As I sat on the bench beneath the small courtyard tree, I ate the bento Saki Yoshida had prepared for me. Between quiet, methodical bites, my eyes lifted toward the hallway window. Harukawa was there—running, not toward the cafeteria like others, but deeper into the school, her usual rush contrasting sharply with my stillness.
Why did I agree to her offer?
I ran the mental calculation again. Social interaction always drains me, demanding unnecessary verbal output. Yet something small, illogical, had stirred when she'd asked me to join her group for lunch tomorrow.
I know I shouldn't have accepted, yet some stupid, internal prompt told me to say yes.
I eased back against the bench, letting a soft breath escape. I took a sip of green tea, my gaze lingering on the can resting against my palm. A breeze swept through the courtyard, rustling the spring leaves. The sound calmed me more than I expected, offering a brief reset.
After finishing my meal, I neatly packed my bento, tossed the empty can into the bin, and began walking back toward the classroom—my steps steady, but my mind heavier than usual.
How do I even fit into that group tomorrow? I don't speak their language of easy, chaotic social energy.
Climbing the stairs, I deliberately chose the back door again. This route felt safer—fewer eyes, fewer demands. When I slipped inside, Kazama and Kimura were already chatting near their seats.
But Harukawa wasn't there.
I walked to my desk and settled down quietly, resting my chin on my hand, instantly defaulting to my reserved observer mode. Moments later, footsteps approached. Harukawa arrived with Nishimura beside her, both wearing warm, familiar smiles.
I looked away quickly—but not before my eyes lingered longer than I intended on her expressive face.
Thud.
My heartbeat struck hard against my ribs—sharp enough that I drew a careful, regulating breath. I turned sharply toward the window, letting the dense greenery outside steady me.
I know this pain. I thought I had suppressed it long ago. Why is it back again?
Sota Azuma entered the classroom for the final period, his presence calm yet authoritative. I straightened in my seat. Chemistry began with question-and-answer drills, Azuma's preferred style. I tried to blend in. I wasn't bad at the subject; I just disliked speaking in class. Words never came out the way I intended, always losing definition between thought and speech.
"Aidan," Azuma called, adjusting his glasses. "Is a pH of 3 acidic or basic?"
There went my plan of keeping a low profile.
I rose gently. My voice was steady but soft. "Acidic. It's below pH seven."
Azuma studied me for a moment. "Good. At least you're listening while staring out that window."
I gave a respectful nod and sat again, directing my gaze forward.
Is the visual displacement really that obvious?
The class continued. Harukawa volunteered answers with easy enthusiasm, proving once again how naturally she handled academics and social performance. Her confidence contrasted sharply with my necessary restraint.
When the final bell rang, everyone rose to give their usual bow. Students began gathering their belongings, chatting as they prepared to leave. I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder and walked forward with the flow of students—no hurry, no rush, just moving toward the exit.
Halfway to the front door, Kazama's voice cut through the noise, directed at me.
"Don't forget to bring your cleats tomorrow, new boy."
I turned slightly. The four of them—Kazama, Kimura, Nishimura, and Harukawa—were watching me, waiting for my reaction.
I gave a single calm nod. "Sure."
Then I stepped out of the classroom, my stride steady and unreadable, leaving them behind.
The walk through the schoolyard felt routine—a necessary procedure for leaving the premises. A few curious glances followed me—students probably still unsure who I was—but I slipped past them easily, avoiding unnecessary eye contact. Once outside the school gate, I turned right, taking the quieter detour toward Takumi's middle school.
Each step felt heavier than it should.
Am I really nervous about tomorrow?
The football selection… or the mandatory lunch break with Harukawa's group?
I rarely felt nervous. And even when I did, the feeling never mattered—hope was something I never allowed myself to have. I exhaled quietly and looked up at the signboard pointing toward the middle school, following it at a steady pace.
At least things here are organized. Predictable. That makes everything easier.
Near the school entrance, Takumi was chatting animatedly with another boy.
That must be Sora—the one he told me about yesterday.
