Chapter 3 – The Space Between Our Words

The morning sunlight crept softly through the curtains, brushing against the pale walls of Aizuna’s room like a whisper from yesterday.

She blinked slowly, lifting her head from the pillow as the quiet hum of life outside the window reminded her that time had not paused. The empty chocolate container still sat on her desk, the red ribbon curled beside it like a quiet memory.

Aizuna reached out, running her fingers along the box’s edge. It was still there. Still real.

Did he even like it...? Did he smile...?

She pressed her cheek against the desk, letting out a small groan, muffled by uncertainty.

From downstairs, the clatter of dishes and the warm aroma of grilled fish drifted into her room. Life continued. And so did the teasing.

“So,” came Hiyori’s sing-song voice as Aizuna slid into her chair, “how’d it go~?”

“W-What go?” Aizuna's voice cracked as her face instantly heated up.

Her mother raised an eyebrow while sliding over the miso soup. “She means your little chocolate confession, of course.”

“I-it wasn’t a confession!”

“But it was handmade, right?” Hiyori leaned in with a grin, chin resting in her palm.

“Gnnnh… stop it…!”

Her father peered over his newspaper with a serious expression. “Just be careful, okay? Boys like that can be... dangerous.”

“Papa!” Aizuna cried in disbelief, her voice nearly a whimper.

Laughter echoed around the table, but to Aizuna, everything sounded distant—like she was listening from underwater.

The classroom buzzed with leftover Valentine’s excitement—girls still giggling over shared memories, boys puffed with subtle pride. Some desks still had small treats atop them. February still clung to the air like sugar on fingertips.

“Aizawa-kun’s not here yet?” Miku whispered as she leaned across her desk, scanning the room.

“Huh...?” Aizuna looked up too, eyes unconsciously drifting to the empty seat behind her.

“Maybe he’s late. Or delivering return gifts?” Nico offered with a giggle.

Aizuna tried to smile, but her fingers curled slightly under the desk.

Maybe… it didn’t matter. Maybe… it meant nothing at all.

The window beside her cast faint shadows over her notebook, the sun already starting to retreat behind clouds.

She excused herself with a muttered “I’m just going to get some air,” and slipped out before anyone could follow.

The back hallway was quiet, filled with filtered sunlight and the sound of wind brushing against the windowpanes.

Aizuna leaned lightly against the frame, eyes drifting to the school courtyard below.

And then she saw him.

Haruki.

Standing beneath the still-budding cherry trees, the breeze tugging at his blazer.

In front of him stood a first-year girl—her posture stiff, her cheeks flushed red. Aizuna’s breath hitched.

And then—
The girl looked up, voice clear even from this distance:
“I like you. Please go out with me.”

The words struck Aizuna like a bell tolling in the back of her mind. She couldn’t hear Haruki’s reply.

Didn’t need to.

Her heart seized. Her grip on the windowsill weakened.

I knew it… I was just one of many.

Without waiting, she turned.

And walked away.

Her footsteps sounded too loud in the quiet corridor.

Haruki’s POV

“I like you. Please go out with me.”

Haruki blinked, momentarily surprised by the girl’s sincerity. She held her hands tightly in front of her, trying to keep them from trembling.

“…I’m sorry,” he said gently.

The girl’s eyes widened, just a little.

“There’s someone else,” he added, voice quiet but firm. “Someone I already care about.”

A moment of silence passed between them before he bowed slightly in apology.

“I… understand,” she replied, her voice softer now. “Thank you for being honest.”

As she turned and walked away, Haruki lifted his gaze toward the school building.

The corridor windows were empty.

But something inside him twisted—like he’d missed something. Like someone had been there.

Watching.

The wind on the rooftop was colder than expected. Aizuna sat alone on the bench, her knees drawn close, arms wrapped around them tightly.

She wasn’t crying.

But her eyes stung, heavy from holding back.

The clouds above drifted slowly, as if deliberately trying not to rush her.

Why did I think… something like that could reach him?

She closed her eyes.

You’re not special, Aizuna.

A small part of her wanted someone to find her. But when the bell rang for the next period, she rose quietly, brushing her skirt flat.

She returned to class without a word.

The day passed like a blur. Her friends noticed something was off—but Aizuna’s smile stayed up like a paper umbrella in the rain.

