Chapter 1
Takahashi Kaito's eyes, like frozen lakes, reflected the gray winter sky. He brushed past students rushing to class, his black uniform a stark contrast to the cherry blossom trees outside.
Mori Yui, on the other hand, bounced into the classroom, her smile as vibrant as the flowers. She plumped into the seat beside Kaito, who stiffened.
"Hey, good morning!" she chirped, oblivious to his scowl.
Kaito grunted, eyes fixed on the chalkboard. Yui's grin faltered, but only for a moment.
"I'm Yui, by the way," she said, extending a hand.
Kaito's gaze flicked to hers, then away. "Takahashi."
Yui's hand hung in mid-air, but she didn't let it drop. Instead, she launched into a cheerful monologue about the upcoming school festivals. Yui left for her seat but couldn't stop staring at Kaito, who didn't care to look at her
The school bell echoed through the corridor, long and hollow, like the end of something important.
Sunlight streamed in through the tall classroom windows, dust floating in the air like tiny, glowing secrets. Students passed by in groups, their voices fading into background noise—laughing, arguing, living.
Yui stood near the shoe lockers, fingers clenched around the strap of her school bag. Her uniform felt too tight around her chest, like it knew what she was about to do.
Kaito was there.
Leaning against the wall, blazer unbuttoned, tie loose. One earphone in. Eyes down, fixed on his phone. Calm. Detached. The kind of boy teachers praised and rumors followed—but no one ever truly reached.
She took a step forward.
"Um… Kaito?"
He didn't look up. "If it's about class duties, talk to the class rep."
"It's not."
That made him pause—just for half a second. Still, his eyes stayed on the screen.
Her throat tightened. In anime, this was the moment when cherry blossoms fell or music swelled. Here, there was only her heartbeat.
"I like you," she said. "I've liked you since last year. I know you might not feel the same but… I'm in love with you."
The words hung in the air, fragile and exposed.
He removed his earphone.
Not once did he turn his head.
"I'm not interested," he said calmly.
It was immediate. Clean. Like he'd rehearsed it.
Yui stared at him, stunned. "That's… all?"
"I don't like you," he continued. "And I don't plan to."
Her hands trembled. "You didn't even look at me."
He finally locked his phone, pushing it into his pocket. For a moment, she thought—this is it. That he'd meet her eyes.
Instead, he spoke while staring straight ahead.
"Looking at you won't change anything."
The words pierced deeper than shouting ever could.
"I just wanted you to know how I felt," she whispered. "I didn't ask you to return it."
"Then don't confess," he replied. "It only complicates things."
Students walked past them, some slowing down, sensing the tension. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to bow slightly—polite, automatic, painfully Japanese.
"I'm sorry for bothering you."
She turned away.
Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, each one heavier than the last. She didn't cry. Anime heroines never cry right away—not when it matters most.
Behind her, he put his earphone back in.
He never watched her leave.
And later—when the hallway was empty, when the sunlight had faded—
he would remember that moment.
Not her voice.
Not her confession.
But the strange, quiet feeling in his chest
that refused to disappear.
The next day, Yui walked into the class
"Did you hear that?" a girl whispered to her friends, loud enough for half the class to catch.
"Wow… she actually confessed?"
"Bet he didn't even look at her. Pathetic!"
Laughter rippled like a wave, cruel and unstoppable.
Someone pointed. "Look at her face! She's dying inside!"
Her knees almost gave out. The uniform she had worn with pride felt like it was made of glass, fragile, exposing her to every gaze. Every mocking whisper landed like a knife.
"I… I just… wanted him to know," she murmured, voice trembling.
"Know? Now everyone knows," someone jeered from behind a locker.
He didn't turn. Didn't say a word to defend her. He didn't care. He never did.
Her cheeks burned. Her hands shook. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole. The class felt endless, stretching, full of faces twisted with amusement at her expense.
The laughter didn't stop when she ran out of the class. She ran past lockers, past whispers, past the cruel eyes, her footsteps echoing like drumbeats of humiliation.
By the time she reached the empty stairwell, she leaned against the cold wall, tears hot but silent. Her bag slipped to the floor.
She had confessed. She had been honest. And now… the whole school knew.
