Chapter 14: Between the Shelves

The rain had become a steady companion these days—soft, persistent, and somehow comforting. After lunch, Yasu didn’t feel like returning to the classroom just yet. The quiet hum of the library called to him, like a refuge untouched by the noise of teenage chatter and clashing umbrellas.

He slipped into the school’s library, his steps muffled against the carpeted floor. The scent of old pages and the soft rustling of air through the vents welcomed him like a secret world. It wasn’t crowded—just a few diligent students scattered around tables, heads buried in reference books or whispering over group projects.

He wandered toward the back shelves, where the literature section met the science corner. His hand brushed the spines of books without reading the titles. He wasn’t really searching for anything.

Or maybe he was.

He wasn’t sure anymore.

As he turned the corner of a shelf labeled “Human Biology & Genetics,” he froze.

There, squatting near the bottom row, flipping casually through a thick book on animal evolution, was Hoshiko-sensei.

Her long hair was tied loosely, a pen stuck behind her ear, and her posture was far too casual for a teacher in public. One leg bent, the other stretched behind her as if she had been sitting there forever. Her expression was surprisingly focused, but her lips moved—murmuring the text aloud in a near-whisper.

Yasu didn’t move. He just stared.

It was almost strange, seeing her outside the role of “teacher.” Here, she looked more like a curious university student who’d wandered in and gotten lost in something she loved.

Then, suddenly, her voice broke the silence—without looking up.

“If you’re going to stand there like a ghost, at least say something, Yasu-kun.”

He blinked. “You… noticed me?”

She looked up, smirking. “You breathe louder than you think.”

“I wasn’t—” he paused. “...Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” she said, standing up and dusting off her skirt. “Though I should charge you for sneaking peeks at my ‘intellectual’ side.”

He looked away, embarrassed. “I wasn’t peeking. I just didn’t expect… you.”

“Hmm, that makes two of us.”

She closed the book with a soft thump and leaned against the shelf, crossing her arms.

“So, what are you doing here? Looking for manga hidden in the science section?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Just… wanted some quiet.”

“Ah. The introvert pilgrimage,” she nodded. “Good choice. This place is perfect for hiding from social expectations.”

Yasu let out a breath—half amused, half surprised.

“I thought teachers had offices.”

“We do. But they’re boring, and smell like instant coffee and forgotten paperwork.”
She pulled the pen from behind her ear and twirled it. “Sometimes, a girl just wants to breathe next to a few million dead trees.”

He glanced at her. “You’re weird.”

“Thank you,” she said proudly.

A short silence passed. Not heavy, not awkward—just natural.

“You’ve been... more honest lately,” she said, tilting her head as she studied him.

Yasu shifted slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You used to deflect everything with silence or sarcasm. Now, you answer.”

He looked down. “Maybe I got tired of being unreadable.”

“Or maybe,” she said gently, “you’re realizing that some people actually want to read you.”

He didn’t reply, but he felt something stir in his chest. A vague ache, warm and unwelcome.

She moved past him, brushing lightly against his shoulder—intentional or not, he couldn’t tell.

“I always thought libraries were romantic places,” she mused aloud. “Quiet corners… secrets whispered between pages. Perfect for confessions.”

“Confessions?” he asked, cautious.

“Of crimes. Of love. Of ridiculously bad test scores,” she teased. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to confess anything. Not unless you’ve stolen a biology book.”

“I’d never steal ” he said dryly. “I have standards.”

“Liar,” she grinned.

They paused near the window at the far end of the library. Outside, the rain had softened into a drizzle, and the gray light made the glass glow faintly. Hoshiko-sensei pressed her palm gently against the window.

“You know,” she said after a beat, “sometimes I forget how quiet this place can be. In a good way.”

“You’re not used to silence?”

She turned her head, one eyebrow lifted.

“Silence makes people uncomfortable. Especially adults. That’s why we fill the air with small talk and awkward laughter. Students, at least, have the honesty to stay quiet.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Then I guess I’ve been honest my whole life.”

She looked at him, and for a second—just a second—there was something softer in her gaze.

“You’ve been lonely, Yasu-kun.”

He didn’t reply.

She picked a book off a nearby shelf without looking, flipped it open, and shoved it toward him.

“Here. Read this. Page 74.”

“What is it?”

“A random choice,” she said. “That’s the fun of it. Sometimes life needs randomness.”

He raised an eyebrow but took the book anyway. He read a few lines silently, then looked back at her.

“You picked a romance novel.”

“Did I?” she said with mock innocence. “What a coincidence.”

He closed the book.

“I think you enjoy making people uncomfortable.”

“Only the ones who need a little push.”

She stepped back, already turning to leave.

“Return the book when you’re done. Or don’t. I won’t tell.”

“Why me?” he asked suddenly.

She stopped at the corner of the shelf, her back half-turned.

“Because you’re the only one who pretends he doesn’t care when it’s obvious he does.”

And with that, she disappeared between the shelves, leaving behind only the scent of rain and ink.