Chapter 1 - The Sound of Your Footsteps
The school bell rang, but it wasn't the loud clang that marked the start of chaos. No, this was the end-of-day chime, the kind that didn't demand urgency but invited a slow exhale.
Bags rustled, chairs scraped, and the classroom filled with the low murmur of students preparing to leave. Yet for Yuuta Minase, sitting at the second seat by the window, none of that mattered.
Because her footsteps were coming closer.
He knew that sound. Light and careful, but with a subtle rhythm unique to her gait. Miyuki Arisaka.
Even in the smallness of a typical Japanese classroom, filled with identical desks and worn-out textbooks, Yuuta always sensed her before she arrived.
The scent of her hair. The slight warmth she carried in her voice. Even her shadow, when it fell across his desk, was somehow softer than anyone else's.
"Yuuta," she said with a smile in her voice. He looked up and met her gaze. Golden-brown eyes.
Rounded cheeks faintly flushed, maybe from the sun or maybe just because she always looked like she was on the verge of a shy giggle.
"You're early," he said, even though she wasn't. She always waited a bit before walking over, letting the other students shuffle out first.
"You're late," she said back, eyes glinting with playful challenge. Her skirt swayed slightly as she adjusted her stance. "You're supposed to notice me the moment I walk in."
"I noticed your footsteps."
She paused. Blinked. Then her expression softened, and the tip of her ears turned pink.
"I'll never get used to how you say things like that…"
Yuuta gave a small grin as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "Want to walk home together?"
She nodded, then added, "Only if we take the long way again."
Their school, Midoriya High, wasn't big. Nestled in a quiet suburb just outside the city, it stood with aging pride—walls faded, clocks slow, the chalkboards still scratched with ghosts of lessons past.
But it was home. And after school, when most students rushed to clubs or buses, Yuuta and Miyuki took their time. They had no need for hurry.
The hallway was half-empty. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows, casting golden rectangles on the floor.
Miyuki's shadow danced beside his as they walked side by side, close enough for their arms to occasionally brush.
"I hate when the day ends," she murmured.
"You're not the one who has to run to cram school after this," Yuuta replied.
She pouted. "Still. I like this time. You and me. No uniforms. No teachers. Just us."
Yuuta glanced at her. Even in uniform, she was unmistakably herself. Her blouse, slightly unbuttoned at the top, revealed the lace edge of a pale pink bra—a sight that had nearly caused him to choke on his juice once.
Her ribbon was slightly off-center, like she had tied it in a hurry. But what stood out the most was her expression: open, honest, and unguarded. She looked at him the way no one else did.
"You're thinking something lewd, aren't you?" she teased, breaking the silence with a smirk.
"No, I was thinking you should fix your ribbon."
She leaned closer. "Fix it for me, then."
He hesitated, hand halfway to her collar.
"Don't be shy, boyfriend," she whispered.
And just like that, he was red from ears to neck.
They exited the side gate of the school, where few students went. The long path looped around a wooded area, eventually leading to a small bakery they sometimes visited before parting ways.
The cicadas hadn't started yet—it was still too early in spring—but there was a hush to the air, the kind that made it feel like time stretched a little thinner here.
"I wish we could do this forever," she said, her hand brushing his.
Yuuta's hand twitched. Then, carefully, deliberately, he slipped his fingers between hers.
"I know," he said quietly. "Me too."
They walked like that, hand in hand, through patches of sunlight and shade. He could feel the rhythm of her steps sync with his. The bakery came into view, its old wooden sign swinging slightly in the breeze.
"Let's get something sweet," she said, tugging him along.
They entered the bakery with the jingle of a tiny bell. The smell of warm bread and sugar filled the air. Inside, it was quiet, save for the humming of the elderly woman behind the counter. She waved at them.
"Ah, the usual lovebirds," she said, her eyes twinkling.
Miyuki laughed softly. "Just friends," she said, and Yuuta gave her a side-glance.
"Friends who hold hands?"
"Isn't that allowed now?" she said innocently, choosing two cream-filled buns.
They sat on a bench outside, the bakery bag warm in her lap. She broke one bun in half and handed him a piece.
"Sharing is love," she said.
"Sounds like something you read on a bathroom wall," he replied, but accepted the bread.
The sun dipped lower, painting the sky with streaks of pink and orange. Miyuki leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hair smelled like shampoo and something faintly floral.
"Yuuta…"
"Hm?"
"If I kissed you right now, would you stop me?"
He looked down. Her eyes were half-lidded, a smile teasing her lips. The closeness of her, the softness, the warmth—all of it tugged at him.
"No," he whispered.
So she did. Just a light brush of lips. Quick. Sweet. Real.
She pulled back, eyes sparkling. "You taste like cream."
"And you taste like trouble."
They both laughed.
They stayed like that until the sun slipped behind the trees. Eventually, she sat up.
"Same time tomorrow?"
"Earlier," he said. "I want to walk slower."
Miyuki's smile grew. She stood, smoothed her skirt, then bent down—just a little—and pressed another kiss to his cheek.
"You're really bad for my heart," she said.
"You started it."
And with that, she skipped away, leaving him on the bench, hand on his cheek, wondering how in the world he'd gotten so lucky.