Monday morning arrived not with the gentle nudge of dawn, but with the sharp slap of winter's early breath. Heavy, iron-gray clouds pressed low over Akasaka City, suffocating the sunrise and unleashing a wind that sliced through layers, finding the gaps with icy precision.
I hunched deeper into my navy blazer, the thin school-issue scarf doing little against the piercing chill. Each inhale was a negotiation – a shallow pull that still sparked a dull ache beneath my ribs, a deeper throb echoing behind my eyes in time with my pulse. The familiar weight of my school bag felt heavier, an anchor dragging at my shoulder.
Yet, the thought of another day trapped in the quiet house, watching Mom's worried glances intensify, was worse. School was normalcy. School was life. I had to go.
The platform at Sakura River Station was a scene of shivering determination. Students huddled like penguins against the biting wind, uniforms seeming laughably inadequate. Then I saw them: Ren, Sora, and Riku, a tight knot of warmth against the grey. Ren had his collar popped comically high, Sora was practically buried in a fluffy pink muffler, and even Riku sported thick fingerless gloves. They spotted me stepping off the train, their faces lighting up with exaggerated relief that couldn't quite mask the concern underneath.
"Haru! Over here!" Sora's voice cut through the wind, her cheeks already flushed crimson from the cold. She bounced slightly on her toes. "We were starting to think you'd wimped out!"
I managed a weak grin, the effort making my temples pulse harder. "Takes more than a bit of wind, Sora." My voice sounded thinner than I wanted.
Ren immediately clocked it. He stepped closer, his usual boisterousness dialed down. "Whoa. You look like you wrestled a bear last night. And lost." His gaze swept over me, taking in the pallor I couldn't hide, the slight tremor in my hands as I adjusted my scarf.
The honesty slipped out before I could filter it. "Feel like it, too," I admitted, rubbing my temples where the headache hammered a steady rhythm. "Just… tired. And cold. Really cold."
Before Ren could press further, the crowd parted like mist revealing two familiar figures. Ayame, bundled in a soft, rose-pink scarf that framed her face, and Haruna, standing tall and composed as always despite the weather, her dark hair neatly braided. Both held compact umbrellas against the fine, icy drizzle that had begun to mist the air. Ayame's eyes found mine instantly, wide with a worry that mirrored the chill in the air.
"Good morning, Haru-kun," Ayame said, her voice soft but carrying clearly over the platform noise. She stepped closer, her brow furrowed. "Are you… sure you're alright? You look pale." Her gaze was searching, seeing past the forced smile.
Haruna didn't ask. She simply unscrewed the cap of a small, sleek thermos she carried. Steam curled invitingly into the frigid air. "Hot barley tea," she stated, offering it. "Drink. It will help warm you from the inside."
The gratitude that washed over me was profound. My fingers, stiff with cold, closed around the warm metal. "Thanks, Haruna." The first sip was liquid warmth, spreading through my chest, momentarily easing the tightness, the ache. It felt like a lifeline.
As we began the walk up the steep hill towards Sakura River High, a subtle formation emerged. Ren, Sora, and Riku drifted slightly ahead, their usual banter quieter, their pace slower. Ayame and Haruna fell into step flanking me, a silent, protective escort. Ayame matched my slower stride without comment, her presence a quiet comfort. Haruna walked with her usual grace, but her eyes occasionally scanned my face, a subtle vigilance.
The campus emerged from the swirling morning fog like a ghostly painting. The majestic cherry trees lining the path were stark skeletons against the grey sky, their vibrant blossoms a distant memory. The usually bustling courtyard was subdued, students hurrying through the mist with heads down against the wind.
Reaching the shoe lockers felt like crossing a finish line. I leaned against the cool metal, catching my breath, the short walk leaving me surprisingly winded. Ayame hovered nearby, fiddling with her scarf. "Do you need help with your shoes?" she offered quietly, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"I'm okay, Ayame," I reassured her, touched by the offer but determined to manage. "Just… taking a second."
Haruna gave a small, approving nod. "We'll see you at lunch, Haru-kun. Rest during breaks if you can." Her tone was gentle but firm.
As Ayame and Haruna turned towards their lockers further down the row, I bent down, the simple motion sending a fresh wave of dizziness washing over me. I braced a hand against the locker door, closing my eyes for a beat. Just get the shoes on. One thing at a time.
Then I saw him. Kaito. He was already there, lacing up his pristine sneakers with sharp, efficient movements. I instinctively tensed, bracing for the usual sneer, the cutting remark about looking pathetic or skipping school. My hand tightened on the locker handle.
But the barb never came. Kaito didn't even look up. His gaze remained fixed on the floor tiles near his feet, his jaw set. He finished lacing his shoe with unnecessary force, the snap of the lace taut. When he spoke, his voice was low, flat, devoid of its usual mocking edge. It wasn't directed at me. It felt like he was talking to the empty air beside him.
