Chapter 2: Closer Than Yesterday

The classroom had settled into a soft lull, the buzz of morning long gone, replaced by the quiet hum of lunch break. Golden sunlight slanted in from the windows, spilling across desks like slow-dripping honey. It lit up the worn tabletops, caught on the faded pleats of uniforms, and danced in the strands of tousled hair.

By the window — her usual sanctuary — Tachibana Aizuna sat quietly with her lunch laid out before her. The slight breeze through the opened pane stirred the ends of her long hair, whispering across her skin. Her friends’ chatter—Miku’s energetic voice, Ayame’s teasing tones, Nico’s dramatic flair—washed around her like soft waves.

But her mind was drifting.

So were her eyes.

Across the room… to him.

Aizawa Haruki sat a few rows away, surrounded by friends, the crutch leaning against his desk like a quiet reminder. His left leg, still in a brace, stretched slightly forward. He laughed—low and warm, like the sound of a distant piano note played softly. The sound carried across the room, brushing past her ears, making her pause mid-bite.

Her gaze lingered. Not out of curiosity, not exactly. It was something quieter. Gentler. Unnamed.

She watched how the sunlight curled around his light brown hair, the way his lips curved faintly when he smiled. How he pushed up the sleeve of his uniform jacket with one hand, careful with the other, the movements slow and thoughtful.

And then—

He looked up.

Their eyes locked.

Aizuna’s breath caught in her throat.

Her chopsticks froze midair.

Haruki tilted his head slightly, his hair shifting to the side. And then—he smiled. A simple, soft smile. Not flashy. Not forced.

Real.

Then, with an ease that made it feel like a dream, he raised his hand in a small wave.

Just for her.

Her heart stumbled.

Aizuna panicked, ducking her head so fast her long black hair fell like a curtain, hiding her reddening face.

“I—he—huh—!?” she squeaked in disbelief, a breathy gasp escaping.

“Uwaaah, he totally waved at you!!” Miku shrieked, leaning so far over she almost tipped her lunchbox.

Ayame smirked, brow arched. “And she completely short-circuited. Adorable.”

“I saw it all. Full visual. Eye contact, blush, emotional damage,” Nico declared like a scandal-chasing reporter, eyes gleaming with delight.

“I-I wasn’t—he just—shut up!” Aizuna mumbled, voice muffled by her hands as she buried her face.

Outside, tree branches swayed in the wind. The sky stretched pale blue above the rooftops, endless and quiet.

And deep in her chest…

…that fragile bloom of something from yesterday began to unfold just a little more.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Chairs scraped back, voices dipped into murmurs, and notebooks rustled open.

But Aizuna stayed frozen in place, hands covering her cheeks, the heat in her face refusing to fade.

“…He really waved at me,” she whispered, half to herself.

Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear anything else. One hand hovered over the edge of her desk, trying to anchor her, to stop the way her feelings floated higher and higher with every thud of her chest.

“Aizuna-chan~” Miku leaned over again, her teasing grin softer now. “That wasn’t just a wave. That was totally something.”

Ayame crossed her arms, nodding in agreement. “His eyes went straight to you. Not even subtle.”

“You’ve been staring at him a lot too,” Nico chimed in, resting her chin in her hand. “More than usual.”

“I-I haven’t!” Aizuna protested—quietly. Even she didn’t believe it.

“You don’t have to admit it,” Miku said, her voice kind. “We already know.”

Aizuna groaned and pressed her face deeper into her palms. “Why are you guys even paying attention to this…”

“Because we’re your friends, duh,” Ayame replied with a small smile. “It’s what we do.”

There was no judgment in their voices. Just warmth. Just laughter. Just that familiar kind of closeness that made everything feel safe, even the things too scary to name.

And though she grumbled and pouted and mumbled denials…

…a soft, almost invisible smile tugged at her lips.

As the teacher entered and chalk began scratching across the board, Aizuna stole one last glance toward him.

Haruki wasn’t looking this time. His head was lowered, pen in hand, brow furrowed in thought.

But that smile from earlier—

—it hadn’t left her.

It lingered. Like sunlight that had touched her skin and stayed warm, even in shadow.

