Prologue: The Sound of Rain, The Silence Between Us

The rain hadn’t stopped since dawn.
It whispered against the windows like it had secrets to keep.
Inside the classroom, laughter rang out, desks scraped back and forth, umbrellas dripped quietly by the door.

Aizawa Haruki sat by the window, chin resting on his hand, eyes lost in the soft gray outside.

From behind him, a voice called, “Haruki-kun, you’re spacing out again.”

“Hm?” He turned with a gentle smile, the one everyone seemed to like. “Ah, sorry, Kana. Just thinking.”

Arisawa Kana rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder playfully. “You’re too perfect for your own good. Thinking about your fan club again?”

He chuckled. “Not this time.”

She laughed and returned to her seat, and just like that, the moment passed—as they always did. Haruki turned back toward the window, his smile fading as quickly as it came.

Down below, weaving through the crowd with her head lowered, was her.
Tachibana Aizuna.

A second-year like him. A name most barely knew.

She walked without an umbrella, raindrops soaking her dark hair, her uniform clinging faintly to her shoulders. Her footsteps were slow, almost careful—as if each one was a secret she didn’t want to share.

Haruki’s gaze lingered.

He didn’t know why.

Maybe it was the way she moved like she was part of the rain.
Maybe it was because she looked like she didn’t belong in this noisy world either.
Or maybe… because she never looked up.

Monday, 7:51 AM — Stairwell Landing
Aizuna’s POV

It’s always the same. Footsteps. Voices. Rain. Too loud. Too bright. Too much.

She pressed her back against the cool stairwell wall, just out of sight from the classroom hallway, her headphones resting silently around her neck.

She didn’t play music. Not anymore.
She liked the rain better.

It didn’t ask questions. It didn’t expect her to smile.

She took a breath and slowly walked down the hall, avoiding the crowded lockers. Someone brushed past her shoulder without apology. She barely flinched.

From somewhere nearby, someone said, “Aizawa-kun looked at me this morning—can you believe it?”

She kept walking.

The name bounced in her head longer than she expected.
Haruki Aizawa.
Too popular. Too perfect.

The kind of boy who shined so brightly, people like her weren’t supposed to look directly at him.

…But hadn’t he looked at her, too?
Just once. Just this morning.

Maybe she imagined it.
She always imagined things.

Monday, 3:58 PM — Sakura High Front Gate
Haruki’s POV

The sky remained gray as school let out. Umbrellas bloomed across the courtyard like a field of mushrooms. His friends laughed behind him, talking about karaoke, movies, ramen—things he should care about.

He waved goodbye and turned down the hill alone.

The rain felt nice today. Cold, but honest.

He pulled his hood up and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Then, out of the corner of his eye—a flicker of movement.

A girl stepping into the crosswalk. Her head down. No umbrella.

His steps slowed.

A flash of white.

A speeding car. Too fast. Too careless.

His heart jumped.

The girl—
It’s her.

And in that moment, everything else disappeared.

Time slows — Aizuna’s POV

Her foot touched the street.

Raindrops blurred her vision, but something sharp cut through it.

A shout.

A shadow.

Then—

Warmth.

Force.

Pain.

Her back hit the pavement. Hard.

A moment later, something heavier landed beside her. A groan. A gasp.

She blinked, eyes wide, breath stolen.

“Wha…”

She turned her head.

There was blood.
On the concrete.
On his face.

“Aizawa… Haruki…?”

The name escaped her lips like a breath she didn’t know she held. Her voice cracked. Shaking.

He didn’t move.

The rain kept falling.

She reached toward him with trembling fingers.

Monday, 4:01 PM — The Streets Below Sakura High

The rain didn’t stop.

It kept falling, drumming steadily against pavement and skin alike—as if time itself had forgotten how to move on.

Aizuna knelt on the soaked asphalt, her knees raw, her palms trembling. The world around her was nothing but a blur of gray and red, noise and silence all at once.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Aizawa-kun…” she whispered again, her voice barely a thread. The sight of him—motionless, blood trickling from his temple, his left leg twisted unnaturally—seared itself into her memory with a cruel, stinging clarity.

A man’s voice broke through the fog. “Oh my god—someone call an ambulance! Are they okay?!”

The driver. He had jumped out of the car, his face pale, eyes wide with panic. He dropped to his knees beside them, frantically fumbling for his phone. “I didn’t see her—I swear I didn’t see them!”

