Chapter 9: Quiet Observations

Aoi had never been the kind of person to insert herself into the noise of the classroom. She preferred the stillness near the window, where the light filtered in just right, and the sounds of the world felt more distant. It wasn’t that she disliked people—it was more like... people didn’t quite know what to do with her. And she didn’t really mind that. She was used to the quiet, used to being the one who watched rather than spoke.

That’s why Hikari had caught her off guard.

It had started as a curiosity. A faint sense of awareness—someone who didn’t shrink away, who didn’t hesitate to sit near her. Hikari had this warmth about her, something soft, but not loud. She smiled easily, talked with her hands sometimes, and had this way of fidgeting when she was thinking too hard. Aoi had noticed. She always noticed.

At first, it had been subtle. A glance during group work. A quiet question passed between them. Hikari never forced a conversation, never pushed too close. She just... showed up. And for some reason, Aoi didn’t mind it.

It became a habit—expecting her. Looking up and finding Hikari already nearby. She didn’t say it out loud, but Aoi had grown used to her presence. The kind of used to that made her notice when Hikari wasn’t there, or when she was quiet in a way that wasn’t normal for her. Like when she got sick after the rain. Aoi hadn’t said much, but she’d seen how pale Hikari looked, how she tried to hide the way her head swayed. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. She wasn’t sure why she waited near the nurse’s office longer than she needed to.

Then there was the teasing—the girls at the bench. Aoi had overheard it from a distance, even if they thought she couldn’t hear. They were giggling, tossing around her name, saying things like, “How does she talk to Aoi without freaking out?” Like Aoi was some storm Hikari had somehow walked into and survived.

She didn’t know how she felt about that.

She wasn’t angry—more... confused. She didn’t like the way they made it sound like she was something scary. Something untouchable. Especially when Hikari had never looked at her like that.

When Aoi glanced toward Hikari that day in class, she immediately noticed something was off. The girl’s usual calm was replaced with this... flustered energy. Pink cheeks. Tense shoulders. Avoiding her gaze. It didn’t take much to connect the dots. Whatever the girls had said had gotten to her.

That’s why she asked. “Are you okay?” She hadn’t meant to startle her, but the way Hikari jumped at the sound of her voice—Aoi didn’t expect that. She almost wanted to laugh, but not because it was funny. It was because Hikari was acting like she’d been caught doing something wrong, when all she’d been doing was feeling.

And Aoi saw it—clearly. The way her face lit up when flustered, the awkward little stammer, the nervous laughter. It was... endearing. Unfamiliar. A little too much to look at directly.

“You look like you’re about to burst into flames,” she’d said, before she could stop herself. A quiet tease—but a real concern, too.

She didn’t know why she said things like that sometimes. Maybe because she wanted to see more of that side of Hikari—the one that was real and unscripted. The one that only seemed to appear around her.

That Friday, when the day was almost done, she’d thought about just heading out as usual. But then she saw Hikari forget her water bottle and turn back into the classroom, and something stopped her from walking away.

She stood in the doorway longer than she needed to. She waited. And when Hikari turned and saw her, there was that expression again—that surprised, pink-cheeked look like she wasn’t ready to see Aoi there. Like Aoi had walked into a thought she wasn’t supposed to see.

“You forgot this.”

She handed over the water bottle like it was nothing. But her fingers brushed Hikari’s by accident, and her thoughts scattered for a moment. She tried to keep her face neutral, but she wondered if Hikari could feel her pulse in that one small contact.

She didn’t smile.

She wanted to—but she didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she watched. Watched the way Hikari looked everywhere except at her. The way she tried to play it cool but couldn’t quite hide the way her voice wobbled when she said, “Just a lot on my mind.”

Aoi knew what that meant.

She didn’t push. She didn’t need to. Sometimes silence said more than words.

But she also didn’t want to walk away without saying something.

“If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”

The words came out softer than she intended. Softer than she usually let herself sound. But Hikari deserved that softness. Even if she didn’t understand it fully yet—Aoi felt it.

And when she left the room, leaving Hikari standing there, she couldn’t help but think back to every small moment they’d shared—from the first quiet exchange to the teasing glances, to the way Hikari looked like she was holding something back every time they spoke.

Something was changing.

And for the first time in a long while, Aoi wasn’t sure how to guard herself from it.