Without thinking, her fingers moved to the edge of her notebook.

A name.

Haruki.

The second she realized it, she gasped and scribbled it out, the paper crinkling beneath her hand.

Her heart raced.

She pressed a palm against her chest, whispering to herself.

This is nothing. Just a silly phase. Nothing more…

And yet, as her eyes wandered back to the window—to the breeze, to the soft winter light of February—

She couldn’t shake it.

Something inside her was changing.

Something tender. Quiet. Real.

She didn’t know what it would become.

But she hoped…

…maybe…

He’d be there.

Walking beside her.

Even just a little closer than yesterday.

The golden hour cast long shadows over the streets as Aizuna walked home alone, her footsteps echoing faintly through the shopping district. The voices of her classmates had faded into the past, replaced by the gentle clinks of coffee cups and the rumble of distant bicycles.

Her steps slowed.

Before her stood a small patisserie tucked between a bookstore and a florist — Patisserie Lune.

She stepped inside. A silver bell above the door rang sweetly.

The air was thick with the scent of sugar and warmth — vanilla, chocolate, butter. Her shoulders relaxed. Her thoughts stilled.

She wandered slowly, letting her fingers trail the glass cases filled with delicate sweets. Rows of glossy bonbons, heart-shaped truffles, and shimmering macarons stared back at her.

Her hand tightened around the strap of her bag.

“Just… giri,” she whispered.

Obligation chocolate.

But her eyes betrayed her. They lingered on a special box tucked in the corner — deep crimson ribbon, golden embossing, a design that felt almost… personal.

“Excuse me,” a clerk said with a kind smile. “Looking for something special?”

Aizuna hesitated, then softly replied, “I… I think so.”

But even she wasn’t sure what that meant.

She stared a moment longer—then gently shook her head.

And walked out.

Outside, the wind had grown colder. Her breath puffed in soft clouds as she made her way to a grocery store instead.

She didn’t want a perfect box made by someone else.

She wanted something from her hands.

From her heart.

At home, she quietly placed the ingredients on the counter — dark chocolate, cream, butter, a tiny bottle of strawberry syrup. She slipped off her blazer, rolled up her sleeves, tied on an apron, and took a slow breath.

The kitchen was filled with amber light, soft and warm.

She stirred carefully, chocolate and cream swirling together into velvet. Heart-shaped molds stood in a neat row, waiting. Next to them: pale pink boxes with gold string.

She told herself again, “Just giri-choco. That’s all.”

But her heartbeat betrayed her.

A creak behind her.

“Mmm~ What’s this?” her mother’s voice rang like a teasing song.

Aizuna jumped, nearly flinging the whisk.

Behind her stood her mom, holding laundry. And beside her—Hiyori, her older sister, arms crossed, smirking.

“M-Mama! Nee-chan!! D-don’t sneak up like that—!”

“Oh my, what a sweet smell,” her mom said playfully. “Making chocolates this late? Could they be for Aizawa-kun~?”

“Wha—NO!! I-it’s for everyone! Miku, Ayame, Nico—seriously!” Aizuna stammered, flailing.

Hiyori raised a brow. “So you passed up a whole sweets shop just to make chocolates for everyone?”

“I just… felt like cooking!”

Her mom chuckled, setting down the laundry. “That boy did save you, after all. Some gratitude is only natural~”

“And homemade chocolates? Nothing suspicious about that,” Hiyori added, sipping tea.

Together, they leaned in:

“Nee~ Aizuna, is it really just gratitude~?”

“AAAHHH STOP!!” Aizuna howled, covering her ears. “WHY are you both like this?!”

Their laughter filled the kitchen.

But behind her flushed cheeks…

…Aizuna smiled.

She turned back to her chocolate, heart fluttering with something warm.

Not fear.

Hope.

Something sweet was beginning.

Something real.

The house had quieted down after dinner.

Aizuna sat cross-legged on her floor, the soft amber light of her desk lamp casting long shadows across her room. The small heart-shaped box of chocolates lay in front of her, now neatly tied with a pale pink ribbon she’d chosen hours ago. She’d remade the bow five times before deciding it looked "acceptable."