His words fell away. None of it mattered.

A crowd had started to gather—students, commuters, strangers with umbrellas standing uselessly as the rain soaked everything. Whispers rippled through them like falling leaves.

She didn’t remember when it started. Maybe it had been the moment she saw the blood. Maybe it was when his name slipped past her lips like a prayer she was too late to say. Her shoulders shook violently. Her hands reached toward him, hovered helplessly in the air.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Her voice cracked. “Please… wake up…”

Then came the sirens.

Red and blue light flickered across wet faces. Tires splashed as an ambulance screeched to a halt. Uniformed EMTs rushed forward, their words clipped and professional.

“Male, late teens, blunt trauma to head and leg—conscious?”
“No pulse in the leg—possible compound fracture!”
“Stabilize the head—check the airway!”

Aizuna didn’t understand half the words.

Someone gently grabbed her shoulders. “Miss, you need to step back—are you injured?”

She blinked up at them through tears. “I… I’m fine…”

“You’re shaking. Come with us.”

She didn’t resist when they helped her stand, wrapping a thick blanket around her shoulders. Her body moved on its own—numb, cold, distant. But her eyes never left Haruki as they loaded him onto the stretcher.

“Wait—please—” she stumbled forward, rainwater splashing beneath her shoes. “Is he… is he going to be okay?”

“We’ll do everything we can,” one of the EMTs said gently, before climbing into the back with him.

She climbed in too.

The doors closed. The city disappeared.

Monday, 4:39 PM — Emergency Waiting Room, Tokyo General Hospital

Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The rain was gone now, muffled by walls and ceilings, replaced by the low murmur of nurses and the steady beep of machines.

Aizuna sat alone, a borrowed hoodie over her drenched uniform. Her hair clung to her cheeks. Her fingers clutched the edge of the blanket like it was the only real thing left in the world.

Every second felt like a punishment.

She’d barely spoken since they arrived. The EMTs had checked her for injuries—minor scrapes, nothing serious—but she hadn’t heard much after that. Just the doors swinging open. Just Haruki’s stretcher vanishing down the white corridor.

He didn’t move…

Her eyes burned. Her throat ached. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The ER door slid open again.

She looked up.

Four figures stood in the hallway’s glow—soaked from the rain, eyes wide with fear.

Haruki’s family.

His mother, dignified even in panic. His father, tall and stern-faced, gripping an umbrella tightly in one fist. A girl—slightly older than Haruki, her eyes sharp like his. And a smaller one, maybe ten, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

The moment their eyes found Aizuna, she stood.

Then dropped to her knees.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

The words tumbled out—messy, broken, breathless.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. He got hurt because of me—I didn’t see—I didn’t think—”

Her voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to— I didn’t—please, I didn’t want this—”

She bowed lower, forehead pressing against the cold floor.

“Please… please forgive me…”

The words rushed out in broken sobs. “It’s my fault—he got hurt because of me—I didn’t see—I didn’t mean for any of this to happen—”

She bowed deeply, forehead to the cold hospital floor.

Silence.

Then—

Warmth.

Haruki’s mother knelt down, arms wrapping tightly around Aizuna’s shaking frame.

Aizuna froze.

“I… I—” her voice caught in her throat.

“It’s alright,” the woman said softly. “You’re safe. He’s safe. That’s what matters.”

And that—

That was what broke her.

Her sobs exploded from her chest like a dam giving way. She clung to Haruki’s mother like she was the only anchor in a world that wouldn’t stop spinning. Tears fell freely now, soaking fabric, fingers clutching at sleeves as she cried harder than she ever had in her life.

She didn’t care who was watching.

Not the sharp eyes, not the whispers.

Not even the sterile hospital walls closing in around her.

Her chest heaved, each breath a ragged whisper in the quiet room.

Time slowed—every heartbeat loud, every tear heavy as stone.

For once, she wasn’t the quiet girl, the shadow at the back of the room.

She was just a girl crumbling under the weight of a future that almost never came.

And as her sobs spilled, a faint, distant sound echoed—a slow, steady drip from a forgotten faucet, like a clock marking the fragile seconds they still had left.

Monday, 5:03 PM — Outside the ER

The door slid open again.

A doctor stepped out, removing his mask.

“Are you the Aizawa family?” he asked.

They all stood. Aizuna wiped her face, still sniffling but alert.

The doctor offered a tired smile.

