Her eyes found my face. They were wide and incredibly clear. Our gazes locked perfectly together.
She blinked once.
The heavy silence shattered. The loud noise of the classroom rushed back into my ears like a sudden flood. The harsh sound of scraping chairs and shouting teenagers hit me all at once. The spell broke.
She offered a small, polite smile. She probably thought I was just looking for my seat. She did not know my entire world had just tipped completely off its axis. She turned her head back toward the open window. She left me standing in the narrow aisle like a complete fool.
I pulled my chair back and sat down heavily. My legs felt like wet paper. My hands shook a little bit, so I shoved them deep into my dark uniform pockets. I kept my eyes locked on the front chalkboard for the rest of the morning.
I did not hear a single word the homeroom teacher said. My chest felt incredibly tight. Every time she shifted her weight in the seat next to mine, a hot flash crawled up my neck. The soft rustle of her skirt against the wood made my breath catch.
I was completely ruined.
The final school bell rang. I grabbed my heavy leather bag and walked all the way home in a total daze. Night fell. I sat flat on the woven tatami mat in the living room. The television played a loud variety show, but I just stared at the blank wall beside it.
I grinned.
It was a big, stupid grin. It stretched my cheeks until they actually hurt. I was sixteen years old, and I had completely lost my mind. The cold, quiet person I used to be was entirely gone.
Liora Mei walked into the living room. She still wore her school uniform. She didn't say a word. She just dropped to the floor and lay down right next to me. She shifted her body and placed her head directly onto my lap. Her blonde hair spilled over my dark sweatpants. She claimed my physical space like she always did. She made herself completely comfortable.
"It is totally unfair," Liora complained loudly. She stared up at the ceiling. "We are in the same high school now, but we are in different classes. I am stuck in class 1-C. You are all the way in 1-A. Who am I supposed to eat lunch with? I don't know anyone."
She kept talking. She listed every single grievance about her new homeroom teacher. She complained about the noisy girls sitting behind her.
I did not hear her. My mind was completely stuck on the bright classroom window. I pictured the sunlight hitting dark hair. I remembered the precise shape of her clear eyes. A soft, foolish smile crept right back onto my face.
Liora stopped talking. She noticed the heavy silence. She frowned. She lifted her hand and poked my stomach hard with her index finger.
"Onii-chan," Liora said sharply. "Are you even listening to me?"
I jumped. The sudden physical poke startled me badly. My shoulders jerked up. I blinked down at her face resting on my legs.
"Huh?" I asked. My voice cracked. "Yeah. Different classes. That is a shame."
Liora narrowed her blue eyes. She glared up at me. She knew I was completely distracted, but she just sighed and closed her eyes. She settled heavier onto my lap.
The daily greeting became the firm center of my entire life. I woke up early every single day. I tied my uniform tie perfectly straight in the bathroom mirror. I brushed my dark hair until it lay flat. I walked into the noisy classroom ten minutes before the morning bell rang. I always walked down the narrow aisle.
The girl always sat there. She usually read a thick paperback book. The moment I reached my desk, she always stopped what she was doing. She always looked up at me.
"Good morning, Kusanagi-kun," she would say.
Her voice was soft and polite. The formal distance in her tone hurt a little bit, but the sound still hit me right in the chest. It felt like a warm physical punch to the ribs.
"Good morning, Shinohara-san," I would reply.
My voice always sounded way too stiff. I tried my best to act cool and casual. I tried to look like formal. But my palms always sweat, so I kept them strictly hidden under the desk.
We stayed like that for two full months. We were just polite desk neighbors. Then the rainy season arrived, and everything completely changed.
It was late afternoon. The sky was a dark, bruising gray. I forgot my math notebook in the classroom, so I walked back to the main building to get it. I took a shortcut behind the old gymnasium. Tall green weeds grew through the cracked concrete. Peeling white paint hung from the brick walls. Nobody ever came back here.
I rounded the brick corner. I stopped dead in my tracks.