Her fingertips still smelled faintly of cocoa and sugar.

She stared at the box in silence, heart tapping gently against her ribs — not loud, not panicked… just aware. Like it knew something she didn’t.

That’s when—

Knock knock.

A gentle, almost rhythmic knock.

Aizuna blinked and turned toward the door.

“…Aizuna? Can I come in?” Hiyori’s voice was soft, almost knowing.

Aizuna quickly tucked the box beneath a nearby notebook, flustered.

“Y-Yeah. It’s open,” she called out, trying to steady her voice.

The door opened with a soft creak, and Hiyori stepped in, wearing one of Dad’s old sweaters that hung off her shoulders like a blanket. Her eyes drifted around the room for a moment before settling on Aizuna — and then on the not-so-subtly hidden notebook.

A slow smile crept onto her lips.

“Oh?” she hummed, stepping over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Caught in the act, little sister?”

“W-What act?” Aizuna puffed her cheeks. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Hiyori tilted her head, gaze playful yet calm. “You’ve been smiling to yourself since you came back from the kitchen. That only happens when someone’s got a crush… or when you’re planning a crime.”

Aizuna flopped backwards onto her bed, groaning.

“Why is everyone in this house like this today?!”

Hiyori laughed, the sound light and airy. Then, without warning, she leaned forward and gently ran her hand through Aizuna’s bangs, brushing them aside with the care of someone who’d done it since they were kids.

“You’re growing up,” she said softly. “And it shows.”

Aizuna’s heart stirred again — not in the flustered way Haruki made it flutter — but in that warm, safe way only her sister could make her feel. Like she was allowed to be vulnerable. Allowed to not have all the answers.

“…It’s just gratitude,” Aizuna whispered, eyes on the ceiling. “That’s all.”

Hiyori was quiet for a moment. Then, she said gently:

“Maybe. But sometimes, gratitude… turns into something more. Especially when it’s someone who makes your heart feel safe.”

Aizuna didn’t respond.

She didn’t have to.

Because her fingers — resting on her chest — could feel it.

That strange flutter again.

“…He makes me feel like I exist,” Aizuna murmured at last, voice barely above a breath. “Like I’m not invisible.”

Hiyori reached down, squeezing her hand.

“Then that’s already special.”

They sat in silence for a while, the room dim and gentle, the world outside still.

Eventually, Hiyori stood and stretched, walking toward the door.

“I won’t tell Mom,” she winked. “But if you want help sneaking out early to give that to him… I’m in.”

“H-Hiyo-nee!!!”

“Good night, chocolate girl,” Hiyori teased as the door clicked shut behind her.

Left alone again, Aizuna turned her gaze to the hidden box… then slowly pulled it back into her lap.

She stared at it — heart aching in a way that didn’t hurt.

“…Is this okay?” she whispered.

No one answered.

But deep down…

Something told her it was.

And so she smiled.

Just a little.

As the night wrapped her in soft silence.

Aizuna stands alone in the classroom.

Everyone’s talking, laughing—voices bouncing against the walls like bubbles in springtime. But none of it reaches her. Not a single glance. Not a single smile.

She’s invisible.

She takes a step forward.

Another.

Then, she walks straight to the front of the class.

“Um… excuse me—”
Her voice catches in her throat.

No one looks up.

She tries again, louder. “Can anyone hear me?”

The moment the words leave her lips, a sudden burst of cruel laughter erupts behind her.
Sharp. Twisted. Unforgiving.

She whirls around—

And freezes.

The blackboard is no longer blank.

Instead, her own reflection stares back at her from the glossy surface, surrounded by chalk-scribbled words—ugly, vicious ones that pierce like needles.

“Fake.”
“Attention seeker.”
“Haruki’s pity project.”

“No… stop… that’s not…”

Aizuna stumbles forward and rubs at the chalk with her hands, desperate. But the words won’t fade. Her palms turn white. Her fingers tremble. Her throat tightens.

Tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“I didn’t ask for this…”

She presses harder.

But the whispers grow louder. Laughter behind her, sneers around her. Her knees shake.

Until—

A hand.