“He’s stable. CT scans show no internal bleeding. He has a fractured femur in his left leg, some bruised ribs, and a mild concussion. But no permanent damage.”

A breath seemed to fill the entire room.

“He’ll need surgery for the leg,” the doctor continued, “and some rest—but I expect a full recovery.”

Haruki’s mother took a step forward and gently placed a hand on Aizuna’s shoulder.

“You did your best,” she said softly, voice full of kindness. “He’s going to be okay.”

Aizuna blinked, overwhelmed by the warmth in those words—words she hadn’t expected to hear.

Tears welled again, but this time they were softer—less desperate.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

And for the first time in hours, hope blossomed quietly beneath the storm.

Monday, 5:08 PM — Emergency Waiting Room, Tokyo General Hospital

The sterile white lights still buzzed quietly above.

The tension in the room had finally begun to ease, like a storm slowly lifting from soaked ground. Haruki’s family sat nearby — their shoulders slightly slumped, exhaustion softening the lines on their faces. Relief had cracked the coldness of the hospital walls.

Aizuna stood a little away from them.

The oversized hoodie still hung off her frame, damp at the edges. Her hair clung to her cheeks, eyelashes heavy with leftover tears. But her hands had finally stopped trembling.

And yet…

There was still a weight in her chest. A knot that refused to unravel.

She bowed again, deeper this time. Her voice was small but steady.

“…My name is Tachibana Aizuna.”

Everyone looked up.

“I’m in the same year as Haruki-kun. 2nd-Year, Class B. I… I was the one he saved today.”

Her eyes stared at the floor as if it might swallow her whole.

“I know saying thank you isn’t enough. And saying I’m sorry doesn’t erase what happened. But still…” she bit her lower lip, voice trembling again, “I owe him my life. And I’ll never forget that. So please… let me take responsibility. Let me repay him—somehow. Anything.”

Silence.

Then—
A quiet sound.

A soft, warm chuckle.

It came from Haruki’s mother.

Aizuna looked up, startled. “Eh…?”

Haruki’s mother had her hand to her mouth, smiling gently. “I don’t know about that, Aizuna-chan.”

“B-but… I mean it!” Aizuna’s hands clenched the blanket tighter. “I really—”

“You’re already doing enough,” the woman said, standing up and walking over. Her steps were light, but firm. “You stayed with him. You didn’t run. You cried for him like he was already someone precious to you.”

Aizuna’s eyes widened.

Haruki’s mother crouched down, looking her in the eyes with a softness only a mother could carry.

“That’s more than enough for me.”

Aizuna blinked, the tears threatening again. Her voice came out like a whisper. “…But I still feel like I don’t deserve that kindness.”

The woman smiled. “Then how about this? You can keep being kind to him. Even after he wakes up.”

Her words felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

“…Eh?”

“Haruki’s strong, but even he needs someone who understands him. Someone who doesn’t expect him to smile all the time.” She stood back up, brushing off her skirt. “I have a feeling he found that in you.”

Aizuna’s breath caught.

Just then, the younger sister — the one clutching the stuffed rabbit — tugged at her sleeve.

“You’re pretty,” the girl mumbled.

“E-EHHHH!?” Aizuna turned bright red. “Th-Thanks….”

The father let out a sigh, though there was the faintest curve of amusement on his face.

Haruki’s mother simply laughed.

“I like her already.”

Aizuna didn’t know what to say.

Her heart pounded. Her face burned.

But somewhere, buried under the guilt and confusion…
Was something else.

Something warmer.

Hope.

The car ride was quiet at first.

The soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic pattern of rain against the windows filled the silence like a lullaby.

Aizuna sat in the back seat, her small frame bundled in one of Haruki’s father’s jackets, hands nervously folded over her lap. Her damp school bag rested by her feet. She still felt the weight of everything — the accident, the hospital lights, the smell of antiseptic, and Haruki’s pale hand slipping away from hers.

She fidgeted with her fingers.

She could barely bring herself to look around.

Beside her, in the middle seat, sat a girl no older than thirteen. Short brown hair tied into a half-ponytail, arms crossed, head tilted sideways.

She was staring at her.

“…You’re really quiet,” the girl finally said, bluntly.

Aizuna flinched. “A-ah—s-sorry…”

The girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are you Onii-chan’s girlfriend?”

“EEEHH?! N-N-NO!! I—W-WE’RE NOT—!!”