"Got here early," he muttered, the words almost swallowed by the clatter of other students changing shoes.
The unexpectedness of it threw me. I hesitated, thrown off balance more than the dizziness had. An awkward silence stretched. Part of me wanted to just ignore him, slip away. But the strangeness compelled me. "Good morning, Kaito," I said, keeping my voice neutral.
He flinched, almost imperceptibly. His eyes flicked up – not to meet mine, but somewhere around my knees – then instantly darted back down. No recognition. No hostility. Just… nothing. A complete, chilling void where his animosity used to be. He straightened abruptly, grabbed his bag, and walked away without a backward glance, disappearing into the crowded hallway.
The dismissal was absolute. More absolute than any insult. It wasn't just indifference; it felt like erasure. Like I had ceased to exist in his world. The cold air from the open door swept over me, but the chill that settled in my chest was deeper, more unsettling. The ache in my ribs flared, a physical echo of the sudden, confusing emptiness Kaito left in his wake. In the quiet hum of the locker room, surrounded by the mundane sounds of school life, I felt a different kind of isolation creep in, colder than the wind outside. The day had barely begun, and the strength I'd mustered to get here already felt like it was fading, stolen by the cold, the pain, and the unsettling silence of a former enemy.
Room 2-B felt like a bubble trapped under the oppressive gray sky. Ms. Yamada's chalk scraped against the board, erasing yesterday's calculus with sharp, efficient strokes, replacing it with the stark declaration: UNIT TESTS THIS WEEK. A collective groan rippled through the room, momentarily drowning out the chatter about Saturday's walk and Sunday's anime binge. The air hummed with the forced energy of Monday morning, underscored by the drumming of rain against the windows.
Ren slid into the desk beside mine with a thud. "Please tell me Yamada-sensei isn't springing a pop quiz on us today?" he whispered, already looking defeated.
I shook my head, the movement sending a fresh wave of pressure behind my eyes. "Test tomorrow," I managed, my voice slightly thick. "Just review today." Focusing on the board felt like trying to see through fogged glass. The equations swam, numbers blurring at the edges during a long division problem. I blinked hard, forcing my eyes to refocus, a bead of sweat tracing a cold path down my temple despite the classroom chill.
Across the aisle, Ayame's pen paused mid-sentence. Her gaze flickered to me, sharp with concern. She didn't say anything, didn't draw attention, but the worry was a tangible thing in the space between us. She met my eyes for a fleeting second – a silent 'Hang in there' – before resuming her meticulous notes. Moments later, a soft, blessedly cool tissue appeared on the edge of my desk. Haruna, seated a row ahead, didn't turn, simply offering the small comfort after a muffled sneeze I hadn't fully suppressed.
Kaito sat rigidly three desks away. His head remained buried in a grammar worksheet, shoulders hunched, creating an invisible barrier. He hadn't glanced in my direction once. The deliberate avoidance felt colder than the weather outside. The memory of the bridge, his unexpected hand reaching out… had it even happened? Frustration, hot and sharp, pricked behind my ribs, mingling with the persistent ache. I clenched my fist under the desk, knuckles white.
The lunch bell was a mercy. The classroom emptied with palpable relief. Our usual table near the window felt like a sanctuary, though the view offered little cheer – dark clouds churned, rain streaking the glass in relentless streams.
"Operation: Fuel the Patient," Ren announced, sliding a familiar bento box across the table towards me. Inside, Mom's careful arrangement: fluffy rice balls, golden tamagoyaki slices, tart pickled plums. "Eat. You look like you're running on fumes, man."
Sora unpacked her own elaborate lunch – spaghetti napolitan adorned with octopus-shaped sausages. "Seriously, Haru," she said, her usual boisterousness softened. She nodded at the thermos Haruna had given me, now empty. "You chugged that whole thing before second period? Champion effort. Tasted like… liquid responsibility." She made a comically sour face.
I forced a smile, picking up a rice ball. Each deliberate chew, each swallow, sent a jarring echo through my bruised ribs. The simple act of eating felt like a marathon. Sweat pricked my hairline again.
"Relax," Sora said softly, her eyes unusually serious. She speared an octopus sausage. "You don't have to pretend with us, you know? We have eyes. You're basically held together with willpower and Haruna's magic gel right now."
I tried for a dismissive wave, but it felt weak. "Really, I'm—"
"You're not fine," Riku cut in bluntly from across the table, not looking up from his manga. His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of judgment, simply stating the undeniable truth hanging heavy in the air. "You can't lie to us. The performance is impressive, but unnecessary."
Ayame's hand darted out then, her fingers lightly tapping the back of my hand resting on the table. Her touch was warm, grounding. "Just… take it easy this afternoon, okay?" Her voice was a gentle plea. "Please?"
