Chapter 1: The Way Things Are

Hiro Tanaka was late again.

He stumbled down the sidewalk, his untied shoelaces threatening to trip him with every hurried step. His school uniform was rumpled, his navy blue tie askew, and a piece of toast dangled precariously from his mouth—the universal sign of the chronically tardy student.

"I can't believe I overslept again," he mumbled through a mouthful of bread, his voice soft and hesitant even when no one was around to hear it. "Mei is going to kill me."

As if summoned by his thoughts, a sharp voice cut through the morning air.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Mei Nakamura stood at the corner where their paths always converged, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Unlike Hiro, her uniform was immaculate—not a wrinkle in sight, her red tie perfectly straight, her dark hair falling in a neat curtain to her shoulders. Her amber eyes narrowed dangerously as Hiro approached.

"H-hi, Mei," Hiro stammered, finally swallowing the last of his toast. He offered a sheepish smile that had charmed his way out of trouble with teachers and parents alike—but never with Mei. "Sorry I'm late."

"Fifteen minutes," she said, holding up her watch with military precision. "I've been standing here for fifteen minutes. In the cold."

It wasn't particularly cold for April, but Hiro knew better than to point that out.

"I'm really sorry," he said again, his hazel eyes wide and earnest. "My alarm didn't go off, and—"

"Save it." Mei turned on her heel and began marching toward school, her stride purposeful. "We're going to be late because of you. Again."

Hiro scrambled to keep up, nearly tripping over his shoelaces before finally kneeling to tie them. "Wait, Mei!"

She paused, letting out an exasperated sigh that seemed to contain all the frustrations of their seventeen years of shared history. "Hurry up."

As Hiro fumbled with his laces, a group of girls from their class passed by, giggling and waving.

"Good morning, Hiro!" they called in unison, their voices saccharine sweet.

Hiro looked up, his cheeks flushing slightly as he waved back. "G-good morning!"

Mei rolled her eyes so hard it seemed she might strain something. "Seriously? You're going to flirt now?"

"I wasn't flirting," Hiro protested, finally getting to his feet. "I was just being polite."

"Whatever." Mei stomped ahead again, her school bag swinging aggressively at her side.

Hiro sighed and followed, wondering for the thousandth time why Mei Nakamura—the smartest, most capable girl in their year—continued to walk to school with him every day when she clearly found him so annoying. They had been neighbors since they were born, their mothers best friends who had delighted in raising their children together. But somewhere around middle school, Mei had shifted from his closest confidante to... whatever this was.

"The math test is today," Mei said suddenly, not turning around. "Did you study?"

Hiro's blood ran cold. The math test. He had completely forgotten.

"Umm..."

Mei stopped and turned to face him, her expression a mixture of annoyance and something else—concern, perhaps, though she'd never admit it. "You forgot."

It wasn't a question. Hiro stared at his shoes, newly tied but scuffed from his morning rush.

"I was going to study, but I got distracted by that new game and—"

"Unbelievable." Mei shook her head. Then, with movements sharp enough to cut glass, she reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly stapled packet of papers. "Here."

Hiro blinked at the offering. "What's this?"

"Study notes. The test covers chapters five through seven." She thrust the papers at him. "There are practice problems on the last three pages."

Hiro took the packet, staring at it in wonder. The notes were immaculate, color-coded, with important formulas highlighted in yellow. It must have taken hours.

"Mei, did you... make these for me?"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped, but her cheeks had turned the faintest shade of pink. "I made them for myself. These are copies."

"But you never need study notes. You always get perfect scores without—"

"Just take them before I change my mind!" She spun around and resumed walking, her pace even faster than before.

Hiro carefully placed the notes in his bag, a warm feeling spreading through his chest despite the morning chill. He jogged to catch up with her.

"Thank you," he said softly when he reached her side.

"I don't need your gratitude," Mei replied, but her voice had lost some of its edge. "I just don't want to hear you whining when you fail."

They walked in silence for a moment, their footsteps falling into a familiar rhythm. The school came into view, its brick buildings standing tall against the clear spring sky.

"Hey, Mei?" Hiro ventured.

"What now?"

"Why do you still wait for me every morning?"

Mei faltered for just a moment, her confident stride breaking pattern. She recovered quickly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder with unnecessary force.

"Because your mother asked my mother to make sure you get to school," she said, the words coming out in a rehearsed rush. "And unlike some people, I keep my promises."

"That was in first grade," Hiro pointed out, a rare moment of boldness. "We're seniors now."

Mei stopped just outside the school gates, her back rigid. For a moment, Hiro thought she might actually answer him honestly. Then the bell rang, and the moment shattered.

"We're late," she declared, as if this was new information. "Thanks to you."

She stormed through the gates without looking back, leaving Hiro standing alone, the phantom warmth of her study notes in his bag and the lingering question on his lips.

As he watched her disappear into the school building, he couldn't help but wonder what went on behind those fierce amber eyes—and why, despite everything, he couldn't imagine starting his day without her.