The girl leaned back and grinned.

“…Huh. You’re funny.”

Aizuna covered her face with both hands, wishing she could melt into the leather seat.

From the passenger side, Haruki’s older sister — tall, elegant, and wearing the uniform of Sakura High’s third years — turned slightly with a smile.

“Don’t tease her too much, Rin. She’s probably still shaken up.”

“I’m not teasing!” Rin said. “I just asked a question! Besides, she’s weird in a cute way.”

Aizuna made a quiet, high-pitched squeak as her ears turned red.

“…I’m not… cute…” she mumbled.

The older sister chuckled. “You’re Aizuna-chan, right? I’m Aizawa Saki. I’ve heard Haruki talk about you before.”

Aizuna’s head shot up in surprise. “H-he… talks about me?”

Saki nodded, her smile softening. “Not in detail, but... he always mentioned a quiet girl who stays late in the library. Said she reminded him of the moon.”

Aizuna blinked.

“…The moon…?”

“Mmhmm,” Saki looked out the rain-covered window. “Quiet. Mysterious. But still… bright.”

That word hit Aizuna deeper than she expected.

Bright.

Me?

She didn’t know how to respond. Her fingers curled into the sleeves of her borrowed jacket.

In the front seat, Haruki’s parents were chatting gently. His mother whispered something, and his father let out a low chuckle — the kind of laugh that came from years of love and understanding.

The car wasn’t just a vehicle.

It felt like a small world.

A warm, moving space where the cold couldn’t reach her. Where silence didn’t feel so lonely.

Aizuna leaned slightly against the window, eyes heavy, listening to the soft murmur of the Aizawa family as the city lights blurred past.

“…I’ll bring her some curry rice,” Haruki’s mother said suddenly. “She’s probably starving.”

“No spicy stuff, dear,” the father murmured. “She looks delicate.”

“…I’m not delicate,” Aizuna whispered, half-asleep, half-defiant.

Rin snorted.

“Yup. She’s weird. I like her.”

The soft thrum of tires against the wet pavement came to a stop.

Haruki’s father shifted the car into park in front of a modest two-story home nestled between rows of sleepy houses and swaying hydrangeas. The rain had slowed, no longer falling in sheets, but in a delicate drizzle — as if even the sky had tired from crying.

Aizuna blinked herself awake.

“We’re here, Aizuna-chan,” Haruki’s mother said gently, turning back from the front seat.

“Ah—!” Aizuna sat upright, realizing she’d nearly nodded off against the window. “I-I’m so sorry…”

“No need to apologize. You’ve had a long day,” she smiled.

The moment Aizuna stepped out into the cool air, the porch light flicked on.

Her heart skipped.

The front door of the Tachibana residence opened with a soft click.

“Aizuna?!”

Her mother’s voice was sharp, panicked.

Tachibana Mariko stood at the entrance, barefoot, her apron still tied around her waist. Her eyes locked onto her daughter’s small frame — bundled in a jacket too large, face pale, hair damp, her school bag clutched like a lifeline.

A tall man emerged behind her — Aizuna’s father, Tachibana Shou, still in his office shirt, tie loose, worrying furrowing his brow.

“M-Mom… Dad…” Aizuna’s voice cracked as she stepped forward.

Mariko rushed out immediately, pulling her daughter into her arms. “Where were you?! We’ve been calling—why didn’t you answer? Are you okay?! What happened?!”

“I…” Aizuna bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to worry you… I just… there was an accident…”

Behind her, Haruki’s family quietly stepped out of the car. Haruki’s mother gave a respectful bow toward the Tachibanas. “Good evening. I’m Aizawa Tomomi — we’re the family of the boy who helped your daughter today.”

Shou stepped forward, eyes still full of tension. “The one who got hit by the car?”

Tomomi nodded gently. “Yes. Our son, Haruki. He’s… doing better now.”

Mariko looked between them, slowly easing her grip on Aizuna, her voice hushed with guilt. “I… heard something on the news, but I didn’t think… oh gods…”

“Please don’t blame her,” Tomomi added, smiling gently. “She stayed with him the whole time. Even when the ambulance came. She was shaking. Crying. But she didn’t leave his side.”

Mariko turned to Aizuna, hands trembling. “Is that true…?”

Aizuna’s eyes welled again. She gave a small nod. “I—I couldn’t leave him… He… he smiled at me even when he was hurt. He pushed me out of the way and—”

Shou slowly crouched down in front of her. His large, calloused hands rested on her shoulders.