She packed her bag before the final bell and slipped out early, ignoring the footsteps that might’ve followed behind.

Outside, the sky was turning gray.

She walked along the familiar road home, but the path felt longer today.

The light was dimmer.

“…I’m so stupid,” she murmured as she passed the corner convenience store. Her fingers brushed the strap of her bag.

“For hoping.”

The wind brushed past her gently as she turned the corner near the local park—a shortcut she often took when she didn’t want to be seen.

Aizuna’s shoes scraped quietly against the pavement, her thoughts still caught in a loop of doubt and silence.

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll pretend like nothing happened.

Maybe I’ll just smile again and…

Her steps slowed.

Her eyes widened slightly.

Just beyond the low iron fence, beneath the pale orange glow of a flickering streetlamp, the empty park stood still—except for the slow creak of the swings.

And there he was.

Sitting on the swing, one hand loosely gripping the chain, his legs slightly extended forward. Aizawa Haruki.

His hair danced in the breeze, light brown and fluffy against the darkening sky, and when he looked up—he smiled.

A warm, gentle, unmistakable smile.

As if he had been waiting.

As if this was exactly where he knew she’d pass by.

Aizuna stopped in place, her breath catching in her throat.

“…Aizawa-kun…?”

She said it before she realized, the words slipping past her lips in a hush only the wind could carry.

Haruki tilted his head slightly and motioned toward the swing next to him.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice carried by the wind. “I was hoping I’d see you.”

Aizuna’s fingers gripped the strap of her bag tightly.

The ache in her chest—so heavy just moments ago—wavered, uncertain.

“Why…?” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Haruki looked up at the sky briefly, then back at her. His eyes, always warm, now held something else—something quieter. Honest.

“I wanted to thank you properly… for the chocolate,” he said. “And I wanted to see you.”

Aizuna blinked, her vision beginning to blur at the edges.

This isn’t a dream, is it...?

Haruki’s smile deepened, not with smugness, but with relief. As if her presence had filled in a missing piece of his evening.

He patted the swing next to him, its chain clinking softly in the breeze.

“Come sit?” he asked, eyes meeting hers, his tone calm… but hopeful.

Aizuna hesitated, fingers tightening around her bag strap. Her legs felt stiff, her chest still weighed down by the words she thought she saw earlier.

But his smile—

It wasn’t the kind of smile you show a girl you’ve just said yes to.

It was different.

So… gently, she stepped forward.

Each step on the gravel felt like it echoed louder than it should have.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

She sat beside him, on the creaking swing, not daring to meet his eyes. The distance between them was no more than a breath—but it felt like a whole sky of feelings waiting to rain down.

“…You’re late,” she muttered, voice barely a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“…You weren’t at school,” she clarified.

Haruki tilted his head, looking at her. “Ah, yeah… I wasn’t feeling too well this morning. Maybe too many sweets?”

He gave a small laugh.

Aizuna looked down, her shoes pushing the dirt gently.

“…You got a lot of chocolate?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Haruki blinked.

There was a pause. Long. A quiet beat where the world seemed to hold its breath.

“Only one handmade one,” he said. “It was the sweetest.”

Aizuna’s cheeks turned bright pink.

She looked away, clutching her skirt, her mouth forming a small trembling line.

“…You saw, didn’t you?” Haruki asked suddenly, gently. “Earlier. In the courtyard.”

She froze.

“I didn’t hear it,” she whispered. “I just… saw.”

She swallowed hard.

“I thought… I thought you said yes.”

Haruki didn’t respond immediately. He looked up at the sky, where faint stars were beginning to blink through the dusk.

“The wind was strong today,” he said softly, smiling to himself. “Maybe it carried the wrong part of the story.”

Aizuna looked at him. Her eyes shimmered—not with tears, but with something just as fragile.

“…Then you didn’t…?”

He turned to her, eyes steady, sincere.

“I said no.”

A pause.

“Because there’s someone I’m already thinking about.”

Aizuna’s breath caught. Her heart beat once—loud, full.

She looked away again, hair falling to hide her face.

“…You’re mean,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

She peeked at him through her bangs, her voice trembling like the tip of a leaf.

“Saying things like that… out of nowhere…”

Haruki blinked. Then… scratched his cheek awkwardly.

“A-ah… sorry… I didn’t mean to, like… make it weird…”

“You did…”

“…Sorry…”

Silence.