"Hey, hotshot," I called, walking toward them, injecting a carefully measured amount of warmth into my voice.
Takumi's face lit up instantly. "Big bro! You came!" He ran over and wrapped his arms around my waist, a sudden, powerful anchor.
"Of course I came. I promised, didn't I?" I ruffled his hair gently, a gesture that was quickly becoming instinctive.
He handed me his schoolbag, then hurried back to the other boy and dragged him over. "This is Sora Harukawa! I told you about him!"
Harukawa? And the boy looked exactly like a younger, more hyper version of her.
"Hey, little ones. Nice to meet you." My voice stayed calm and level as I shifted Takumi's bag onto my shoulder.
Sora beamed up at me with wild hand gestures. "You're the one Yoshida-san always talks about!"
I knelt to match their height. "I hope he says good things. Are you waiting for someone?"
Sora shook his head enthusiastically. "Nope! I walk by myself. I live close."
I rose, taking Takumi's hand. "Then let us walk you home."
Both boys cheered and ran ahead—Takumi dropping my hand immediately to walk beside Sora, instantly mirroring his energy. I let out a quiet sigh and followed behind, watching the two of them banter and laugh in pure, unfiltered excitement.
A faint smile tugged at my lips before I even realized it.
It felt strange. Unnecessary. But not unpleasant.
When we reached the Harukawa home, Sora turned and waved eagerly. "Big bro, come inside! My sister's a great cook!"
I shook my head gently, maintaining the boundary. "I have to decline. And Sora, don't invite strangers into your house, understand?"
He nodded quickly, then bowed politely, showing good manners. "Thank you, big bro!"
I lifted my hand in a calm wave before taking Takumi's hand again, leading him toward the Yoshida household. Along the walk, Takumi asked endless questions—and somehow, I answered every single one, explaining details about school and sport with surprising patience.
Do I… really have a soft spot for kids? Or is this just low-stakes interaction that requires minimal emotional risk?
When we reached home, Takumi burst through the door shouting, "Mom! I'm home!" He kicked off his shoes and rushed inside, leaving them in a chaotic pile.
I took my time arranging his shoes neatly before removing mine. "I'm home, Mrs. Saki," I said softly as I closed the door with a quiet click.
In the combined kitchen-living space, Saki Yoshida greeted me warmly. "How was school today, Naim-san?" Takumi was already glued to the TV, watching his favorite anime.
I glanced at her while heading toward Takumi's room. "Same as yesterday. Thanks for asking."
Why can't I express myself better with her? She's been nothing but kind since I arrived. I need to try harder.
I paused in the hallway, turned back toward her, and spoke again, deliberately forcing out a piece of personal information. "I have football selection tomorrow. Wish me luck."
Her eyes brightened with a warm smile. "Of course. I know you can do it." She dried her hands with a towel. "Eat after you take a bath, okay?"
I nodded and continued to the room, placing both my bag and Takumi's on the desk. After changing into comfortable clothes, I grabbed my towel and headed to the bathroom. Warm water enveloped me as I slid into the tub. I closed my eyes, letting the heat soften the tension in my body.
Tomorrow will be different. A complete disruption of routine.
Just for one day. Then everything goes back to quiet again.
After bathing, I changed and joined the living room, waiting until Daichi Yoshida returned. We ate dinner together—simple conversations here and there.
Daichi, gentle despite his large build, turned to me. "So you're trying out for football tomorrow, Naim-san?"
I nodded, pushing myself to engage. "Yeah. I hope I can make the team."
"Big bro plays football? Teach me!" Takumi chimed in excitedly.
"Sure," I said, patting his head.
Saki stepped in with her usual soft authority. "Now, now. Let's enjoy dinner first."
We all nodded, settling into a comfortable silence as we finished our meal. Afterwards, Saki gathered our plates and reminded us gently, "Don't forget your homework, you two."
Later, I completed my assignments while helping Takumi with his. When we were done, I laid out my futon beside his bed. The house was quiet—warm in a way I wasn't used to.
