Chapter 5 — The Unspoken Rivalry
Friday came with a quiet chill in the air, and though the sun was out, its light felt distant—like it was watching from behind a veil.
Inside Class 2-B, the atmosphere shifted subtly as the students settled into their seats.
Conversations quieted whenever Kaito entered, and glances were exchanged—none more frequently than those cast between Mika Kawahara and the twin girls seated near the window.
Elira focused on her notes, her pen gliding steadily despite the tingling awareness of being watched.
Elena, as always, seemed unaffected—though her eyes did flick toward Mika once when the latter brushed past them too closely.
Mika took her usual seat beside Kaito, a gentle smile curling her lips. Her gaze were super focus at him like she really can't take of her eyes of him.
"You've been spending a lot of time with those two lately," she said casually, arranging her textbook.
Kaito didn't look up. "They're good people, and twins! It's rare to have them as friend you know."
"I'm sure they are," Mika said. "It's just… sudden. You were always so distant in middle school."
Kaito shrugged. "Maybe I needed the right people around me."
That response made Mika pause.
After class, the twins made their way to their clubs. Elira stopped in the hallway, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook.
"Elena," she said quietly. "Do you think I'm… being selfish? Taking up Kaito's time like this?"
Elena tilted her head. "Huh...? No. But I think someone else does."
"That is...?"
"Mika."
Elena nodded. "She sees you as a rival."
Elira looked away. "I'm not trying to compete."
"You don't have to. That's what makes her nervous."
Elira gave a faint smile. "You always understand people better than I do."
"I just see what you don't want to," Elena replied softly.
At the Writer's Circle, Elira arrived to find a new prompt on the whiteboard: Write a short story about something you've never said aloud.
She stared at it for a long time. When she finally began writing, her pen moved with rare intensity.
It was a rainy day, and the girl didn't know why she felt so warm whenever he smiled. She hated herself for it—for noticing. For hoping. For the foolish belief that someone like her could be seen.
She didn't share the piece when Mei asked. Just shook her head and said, "Not yet."
Mei respected that. "Sometimes, the words just need to settle before they're ready to fly."
Elira lingered after the meeting ended, flipping through the pages she had written over the week. Some were stories, others just thoughts. But one page had only a single sentence:
What if someone really saw me?
She tore that page out and folded it into her pocket.
Meanwhile, Elena's afternoon at the Art Club was unusually vibrant. Aoi had brought in a model for a live drawing session—a senior boy with striking features and a confident pose.
As they sketched, Elena's strokes were sharp, calculated.
"You draw differently when you're thinking," Aoi said, peeking at her sketch.
"I'm always thinking."
"True, but today it's heavier."
Elena didn't respond. She simply kept drawing, the lines forming not just the model's likeness but a faint reflection of someone else behind him.
When Aoi saw it, she smiled. "That looks like someone you care about."
Elena paused. "It's complicated."
"It always is."
"I'm not used to people being… kind for no reason."
"Maybe he sees a reason you don't," Aoi said gently.
Elena looked down at her sketch again, and her fingers darkened the shadows.
After club hours, the twins reunited at the gates. As usual, Kaito was waiting, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder.
But before they could reach him, Mika appeared.
"Kaito," she called out, stepping between him and the twins. "Can we talk?"
He glanced at the girls, then nodded. "Sure. Just a sec."
Mika led him to a quiet corner near the vending machines.
"They're not who you think they are," she began.
Kaito frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean—they're just clinging to you because they're new, and lonely. They're different, Kaito. People talk."
"I don't care what people say," he said flatly. "They're kind. They're real. That's more than I can say for most."
Mika stiffened. "So I'm fake now?"
He sighed. "That's not what I said."
"It's what you meant."
"No," he said gently. "It's what you heard."
Mika stood still for a moment, then walked away, her expression unreadable.
As she left, Kaito stood in place for a moment longer, watching her retreating figure. Then he turned back toward the gate.
The twins had waited. When Kaito returned, he apologized.
"She's… figuring things out," he said.
Elira nodded silently. Elena didn't speak at all. As they walked, Elena broke the silence. "Do you think people change?"
Kaito tilted his head. "Some do. Some don't. But everyone has the chance to."
"Even her?" Elira asked.
"Especially her," he said.
Elena looked at him sideways. "You're too nice."
Kaito chuckled. "That's the first time someone's told me that."
That night, Elira stayed up late writing.
She wrote about a girl who carried a thousand words inside her but never spoke them aloud. Who found someone willing to listen even when she couldn't speak. Who, for the first time, thought maybe she wasn't broken.
She didn't finish the story. Not yet. But this time, she didn't close the notebook when she went to sleep. She left it open, beside her pillow.
Elena, meanwhile, sat at her desk, sketching by lamplight. She drew a scene she remembered from earlier that day: Kaito standing between Mika and themselves, his shadow cast long by the late afternoon sun.
She drew a line between the light and the dark.
A choice.
And she wondered if he'd already made it.
...
Monday would come soon. And with it, more whispers, more stares. But also, more moments.
Moments that stitched themselves into something stronger. Unspoken feelings. Unwritten endings.
And the slow, quiet evolution of something more than friendship.
The story was only beginning.
To be continued...