Hiro barely made it to his seat before their homeroom teacher, Ms. Yoshida, entered the classroom. As he slid into his chair, he caught Mei's gaze from across the room. She quickly looked away, but not before Hiro noticed the slight furrow of her brow. Was that concern?

Throughout morning announcements, Hiro couldn't focus. Instead, he carefully pulled out Mei's study notes, flipping through them under his desk. Each page was meticulously organized, with important formulas underlined and potential test questions circled. In the margins, there were even small notes that addressed his specific weaknesses: *Remember to distribute the negative* and *Don't forget to check units*.

These weren't just copies of her own notes. These were made specifically for him.

When the bell rang for their first break, Hiro expected Mei to approach his desk with her usual lecture about his tardiness or lack of preparation. Instead, she remained in her seat, seemingly engrossed in a book. It was unusual enough that he found himself walking toward her instead.

"Hey," he said, stopping beside her desk.

Mei didn't look up. "What do you want?"

"These notes..." He placed the packet on her desk. "You made these for me, didn't you? Not for yourself."

A flash of panic crossed her face before she schooled her expression back to indifference. "I told you, they're copies."

"But they have all these little reminders that only apply to me. Like here—" he pointed to a note that read *factoring is not the same as distribution, Hiro!* "—you'd never make that mistake."

Mei snatched the packet back. "Fine. I made them for you. Happy now?"

"But why?" Hiro asked, genuinely puzzled. "You always act like I'm such a burden."

Something vulnerable flickered in Mei's eyes for just a moment. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if reconsidering her words.

"Nakamura! Tanaka!" Their math teacher, Mr. Sato, called from the doorway. "If you're so eager to discuss mathematics, perhaps you'd like to be the first to take the test?"

Mei stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair. "Sorry, sir. We were just reviewing."

As they followed Mr. Sato to the math classroom, Hiro leaned close to whisper, "You never answered my question."

"Focus on your test, idiot," she muttered, but there was no real bite to her words.

---

The math test was exactly as difficult as Hiro had feared. Quadratic equations, logarithms, and trigonometric functions blurred together on the page. But each time he felt panic rising, he remembered something from Mei's notes—a formula, a technique, a warning about common pitfalls.

Halfway through the test, he glanced across the room to where Mei sat, her pencil moving confidently across her paper. As if sensing his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes met, and to his surprise, she gave him a small, encouraging nod before returning to her work.

That tiny gesture filled Hiro with unexpected determination. He bent over his test with renewed focus, working through each problem step by step, just as Mei's notes had outlined.

When the bell rang signaling the end of the period, Hiro had answered every question. He couldn't be sure they were all correct, but for the first time in a math test, he'd actually tried his best.

---

"How'd it go?" 

Hiro jumped at the sound of Mei's voice. She was waiting for him outside the classroom, leaning against the wall with forced casualness.

"I think... I think it went okay," he admitted, surprised by his own optimism. "Thanks to your notes."

Mei nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Maybe next time you'll actually study on your own."

"Maybe," Hiro agreed, though they both knew it was unlikely. As they walked toward the cafeteria, he gathered his courage. "Mei, can I ask you something?"

She sighed. "If you must."

"This morning, when I asked why you still wait for me... you didn't really answer."

Mei's steps faltered slightly. "I did answer. I made a promise—"

"To my mom when we were six," Hiro finished. "But that doesn't explain why you still do it. Or why you made those notes for me. Or why you always act like you can't stand me but then do these... kind things."

They had reached the cafeteria doors, but neither made a move to enter. The hallway was emptying as students rushed to lunch, leaving them in a pocket of relative privacy.

Mei stared at the floor, her hands gripping the straps of her backpack so tightly her knuckles whitened. When she finally spoke, her voice was so quiet Hiro had to lean closer to hear.

"Have you ever considered that maybe I don't know how to be any other way with you?"

Before Hiro could process what she meant, a cheerful voice called out.

"Hiro! There you are!"

Akari Kimura, the class representative and undisputed prettiest girl in their year, bounded up to them, her signature bright smile in place. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Oh, hi, Akari," Hiro said, acutely aware of how Mei had suddenly stiffened beside him.

"I wanted to ask if you'd like to work together on the literature project?" Akari tucked a strand of perfectly styled hair behind her ear. "I think we'd make great partners."

"Um..." Hiro glanced at Mei, whose face had gone carefully blank.

"Don't let me interrupt," Mei said coldly, already stepping away. "I'm sure you two have a lot to discuss."

"Mei, wait—" Hiro started, but she was already walking away, her back straight and her steps measured.

"Is she okay?" Akari asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"I... I don't know," Hiro admitted, watching Mei's retreating figure. For someone he'd known his entire life, he suddenly felt like he understood her less than ever.

And yet, her words echoed in his mind: *Maybe I don't know how to be any other way with you.*

What did that mean? And why did watching her walk away make him feel like he was losing something important—something he hadn't even realized he had?