The student council meeting finally wrapped up. Papers shuffled, chairs scraped the floor, and Achogi pushed her notes into her bag with a quiet sigh of relief. Lunch. She had promised to meet Aya today.
But just as she stood, one of the council members — a girl in round glasses who always spoke too softly in meetings — hesitated before catching Achogi's eye.
"Um, President… would you like to have lunch together? With us, here? It's been a while since we all… you know… ate as a group."
The words caught Achogi off guard. She was about to politely decline when, out the window, movement caught her attention.
Aya.
Her friend was crouched next to a boy outside, someone Achogi didn't recognize. They seemed close, or at least Aya was giving him her attention in a way Achogi rarely saw. A smile tugged at the corner of Achogi's mouth. Maybe lunch could wait.
"Actually…" she turned back to the girl with glasses, "it has been a while."
Relief flashed across the girl's face, and she quickly slipped her arm through Achogi's before Achogi could change her mind. The two boys in the back of the office sprang up, practically sprinting off to fetch food before the moment passed.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
Meanwhile, in the classroom, Aya sat at her desk with her lunch untouched. Her chopsticks hovered above the rice, then tapped the side of the container as she poked aimlessly at her food. Her appetite was gone.
Her stomach wasn't empty — it was tight. Twisted. That sick, heavy feeling she remembered all too well.
She'd felt it before. Back then. Back when he disappeared without a word, leaving her stranded with questions that only ate away at her.
"No…" Aya shook her head sharply, as though the thought itself was poison. She leaned back in her chair, eyes unfocused, the buzz of the classroom fading into background noise.
Her gaze drifted, almost on instinct, toward the window.
He was still there. The boy. Seated under a tree in the courtyard, lunch spread across his lap. His motions were deliberate, unhurried — every few bites, he tucked something into a small pouch at his side, like he was saving it for later. When his eyes lifted and found hers across the glass, he smiled. He waved.
Aya froze.
Her heart stung, her chest tightened, and for a single aching instant, the world blurred into the shape of a memory she had buried so deep she never wanted to touch it again. His face. His hair. The faint glow in his eyes—
"No." The word hissed from her lips. Too sharp, too bitter. She forced herself to blink the image away, to breathe, to remind herself that this wasn't him. It couldn't be.
Still, she couldn't escape the pull.
Aya clenched her fists on her desk, nails biting into her palms. She knew this feeling. She knew running from it would only make it worse, fester deeper, just like before. The only way to kill it was to face it head-on.
She snapped her lunchbox shut, the sound startling even herself.
"Enough," she muttered, shoving the box into her bag.
Without sparing her classmates a glance, Aya rose and strode down the hallway. Each step hammered against her nerves. The closer she came, the louder her pulse grew. By the time she reached the courtyard doors, her legs felt heavy, like she was wading through the past itself.
But she forced herself forward. She had to see for herself. She had to know.
Aya stepped across the courtyard, every footfall heavier than it should've been. By the time she reached him, the boy was slipping another morsel of food into that strange pouch at his side. He looked up, blinked once, and then smiled as if he'd been expecting her.
"Hey," Aya said, the word catching in her throat.
The boy tilted his head, studying her for a beat too long before answering.
"Hey."
And then silence.
Aya froze. She hadn't thought this through. What exactly was she going to say? Hi, you remind me of someone who ruined me? That wasn't happening. Her mouth worked, but nothing came. The boy glanced around awkwardly, like maybe he was breaking some unwritten rule.
"Um… did you want something?" he asked carefully, voice carrying more concern than suspicion.
Aya blinked, realizing how intensely she must've been staring. She shook her head quickly, almost too quickly.
"It's not that. I just… uhh…" Her mind scrambled, grasping at anything. "I'm Aya."
The boy's eyes widened a little. "Oh."
She rushed on, improvising, words spilling out unpolished.
"I mean—if anyone ever bothers you, you can just say my name. Most people know me here. They'll back off."
There. Not great, but not awful.
The boy's surprise softened into a smile, genuine and unguarded.
"That's… nice of you. Thank you, Aya."
Aya nodded, scratching the back of her head, suddenly very aware of the heat in her cheeks. Face-to-face, the resemblance was unbearable. The angle of his jaw, the easy smile, the way his eyes seemed to glow when sunlight touched them—
No. No. She clenched her teeth and forced herself forward, ready to finally ask him—
"Wait."
Her body tensed, foot hovering mid-step. His tone wasn't sharp, but urgent enough to stop her. He pointed downward.
An ant scurried along the grass, right by her shoe. Before she could even react, he shoved the sandwich he'd been eating into his mouth, crouched down, and scooped the ant gently with his fingers. With care far beyond what an insect deserved, he placed it into his pouch of dirt.
Aya stared, baffled.
"…Do you just… collect any ant you find?"
He made a noise in reply, but his words were muffled by the bread stuffed in his cheek. With a sheepish look, he pulled the sandwich back out and swallowed what he'd already chewed.
"Yeah. I'm making an ant farm. The more I can gather, the better."
Aya lifted an eyebrow.
"An ant farm? Seriously? Isn't that kind of… a waste of time? And gross?"
The boy didn't flinch. He actually chuckled, brushing dirt off his palm.