My eyes grew heavy. Sleep came quietly, despite the anxiety of the morning.
The next day marked my third morning at Shukumei-gawa High School. One hundred seventy-nine days left until my exchange program ended. My routine had settled into something familiar: a warm bath, change into my uniform, fold my futon into the wardrobe, wake Takumi, and slip the wrapped bento Saki prepared into my messenger bag.
One last check—truffle-wavy hair in place, uniform neat, messenger bag on one shoulder, shoe bag holding my cleats on the other, shoes clean. Everything was accounted for.
The walk to school felt different today. My mind drifted toward the non-routine interaction awaiting me at noon. As I passed through the school gate, each step was careful, measured—eyes low, avoiding unnecessary contact until I reached my classroom. I placed my shoe bag under the desk, set my messenger bag on the floor, and settled into my chair with quiet composure, preparing my mental defenses.
Before class began, a few students tried making conversation. Out of politeness, I answered briefly, maintaining a neutral, short verbal output. Among them was Rin Uchida, one of my Biology group mates.
I wish I could go back to how silent the first day was. The frequency of social debt is increasing exponentially.
Classes progressed as usual: Japanese Language first period, Economics second. I wrote only what mattered, adapting bit by bit to the unfamiliar teaching style. As the hands of the clock crawled toward the lunch break, my anticipation tightened into a strange knot.
Just this once. Fulfill the social contract. After that, back to blending in.
The bell rang. Students surged toward the cafeteria in loud, impatient packs. I stood calmly, retrieved my bento, and walked directly toward Harukawa's group. The three of them—everyone except Harukawa—reacted with subtle, clear surprise at my sudden appearance.
She didn't tell them I was joining. That was inefficient social behavior.
I looked at her. "I'm here to keep my word." Our eyes met briefly, and her confidence was completely unsettling.
She stood. "Okay, guys. Naim-san will be joining us for lunch today!"
Kazama rose as well, studying me curiously and stepping closer, as if comparing our heights and assessing my athletic potential. "Naim… that's your given name, right?"
I noticed Nishimura and Kimura also standing. "Naim is my given name. Aidan is my family name," I replied calmly, keeping my voice even.
Kimura leaned toward me with an odd, invasive energy. "So… Aidan. Aren't you scared of us?"
Before I could answer, Harukawa cut in—bright and cheerful, intervening on my behalf. "Come on, guys, give him some space, will you?" She moved toward the classroom's second door.
The others followed slowly, leaving me to walk last. Kimura lingered outside, waiting. Without saying anything, I simply matched their pace.
The hallway felt crowded—too many footsteps, too many voices.
This was a mistake. I am already operating at an environmental deficit.
Ahead of me, Nishimura caught up to Harukawa and gently wrapped his hand around hers. She didn't pull away. She didn't resist. She just… let him, as if it were routine.
So… she's with Nishimura. They are a confirmed pair.
My quiet observations from the last two days—the shared bento, the comfort, the intimate teasing—all settled into a clear, single answer.
Thud.
A faint, heavy pulse struck my chest, a sudden physical blow. A familiar kind of pain surfaced—sharp, heavy, something I was certain I had buried years ago. And she, the source of this chaotic, unnecessary feeling, was the reason it stirred again.
I looked away, only to meet Kimura's watchful eyes. She had been observing me. "Aidan… your face is unreadable, but your posture isn't," she giggled softly, a highly accurate observation. "Something catch your eye?"
Sharp. But not sharp enough to notice what I was actually looking at.
I shook my head. "No. I'm just not fond of crowded places."
She didn't press further, though her gaze lingered before she sped up and rejoined Kazama.
I watched the group from behind. They moved like a single, perfectly balanced machine. Somehow, I felt that if I stayed around them long enough, their dynamic—and maybe mine—would irrevocably shift.
We reached their usual spot—a long table with benches on both sides, enough for ten people.
Harukawa sat beside Kimura. I took the edge seat across from them. Nishimura sat in the middle, with Kazama next to him. We placed our lunches down, the silence settling in until curiosity finally cracked it open.