The combined weight of their quiet concern, their refusal to let me pretend, was both a burden and a relief. I sagged slightly, the fight draining out of me. "Okay," I whispered, the word tasting like surrender. "Okay."
My gaze drifted past them, searching the rain-lashed courtyard. There. Kaito. He was leaving the building, his dark umbrella snapping open with a sharp fwump. He walked with swift, purposeful strides, head bent low against the downpour, disappearing around the corner of the science building without a backward glance. A confusing mix of guilt and worry flared – was he sick too? Was he ditching? Was it… because of me?
I shifted in my seat, trying to get a better angle to see where he'd gone. My elbow, clumsy with fatigue, bumped the edge of the table. Hard.
The bento box skidded. Two perfectly formed rice balls tumbled over the edge, landing with soft, pathetic thuds on the linoleum floor.
"Ah— Damn it," I hissed under my breath, the heat of embarrassment flooding my face. I pushed my chair back, the scrape loud in the cafeteria hum, and knelt down. The simple motion made the room tilt slightly.
Outside, through the rain-streaked window, Kaito paused. He'd doubled back slightly, maybe heading towards the gym. His eyes met mine through the glass. Just for a split second. I saw the press of his lips into a thin, hard line. Not anger. Not mockery. Something colder. Resignation? Disgust? Then he looked away sharply, turned, and walked off, his figure swallowed by the gray curtain of rain. No offer to help. No scornful remark. Just… nothing. The indifference was a physical blow, colder than the rain he walked through.
I gathered the fallen rice balls, my fingers trembling slightly. Standing up felt like climbing a mountain. My heart hammered against my ribs, not from exertion, but from the raw sting of humiliation and that chilling void Kaito left in his wake.
The afternoon classes were a slow descent into fog. History blurred into literature, the teacher's voice a distant drone. The equations on the board morphed into incomprehensible symbols. My head felt stuffed with cotton, my lungs tight, each breath a conscious effort that scraped against the ache deep within my chest. The final bell was less a chime and more a distant gong signaling escape.
Packing my bag felt like assembling something complex and heavy underwater. My movements were slow, deliberate. I looped my scarf tighter, seeking its meager warmth against a chill that seemed to emanate from my bones.
Stepping into the corridor was like walking into a wall of noise and movement. The sudden shift from the relative quiet of the emptying classroom was overwhelming. A wave of dizziness crashed over me, violent and sudden. The world tilted on its axis. Lockers warped and stretched. The chatter of students became a muffled, distorted roar, like listening through thick water. Colors swam. I lurched sideways, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the cool metal edge of my desk.
"Haru! Wait up!" Ren's voice cut through the muffled chaos, sounding strangely far away. He was suddenly beside me, his hand firm on my shoulder, a solid anchor in the swirling room. Sora appeared on my other side, her eyes wide with alarm, the usual sparkle replaced by pure fear.
"Haru? Are you okay? You're white as a sheet!" Her voice was high, tight.
I tried to speak, to reassure them, to say 'I'm fine' one more time. But my tongue felt thick and clumsy. "I… think…" The words slurred, barely audible even to myself. "...so…"
We moved towards the shoe lockers in a slow, awkward procession, Ren's grip steadying me. The hallway seemed impossibly long. The fluorescent lights buzzed like angry insects. Bending down to change my shoes was an act of sheer will. My vision tunneled, darkness crowding the edges. The cool air from the open entrance doors felt like ice on my overheated skin.
Suddenly, a figure stepped back sharply from their own locker, directly into my path. I stumbled, unable to stop my forward momentum.
Thud.
I collided with him hard, shoulder to chest. The impact jarred through me, a lightning bolt of pain cracking through my ribs and skull.
"Watch it, princess," a low, familiar voice growled. Kaito..
The world tilted again, violently. Black spots danced before my eyes. "S-sorry…" I mumbled, the word thick and distant, my gaze fixed on the scuffed floor tiles that seemed to be rising to meet me.
He leaned in close, he quickly caught me in his arms. His breath warm against my ear, his voice devoid of its usual sneer, filled instead with, concern and fear?
"You shouldn't have come to school Haruki!"
I forced my head up, my vision swimming to focus on his face, inches from mine. I saw the tightness around his eyes, the flicker of something unreadable – anger? fear? – before it vanished. I opened my mouth, a denial, a question, anything rising in my throat.
Then the floor vanished.
The hallway dissolved into a kaleidoscope of warped light and sound.
Lockers stretched into impossible shapes.
Ren's shout, Sora's gasp, Kaito's sharp intake of breath – all twisted, muffled, fading.
The roar in my ears became a tidal wave.
The last sensation was the cold, unforgiving impact of the linoleum rushing up.
And then—
Nothing.
A deep, velvet, all-consuming dark.
Only distant, panicked voices remained, like echoes down a long, dark tunnel:
"Haru!"
"Someone get the nurse!"
"Call an ambulance!"
"Haruki!"