The girl who danced with wind

Ren didn’t move.

The girl under the sakura tree had stopped spinning, her gaze meeting his.

There was something unsettling about the way she looked at him—like she could see straight through the walls he had spent years building.

For a second, Ren thought she might say something. But before the moment could stretch any further, a voice called out from across the courtyard.

“Hikari!”

She turned, the spell breaking.

A girl with short brown hair, wearing the same school uniform, waved from a distance. The girl—Hikari—smiled and took a step back, as if she had never been standing there in the first place. Then, without another glance, she ran off toward her friend.

Ren exhaled, realizing only then that he had been holding his breath.

The usual rhythm of the morning returned. Students shuffled through the gates, chatting, laughing, passing him by as if nothing had happened. As if the air hadn’t just shifted around him.

He shook his head and walked inside.

---- 

Classes were as dull as ever.

Ren sat by the window, head propped up on one hand, half-listening to the teacher drone on about equations that he would never use. His notebook lay open, empty. His mind wandered, drifting between vague thoughts of Tokyo and the strange girl who spun beneath the cherry blossoms.

By the time lunch rolled around, Ren had already decided—he wasn’t staying the whole day.

Slipping past the back entrance of the school was easy. He had done it before, enough times to know which teachers actually paid attention. The streets outside were quieter now, most people tucked away in shops or inside their homes.

He didn’t have a real destination, but his feet led him somewhere familiar.

---

The town library was small but warm, tucked between a bakery and an old stationery store. It smelled of paper, ink, and the faintest trace of dust.

Ren stepped inside, nodding at the elderly librarian who barely looked up from her novel. The library was nearly empty at this time of day, just the way he liked it.

It had always been his escape.

The wooden shelves stretched high, packed with books that held entire worlds inside them. Some were old and worn, their pages yellowed and fragile. Others were newer, with crisp covers that still smelled like fresh print. The windows were large, letting in slivers of golden sunlight that danced on the polished floors. A quiet clock ticked somewhere in the background, steady and unbothered by the passing of time.

Ren found his usual spot in the far corner—a small nook near the window where the light streamed in just right. He settled into the cushioned seat, letting the stillness settle over him like a familiar blanket.

The shelves around him were filled with books on history, geography, and—most importantly—places far from here.

Tokyo, Osaka, Kyoto. Cities that never slept, where everything moved at a speed Hoshimachi could never match. He traced his fingers over the photographs of towering buildings and neon signs, flipping through page after page of a life that felt so distant, yet so close.

A small sigh left his lips.

Maybe one day.

He turned another page, but a movement in the corner of his vision caught his attention.

A flash of white. A soft hum.

Ren lifted his eyes.

There she was again.

Hikari moved between the bookshelves like she belonged there, fingertips grazing book spines as if she was searching for something specific. She hummed under her breath, a quiet tune that he didn’t recognize.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

Ren told himself to look away. To go back to his book.

But he didn’t.

He watched as she tilted her head, scanning a row of novels before standing on her toes to reach one. The way she moved—it was light, effortless, as if gravity barely held her down.

And for the second time that day, Ren found himself wondering—how?

How could someone be so unburdened?

How could someone exist in this town without feeling the weight of it?

Then, without warning, she turned.

Their eyes met again.

This time, she didn’t just stare back. She smiled—a little teasing, a little curious.

"You have quite a habit of staring at strangers," she said.

Ren blinked, caught off guard.

For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to say.