Morning light filtered through paper screens, drawing long, gold bars across the tatami floor. The faint chirping of cicadas drifted in from the mountains, a slow and sleepy rhythm.
Ren adjusted his new school uniform in the hallway mirror—dark blazer, pressed shirt, unfamiliar tie. His expression was blank, but his eyes betrayed the weight behind them.
Sayuri stood beside the doorway, still in her pajamas, her hair slightly messy. She held his lunchbox in both hands.
"I packed some of those meatballs you like," she said, trying to smile.
Ren nodded. "Thanks."
Sayuri hesitated. "You don't have to rush back, but… be safe, okay?"
"I'll be fine."
She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead, she reached up and fixed the collar of his shirt. Her fingers lingered longer than they needed to.
Then, with a soft "Good luck," she let him go.
---
The walk to school was quiet. The town had barely changed—same narrow roads, same vending machines humming lazily in the shade, same row of cherry trees lining the path to Hoshigahara High.
But it all felt… older. More distant. Like a photograph slowly fading.
Ren arrived five minutes early. The classroom was already buzzing with low chatter. Students glanced at him curiously as he stepped inside, his transfer student aura both foreign and forgettable.
The teacher cleared his throat and motioned for him to come forward.
"This is Ren Ichinose. He just moved here from Tokyo. Please treat him kindly."
Ren bowed politely. A few murmurs passed through the class.
"Any seat's fine," the teacher added.
Ren scanned the room. Only a few open desks. He moved toward the one by the window, beside a girl with snowy white hair tied in a low ponytail.
She didn't look up. Her eyes were fixed on her notebook, where she doodled absentmindedly in the margins.
Ren slid into his seat without a word.
As class began, he couldn't help glancing sideways.
She never looked at him.
---
The day moved like molasses.
During lunch, Ren sat alone under the staircase, unwrapping the neatly tied bento Sayuri had made.
Inside were tiny rice balls shaped like cats, slices of tamagoyaki, and the promised meatballs tucked in lettuce. The effort was obvious, even if one meatball was slightly burnt on the edge.
Ren smiled faintly. Sayuri had never been good at cooking—but she always tried.
A voice cut through his thoughts.
"Hey! You're the new kid, right?"
Ren looked up.
A girl with short auburn hair and sharp green eyes crouched beside him, grinning like they were old friends. She had a band-aid on her cheek and mismatched earrings—one star, one crescent.
"I'm Nao Inoue," she said. "Nice to meetcha."
Ren blinked. "Uh… nice to meet you."
"You always eat alone like a sad indie movie character, or is this just a first-day special?"
He blinked again.
Before he could answer, Nao grabbed a meatball from his bento and popped it in her mouth.
"Wow. Burnt. But edible," she said, chewing.
Ren frowned. "That was mine."
"Now it's ours," she said, smirking.
He gave her a deadpan stare.
Nao laughed. "Kidding, kidding. You're a hard one to read, Ichinose."
She leaned back, arms behind her head.
"I saw you sit next to Kanna this morning. Bad move."
Ren looked at her. "Kanna?"
"White hair, frosty aura, eyes like she'll curse you if you sneeze near her? That's Kanna Yukishiro. She doesn't talk to anyone. Like, ever."
"She didn't seem rude," Ren said.
"She's not. She's just… somewhere else, most of the time. Like her mind's on a different planet."
Nao stood up and dusted her skirt. "Still, sitting next to her makes you interesting."
"Is that good or bad?"
She gave him a wink. "Depends who's watching."
Then she disappeared around the corner.
Ren sighed and returned to his half-stolen lunch.
---
Meanwhile, back at home, Sayuri stood in the kitchen in an apron, hair tied in a loose bun, biting her lip.
The miso soup boiled over.
"Ah—no no no—"
She fumbled with the ladle, yelping as she accidentally touched the hot pot with her fingers. Steam clouded the kitchen as she waved her hands around in panic.
The soup was too salty. The rice stuck to the bottom. And the pickled radish? She'd forgotten to defrost it.
She stood there, blinking at the mess.
"…This isn't what I imagined," she whispered.
She looked at the clock. Ren wouldn't be home for a few more hours. Plenty of time to clean up. But somehow, the silence in the house had grown heavier.
She turned to look at the porch.
In the umbrella stand were two umbrellas, side by side. One plain black. One pastel pink.
Sayuri leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.
Ren had grown taller. His voice was deeper. He didn't smile like he used to. Sometimes, she caught him staring at nothing with that empty expression—and it scared her.
Back in Tokyo, she had felt like she was slipping away from him. Always busy, always distant. But here… here she had hoped things might return to how they once were.
She wanted to be someone he could come home to.
Someone who mattered.
The soup boiled again, and she rushed back to save what she could.
---
Later that evening, Ren returned.
Sayuri greeted him at the door with a forced smile. "Dinner's almost ready."
He sniffed. "Something smells… intense."
Sayuri winced. "I burned the soup."
Ren set his bag down. "It's okay. I had a meatball stolen at lunch."
She blinked. "Huh?"
"Don't ask."
He walked past her into the house. Sayuri stood there a moment longer, watching his back.
Then quietly, she whispered: "You came back."
---