Kimura was first, leaning forward with bright intensity. "So, how long will you be here, Aidan?"
Before I could formulate a reply, Kazama's voice chimed in from the side where I couldn't see him. "Aidan-san! Did you bring your cleats today? You didn't forget, did you?"
Then even Nishimura—usually quiet—joined in, his question startlingly personal. "Do you have someone special back home, Aidan-san?"
I froze for a moment, utensils resting inside my bento.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze, feeling pinned by their collective, overwhelming attention.
And my eyes landed on Harukawa—silent since we sat down, watching the entire exchange.
***For a brief moment, our eyes held.
Naim Aidan's amber eyes rested on me—steady, unreadable—when I happened to look his way. The intensity was jarring, and I immediately averted my gaze without thinking.
My thoughts kept circling back to him, replaying how I expected him to reject every sensitive question we threw at him. In my mind, he would raise his hand, gesture refusal, shut everything down, or simply walk away.
But instead, when he spoke—soft, calm, without a shred of defensiveness—his voice pulled my eyes back to him again.
"My program duration is around six months. To be precise, 179 days left." He reached for his drink as he answered Kimura, movements slow and controlled, like he had all the time in the world.
After taking a sip of matcha—at least I thought it was matcha—he replied to Kazama without even lifting his eyes from the can, "Don't worry. I brought it, Kazama."
He set the drink down, picked up his utensils again, and continued eating. "Except for my family, I don't have anyone else I'd consider special."
Just like that. Three answers, delivered with finality, and he returned to his meal. Something in my chest tightened at his measured, calm responses.
179 days left… so why does it feel like I'm already losing him?
I glanced at the others. None of us expected those answers. Even Kimura, who never hesitates to poke, stayed quiet, momentarily stunned.
There's something beneath that calm exterior… a sincerity that makes me want to understand him more than I should.
"Anyway!" I forced myself to brighten the mood, breaking the thick silence. "Naim-san sits near the window, right? He's super quiet. Honestly, I didn't think he'd actually join us today."
And why do I keep using his given name? Even after he explained his full name to Kazama…
"I keep my promises," he answered softly, without looking up.
For some reason, that simple sentence—a promise—made my pulse jump.
I fiddled with the corner of my bento, cheeks warming.
A promise, huh…
Silence settled again, almost strange for our usually noisy group. It was as if he had silently become the center of our gravity, shifting the usual rhythm of our chatter. Then, as always, Kimura broke it with her natural spontaneity.
The more I looked at him, the more details I noticed—how he avoided letting his gaze linger on anyone too long, how his hands stayed still, precise, calm; how he listened even when pretending not to.
He's hard to read… but he feels sincere.
When we finished eating, the five of us rose and headed back through the courtyard. This time, I deliberately walked behind the main group. Aidan spoke with Kazama about soccer, and Nishimura matched his pace, listening closely. Aidan didn't initiate anything—he simply answered questions with low, steady tones.
I found myself staring at his silhouette again, remembering earlier on the way to the cafeteria—how sharp and observant his eyes were. When Nishimura instinctively wrapped an arm around me, my heartbeat skipped. Not because of Nishimura… but because I had realized Aidan was watching from behind.
I didn't pull away. I didn't have any reason to. Nishimura and I are… something solid.
So why did it feel like I suddenly needed to justify it?
Back in the classroom, Aidan left us without glancing back and settled into his seat near the window. We followed suit. Somehow, anticipation bubbled quietly inside me at the thought of watching him try out for soccer. Would he look different? What position did he even play?
Tomoya Yasuda-sensei entered for the final period—History. Throughout the lesson, my eyes kept drifting toward Aidan. His composure… it pulled me in far more than I wanted to admit.
Kimura tapped my hand lightly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Hey, Akari," she whispered, "I think I want to crack that wall of his."
What does she mean by that…?
I tried to keep my voice natural. "What do you mean, Hikari-san?"
Her fingers drummed on her desk with a small grin. "I'm thinking of introducing him to someone. Someone he might like."
Thud.