“You’re safe… that’s all that matters right now.”

A moment of silence passed.

Then, Tomomi stepped forward. “She’s been through a lot. We thought it’d be best if we brought her home ourselves.”

Mariko nodded. “Thank you so much. We’re deeply… deeply grateful.”

“I also wanted to say,” Tomomi added with a smile, “she tried to bow and say she’d repay us. As if she owed Haruki something.”

Aizuna immediately went red. “T-Tomomi-san…!”

Shou blinked in surprise. “Repay? Aizuna…”

“She was serious,” Tomomi chuckled. “But I told her — staying by his side was enough. She cried so hard for him.”

Mariko’s expression softened completely. She pulled Aizuna close once more, tears in her own eyes now. “You’re too kind for your own good, sweetheart…”

Tomomi added gently, “She also hasn’t eaten anything. We were planning to bring her some curry rice, but I think she needed home more than food.”

Mariko blinked. “Oh my god. You poor thing—come inside, right now!”

“I can explain everything,” Aizuna said quickly, wiping her cheeks, “about what happened and… everything I did…”

“We’ll listen,” Shou said firmly, putting a hand on her head.

Then he turned to the Aizawas, bowing low. “From the bottom of our hearts… Thank you. For being with her. For bringing her back.”

Tomomi smiled, and beside her, Rin gave a little wave. “She’s cool,” the younger sister said. “Even if she’s weird.”

Aizuna turned red again. “R-Rin-chan…!”

Saki chuckled. “She’ll be alright, I think.”

As the Tachibanas ushered Aizuna inside, Mariko turned back. “Please tell your son we’ll be visiting as soon as we’re allowed. And that we’re wishing him a full recovery.”

Tomomi nodded. “Of course.”

As the door closed behind them, and the Aizawas returned to the car, Aizuna felt something strange bloom in her chest.

She had come home.

But her heart was still reaching toward someone else.

Toward him.

Monday, 7:11 PM — Tachibana Residence, Dining Room

The air inside the house was warm, laced with the gentle scent of miso and freshly cooked rice. The steam from a simmering pot curled softly beneath the ceiling light, casting slow shadows across the wooden dining table.

Aizuna sat in her usual chair, hair slightly damp, now changed into a loose white sweatshirt and pale pink lounge pants. Her cheeks were still faintly red from the heat of the shower — and the emotions that hadn’t quite cooled.

She clutched the cup of barley tea her mother had poured for her, fingers curled tightly around the warmth as if trying to convince herself this was real. That she was home. Safe.

Across from her sat her mother, Mariko, wiping her hands on her apron before folding them in her lap.

Her father, Shou, returned from the kitchen, placing a small bowl of chicken porridge in front of Aizuna before settling beside them. His usual stern expression was softened tonight — eyes clouded not with judgment, but concern.

For a moment, no one said a word.

Just the quiet clinks of the clock on the wall. The whisper of wind against the rain-dappled windows.

Then—

“…Aizuna,” her mother said gently, “can you tell us everything?”

The girl didn’t look up at first.

Her voice was soft. Barely above a whisper.

“I was late leaving school again. It… it started with that. I stayed behind like always. Then it started raining.”

She stared at the tea. Her reflection wobbled slightly in the cup.

“I didn’t want to go back with the others. So I waited. But when I left the gates, they were there. Again.”

Her mother’s hands tensed.

“They surrounded me. Said I was weird. That I thought I was better than them. That I stare too much, or I don’t talk enough. They always say that…”

Mariko’s breath caught, but she stayed quiet.

Aizuna’s voice trembled, though her face stayed composed.

“I didn’t say anything back. I just walked… I don’t even know where I was going. I didn’t care. I felt like I just kept walking… maybe I’d disappear somewhere no one could reach me.”

Shou’s jaw clenched slightly. He didn’t interrupt.

“I remember the rain getting heavier. My shoes were soaked. The cars were honking. And then…”

Her eyes flicked up, glassy and distant.

“There was a light. A horn. I heard my name—”

Her voice cracked.

“—and then he was there. Haruki-kun… he pushed me out of the way. He—he saved me. Just like that. Without even thinking.”

Tears welled again, sliding down her cheeks silently.

