The traffic lights in Yokugura City seemed determined to test Haruto Akiyama's patience.
Cars crawled forward bumper to bumper, their horns creating a chorus that bounced off the tall buildings lining the street. Exhaust fumes lingered in the humid spring air, mixing with the faint smell of grilled street food from a vendor nearby. Haruto shifted uneasily on the curb, his schoolbag slung over one shoulder.
"Man… why is the traffic always this bad?" he muttered, brushing his messy black hair out of his eyes. His gaze darted between the red signal and the clock on his phone. "Of all days, today it just had to be like this."
Today wasn't just another morning. It was the first day of high school.
His stomach twisted at the thought. He could already imagine it: walking into the classroom late, everyone turning their heads to stare, whispers filling the air. It would be middle school all over again, where he'd been the quiet kid, easy prey for jokes and teasing.
Haruto tightened his grip on his bag strap. No… this time will be different. High school is a fresh start. I just have to survive today without embarrassing myself.
The light flicked green, and the traffic lurched forward. Haruto sighed in relief, ready to cross, when a voice broke through the noise.
"Son, excuse me!"
He turned. An old man stood at the edge of the sidewalk, leaning on a cane. His back was bent, and his thin frame trembled slightly under the weight of a cloth bag slung over his shoulder. His wrinkled face carried a gentle smile.
"Yes, sir?" Haruto asked politely, stepping closer.
"Would you… help me with something?" The old man's voice was soft, but it carried an urgency. He fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out a slim smartphone wrapped carefully in a cloth.
Haruto blinked. "A phone?"
The old man nodded. "It belongs to my granddaughter. She's a student at your high school. I was on my way to deliver it, but… these legs don't carry me as they once did." He chuckled weakly and held the phone out with both hands, as though offering something precious.
Haruto hesitated. His first instinct was to refuse—after all, he was already anxious about being late. But then he noticed the old man's trembling hands and the hopeful look in his eyes.
"You want me to give this to her?" Haruto asked.
"Yes. If it's too much trouble, you may hand it to the staff. They will see that she receives it. Her name is Aika." The old man's eyes softened. "She's a good girl."
Haruto accepted the phone, sliding it carefully into his bag. "Don't worry. I'll make sure it reaches her."
The old man's smile widened. "Thank you, young man. Truly."
Before Haruto could reply, the signal changed again, and the crowd surged forward. He offered a quick bow and hurried across the road, weaving between people, clutching the strap of his bag where the phone now rested.
---
By the time Haruto arrived at Yokugura High School, the campus was buzzing with life.
Students in crisp uniforms gathered in clusters near the front gate, chatting and laughing as if they'd known each other forever. The building loomed above him, modern glass windows gleaming in the sunlight, banners fluttering with the school's emblem.
Haruto paused just outside the gate, taking a deep breath. This is it. No turning back now.
He followed the stream of students inside, trying to ignore the way some groups already seemed to have formed cliques. He pushed through the crowd until he found the main office.
The receptionist, a woman in her thirties with neatly tied hair, looked up from her paperwork. "Yes? Can I help you?"
Haruto cleared his throat, placing the phone on the counter. "Um… a man outside asked me to deliver this. He said it belongs to his granddaughter—her name's Aika."
The receptionist smiled warmly. "Ah, I see. Thank you for being so responsible. I'll make sure she gets it."
Relief washed over him as she took the phone. Haruto bowed politely and left the office. Okay, good. One less thing to worry about.
---
Finding his classroom was easier than expected. The halls smelled faintly of fresh polish, and the walls were lined with posters from past school festivals. His heart pounded as he approached the door marked "Class 1-B."
He slid it open quietly.
The room was already half full. Some students were talking animatedly, others scrolling through their phones, and a few sat silently at their desks. Haruto scanned for an empty seat, his palms sweating.
Don't draw attention. Just act normal.
He spotted a desk near the middle row and slipped into it, placing his bag carefully by his chair. For a moment, he sat frozen, staring at the smooth wooden surface, listening to the chatter around him.
Then, something caught his eye.
On the desk diagonal to his, a phone rested near the edge. Its design—sleek, with a distinctive floral case—was unmistakable.
Haruto's breath hitched. Wait… that looks exactly like the one I just handed to the office staff…
His curiosity got the better of him. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the phone to the person holding it.
She was seated gracefully, sunlight streaming in from the window behind her. Her hair, a soft shade of brown, framed her delicate face. Her uniform was perfectly neat, and when she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion was so natural it seemed almost cinematic.
Haruto's chest tightened. She wasn't just pretty—she had a quiet presence that made the noise of the classroom fade into the background.
No way… is that her? The granddaughter?
His mind raced. He had just given the phone to the staff, yet here she was, holding it casually, scrolling as if it had never left her side.
Almost as if sensing his gaze, the girl looked up.
Their eyes met.
Haruto's heart skipped a beat. For a split second, he considered looking away, pretending he hadn't been staring. But something in her expression held him there—it wasn't annoyance, nor indifference. It was curiosity, as though she was silently asking, Do I know you?
Heat rushed to his face. He quickly averted his eyes, staring intently at the desk. His mind screamed at him. Idiot! Why are you staring like a creep? It's the first day, and you're already acting suspicious!
Yet he couldn't shake the thought. The old man's words echoed in his mind: "Her name is Aika. She's a good girl."
So this was her.
The girl with the phone.
His new classmate.
And just like that, Haruto knew—his high school life was about to get a lot more complicated than he had ever imagined.