Warm. Steady.

It rests gently over hers.

Aizuna gasps and turns her head.

Haruki is standing there.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

His calm, warm eyes speak more than words ever could.

And slowly, word by word…
He wipes the board clean.

The laughter fades. The whispers dissolve.

And the silence that follows is soft.

Comforting.

Real.

She jerked up in bed, breath shallow.

Her blanket had fallen half off, her fingers still curled as if trying to erase something that wasn’t there. For a moment, she just sat there, staring into the darkness of her room, heart pounding in her ears.

“…A dream?” she whispered.

She turned to look beside her pillow—and her eyes landed on the small heart-shaped box of chocolates.

Wrapped in crimson ribbon, carefully sealed with a golden sticker, and just beside it… a folded note with her handwriting:

"For Aizawa Haruki."

Her gaze slowly drifted toward the calendar hanging on her wall, just above her desk.

February 14.

Valentine’s Day.

Her cheeks flushed softly.

“…It’s today,” she murmured.

She hugged her pillow, burying her face in it for a moment with a small groan. “Uuuu… I can’t believe I dreamed of him… again…”

A second later, a knock came at her door.

Knock knock.

“Hiyo-nee?” she called, voice muffled.

“Yup. Rise and shine, Valentine girl~” her sister’s teasing voice sang from behind the door.

Aizuna let out another groan as she flopped back into bed, staring up at the ceiling in dazed disbelief.

Her chest… it was still fluttering.

Not from fear.

But something warmer.

The soft rustle of cotton.
The clink of a zipper.
A quiet breath as she tightened her red ribbon in the mirror.

Aizuna stood by her dresser in her navy blazer and pleated skirt, the crisp Sakura High uniform fitted neatly against her small frame. Her reflection stared back—quiet, a little anxious, and with just a touch of rose-pink tinting her cheeks.

“…Okay,” she whispered to herself.

She turned, walked over to her desk, and picked up the small chocolate box from the night before. Her hands hesitated.

Was it too much? Too soon?

She shook her head.
No. Just giving chocolate wasn’t a confession. It didn’t have to be.

Still…

“…Beating this loud should be illegal,” she mumbled, pressing the box gently against her chest.

With care, she slipped it into a soft white paper bag and then tucked it into the inner pocket of her school tote—hidden between her books and pencil case, where no curious eyes would see.

With one final look in the mirror, she adjusted her bangs, let out a breath, and left the room.

The smell of miso soup and freshly toasted bread greeted her as she stepped into the kitchen.

Her older sister, Hiyori, was already at the table in her oversized university hoodie, one hand holding chopsticks, the other scrolling through her phone.

“Morning,” Aizuna said quietly, settling across from her.

“Yo~” Hiyori smiled lazily. “Sleep okay?”

“…Kinda,” she murmured.

Hiyori glanced up from her phone and narrowed her eyes at her sister’s expression. “Nightmares again?”

“Mm… just dreams,” Aizuna answered, dodging the question.

She reached for the small rice bowl set out for her, quietly grateful that her sister always made sure breakfast was waiting—even when their parents weren’t around.

“Is Mama and Papa already at the shop?” she asked as she poured herself a little tea.

“Yeah, left just after five,” Hiyori said between bites of tamagoyaki. “Dad had a catering delivery, I think. You want me to walk with you today?”

Aizuna shook her head. “It’s fine. You’ll be late for class.”

“Pfft. Like anyone cares if I’m late. I’m a third-year in uni, baby.” Hiyori leaned over with a mischievous grin. “But I bet someone does care about you being on time today~”

“D-Don’t start,” Aizuna grumbled, stuffing a bit of rice in her mouth to shut herself up.

Hiyori simply giggled into her tea.

The sun was already high when Aizuna stepped out of the house, scarf wrapped loosely around her neck and bag tucked neatly at her side. The air was crisp but kind, the sky a gentle winter blue streaked with sleepy clouds.

Every step toward school felt heavier than usual—each crunch of gravel under her shoes a reminder of the tiny box in her bag.

Just give it to him. No big deal. Girls give chocolate on Valentine’s. Totally normal. Totally, totally normal…

Her fingers clutched the strap of her bag a little tighter.