“I—I didn’t even notice him there. But he was. And now he’s in the hospital. With a broken leg. All because I was too scared to stand up for myself…”

Mariko got up quietly and moved to her daughter’s side, kneeling beside her. She placed a gentle hand on Aizuna’s arm, eyes brimming with pain.

“Honey… why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Aizuna shook her head, brushing away the tears.

“Because I didn’t want to cause trouble. And I didn’t want… to ruin their lives. I thought… maybe if I stayed quiet, it would stop eventually.”

Shou let out a slow, heavy breath. His large hands pressed together in front of him, thumb tapping slowly against his knuckle.

“You didn’t want to make enemies,” he said softly.

Aizuna nodded.

“I’m not brave like Haruki-kun… I can’t just… say everything I feel. Or fight back. But even now… even now, I don’t want those girls to get expelled. Or hurt. I just… I just want to be left alone.”

Mariko’s voice cracked. “You’re so gentle, Aizuna…”

Shou looked at his wife, his voice low but steady.

“We’ll respect what you want. But we’re not going to ignore this, either. Even if we don’t confront them directly… we can talk to the school. Subtly. Carefully.”

“I don’t want it to be a scandal,” Aizuna whispered. “I don’t want people to start whispering more…”

Mariko nodded slowly, smoothing her daughter’s hair. “Then we’ll be careful. I promise.”

They sat in silence for a while.

Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the soft rain returning outside.

Finally, Aizuna lifted her spoon and took a small bite of porridge.

It was warm. Soft. Gentle on her stomach.

“…Thank you,” she whispered.

Her mother leaned against her shoulder. Her father leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

They didn’t say it aloud — but in that moment, Aizuna understood something without needing the words.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

Not in that dark hallway at school.

Not in the cold rain.

Not even in the guilt she carried.

She had come home.

And they would hold her, even in the silence.

A sliver of golden light spilled through the curtains, casting soft stripes over the wooden floorboards of Aizuna’s bedroom.

The rain was gone.

The world outside her window was painted in hues of pale blue and gentle gold — the afterglow of a storm that had finally passed.

Aizuna stirred beneath her blanket. Her eyes blinked open slowly, lashes fluttering like the wings of a moth. For a few moments, she simply lay there, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. The ache in her chest from yesterday still lingered… but it felt lighter. Not gone, not forgotten — but manageable. Like a bruise instead of a wound.

She sat up quietly, the blanket pooling around her waist.

Her fingers brushed against the sleeves of her school uniform already laid out at the foot of her bed — neatly folded, still faintly warm from the iron her mother must have used. She stared at it for a second longer before nodding slightly and slipping off the bed.

After changing, she stepped in front of the mirror.

Dark brown hair, freshly washed the night before, now fell softly around her shoulders. Her eyes… looked a little clearer. Still tired, but clearer. She tied her ribbon with gentle fingers and took one last glance at her reflection.

Then she stepped out of her room.

“—Aizunaaa!”

The call came from downstairs — a voice brimming with energy and concern at the same time.

Aizuna blinked. She padded down the hall and reached the top of the stairs… only to see a familiar figure standing in the entryway, still pulling off her shoes.

Her older sister — Tachibana Hiyori.

With shoulder-length dark hair and the confident aura of a college student, Hiyori practically dropped her duffel bag and rushed up the stairs two at a time.

“Aizuna!! I came as soon as I heard—are you okay?!”

“Hi-Hiyo-nee…?”

She was suddenly pulled into a hug that squeezed all the air from her lungs.

“Geez, why didn’t you or Mom call me earlier? Do you know how much I panicked when I saw the message?!”

Aizuna smiled faintly, patting her sister’s back. “Sorry… I didn’t want to make you worry…”

“Too late, dummy.”

They both laughed softly, though Hiyori’s voice trembled slightly.

Downstairs, the sound of plates clinking came from the dining room. Their parents were up.

Aizuna gently pulled away and gave her sister a reassuring look. “I’m okay now. Really.”

Hiyori studied her for a second longer, then gave a slow, reluctant nod.

“Okay. But if anyone messes with you again—”

“I’ll call you,” Aizuna said quickly, already anticipating her sister’s overprotective streak.

Satisfied, Hiyori let her go.

Aizuna walked downstairs, the smell of breakfast greeting her — rice, miso soup, and grilled salmon. Her mother placed a bowl onto the table with her usual quiet grace, and her father, dressed for work, looked up from his newspaper.

“Oh, good morning,” her mother said gently. “Did you sleep well?”

