The yellow light from the small desk lamp fought the gray morning sun. Zenjiro opened his eyes. His chest felt incredibly heavy. A small head rested right under his chin.
Liora. Her blonde hair tickled his neck. Her right arm squeezed his ribs tight. Her left leg pinned his blue blanket down. She was completely asleep. She felt very warm.
She took a deep breath. Her eyelids fluttered and then they opened.
She stared blankly at the gray fabric of his shirt for three full seconds. Her brain booted up. She looked up. She locked eyes with Zenjiro. He was already awake. He just watched her.
Her pale face turned bright red. The color rushed up her neck and hit the tips of her ears. She gasped.
She shoved her small hands against his chest. She pushed hard. She scrambled backward in a pure panic. Her heels caught the edge of his blanket. She rolled right off the side of the mattress.
A loud thump hit the floorboards.
She popped up instantly. She rubbed her left elbow. Her face was still completely flushed and then she pointed a shaking finger at her own bed across the room.
"Bug," she stammered. Her voice squeaked. "A big bug. On my pillow."
She stopped talking and clamped both hands over her bright red cheeks. She stared on the floor. Her chest heaved up and down in quick, panicked breaths.
She snatched her folded white uniform from the wooden chair and hugged it tight against her stomach like a shield. She spun around and ran out of the bedroom without looking at his face again. Her bare feet slapped the wood. The door slammed shut behind her.
Zenjiro sat up. He looked at her empty bed. The thick blanket was thrown entirely onto the floor. A single pink slipper rested near her flat pillow. The desk lamp was still switched on.
He stared at the messy sheets. He started to piece the night together.
"A bug," Zenjiro said to himself. "She probably saw a cockroach. Old houses get them a lot when the weather gets cold. They come inside for the heat. She lived in London before this. She likely never saw a big one before."
He looked at the pink slipper on the mattress.
She panicked. She probably threw her shoe at it but she missed. The bug likely crawled straight under her bed frame. She was too scared to sleep over there. She didn't want to wake Mother up. The vase broke just yesterday. Even though I took the blame, she was still terrified of the shouting. She probably thought making a sudden noise in the middle of the night would wake Mother up and make her angry all over again. So she climbed onto my bed instead.
He looked at the burning bulb of the desk lamp.
She left the light on to watch the floor and she probably just sat on the edge of my mattress to stay awake. Then she got tired. It was freezing last night, so she likely fell asleep sitting up and just tipped over. Her sleeping body just moved toward the warmth under my blankets on pure instinct. She ended up hugging me completely by accident without even knowing it.
Zenjiro threw his covers aside. He stepped onto the cold wooden floor.
He stood up and grabbed his school uniform from the sliding closet. He dressed quickly. He buttoned his white shirt and pulled up his dark shorts. He walked out of the bedroom and stepped into the short hallway.
The smell of toasted bread and warm butter filled the air. Clara stood by the kitchen counter. She poured hot water into a ceramic mug. Liora sat at the low wooden dining table. She wore her white dress and her shiny black shoes. Her pink backpack rested on the floor beside her cushion.
She kept her eyes glued perfectly to her empty ceramic plate. Her ears were still bright red. The flush stretched all the way down her pale neck. She refused to look up. She sat perfectly rigid. She practically held her breath so she wouldn't have to acknowledge his presence.
Zenjiro walked to his cushion. He sat down. Clara handed him a slice of thick toast on a white napkin.
"Eat quickly," Clara said. "The weather report said it might rain later this afternoon."
Zenjiro took a bite of the dry bread. He chewed it slowly. The meal passed in complete and heavy silence. Liora didn't touch the glass of milk in front of her. She just waited for him to finish.
Ten minutes later, they stepped out onto the front porch. The morning air was crisp and biting. A thick layer of gray clouds covered the sky. Zenjiro slipped his blue sneakers on. He tied the white laces in tight knots. He stood up and started walking toward the main road.
Usually, he heard her footsteps dragging about two steps behind his own. He always heard the rhythmic slap of her shoes on the concrete acting as a trailing echo.
Today, the rhythm shifted. The sound of her shiny black shoes slapping the concrete moved up. She stepped off the residential curb right beside him.
He glanced to his right.
Liora walked parallel to him. She kept a strict boundary. About one meter of empty air separated their shoulders. She stared straight ahead at the dark asphalt. Her small hands gripped the pink straps of her backpack tight enough to turn her knuckles entirely white.
She didn't fall back. She maintained the exact pace.
They reached the first major intersection. The pedestrian light glowed bright red. Zenjiro stopped walking. His shoes scuffed against the edge of the curb. Liora stopped right next to him. She kept the one-meter gap perfectly intact.
The morning traffic hummed loudly past them. A silver taxi sped by and kicked up a gust of cold wind. The breeze ruffled her blonde hair. She bit her lower lip. Her chest rose and fell in a deep, nervous breath.
"Onii-chan," she whispered.
It was the exact same word from last night, but it sounded entirely different in the daylight. It was incredibly quiet. It barely carried over the noise of a passing delivery truck. It lacked the heavy weight of the dark bedroom. It sounded like a genuine test. She was testing the water to see if he would push her away.
Zenjiro looked at her. "What?"
She didn't turn her head. She just kept staring at the red light on the opposite corner. "Let's go."
The traffic light flicked to green. The electronic crosswalk melody started to chime.
Zenjiro stepped onto the white painted lines of the crosswalk. "Okay."
They crossed the street together. The one-meter gap remained perfectly intact. It was a physical barrier, but the absolute silence between them was completely broken.
The classroom was loud. Desks scraped violently against the wooden floorboards as students arrived. Zenjiro sat by the large glass window. He pulled his math workbook from his leather bag. He placed it flat on his desk. He opened his small plastic pencil case.
It was entirely empty.
He stared at the hollow plastic shell. He probably left his pencils on his desk at home last night while doing homework. He calculated his options. He could ask the teacher for a spare. He could ask the boy sitting in front of him.
A small shadow fell over his open workbook.
Liora stood next to his desk. She held a sharp wooden pencil in her right hand. The yellow paint was completely pristine. The pink rubber eraser was entirely clean. She held it out toward him.
"You forgot yours," she said. Her voice was flat. Her blue eyes darted away immediately to look at the green chalkboard at the front of the room.
"Thanks," Zenjiro said.
He reached out and took the pencil. Their fingers didn't touch. The transfer was clean. She turned around immediately and walked back to her seat two rows away. She sat down and opened her own workbook. She didn't look at him again for the rest of the morning.
The interaction was incredibly brief. It lasted barely five seconds. But it was a significant structural shift. A week ago, she probably would have let him stare at a blank page for the entire hour. She would have ignored his problem completely. Now, she was actively observing his space. She noticed his lack of tools and she moved to fix it.
The pattern continued to change. The shifts were small and highly localized.
Three days later, the morning sun failed to wake him. The sky outside the bedroom window was a dark, bruised gray. Thick rain clouds blocked the natural light. The room stayed dark and cold. Zenjiro slept heavy. His internal clock failed to register the time.
A sharp, physical poke hit his left shoulder.
He opened his eyes. The desk lamp was switched off. The room was dim. Liora stood right next to his bed. She already wore her white uniform dress and her yellow hat. She held her pink backpack by the top strap in her left hand.
"Onii-chan," she said. She poked his shoulder a second time with her right index finger. The pressure was light but firm. "We are late."