She turned the corner—

“AIZUNAAAAA~!!!”

“WAAHH—!!”

Aizuna barely had a moment to react before three bodies barreled into her like a stampede of affectionate deer.

“Are you okay?! You look pale!!”
“You didn’t text us last night!”
“Are you sick?! Did you faint again?!”

“N-Nico… Ayame… Miku… I-I can’t breathe—!”

Her three closest friends—Mikuri, Ayame, and Nico—had all but tackled her in a group hug, voices overlapping like sparrows in springtime.

I heard someone saw you visiting Aizawa-kun at the hospital! Ayame whispered with the urgency of a crime reporter.

“Y-You what?!” Aizuna turned bright red.

Miku smirked. “So… are you gonna give him chocolate today~?”

“UWAAHHH I SAID STOP—!”

Their laughter echoed down the sidewalk as Aizuna flailed gently in their arms, the warmth of their friendship lifting her nerves—if only a little.

But beneath her embarrassment…

Her heart was still fluttering.

Something was waiting today.

Something she couldn’t quite name yet—

But it felt real.

The school hallway buzzed with footsteps and laughter, echoing off the walls like the rhythm of an ordinary day. But to Aizuna, every sound seemed distant. Her heart beat loudest of all.

She walked between her three friends, who hadn’t stopped whispering since homeroom.

Ayame leaned in again.
“I told you. Someone saw her at the hospital. And with a fruit basket!”
“Romantic…” Nico cooed.
“Eeeeh~? Could it be fate?!” Miku grinned, linking arms with Aizuna on both sides.

Aizuna’s cheeks burned. “S-Stop it… you’re overthinking…!”

Then—

“Yo.”

That voice.

All four heads turned.

Aizawa Haruki stood just a few steps away, holding his bag in one hand and his usual easygoing smile on his face. His light brown hair was slightly tousled from the wind, and his tie was loose in that effortless, cool-kouhai way.

The air around Aizuna froze.

“Ah… it’s him,” Ayame muttered like a sniper spotting her target.

“It’s really him!” Miku whispered.

“Abort mission,” Nico giggled.

The three girls glanced at Aizuna — whose entire soul seemed to be curling in on itself — then smiled like devils with a halo.

“We’ll go on ahead, okaaaay~?” they said in unison, practically skipping forward…

…before ducking behind a row of lockers just up ahead, peeking out like spies on a top-secret mission.

Haruki blinked, watching them disappear. Then gave a soft laugh.

“They’re energetic, huh?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Aizuna stiffened beside him, fingers twisting the strap of her school bag.
“W-Well… they are…” she mumbled, eyes avoiding his completely.

A silence settled between them.

Not heavy — but fragile. Like a snowflake slowly drifting through the space between two hearts, neither brave enough to reach out.

Haruki glanced at her.

Aizuna looked down at her shoes.

Behind the lockers, the three girls were crouched like cats waiting to pounce.

“What are they doing?!” Nico whispered, her brows twitching in frustration.
“Why isn’t anyone saying anything romantic?!” Ayame hissed.
“My fanfiction senses are screaming but nothing’s happening—” Miku groaned dramatically.

Back in the hallway, Haruki let out a small sigh and gently shifted the strap on his shoulder.
“Hey, um…” he began, voice softer now. “Do you… wanna walk together?”

Aizuna’s breath caught.

Her heart tripped.

Walk together?
To class?
To—

Before she could say anything, the loudspeaker crackled to life:

“Ding Dong"

Haruki blinked.
“Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

Aizuna nodded quickly, too flustered to speak.
Her fingers brushed the inside of her bag. The chocolate box was still there.

Waiting.

“Let’s go,” Haruki said with a small smile.

He turned first, walking ahead.

Aizuna took a quiet breath and followed a few steps behind, her shoes tapping softly against the polished floor. The morning sun spilled through the hallway windows, casting long shadows that danced around them. Somehow, the space between her and Haruki felt shorter than before… and yet, her heart still ached with the weight of all the things she couldn’t say.

