The morning sun, filtering through her curtains, painted warm stripes across Himari's futon. She woke not to the rumble of the freight train, but to the gentle, distant clatter of bakery trays from downstairs—a sound that meant Uncle Kenji was already deep in the morning's work. The strange men and their silver sedan from the previous evening felt like a half-remembered dream, their sharp edges softened by sleep and the solid reality of a new day.
Downstairs, the small television on the kitchen counter was murmuring the morning news. Her grandfather was sipping tea, his eyes scanning the newspaper. A headline about a national budget proposal was visible above his folded hands.
"...and in health news," the television anchor said, his voice a smooth, uninterested drone, "the Ministry has announced a new round of funding for regional clinics, aiming to streamline services for a variety of patient needs. Officials say the move is part of a broader effort to modernize rural healthcare."
Himari's grandmother clicked the TV off. "Boring," she declared, placing a bowl of steaming rice in front of Himari. "Eat up, dear. You need your energy for that festival planning."
The walk to school was a return to normalcy. The cobblestones of Dōgūza were dry, and Mr. Fujimura gave her his usual gruff greeting. At the bakery, the warm, yeasty air was a balm.
"The sunshine returns!" Uncle Kenji boomed, his face cheerful. If he was worried about the men from the "educational board," he showed no sign. "We're testing a new apple pastry today. You're the official taster."
The pastry was flaky and delicious. The morning was perfect. Any lingering unease was thoroughly banished by the time she met Hana on the main street.
"Okay, spill," Hana demanded, falling into step. "You messaged Takumi about math but you didn't message me about the important stuff! What did you and Kawabe-kun talk about after the menu meeting? Did you walk home together? Was there a moment?"
Himari laughed. "There was no moment! He said 'thank you' and went to kendo practice. I went to the bakery. It was very exciting."
"Ugh, you're hopeless! You have a kendo prince potentially falling for you and you're focused on curried bread!"
The school day unfolded with its predictable rhythm. But during second-period math, a note landed on Himari's desk, folded into a tight square. She glanced around before carefully opening it. The handwriting was neat, slightly rigid.
Tanaka-san,
I showed your sketch to the committee. Everyone loved it. Thank you again for your help. Would you like to meet after school today to start transferring the design to the actual board?
- Kawabe
A flutter, unmistakable and warm, took residence in her chest. She glanced towards Kawabe's seat. He was resolutely staring at the blackboard, his ears tinged with pink. She quickly scribbled a reply.
Sure. Art room after last bell?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. In art class, Ms. Aoki praised her design sketch, and Riku from the construction committee gave her a thumbs-up. The approval was a quiet thrill. When the final bell rang, Himari's heart was beating a little faster than usual.
The art room was quiet, filled with the golden light of the late afternoon. Only Kawabe was there, standing nervously beside the large foam board. He had already set out paints, brushes, and a pencil.
"I hope this is okay," he said, gesturing to the materials. "I wasn't sure what you'd need."
"It's perfect," Himari said, setting down her bag. For the next hour, they worked in a comfortable, focused silence. Himari, with a light hand, sketched the outline of the coffee cup and the swirling steam onto the board. Kawabe acted as her assistant, mixing paints exactly as she instructed, his kendo-calloused hands surprisingly careful with the delicate brushes.
"You're really good at this," he said, watching her fill in the curves of the coffee cup with a rich, brown paint.
"It's just practice," she replied, but she glowed under the praise. "It's like your kendo, I bet. It looks like just swinging a sword, but there's so much technique."
His face lit up. "Exactly! It's all about posture, and footwork, and the angle of the strike…" He launched into an enthusiastic explanation, demonstrating a basic stance without his sword. Himari listened, genuinely interested, her painting forgotten for a moment. He was different when he talked about kendo—more confident, less shy.
They were so absorbed they didn't notice the art room door open. Maya and Sora stood there, having changed into their casual clothes. Maya's eyes swept over the scene: Himari with a paintbrush in her hand, Kawabe standing close, gesturing animatedly.
"How adorable," Maya said, her voice sweet as poisoned honey. "The artist and her muse. Are you sure you should be using that shade of brown, Tanaka-san? It looks a little… muddy."
Kawabe stiffened, his enthusiasm vanishing. "We're following Tanaka-san's design," he said, his voice formal.
"Of course you are," Sora added, a smirk playing on her lips. "She's the expert, after all. On so many things." Her gaze flickered over Himari in a way that felt invasive.
Himari felt a hot flush of embarrassment and anger. She focused on dipping her brush into the water cup, keeping her hand steady. "The color is fine, thank you, Sora-san."
Maya gave a light, tinkling laugh. "Well, don't work too hard. Some of us have actual plans." They left, their laughter echoing down the hall.
The easy atmosphere was broken. An awkward silence descended. Kawabe looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry about that."
"It's not your fault," Himari said quietly, trying to recapture the focus she'd had before. But the magic was gone. They finished the base coat in quiet efficiency.
Walking home alone later, the encounter with Maya and Sora gnawed at her. Their comments were like tiny needles, designed to deflate. But as she turned onto Dōgūza, the warm light from the bakery windows pushed the negativity away. Inside, Uncle Kenji was serving a customer, an older man she didn't recognize.
"...yes, just passing through," the man was saying. "My sister's family moved here a few years back. Said the air was good for her boy. Quiet town."
"The quietest," Uncle Kenji agreed cheerfully. "Best air in Japan."
The man nodded, taking his change. "A good place to get away from all the noise. All the… strange business in the cities." He said it casually, a throwaway comment.
"We like it simple," Kenji said, his tone unchanged, but his eyes met Himari's for a brief second as the man left. It was a flicker of something unspoken, there and gone so fast she might have imagined it.
That night, after dinner and homework, Himari lay in bed. She scrolled through her phone, looking at the picture of Kawabe from the kendo tournament. She thought about his passion when he talked about his sport, and the way he'd stood up for her, however awkwardly, against Maya. The flutter returned. The negative comments faded into insignificance. The clearest sound was the memory of Kawabe's voice, talking about something he loved.