Aizuna nodded. “Mm. Morning…”

She sat down at the table.

The four of them shared a calm, quiet breakfast together. And for once… it didn’t feel awkward.

As she finished the last bite of rice, Aizuna stood up, picked up her schoolbag from the chair, and reached for the small cast-iron frying pan by the door.

“I’m off.”

“Take care,” her father called.

Her mother added, “Tell your teacher if you feel unwell, alright?”

“I will.”

Hiyori waved. “Don’t forget to text me, okay?”

Aizuna smiled.

Then she stepped outside — into the sunlight

The morning sun draped itself across the pavement in long golden beams. The air smelled like wet earth and clean wind — the kind of scent that only came after a rain.

Aizuna walked past the school gate quietly, adjusting the strap of her schoolbag on her shoulder. Her steps were small, but steady. Students milled about, chatting, laughing, running to their clubs or morning homeroom.

Everything seemed normal.

And yet… she could feel the difference.

A few heads turned as she passed. Some whispered. Others only glanced her way with a mix of curiosity and concern. Aizuna lowered her gaze and walked a little faster.

Class 2-B.

She reached the classroom, her hand pausing briefly on the sliding door.

A small exhale escaped her lips.

Then she slid it open.

“—AIZUNA!!!”

“HUH—?!”

Before she could even react, three blurs of energy tackled her like a wave.

Miku, Ayame, and Nico.

Her three closest friends — loud, dramatic, loyal to the core.

Miku — with her fluffy twin-tails and pink scrunchies — was practically sobbing into Aizuna’s shoulder.

“You scared us so much!! Why didn’t you call or text?!”

Ayame — the tallest, calmest one, with long black hair tied in a ribbon — stood behind them, arms crossed, but her eyes were glassy.

“We heard from the teachers. A freaking car accident, Aizuna? Really?!”

Nico — the short one with glasses — was pushing her way through the hug pile. “Are you okay?! Did you hit your head? Do you have a concussion? How many fingers am I holding up?!”

“G-guys—” Aizuna sputtered, overwhelmed by the sudden affection. “I’m… I’m okay…!”

“Don’t lie to us!” Miku wailed. “You were missing the whole day! And then we heard Aizawa-kun was hospitalized too!”

Ayame frowned. “What happened, seriously?”

Aizuna looked down.

The memories came rushing back — the headlights, the rain, Haruki’s arm pushing her aside. His blood on the pavement. His smile…

Her voice came out quiet.

“He saved me.”

All three of her friends froze.

“…Aizawa-kun?”

Aizuna nodded slowly. “If he didn’t pull me away… I’d be the one in the hospital.”

There was a long silence.

Then, unexpectedly, Nico wiped her eyes. “That idiot…”

Ayame looked away, biting her lip.

Miku simply hugged her tighter.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

Aizuna closed her eyes for a moment.

She felt the warmth of her friends — their worry, their love, their tears — and something inside her slowly softened.

Maybe… she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

Sakura High School – Class 2-B

The day passed in the quiet rhythm of school life.

The white chalk scraped across the board. Pens scratched softly against notebooks. Outside, the wind stirred the leaves of the sakura trees, now green with early summer.

Aizuna sat in her usual seat near the window, a calm expression on her face. Her eyes followed the teacher's notes, her handwriting delicate and clean. It felt like a normal day — and in many ways, it was.

But beneath that calm surface… a part of her heart still pulsed with everything that had happened.

Every now and then, her eyes drifted toward the empty seat near the back of the class.

Aizawa Haruki.

Her chest ached faintly, just thinking about him. But she turned her gaze back to her textbook, lips tightening into a small, determined line.

At lunch, her friends dragged her out to the courtyard like usual.

Miku unwrapped her panda-shaped onigiri with a grin. “I made them extra cute today! Eat, eat!”

Nico adjusted her glasses and unboxed a massive bento stuffed with fried shrimp. “Emotional support ebi fry.”

Ayame simply sat down and opened a thermos of miso soup. “Try not to get dramatic, you two.”

Aizuna smiled softly, lifting her own neatly prepared bento — small, simple, filled with her mother’s leftovers and a few tamagoyaki slices she’d made herself.

It felt nice.

The sun was warm. The breeze was gentle. Her friends talked about manga, midterms, celebrity scandals — nothing heavy, nothing sad. She let herself sink into that normalcy for a while.