Behind a corner, three heads peeked out from behind a locker—Miku, Ayame, and Nico—all crouching, wide-eyed and whispering like they were watching a live soap opera.

“Did she give it?”
“Nope. Still holding it!”
“She’s totally gonna explode at this rate!”
“I swear if she doesn't hand that box over by lunch, I’m staging an intervention!”

Their whispers echoed faintly, but Aizuna was too wrapped up in her own world to notice.

She glanced up at Haruki’s back—the way his shoulders moved with that relaxed air of his, like he didn’t feel the pressure of all the eyes, the chaos of Valentine’s Day, or the chocolate-fueled rumors already buzzing across the school.

Aizuna swallowed.

Maybe today, she'd finally say something.

Maybe.

The halls were already buzzing with Valentine’s energy—girls clutching boxes and bags, boys pretending not to care but definitely caring. Paper hearts lined the windows, and the air felt a little warmer somehow.

An awkward silence bloomed between them—but it wasn’t a bad one.

Just the kind where words were hard, and feelings hovered, unspoken.

“A-Aizawa-kun…”

He looked at her, head tilting slightly.

Now. Her thoughts screamed. Now’s your chance.

“I… I made chocolate and I… I wanted to—”

“YO! HARUKI!!”

A loud, echoing voice cracked through the moment like a whip. Three boys bounded down the hallway, waving their arms like madmen.

“Broooo! How many did you get this year? Don’t act cool, show us!”

Before Haruki could respond, his friends had him in a headlock, dragging him down the hallway with the excitement of Valentine’s pirates searching for treasure.

“Ah—wait, hey—!” Haruki laughed, resisting just enough to glance back at Aizuna.

“I’ll see you in the classroom!” he called, voice bright.

Aizuna just stood there, heat rising up her neck to her ears.

Behind her—

“WHY DIDN’T SHE GIVE IT?!”
“I was this close to passing out!”
“Her courage meter dropped to zero!!”

The three girls wailed in whisper from their hiding spot, watching their ship almost sail.

Aizuna took a deep breath, pressing her hand against the place in her bag where the chocolate rested.

Not yet.

But soon.

The classroom was unusually lively for a morning.

Desks had tiny bags and gift boxes stacked on them, paper hearts were taped to the windows, and the teacher hadn't even arrived yet. Instead, several students had gathered at the front—clearly preparing something.

“Aaand today’s the day!” Miku said with a mischievous grin as she leaned over Aizuna’s desk. “Let the chocolate chaos begin.”

“Careful,” Ayame whispered, “I heard last year three girls tried to give their chocolates to the same guy at the same time. He fainted.”

“I would faint too if I got cornered by three girls like that,” Nico muttered, glancing over at Haruki.

Haruki had just entered the room—laughing nervously as his guy friends dramatically patted his back and tried to open his bag to “check the chocolate count.”

Aizuna sat quietly at her desk, her hands trembling slightly in her lap.

The box was still in her bag.

Still waiting.

The bell for lunch break rang with a cheerful tone.

But for Tachibana Aizuna, it only echoed like a gentle push… toward retreat.

She sat quietly at her desk, pretending to rummage through her bag. Around her, the classroom buzzed with laughter and rustling paper as girls exchanged chocolates and boys awkwardly fumbled with their thanks.

Across the room, Haruki was surrounded — again. A few girls had already approached him. One handed him a box with both hands and a red face, while another made it look like an accident, dropping it onto his desk with a teasing, “Oops~”.

Aizuna’s fingers tightened around the small gift inside her bag.

She rose quietly and slipped out.

Nobody noticed.

The rooftop was empty.
Cold wind whispered across the concrete, tugging at her hair and the edges of her blazer. The sky was a pale blue canvas above, painted with soft white clouds that drifted like thoughts she couldn't catch.

Aizuna leaned against the fence, drawing her bag to her chest.

She pulled out the box. The chocolate she had worked so hard on the night before. Hand-made, hand-wrapped. Every heart-shaped piece still sitting there.

Untouched.

“I couldn’t do it…”

Her whisper vanished into the wind.

Aizuna sank slowly to the ground, sitting with her knees hugged close. Her fingers trembled as they clutched the box.