"Maybe it's not the kind of thing anyone else would understand. But it's something i enjoy, so it isnt a waste of *my* time"
The words landed heavier than they should have. Aya blinked, pulse stuttering.
Because she'd heard that before. Not from him, but from someone else. Someone who used to look at her with that same unshaken smile, who used to say things that sounded foolish at first but somehow settled in her chest until they ached.
Her stomach twisted again. She couldn't breathe for a moment.
The boy stood, dusted off his knees, and finally bowed with polite formality.
"My name's Chol. Nice to meet you."
Aya's eyes widened at the name. Not the same. Not him. For a breathless second, relief and disappointment warred inside her. She managed a stiff nod.
"Yeah… nice to meet you too, Chol."
Before she could say anything else, Chol's attention darted back to the ground. Another ant. Without hesitation, he crouched again, murmuring something soft as he added it to his tiny collection.
Aya just stood there, helpless against the spiral in her gut. She shook her head, muttered something that wasn't quite goodbye, and turned away. The farther she walked, the tighter the knot in her stomach grew, as if the ghosts inside her refused to let her go.
The rest of the school day crawled past Aya like molasses. By the time the final bell rang, her body felt heavy, her head swimming, and that twisting in her stomach only grew worse.
As the two walked down the slope leading away from school, Achogi was chattering away about her meeting.
"—and of course they brought up Miyajima Island again. I swear, half of the class council only cares about the trip, not the actual planning." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, smirking. "Still, it's nice having some power over how we do things. Honestly, I think this trip will be one for the books."
Aya only half-heard her. She nodded here and there, clutching her schoolbag with both hands like it might hold her upright.
Achogi slowed, eyeing her friend. "Okay, hold up. Why do you look like someone wrung the life out of you? Don't tell me that boy rejected you or something."
Aya nearly choked on air. "Wh—rejection? What are you even talking about?!"
Achogi feigned innocence, placing a finger to her lips as though deep in thought. "Hmm. Well, I did see you with him at lunch. Aya, crouched next to a boy? That's not exactly everyday scenery. I thought maybe you… confessed?" She smiled in that mischievous, knowing way of hers.
Aya groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead. "It wasn't like that. I wasn't… hanging out with him, okay? It's—" She stopped herself. The truth clawed at her throat, but she swallowed it down and twisted her words into something easier to chew. "It's just… that boy. He was being bullied earlier. I helped him out, that's all."
Achogi blinked. "Bullied? By who?"
Aya hesitated, then muttered, "One of the idiots in your fan club. The one you're supposed to be going out with this weekend."
The change in Achogi's face was subtle, but Aya caught it — the flicker of anger, the way her jaw tightened before she covered it up with her usual stoic calm.
"…Is that so," Achogi said evenly. "Well. I suppose I'll have a very sharp word with him later."
They walked a few steps in silence before Achogi's sharp gaze landed back on Aya. "But that doesn't explain why you look like a corpse. Honestly, you're pale, Aya. What's going on?"
Aya waved her hand with a weak laugh. "Probably just the aftereffects of… you know. Falling out of a tree kicking late"
Achogi hummed. The noise was skeptical, unimpressed. But before she could press further, they reached the corner where their paths split. "Fine, fine. I'll let it slide. For now. But try not to die before the field trip, alright?"
Aya gave a half-hearted wave. "No promises."
They bid each other farewell, Achogi turning left down her street while Aya trudged straight ahead, her steps dragging.
The streets of her hometown were alive in the fading afternoon light — small shops buzzing, the scent of grilled yakitori wafting on the air, cicadas screaming from somewhere unseen. Aya's eyes caught on a ramen cart set up beside a quiet little house. The warmth spilling from it was too inviting to resist. She slid onto a stool, ordered a bowl, and left with it steaming in her hands.
At home, she nudged open the gate with her foot, pushed through the door, and slipped off her shoes with her toes. The house was quiet. Too quiet. It always was. She padded down the hallway, carrying the ramen, and set it on her desk before peeling away her school uniform piece by piece.
Her blouse fell onto the chair; her skirt slid off in exchange for soft, loose shorts. Left in her tank top, she plopped into her desk chair and leaned over the ramen, blowing on the broth before digging in with lazy slurps.
The food filled her belly, but it didn't soothe the churn. Not really.
Afterward, she bathed, steam fogging up the bathroom mirror, the scent of soap clinging to her skin. For a while she lingered under the water, hoping maybe she could wash away the image of his face — Chol's face. The resemblance that haunted her.
But when she crawled into bed, the shadows of her room pressed close, and her thoughts returned to him anyway.
Her hand slid under her mattress almost on instinct. Fingers brushed against cold metal. She pulled out a small locked box, the one she hadn't touched in months. The key tucked in her pillow fit perfectly, and with a soft click, the lid lifted.
Inside: scraps of paper, torn but never thrown away. Aya's throat tightened.
She emptied them onto her bedspread and, with trembling fingers, began to piece them together. Slowly, the image reformed. A photograph, once whole, now fractured but still recognizable.
A boy and a girl, holding hands, smiling. The girl was her. The boy—
Her stomach knotted.
She shoved the pieces apart again, scattering them in frustration across the sheets.
"…Yuru," she whispered, the name barely escaping her lips. Her voice cracked. "It better not be you…"