Ren's change wasn't loud. It didn't happen overnight like a switch being flipped.
It was quiet, almost unnoticeable at first.
The Monday after that humiliating encounter, he walked into the classroom as usual, backpack slung over his shoulder. His seat by the window was waiting, sunlight spilling across the desk.
But when Ayaka entered with her friends, he didn't glance up. Not once.
No stolen glances. No nervous fidgeting. No letters tucked neatly into his bag.
He simply opened his notebook, uncapped his pen, and started reviewing math problems before the bell rang.
It wasn't that he was suddenly brilliant—Ren still had to scribble out mistakes, chew the back of his pencil, and quietly sigh when things didn't make sense. But he was trying. Really trying. And for the first time, his effort wasn't for her.
At lunch, Daichi plopped down beside him with his usual dramatic flair.
"Oi, Ren! You didn't choke on your rice today. Progress."
Ren chuckled, pushing Daichi's elbow away. "Shut up."
"Wait…" Daichi squinted at him. "No love letter today?"
Ren shook his head, calmly. "No. I'm done with that."
For once, Daichi didn't joke. He just stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Took you long enough."
Ren smirked faintly. "Yeah. Guess it did."
From the other end of the cafeteria, Ayaka happened to glance over. Her friends were mid-conversation about some new drama series, but she wasn't really listening. Her eyes flickered, just for a second, to the boy who had once fumbled with chopsticks every time she laughed.
But this time… he wasn't looking at her.
He was laughing—actually laughing—at something Daichi said, shoulders shaking in genuine amusement. It was small, nothing dramatic, but it unsettled her in a way she didn't understand.
Days passed.
Ren started staying late in the library, his head buried in books he used to ignore. He wasn't suddenly the top of the class, but his scores climbed steadily, his notes neat, his handwriting confident.
He joined Daichi for basketball practice after school—just as a stand-in at first, but he picked things up quickly. He wasn't the strongest or the fastest, but his calm focus made him reliable.
And slowly, people began to notice.
"Hey, Sato's gotten pretty good, huh?" one of the players whispered.
"He's different lately. More… I dunno, composed?" another said.
Ren didn't pay attention to the gossip. For once, he didn't need to.
Ayaka noticed too.
At first, she thought it was just coincidence—maybe he was busy, maybe exams were coming up. But then the pattern became clear. He no longer lingered near her locker. He no longer turned crimson when she passed by. And when their eyes accidentally met across the hallway, he simply… looked away. Calm. Untouched.
The strangest part? It bothered her.
Not because she liked him—at least, that's what she told herself. But because the boy who once looked at her like she was the center of his world now treated her like any other classmate.
She tried to ignore it, laughing with her friends, diving into volleyball practice. But late at night, when she replayed the day in her mind, she remembered the way his expression had changed. The softness was gone. In its place was something sharper, steadier.
It made her chest feel strangely hollow.
Ren, meanwhile, found a strange peace in the quiet. For the first time, he felt the world didn't revolve around someone else's approval.
One evening, as he sat under the peach tree near the school gates, backpack at his side, he scribbled notes for class. The sun dipped low, painting the sky in gold and pink. Cicadas hummed above him, but instead of their noise reminding him of rejection, it sounded almost… hopeful.
Daichi plopped down beside him, sweaty from practice. "You look like a monk."
Ren snorted. "Shut up."
"No, really," Daichi grinned. "You're calmer. Like… different."
Ren shrugged, but a quiet smile tugged at his lips. "I guess I just stopped waiting for something that was never coming."
Daichi leaned back against the tree, nodding. "Good. That's what growing up is, man."
Ren's gaze lingered on the horizon, the last light of summer fading. For the first time, the weight in his chest didn't feel like loss. It felt like freedom.
From a distance, Ayaka walked with her friends, their laughter carrying faintly on the breeze. She glanced over, saw Ren beneath the peach tree, laughing at something Daichi said.
And for the first time, Ayaka Mori felt something unfamiliar: the sting of being on the outside of his world.
Summer had not ended yet. But for Ayaka, something precious was already slipping away.