“Why am I like this…? I had the chance… and I froze…”

The edge of her vision blurred.

She didn’t cry. Not really. But the pressure in her chest was too much — a soft pain that made it hard to breathe, like something inside was quietly breaking.

And then—
Footsteps.

Soft ones. Hesitant.

Aizuna wiped at her eyes and turned quickly.

Haruki.

His light brown hair danced with the wind. He had one hand in his pocket, the other scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“…I thought you might be here,” he said.

Aizuna blinked. “H-How…?”

“You weren’t in the classroom. And well… you seem like the type who might like quiet places.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Am I wrong?”

She shook her head, flustered. “N-No…”

He didn’t ask about the box in her lap.
He didn’t ask why she left.

Instead, Haruki walked over and sat beside her — just close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence, even with the breeze between them.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

It wasn’t awkward.

It was just… quiet.

The kind of quiet that let your heart breathe.

Aizuna stared down at the chocolate in her hands. Her fingers fidgeted with the ribbon she had tied with so much care.

Now.
Now or never.

“A-Aizawa-kun…”

He turned to her, listening.

She held the box out in both hands, arms slightly shaking.
Her face burned, but she kept going.

“I… I made too much. That’s all.”

A beat.

Then Haruki reached out — gently, no teasing, no smirk — and accepted it with both hands, like it was something delicate.

“…Thank you,” he said softly.
His gaze didn’t leave hers.
“I’ll treasure it.”

Aizuna’s breath caught.

Her chest tightened again — but not with sadness this time.

Warmth spread instead.

Haruki looked down at the box again, then gave her a small smile.

The kind of smile that felt like spring arriving in the middle of winter.

The kind that said I see you without saying a word.

From behind the rooftop door, three shadows crouched dramatically.

“DID SHE JUST—??”
“She gave it!!”
“THE SHIP IS FLOATING!!”

Ayame, Nico, and Miku tried their best not to squeal out loud.

Back on the rooftop, Haruki stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his pants.

“We should probably head back soon,” he said. “Before Miku-san starts a rumor.”

Aizuna nodded, still too flustered to speak.

As they walked together — side by side, steps quiet and soft — the cold wind didn’t feel so cold anymore.

In her heart, something had changed.

Just a little.

But enough.

They stepped out of the rooftop door together.

The wind had settled, but Aizuna’s heartbeat hadn’t.

Her fingers kept brushing against the empty spot in her bag where the chocolate had been, as if double-checking she hadn’t imagined it all. That she hadn’t just handed over something more than just sweets.

The silence between them was soft — not awkward, just a lingering warmth.

Halfway down the staircase, Haruki glanced sideways.

“Hey, Tachibana-san.”

She looked up at him, blinking.

He tilted his head slightly, his tone playful but calm.

“The chocolate…”
A beat.
“…Was it a honmei choco?”

Aizuna froze mid-step.

Her heart skipped three beats.

“…!!”

Steam might as well have erupted from her head.

Her voice pitched up several octaves. “A-Ah! N-No!! I-It’s not!! I mean—It’s just g-giri choco!! Yeah, giri choco! That’s all!!”

Her arms flailed slightly, as if trying to erase the meaning of her earlier gesture with sheer panic.

Haruki blinked.

Then—he laughed.

A small, quiet chuckle that danced gently in the air between them.

“I see,” he said, lips curling into a knowing smile. “Well… thank you for the giri choco.”

Aizuna’s face was bright red as she looked away, puffing out her cheeks slightly in embarrassment.

Why did I say that…?
It’s not true… but… what if he laughed at me if I said it was?

But then—

“I’ll still treasure it,” Haruki said softly.

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. Her legs might give out if she did.

They reached the classroom door.

“Let’s go in?” Haruki asked, casually holding the door for her.

“…Mm.” Aizuna nodded, still avoiding eye contact as she walked in ahead.

But behind her, Haruki smiled quietly to himself…
And gently tapped the side of his bag, where the chocolate now rested.