Shinohara stood near the rusted metal doors. She wore her neat high school uniform. She held a thin white cigarette between her fingers. A small trail of gray smoke drifted up into the damp air. She took a slow drag.
She looked entirely different. The polite, quiet girl from the classroom was gone. She looked rebellious and tired.
A dry twig snapped under my shoe.
Shinohara jumped. Her head snapped toward me. Pure panic flashed across her face. She dropped the cigarette onto the wet concrete. She crushed it quickly under her black loafer.
We stared at each other. The silence was incredibly heavy. The rain started to fall in small, quiet drops. She thought I was going to turn her in. Smoking meant a big suspension.
"I didn't see anything," I said quietly. My voice was steady. "See you tomorrow Shinohara-san."
I didn't lecture her. I didn't ask her why. I just turned around and started to walk away like nothing ever happened.
"Wait," she called out.
I stopped. I looked back over my shoulder. The rain wet her dark hair. Her shoulders slumped in pure relief. She offered a small, genuine smile. It was not the polite greeting smile. It was real.
"Thanks," she whispered. "You can call me Asuka, you know. Kusanagi-kun."
I was stunned. I turned to her.
"Then... you should call me... Zenjiro," I nervously said. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs.
"Okay, Zenjiro-kun."
That single moment broke the wall between us. We became incredibly close after that. We stayed in the same class for our first year. Then we got placed in the same class for our second year. It was a complete stroke of luck. We shared our history notes when one of us missed a lecture. We complained about the salty soup in the cafeteria. We talked about regular, boring things.
We looked like entirely normal friends.
But I am dying on the inside.
I tried my best to act casual. I kept my face totally blank and relaxed. I forced my shoulders to drop. Inside, my stomach tied itself into cold, tight knots every single time she leaned close to my desk.
I noticed everything about her. I noticed the brand of cherry lip balm she kept in her pink pencil case. I watched the way she gripped her blue pen when she was confused by the writing on the blackboard.
She always tapped the plastic cap gently against her bottom lip. I watched the way the afternoon sun caught the dark strands of her hair. I memorized the precise shape of her hands.
We got paired up for a history presentation in October. We stayed late in the empty classroom. The sky outside turned a deep, bruised purple. She pushed her wooden desk right up against mine so we could share the large poster board. Our knees almost touched.
She leaned over the paper with a red marker. Her dark hair fell forward, brushing lightly against the back of my hand. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't move. I just stared at the soft curve of her neck.
"Zenjiro-kun," she said softly.
She turned her head. Her face was only inches away from mine. I smelled the sweet fruit shampoo again. It was dizzying.
"Does this timeline look right to you?" she asked. She pointed the red marker at a messy list of dates. "Or did I mess it up entirely?"
"It looks perfect," I lied. My voice sounded thin and strained. I hadn't looked at a single word on the poster. I was entirely focused on the way her dark eyes caught the dim classroom light.
She smiled and bumped her shoulder gently against mine. "You aren't even looking at the paper. You are useless today."
"I am looking," I said quickly. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. I grabbed a black pen and forced myself to stare at the cardboard.
The sheer lack of physical distance between us was pure torture. I had to carefully monitor every single breath I took just to stay quiet. I kept my elbows pulled tight against my ribs to stop my hands from shaking. I was completely terrified of making a sudden movement and ruining the fragile mood.
But it was also the absolute best moment of my entire life.
The warm air in the empty classroom settled heavily around us. I wanted to freeze the ticking clock on the wall. I wanted to stay trapped in that quiet space with her forever.
I kept my head down. I pressed the tip of my black pen hard against the thick paper. I drew a long, straight line under a historical date. I listened to the soft, steady sound of her breathing right next to my shoulder. I was just a stupid teenager.
I thought this comfortable closeness meant we were building a solid foundation. I had absolutely no idea that these perfect afternoons were a complete waste of time. I didn't know yet. I didn't know that every single quiet memory we made in this room was destined to end in a total, crushing disaster.