The days drifted by like falling sakura petals—soft, fleeting, and calm.
A week had passed since the first day of school. The once unfamiliar classroom of 1-A now buzzed with a steady rhythm. Desks no longer creaked awkwardly when someone shuffled into them, voices no longer hesitated before speaking. Names were becoming easier to remember. Patterns were starting to form.
For Katsuragi Kokoro, things were… surprisingly manageable.
He wasn't exactly popular—but he wasn't alone either. The occasional talks with Kenta Yamaguchi, who was always bouncing with ideas for jokes and new video content, slowly became more frequent. Sometimes, Kokoro even found himself laughing at the stupid things Kenta and his two rowdy friends, Murata Genji and Ogawa Minoru from 1-C, pulled off during breaks.
Some of his classmates even started greeting him. A nod here, a quick "yo!" there, or even a "Hey, what game do you play?" during lunch. It was casual, light, and something Kokoro had long thought might never happen again—not since middle school.
The classroom, once a wall of unknown faces, was slowly becoming warmer.
Of course, not everything was dramatically different.
Sayori Kojima still dominated the airspace with her antics, and Fujimoto Riku still tried (and failed) to keep her in check with gruff logic. Hanabusa Mei sat with her usual calm, occasionally chiming in with sharp, witty remarks that surprised even the boys. Kubo Haruki often chatted about his telescope or a new block set he'd ordered online, and Rei—well, Rei was usually napping somewhere.
And then… there was Watanabe Mika.
She kept to herself mostly, surrounded by a quiet grace that seemed untouchable. She'd exchange polite words with anyone who talked to her, and she always smiled gently to the girls who shared a club interest with her. During class, she listened attentively, her white hair falling like silk around her face, and when the bell rang, she'd rise and leave as elegantly as she arrived.
But occasionally—just occasionally—her pale eyes would drift toward Kokoro.
They didn't linger. They didn't burn with curiosity or speak volumes. Just a glance. Simple. Quick. But it left Kokoro wondering each time: Was she looking at me… or through me?
He never found the right time to ask.
Still, the week ended quietly. No sudden confessions. No classroom drama. No surprise quizzes or romantic misunderstandings.
Just ordinary school life.
And Kokoro found himself… liking it.
---
The golden rays of the sun filtered through Kokoro's bedroom window, casting soft shadows across his bookshelf and desk. The sky was clear, the chirping of birds gentle in the distance. A breeze came in through the slightly cracked window, rustling a few pages of his sketchpad on the desk.
Kokoro stretched with a yawn and glanced at the time. It was still early.
"I should jog," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "It's been a while."
After a quick change into comfortable clothes—a black hoodie, athletic shorts, and sneakers—he headed downstairs. Yui was still asleep, curled up like a cat in her bed, and their mother, Eniko, was humming gently as she prepared breakfast.
"Going out, Kokoro?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder from the kitchen.
"Yeah, just a quick jog around the neighborhood."
"Don't forget to stretch properly," Eniko called after him.
The quiet streets of their suburban neighborhood were bathed in soft morning light. Their home, a two-floor modern house nestled in a clean, well-kept row of similar homes, stood peacefully behind him as Kokoro started jogging. The train tracks weren't far, and he passed the usual landmarks—an old corner bakery, a playground with faded swings, and the local shrine surrounded by tall pine trees.
Jogging helped clear his mind. The rhythm of his footsteps, the fresh air, the sound of the town just beginning to stir—it grounded him.
As he jogged past rows of tidy houses, he caught the occasional glance from housewives watering their plants or hanging laundry. Some murmured softly to one another as he passed, their expressions mixed with curiosity and a knowing smile. Kokoro, oblivious to their murmurs, focused on his breathing and pace.
Eventually, his route took him to a small neighborhood park nestled behind a row of older homes. Children weren't out yet, and the park was quiet save for the chirping of birds. He jogged in, and after a lap around the perimeter, he wandered over to the monkey bars.
"Why not," he muttered and grabbed onto the bar, doing a few pull-ups. His arms burned by the fifth rep, but it felt good—a break from routine, a moment of strength.
After cooling down, he made his way back, sweat beading on his forehead and sticking his shirt to his back. His path led him near the small alleyway he had passed before—the same one where he'd heard something suspicious just a week ago. Kokoro instinctively picked up his pace.
"I'm not going down that street again," he muttered with a nervous chuckle, shifting direction.
A convenience-sized grocery store came into view. He hadn't entered it before, but the glowing glass doors and air-conditioned promise were too tempting to pass up. As soon as he stepped in, he was greeted by a blast of cold air that made him sigh in relief.
The store was cozy, the shelves neatly stocked with snacks, household items, and drinks. It had a polished wooden floor and soft overhead lighting that gave the place a relaxed, almost nostalgic vibe.
Kokoro made his way toward the refreshment section, eager for something cold. But as he turned a corner, he collided lightly with someone.
"Oh, sorry—"
His words caught in his throat.
Standing in front of him was a girl—about a head shorter than him—with long pink hair cascading down to her lower back, almost brushing her thighs. She had striking pink eyes, soft yet clear, framed by delicate glasses perched on her nose. Her features were beautifully refined, bearing a quiet elegance with a touch of maturity, like a scene from a romance manga.
She wore a plain white t-shirt that clung gently to her frame, complementing her graceful curves, and long, soft black lounge pants that swayed slightly with her movements. Despite the simplicity of her attire, there was something captivating about her—her posture, her calm gaze, the quiet confidence she carried.
"Ah, it's fine," she said softly, adjusting her glasses with a faint smile. Her voice was mellow, the kind that lingered in the air a second longer than expected.
Kokoro took a step back, bowing slightly. "Sorry, I wasn't looking… I was distracted."
She gave a small laugh. "It's a bit early to be running into people. Literally."
He chuckled nervously. "Yeah… I'll be more careful."
The moment lingered awkwardly for a beat before she gave him a nod and moved on toward the drinks cooler. Kokoro, still processing what just happened, rubbed the back of his neck and muttered under his breath.
"Why do I keep bumping into people who look like they walked out of a magazine…"
He grabbed a sports drink and paid at the counter, casting one last glance toward the mysterious girl before exiting the store.
As he walked home under the rising sun, a new curiosity stirred in his mind—one with pink hair, glasses, and an unreadable smile.