The friend group had been solid since first year.
It started small: Kenji and Aiko, the inseparable pair from elementary and middle school, automatically gravitated to the same lunch table in April of their first year at Minato High. Then Haruto Matsuda tall, messy haired, volleyball team hopeful : sat down next to Kenji one day with a loud "This seat taken?" and never left. Mio Takahashi joined a week later because she liked Haruto's dumb jokes and eventually him. Then came Daichi Nakamura, no relation to Aiko, quiet, glasses, always carrying a manga volume, who sat with them because Kenji once lent him a pen during a pop quiz and didn't make a big deal about it.
By second year, the six of them were a unit. Rooftop lunches, group chats that never died, shared memories of failing the cultural festival haunted house setup together. They knew each other's habits: Haruto's terrible taste in energy drinks, Mio's habit of stealing fries, Daichi's habit of quoting shonen protagonists when he was nervous, Aiko's soft spot for stray cats, and Kenji's endless supply of bad jokes.
Kenji had never had a girlfriend. Not once.
He'd had crushes, embarrassing ones in middle school, but nothing stuck. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like Aiko. So he stayed single, stayed the funny, reliable guy who could always be counted on to lighten the mood. The group teased him about it sometimes "Kenji, you're gonna die alone with your running shoes," Haruto would say, but it never cut deep. He told himself he was waiting for the right moment. For her.
Lately, though, the moment felt further away.
This Wednesday at lunch, the rooftop was the same cracked concrete, same chain link fence rattling in the wind, same view of the city stretching out below. Kenji sat with his back to the fence, legs stretched out, unpacking the convenience-store bento he'd grabbed for himself and Aiko. She sat cross legged beside him, skirt smoothed neatly, already laughing at something Haruto was saying.
"...so the coach makes me run laps because I 'talked back,' but I was literally just asking if we could use the new balls. The old ones are bald, man. Bald!"
Mio rolled her eyes, popping a piece of tamagoyaki into her mouth. "You talk back to gravity too. That's why you're always falling on your face during receives."
Daichi, nose in a manga, muttered without looking up, "Physics would like a word."
Everyone laughed. Even Aiko, her laugh still bright, still familiar.
Then her phone buzzed.
She glanced at it, and that small, private smile appeared again. The one Kenji had started noticing more often.
Rei Hashimoto.
The guy who somehow managed to be perfect without seeming like he was trying. He'd started showing up in their orbit a month ago. First because Aiko asked him a question about a literature assignment in the hallway, then because he'd joined them for lunch twice last week. Polite. Calm. Always said the right thing.
Today he wasn't here, but his presence lingered in the way Aiko's thumb hovered over the screen before she typed back.
Kenji kept his eyes on his food. "Rei texting you study tips again?"
Aiko looked up, cheeks faintly pink. "Yeah. He's helping me prep for the modern lit essay. He's really good at breaking down themes."
"Cool," Kenji said. His voice stayed even. "Tell him thanks for saving our group's GPA."
Haruto snorted. "If he's that smart, maybe he can explain why Mio keeps dating me."
Mio elbowed him hard. "Because I pity you, obviously."
The banter rolled on. Kenji joined in, cracked a joke about Haruto's volleyball serves looking like dying pigeons, got the expected roar of laughter. But part of him was somewhere else, watching Aiko from the corner of his eye. She was still smiling at her phone.
After lunch they headed down together, the usual noisy pack clogging the stairwell.
At the second-floor landing, Aiko paused. "I'm gonna hit the library for a bit. Rei's meeting me there."
Kenji felt the words land like a light punch. "Oh. Cool. Want me to walk you?"
She shook her head, already turning. "It's fine. See you guys tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Mio called. "Don't let Prince Charming keep you too long!"
Aiko laughed and disappeared down the other hallway.
The rest of them kept walking. Haruto slung an arm around Kenji's shoulders. "You okay, man? You got quiet again."
Kenji forced the grin. "Just thinking about how I'm gonna smoke everyone at the qualifier. Gotta stay focused."
Daichi glanced over, adjusting his glasses. "You've been running extra laps lately. Like… a lot."
"Gotta stay legendary," Kenji said, shrugging it off.
They reached class 2-B.
Kenji dropped into his seat by the window. Two desks away, Rika Sato slouched in her chair, chopped black hair falling into her eyes, tie loose, earbuds in but no music playing. She'd been in their class since the start of second year, transferred in after some incident no one talked about openly. The group mostly ignored her. She ignored them back harder.
Today she was doodling something sharp and angry looking in the margin of her notebook. When the teacher handed back quizzes, Kenji got an 85. Rika's was a 38. She looked at the score for half a second, then balled the paper and tossed it under her desk without a sound.
Kenji couldn't help it. "Rough one?"
She turned her head slowly. Dark eyes. No warmth. "Mind your business, Smiley."
He raised both hands. "Just observing. Teacher's gonna make you retake it, right?"
"Probably." She leaned back, arms crossed. "Why do you care?"
"I don't," he said. "Just… sucks to fail that hard."
Rika studied him like he was a puzzle she didn't want to solve. "You're always so damn cheerful. It's exhausting."
Kenji laughed once, short, surprised. "Yeah, well. Fake it till you make it, right?"
She didn't smile. But she didn't look away either.
The bell rang. She stood, slung her bag over one shoulder, and walked out without another word.
Kenji watched her go.
Outside the window, he could see the track field empty under the afternoon sun. Practice started in twenty minutes.
He stayed seated a little longer than usual.
For the first time in a year, the thought of running didn't feel like a relief.
It felt like running away.