Arthur stepped out of his apartment early, a slight chill in the morning air, and immediately ran into Haruka near the corner of the street.
"Arthur! You're up early today," she said, raising an eyebrow. Her hair shone in the weak sunlight, and for a moment, he forgot the embarrassment of yesterday.
"Yeah… had stuff on my mind," Arthur mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. He felt his cheeks heat. "…Actually, about Miyu."
Haruka narrowed her eyes slightly, a playful spark in them. "Oh? Miyu? Do tell."
Arthur's words started tumbling out, faster than he intended. "I mean, it's not that I'm like… obsessed or anything, but she's… she's just really… kind and organized and her smile—well, you know it's subtle, but it's kind of… it makes my chest—"
Haruka laughed, cutting him off. "Slow down, speed talker. You're literally tripping over words. Are you sure you're not just imagining things?"
"No! I… I really think I like her… kinda… maybe…" Arthur muttered, glaring at the ground.
Haruka tilted her head, pretending to pout. "Kinda maybe, huh? That's really clear, Arthur." She smirked, a tiny jealousy flickering in her tone. "I mean, look at you, talking nonstop. You're actually fun to listen to… but I wish I could interrupt you without feeling like the villain."
Arthur groaned, hands on his face. "I don't even know why I'm talking so much…"
The system popped up, faintly glowing above his head:
Arthur scowled. "I'm not listening to you."
He gritted his teeth and turned to Haruka. "Let's just… focus on getting to school."
---
By the time they reached Forest Sunlight High School, the air buzzed with the usual chatter. Haruka waved him off toward her classroom.
"Don't overthink it too much," she said with a teasing smile. "Try not to scare Miyu with your awkward energy."
Arthur blinked. "…I wasn't planning on it."
She raised an eyebrow, smirk still in place. "Uh-huh. Sure."
He watched her disappear into the hallway, then slowly made his way to his own class. And there she was: Miyu. Sitting neatly at her desk, glancing away when he entered. His stomach sank.
The system chimed in softly:
Arthur groaned quietly, running a hand over his face. "…Yep. That's happening."
---
Throughout the day, Arthur tried several times to talk to Miyu.
"Uh… good morning, Miyu," he said once, a little too loudly, waving his hand.
"Oh! Morning, Arthur," she replied, voice polite and sweet… then glanced at her notes and suddenly remembered something urgent. "I have to… copy some homework from another class. See you later!"
Another time, he tried again:
"I, uh… wanted to ask about yesterday's assignment…"
Miyu smiled softly. "Oh! I… just remembered I have a club meeting. Sorry, Arthur!"
Arthur sank back in his chair, internally screaming. He could feel his face heating as the system giggled silently:
By the last class of the day, Arthur decided that direct conversation wasn't going to work. Instead, he opened his notebook and wrote a letter, careful, emotional, awkward, but sincere:
---
Dear Miyu,
I really care about you… uhm, as a friend, so I hope this doesn't make things weird. I just wanted to say that I enjoy talking to you, even if I mess up my words or act strange sometimes. You make things… easier somehow. I hope we can talk more tomorrow, and maybe just spend a little time together in class. I know I'm awkward, but I really mean this. For now, at least, please accept it as my honest words.
---
He left it on his desk, staring at it for a long moment before leaving the classroom.
---
By the time he got home, the weight of the day pressed down on him. He dropped his bag on the floor and flopped onto the bed, glancing at the small guitar leaning in the corner.
He opened a tutorial video on his phone, watching carefully as the instructor demonstrated the first chords. For the first time, Arthur felt… purposeful.
He picked up the guitar, fingers fumbling over the strings, producing a faint, squeaky, imperfect sound. But he kept going, over and over, determined to make it right.
The system glimmered above his desk.
Arthur smiled, slightly embarrassed at talking to the system, but continued. Slowly, clumsily, a small melody emerged. It was awful—but somehow it sounded like progress.
And in that tiny, lonely apartment, Arthur felt a spark of pride. He might be terrible at socializing, he might stumble over words, he might have zero coins—but he could play, learn, and grow.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would face Miyu again, one way or another.
And maybe, just maybe, he could make this little spark last.