And he… he hadn't even looked.
The world outside the stairwell felt distant. Gray. Cold. Merciless.
She swallowed, trembling, realizing something she would never forget:
Being brave had cost her everything—except the pain, and that pain was now public.
She sank onto the bottom step of the empty stairwell, bag slipping to the floor. The gray-blue light from the windows painted her face in cold shadows. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her cheeks, hiding the tears she refused to let fall in public.
Footsteps echoed softly behind her.
"Yui… are you okay?"
She looked up to see her best friend, uniform slightly rumpled, eyes wide with worry. A small, concerned frown tugged at her friend's lips.
"I… it's nothing," she whispered, trying to force a small, shaky smile.
Her friend crouched down beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It doesn't look like nothing. Come on, tell me what happened. You're shaking."
Her chest tightened, words stuck in her throat. She didn't want to relive it—the laughter, the mocking whispers, the way he hadn't even looked. But her best friend's gaze was soft, warm, unjudging.
"He… he… I confessed," she stammered, voice barely audible. "And… he… he rejected me. And everyone… everyone was laughing…"
Her friend's hand squeezed hers gently. "What, you confessed to Kaito. I didn't know you were serious about him. He rejected you that mad dog. Don't worry soon or later they'll forget about it."
Tears finally escaped, sliding down her cheeks. Her friend pulled her into a hug, careful and steady. "You don't have to face this alone. Not ever. Come on, let's get out of here. We'll survive the rest of the day together, okay?"
She nodded, letting herself lean into the warmth. For the first time since the hallway had swallowed her humiliation, the cold gray world seemed a little less suffocating.
Her best friend held her close, whispering softly, "Kaito doesn't deserve you. He is not worth it." Never forget that."
Outside the stairwell, the rain continued to drum against the windows. Shadows still lingered, but for the first time, she felt a small light against the cold, dark walls—a reminder that even in despair, someone cared.
Later that day
The classroom was buzzing with chatter, students packing up their things, voices bouncing off the walls. She sat at her desk, hunched over, trying to make herself invisible, hoping no one would notice her. The echo of the hallway had followed her—the mocking laughter, the whispers about her confession.
And then… he walked in.
Calm. Unbothered. Eyes sharp and cold. The moment he stepped in, the room seemed to shift—the air grew heavy, like a storm rolling in.
He stopped near his desk, looking around casually, then finally, his gaze landed on her.
"You," he said, voice carrying perfectly across the classroom. "Yes, did you know you wasted my time yesterday?"
Her stomach dropped. She froze. Every eye turned toward her. Whispers started, curious and cruel, spreading like wildfire.
"I… I… I didn't mean to—" she began, voice shaking, but he cut her off.
"Didn't mean to what?" he said, a cruel smirk forming. "Make a fool of yourself? Embarrass yourself in front of everyone? Because congratulations… mission accomplished."
Laughter erupted. Some students covered their mouths, others stared openly, unable to look away. Her hands trembled, gripping the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles turned white.
"Confessing to me?" he continued, leaning casually against his desk, eyes cold, sharp. "Pathetic. You think I'd ever care? You think this… pathetic display of emotions is worth anyone's attention?"
She shrank lower into her seat. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She couldn't—they would only fuel the entertainment of the class.
He glanced around, making sure everyone was watching. "Seriously, wasting time on… this nonsense. Learn something: not everything you feel deserves to be said. Not everything you feel is important. Certainly not whatever ridiculous feelings you had for me."
The classroom was silent now, but every pair of eyes was on her. The weight of his words pressed down like lead.
"I—" she whispered, trying again, but he shook his head slowly, a sharp, deliberate motion.
"Save it," he said coldly. "Save your tears, your apologies, your pathetic excuses. They won't change anything. You embarrassed yourself. That's it. That's reality. And everyone here saw it."
She wanted to disappear. Melt into the floor. The laughter, the stares, the cold smirk of the boy she had dared to love—it all pressed against her like ice.
By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of class, she was trembling, face pale, tears finally spilling silently down her cheeks.
He left the room without another glance, and the whispers followed her all the way out.
In that moment, she realized a harsh, cold truth:
Bravery had cost her everything… and he had made sure everyone knew it.