And just like that, the rest of the school day blurred by — until the final bell rang.

Ding-dong, ding-dong…

The halls echoed with the familiar melody as the classroom door slid open and students began gathering their bags.

“Bye, Aizuna! See you tomorrow!”

“Don’t forget the math homework!”

As Aizuna stood by her desk, zipping up her bag, Miku suddenly popped up beside her with a hopeful grin.

“Hey, hey—karaoke with us today? Just one hour! There’s a new machine with the hologram thingy!”

Nico chimed in. “I made a playlist. I even put in the song Haruki sang at last year’s culture fest.”

Ayame raised an eyebrow. “It’s okay if you say no. But we figured… y’know. Might cheer you up.”

Aizuna blinked, taken aback.

Karaoke… with them?

The thought was oddly tempting — just for a second.

But then her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, and her voice came gently, like a breeze through an open window.

“Thank you… but I’m going to visit Aizawa-kun.”

The three girls blinked.

Then Miku’s eyes widened. “Oh…”

Ayame gave a knowing nod.

Nico made a face like she was holding back tears. “You really like him, huh…”

Aizuna blushed faintly. “I just… want to say thank you. Properly.”

Miku threw both arms around her. “Do it! And tell him we said he’s a dumb hero!”

“Bring him pocky,” Nico added. “Everyone heals faster with pocky.”

Ayame smirked. “Don’t trip on the way there, romance heroine.”

“I won’t…”

With a small smile, Aizuna waved goodbye.

She stepped out into the hallway as the orange light of the late afternoon bathed the school in warmth. Students chartered around her, lockers slammed, and the scent of floor polish lingered in the air.

But she barely noticed.

Her heart had already started walking… toward him.

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the trees as Aizuna stepped out of the school gates.

Her school bag rested lightly on her shoulder, the weight of textbooks familiar — but her mind was elsewhere. Her steps weren’t fast, but they were steady. Purposeful. Like her heart was guiding her more than her feet.

The summer air still carried traces of warmth, and the cicadas had just begun their distant song.

Each passing block blurred in colors of pale orange and gold — vending machines humming, salarymen passing by in quick strides, bicycles clattering down narrow lanes.

But Aizuna barely looked up.

With each step, her thoughts grew louder.

What should I say?
How should I act?
Will he… even want to see me?

Her fingers curled against her school bag strap.

She could still feel the warmth of his hand — the one that had grabbed her wrist, yanked her back from the car’s headlights. She remembered the way he smiled through the pain, how his voice stayed calm even when hers trembled.

He saved me.

Not just from the accident.

But from something deeper.

From feeling invisible. From sinking.

“…Stupid…” she whispered, cheeks puffing faintly. “Why did he do something so reckless…”

The walk to Tokyo General wasn’t long — maybe 25 minutes — but it felt like a small journey.

She passed the flower shop by the station. Its owner, an old woman in a floppy sun hat, smiled at her gently and nodded, as if recognizing something in Aizuna’s face. Aizuna bowed politely and moved on.

At a small intersection, she paused.

The hospital sign was now visible just down the hill — sleek white letters against steel, glowing faintly in the late light.

Her chest tightened.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay.”

And with that, she walked the last stretch.

The hospital lobby smelled like antiseptic and linoleum, but it wasn’t as cold as it had been yesterday.

Aizuna stood quietly at the reception desk, her hands tucked neatly in front of her.

“I’m here to visit… Aizawa Haruki-kun. He’s in the emergency recovery wing.”

The nurse gave her a small smile. “Ah, you’re the girl who came with him yesterday, right? He’s been moved to a private room. Room 304.”

“Thank you.”

She bowed slightly and walked toward the elevators, her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. Her fingers trembled a little as she pressed the button, but her eyes stayed forward.

As she stood in the elevator, watching the red numbers climb, her heart thumped louder than any cicada or clock.

Ding.

The doors slid open.

She stepped into the hallway.

Room 304 was near the end, bathed in sunlight from the window at the hall’s far corner. She walked slowly, her shoes making barely a sound on the polished floor.

And then—

She stood before the door.

Her fingers hovered over the handle. Her breath caught in her throat.

“…Aizawa-kun…”

She hadn’t even opened the door yet, and already his name stirred something in her chest.

A mix of guilt. Gratitude. Confusion.

But also something warmer.

Something gentler.

She pressed her hand to the door, and slowly—quietly—opened it.

Prologue End.