The light above the dining table flickered softly, casting a warm golden hue across the wooden surface. Aizuna sat with her back straight, hands neatly folded on her lap. Her school uniform had been replaced with a soft pastel hoodie and navy lounge pants, but the heat in her cheeks still lingered from earlier that afternoon. The faint steam rising from the miso soup in front of her barely distracted her from the flurry of thoughts spiraling in her mind.

"He took it... He really took it...!"

Her heart fluttered just from the memory of that moment — the way Haruki had looked at her, the way his voice softened as he said, “I’ll treasure it.” Even now, those words echoed again and again like an incantation, wrapping around her soul like silk ribbons.

“Hmm~ someone’s spacing out again,” a sing-song voice broke through the silence.

Aizuna blinked rapidly, turning toward the source. Her older sister, Hiyori, leaned against the doorframe with a sly grin on her face, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“You were blushing the moment you came home,” Hiyori teased. “Then you just floated to your room like a spirit in love. Spill.”

Aizuna shrank into her seat. “I-I wasn’t floating…”

“Oh, please,” Hiyori snorted. “You looked like a character from a shoujo manga.”

Their mother, Mariko, walked in carrying a tray of karaage and set it down on the table. “Did something nice happen today, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” Aizuna murmured, trying desperately to keep her voice neutral.

But it was too late. Her face had already turned the color of a tomato.

Her father peeked his head in from the genkan as he took off his shoes. “Valentine’s Day, right? Let me guess — Aizuna gave chocolate to that boy she likes?”

“DAD!!!”

The entire room burst into laughter. Aizuna curled up in her chair like a dying flower.

“I can’t believe this family…” she muttered, cheeks puffed.

Hiyori wiggled her eyebrows. “So, tell us… did he eat it in front of you?”

“I-I don’t know!” Aizuna covered her face. “It wasn’t even honmei choco… I-I told him it was just giri choco…”

Mariko gave a knowing smile. “But you made it yourself, didn’t you?”

Aizuna paused… then gave the tiniest nod.

And for a moment, everything grew still.

Her father, placing a hand on her head, simply said, “You’ve grown a lot, Aizuna.”

The warmth in her chest pulsed gently.

The Aizawa living room was quiet now, save for the low hum of the heater and the ticking of the antique wall clock. Haruki sat alone on the edge of the couch, one leg tucked beneath him, the other tapping lightly against the floor.

In his hands was a small chocolate box. Lavender wrapping, tied with a modest pink ribbon.

His eyes lingered on it — not just the design, but the feel. He hadn’t opened it earlier. The moment on the rooftop had been… different. Sacred, almost. The kind of thing you didn’t want to rush.

He pulled at the ribbon gently.

Inside — small, imperfectly shaped chocolates. One or two had slightly uneven corners, and one had a crack down the middle. And yet—

Haruki’s fingers hovered above them.

"She made these with her own hands..."

“Took you long enough.”

Haruki turned to see his older sister, Saki, standing at the stairs in her loose hoodie and slippers, arms crossed and eyes sharp with mischief.

“Oh. You’re still up?”

“Obviously,” she replied, walking into the living room and plopping down beside him. “You think I was gonna sleep without seeing your face when you opened her chocolate?”

Haruki laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Saki leaned in. “Come on, don’t play dumb. We’ve all seen it. The way you smile when she’s around. The way you look at her like she’s made of glass and starlight.”

Haruki’s ears turned pink. “…She’s… different.”

Saki smirked. “And special.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up one of the chocolates, brought it to his lips, and took a bite.

The sweetness hit him first — not overpowering, but gentle. Like a whispered confession in the wind. Then came a faint bitterness, like the nervousness tucked inside a quiet girl’s heart.

It melted too quickly.

Too shy to stay for long.

But it lingered.

“It’s…” he paused, smiling faintly. “good...”

Saki tilted her head. “That’s all?”

Haruki closed the box carefully and held it against his chest. “I don’t need more than that.”

He stared out the window, where the moon hung quietly in the night sky — distant, glowing, watching.

And somewhere in the city, he hoped, a certain girl was thinking about him too.

Beneath the same moonlit sky, two hearts beat quietly — closer than yesterday, yet still full of silent promises.

✨ Chapter 2 End ✨