The rain from the day before had vanished, replaced by a crisp breeze and golden sunlight. But Leo's mood hadn't caught up to the weather.
He couldn't shake the image of Sora's retreating back.
He replayed the moment over and over again—her voice, low and distant, her eyes not meeting his. And Yuki, back in the recording room, looking at him with a mixture of hope and guilt.
His heart felt pulled in too many directions.
He barely noticed when a soft knock came at his classroom door.
"Leo Shen?"
The teacher looked up. "Yes?"
"There's someone from Class 2-A asking for him."
Leo excused himself and stepped into the hallway.
Waiting there was a girl in a light gray cardigan, school skirt slightly too long, a pair of glasses slipping down her nose.
Her name was Aiko.
Leo blinked. "Aiko?"
She gave a small wave. "Hey. Haven't seen you since lunch last week."
They'd met again after the transfer—Aiko had been his next-door neighbor when they were eight. They used to chase fireflies in the field behind his old house.
"Wanna walk for a bit?" she asked.
Leo nodded.
---
They ended up by the vending machines near the back garden. It was quiet here—no students, only the buzz of insects and the occasional flutter of leaves.
"Did you bring your umbrella yesterday?" Aiko asked.
"No. Got soaked. You?"
"Stayed late in the library. Fell asleep behind a bookshelf."
Leo chuckled. "Still doing that?"
She smiled sheepishly. "Some habits die hard."
He sipped his drink.
Aiko didn't speak for a while.
Then she said, softly, "You've changed."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"You used to be the quiet boy who sat on the swing until the stars came out."
"You were the girl who made me eat grass."
"That was one time!"
They both laughed.
Then silence again.
Aiko looked down.
"Back then… I thought maybe we'd always be in the same place."
Leo turned to her.
"But you moved," she added. "And I never said anything."
"…Said what?"
She hesitated.
"I had this dumb plan. That when we were older, I'd tell you. That I liked you."
The air shifted.
"But you left. And I thought, maybe that was the universe's way of telling me to let go."
Leo didn't respond.
Aiko smiled faintly. "But then you came back."
And that's where she stopped.
Not a confession.
Not a declaration.
Just… a note left on the wind.
They walked back together without speaking.
But Leo kept glancing sideways at her. Wondering.
Noticing.
---
Later that evening, in the dorm courtyard, Kai caught up to him.
"Yo," Kai said, tossing him a juice box. "You've got this haunted look. Like you just saw three ghosts and they all liked you."
Leo gave a weak smile.
"…Make it four."
Kai blinked. "Wait. Four?"
Leo nodded slowly. "Aiko."
Kai whistled. "Childhood friend trope enters the battlefield."
"She's not like the others."
"None of them are. That's the problem."
Leo looked up at the darkening sky.
"She told me she almost confessed years ago. That she thought she had time."
Kai sipped his juice. "Spoiler: nobody ever does."
A pause.
Leo murmured, "She didn't ask me anything. Just… wanted me to know."
Kai nodded slowly.
"She's laying her heart down like a bookmark," he said. "Not trying to rewrite the story. Just reminding you she was part of the prologue."
Leo closed his eyes.
And something in him stirred.
Not romance.
Not exactly.
But a tenderness. A quiet ache.