graceful.
Then she asked, "Did you like the festival preparations?"
"Not the part where I almost died hanging lanterns."
"You didn't die. I caught you."
"That's twice now."
"Hmm?"
"You've caught me twice. First the boys, then the fall."
She didn't respond. But I saw the tiniest smile flicker at the corners of her lips.
I decided to push my luck.
"Hey… that note. The one about the sakura tree. Was that from you?"
Her chopsticks paused mid-air.
"Note?"
"You know, the one in the paper crane. It fell out of my locker."
"I don't write origami poetry."
She said it without looking at me.
"Right. I just… thought maybe it was connected to you."
Izumi was quiet again.
Then she said, "Maybe it is. Maybe not. The tree will wait either way."
Cryptic. As always.
But the way she said it—like it meant something more—made my heart pound just a little faster.
The wind blew again. A petal drifted down and landed on her shoulder.
Without thinking, I reached out to brush it off.
She froze.
I realized my fingers were inches from her neck.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly—but she didn't pull away.
I gently flicked the petal off and pulled my hand back. "Sorry."
She blinked, exhaled slowly, and turned her gaze back to her bento.
"It's... fine."
The bell rang.
She stood up first, dusted off her skirt, and turned away.
Then—without looking at me—she said quietly,
"You should come early tomorrow. I'll show you something."
And then she walked off.
I stared at her retreating figure, heart thumping.
> Did she just invite me...?
---
The next morning, I arrived before the gates even opened. I waited awkwardly at the courtyard until the guard let me in.
She was already there—by the same sakura tree.
In casual clothes.
Not her uniform.
A cream-colored cardigan over a pale lavender blouse, pleated skirt, and her long white hair tied loosely. She looked... different. Softer. Like someone else entirely.
"What are we doing?" I asked.
She pointed to the bench beneath the tree. "Sit."
I obeyed.
She pulled something out of her bag—a small photo album.
My heart skipped.
> Wait… why are we looking at photos?
She sat beside me, not too close, but not far either. Carefully, she opened the album and flipped to a photo.
Two kids—maybe six or seven years old—sitting under this same tree. A boy and a girl.
The boy had wild black hair. The girl had white.
> Wait a second…
"That's you," she said, tapping the boy.
I leaned in. My heart dropped into my stomach.
That was me.
And the girl…
"Izumi?"
She nodded.
"This photo was taken eight years ago. My mother used to bring me here when she was still alive. You used to live near here too. You were always by this tree."
My head was spinning.
"We were… childhood friends?"
She closed the album.
"Best friends," she corrected. "You promised to marry me one day."
"What?"
"You gave me a flower crown and said I was your princess."
"I—"
My voice caught.
No wonder she felt so familiar.
No wonder the tree meant something.
"But then," she continued, voice steady, "you moved away. And I never heard from you again."
"I didn't remember any of this…"
"I figured," she said. "You had a head injury, didn't you?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. Around that time."
Her expression was unreadable.
"I hated you for forgetting. I hated myself for remembering."
That hit harder than I expected.
"I'm… sorry."
"I don't want your apology, Ryou. I just want you to remember me. Not the idol. Not the president. Me."
She stood up and brushed her skirt down.
"Anyway, that's what I wanted to show you."
I stood too. "Izumi…"
She looked at me then—her violet eyes no longer cold. Just… tired.
"I'm not asking you to fall in love with me again. I just want to know if you still can."
Before I could reply, the first students started trickling into the courtyard.
She walked away without another word.
I stared at the bench, at the photo still imprinted in my mind.
And for the first time, something stirred in me—a flicker of memory. A girl's laughter. The smell of spring. The warmth of her hand in mine.
> Ishikawa Izumi... my princess under the sakura tree.
AUTHOR- CrimsonBorN