The day Mizuki Ayane left the school began like any other, though for Takashi, each second ticked by with cruel finality. The sun hung pale in the winter sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard, and every familiar hallway seemed emptier, as though even the walls sensed what was about to be lost.
Rumors had already spread among the students that Ayane-sensei might resign. Some whispered about the photos, others guessed at family troubles, but no one truly knew the quiet agony behind her decision. Only Takashi carried the truth—or what fragments of it Mizuki had shared with him in that dimly lit room a few nights before.
The morning assembly passed in a haze for Takashi. Words blurred, teachers' voices sounded distant, and laughter from classmates felt painfully normal, as though the world insisted on turning despite his breaking heart. His chest ached with every breath, each step weighted by dread.
Between classes, Takashi found himself wandering to the faculty office, hoping for a glimpse of her before she was gone. He stood at the doorway, unseen, watching as Mizuki placed a few books into a small cardboard box—her hands slow, almost reluctant. She wore a soft gray sweater, and her hair was tied back neatly, but her shoulders sagged with quiet resignation.
Vice Principal Okabe stood beside her, offering words Takashi couldn't hear. Mizuki only nodded, her face a careful mask of professionalism that cracked whenever she glanced at the empty desk where she had spent countless hours.
Takashi felt something in him twist painfully. It wasn't fair, he thought. None of this was fair. But fairness had long abandoned them.
When the bell rang, Takashi returned to class, though he could barely hear the lesson. His gaze drifted to the hallway, where he imagined Mizuki walking one last time, each step an echo of years dedicated to teaching.
---
By afternoon, word spread officially: Mizuki Ayane had resigned, effective immediately. Some students exchanged shocked glances; others whispered behind their textbooks. A few offered quiet sympathy, sensing something deeper had forced her hand.
Takashi felt the announcement like a blade to his chest. Even knowing it was coming hadn't softened the blow.
Kenta leaned closer, voice low. "Takashi… are you okay?"
He shook his head, unable to find words. His throat felt tight, his thoughts scattered.
"You should at least say goodbye," Kenta urged. "You'll regret it if you don't."
Takashi swallowed hard. "I know."
---
When the final bell rang, Takashi didn't follow the usual flow of students heading home. Instead, he slipped through the quieter back corridor, where he knew Mizuki would pass on her way to the staff exit. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat a plea for just one more moment.
He found her near the side door, the small box of belongings in her arms. The fading afternoon light framed her silhouette, softening the tired lines on her face.
"Sensei," Takashi called, his voice catching.
She turned, surprise and something gentler—almost relief—flashing across her eyes. "Takashi…"
They stood facing each other, words struggling to find shape between them.
"You're really leaving," he whispered, the words tasting bitter.
She nodded slowly. "It's time."
"Why so suddenly?" he pressed, his voice low and raw. "Why today?"
"It had to be today," she replied softly. "Before it became harder to walk away."
His chest tightened. "Is it because of me?"
A shadow passed over her face. "Partly. But don't blame yourself. It's the situation… it became impossible to stay."
Takashi stepped closer, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "I don't want you to go."
"I know," she said, her voice breaking. "And I don't want to go, either. But if I stay, it will only hurt you more."
"What if I don't care?" he whispered fiercely. "What if I'd rather face that than lose you?"
Tears gathered in her eyes, though she tried to blink them away. "You're too young to carry that kind of burden."
"And you're too young to give up everything," he countered.
She let out a shaky breath, her grip on the box tightening. "Takashi… I've made my choice. Please don't make this harder."
His gaze dropped to the floor. "Will I ever see you again?"
"I don't know," she admitted, the words cracking like thin ice. "But I hope so."
Silence settled between them, heavy with everything they couldn't say.
"Thank you," she whispered at last. "For everything. For believing in me, even when I couldn't believe in myself."
"And thank you," Takashi replied, his voice thick. "For being the first person to really see me."
She stepped forward then, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of her perfume. For a moment, her hand lifted as if to touch his face—but she stopped herself, the weight of consequence too heavy.
"Goodbye, Takashi," she whispered, the words as gentle as they were final.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. So instead, he nodded, fighting back tears that threatened to spill.
Mizuki turned, walking toward the exit. Each step seemed to echo louder in the quiet corridor. When she reached the door, she paused—just for a breath—then pushed it open, stepping into the fading light.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Takashi alone with the lingering warmth of her presence and the hollow ache of her absence.
---
Outside, the sky burned with the last colors of day, the sun sinking beyond the rooftops. Students filtered out through the gates, some laughing, some silent, but all carrying on.
Takashi stood frozen in the corridor, the moment stretching painfully. Finally, he moved, each step heavy as if the air itself resisted him. He walked to where Mizuki had stood, pressing his hand against the still-cold door, as if hoping it might open again.
But it didn't.
---
That night, Takashi sat alone at his desk, the empty notebook before him. His pen hovered over the page, but words refused to come. Instead, memories poured through him—the warmth of her voice, the quiet strength in her eyes, the softness that showed when no one else was watching.
He whispered her name into the silence, as if speaking it aloud might keep her close. But the room remained unchanged, the walls unanswering.
Mizuki Ayane had left the school—but not his heart. And though tomorrow would come, and life woul
d press forward, Takashi knew a part of him would always wait at that door, hoping she might return.