My heart jolted painfully in my chest. I didn't respond.
But jealousy—sharp and unfamiliar—twisted through me, tightening the pain in my chest. I faced forward, eyes fixed on Yasuda-sensei until the class finally ended.
The bell rang, ending our final period. We stood in unison, bowed to Yasuda-sensei in gratitude, then settled back into our seats. Kazama rose first, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and gripping his cleats bag in his left hand. He walked toward Aidan's seat. From my distance, I couldn't hear what he said to Aidan, but Aidan nodded—quiet, composed—and followed him out of the classroom. Kazama flashed us an energetic grin on his way out; Aidan didn't spare us even a glance.
Nishimura stood and looked at me before glancing briefly at Kimura. "You two go save us seats at the bleachers," he said, adjusting his bag. "Make sure you pick a perfect view. I'll get drinks, okay?"
Kimura perked up instantly. "Aww, thanks, Nishimura! Let's go, Akari." She slung her bag over her shoulder.
"Sure, let's go, Hikari-san." I grabbed my bag, then looked back at Nishimura with a small smile. "Thank you, Nishimura-san." I took Kimura's hand, and the two of us headed toward the football field.
As we walked down the stairs and turned left, the hallway stretched quiet around us. Kimura's smile never left her face—she looked like she was having the best day of her life.
But her earlier words lingered, a low-grade headache, in my mind.
Introduce Aidan to someone else… Why does that bother me so much? Aidan isn't mine. He isn't anyone's!
I forced a breath and kept my voice cheerful. "Hey, Hikari-san… what did you mean earlier? About introducing Aidan-san to someone?"
She tilted her head toward me, curiosity softening her eyes. "I don't know. Aren't you curious to see how he treats someone special to him? I bet he has a gentle side."
Her words stabbed deeper than I expected, painting a vivid picture of him smiling at another girl.
I opened my mouth, but she cut in before I could answer. "Don't worry. I know someone who'd be perfect for him."
No… you can't. But why couldn't I just tell her, Stop, Hikari. Leave him alone?
I nodded weakly, unable to form a proper response. What would she think if I suddenly became possessive over a guy I barely knew? I sighed quietly just as we exited the hallway, and the wide, green field came into view.
Kimura nudged me with another question. "Akari, aren't you picking up Sora today? Usually you bring him if we stay a bit late."
I shook my head. "Yesterday he said he's staying at the Yoshida household. That kid kept telling me about his friend's new older brother." I frowned slightly, connecting the dots I hadn't seen before. "He said the brother goes to our school. Did you catch any Yoshida name recently?"
Kimura slowed her pace, genuinely trying to solve the puzzle. "New? What do you mean, new older brother…? Did the Yoshidas adopt someone?"
Honestly… disappointing. You're usually so good at abstract analysis, Hikari.
I shrugged. "I don't know. That's why I asked you, dummy."
She laughed and skipped ahead toward the center section of the bleachers—the perfect viewing spot. We sat down comfortably, and from here we could clearly see Asahi Sawada-sensei on the field, our Physics teacher and the football coach. He was instructing the players to warm up.
Kazama was easy to spot because of his height and energy. But my eyes kept searching… until they finally landed on Aidan.
He jogged quietly between the goalposts—steady, controlled. He looked completely different out here. Normally he seemed uninterested in everything, but now… he looked focused, his mind entirely consumed by the task.
"Akari… do you see Aidan?" Kimura tapped my leg. "I can't find him."
I pointed toward him. "He's over there, jogging slower than the others."
My gaze drifted briefly to Kazama, who was practically bouncing across the field. Aidan, in contrast, looked like he was conserving every bit of energy, preparing for a long, strategic effort.
Kimura giggled. "He still looks like he has that lazy vibe, doesn't he?"
Her words made me laugh softly. "Yeah… somehow."
Sawada-sensei blew a long whistle. The players gathered around him as he began assigning them into two teams. As the arrangements continued, I noticed more students filling the bleachers—not crowded, but enough to stir nerves in anyone preparing to play.