A breeze passed between them.

Then—Aizuna laughed. Just a little. A light exhale through her nose. Soft. Real.

Haruki looked at her, surprised.

“…Thank you,” she said, turning her gaze toward the darkening sky.

“For not saying yes.”

He didn’t reply. He just smiled, and kicked the ground softly, letting the swing sway a little.

Next to him, Aizuna did the same.

The chains creaked. The stars blinked. Somewhere in the distance, a cicada began its lonely evening cry.

And for a moment, under that quiet sky, neither of them spoke.

But the space between them?

It had grown just a little bit smaller.

The sky had darkened to a soft indigo by the time they left the park. The streetlamps began to flicker on, casting golden pools of light on the quiet sidewalk as Haruki and Aizuna walked side by side.

Their footsteps echoed gently—hers soft and measured, his a little slower than usual, as if he was adjusting to her pace without thinking about it.

Neither spoke at first. The silence was… comfortable. But it was also dense—like something unspoken was weaving itself between them, growing heavier with each step.

Aizuna’s hand clutched her bag tightly. Her bangs fluttered with the wind, shielding her eyes, but her mind was loud.

Her heart pounded.

She could feel it rising inside her—an ache, a knot, a question she didn’t want to ask but couldn’t keep in any longer.

She glanced up at him.

“…Aizawa-kun…”

Haruki turned slightly. “Hmm?”

Aizuna stopped walking.

The wind rustled the leaves nearby. A car passed in the distance. But here, on this quiet path beneath the darkening sky, time felt like it had paused just for them.

“…W-why are you being like this to me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Haruki blinked.

She looked down at her feet. Her grip tightened on her bag.

“I-I mean, I know you saved me from the accident… and you said it was just a coincidence. And maybe it was. Maybe it really was…”

Her words trailed, caught in the knot of emotion tightening in her chest.

“But… there are other girls, you know? Girls who are prettier than me… with better style, better personalities. Girls who are easier to talk to. You’re kind to everyone, but with me it’s…”

She hesitated—her voice growing quieter.

“…It’s different. And I don’t get it.”

Haruki’s expression softened.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looked ahead, toward the quiet road stretching before them. A lone wind chime jingled faintly from a balcony nearby. The moment lingered in silence.

Then he closed his eyes.

And exhaled.

“…You’re right,” he said.

Aizuna’s heart skipped.

“There are girls with prettier hair, trendier clothes, who laugh louder and shine in crowds,” he said calmly, eyes still closed. “There are girls who confess without fear, who know exactly what to say to get someone’s attention.”

His eyes slowly opened, reflecting the soft glow of a nearby lamppost.

“But when I look at you…”

He turned to her.

“I feel calm.”

Aizuna’s breath caught.

“You don’t need to shine loud to be noticed,” Haruki continued. “You just… sit quietly at your desk, drawing softly in your notebook, and the world around you slows down.”

Her lips parted, stunned.

“You don’t try to be anyone else. You don’t pretend. You just… feel everything so deeply. And for some reason… I can breathe easier when I’m near you.”

The wind passed between them again—gentler this time.

Haruki looked away, scratching the back of his neck.

“…That’s all,” he said with a light shrug, as if his answer was nothing special.

But to Aizuna—it felt like the world had shifted under her feet.

She didn’t know what to say. Her hands trembled slightly as she held onto her bag strap. Her cheeks were glowing pink, and her chest was a tangled mess of warmth, confusion, and—

Thump.

Thump.

Her heart.

“…You’re so unfair…” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

Haruki chuckled.

“I get that a lot.”

They continued walking.

But now, the distance between them… had quietly vanished.

Their footsteps echoed softly on the pavement as they neared Aizuna’s street. The houses here were quieter now, some with windows glowing faintly behind sheer curtains. The sun had long set, and the sky was deep navy blue—only a scattering of stars visible through the veil of the city.

Aizuna walked beside Haruki in silence, her cheeks still faintly pink from what he had said.

His words hadn’t been dramatic or flowery. In fact, they were so simple… it hurt more.

“You just… feel everything so deeply. And for some reason… I can breathe easier when I’m near you.”

She clutched her chest slightly as they walked.

Don’t do that… Aizawa-kun… don’t say things like that…

Her house came into view—quiet and modest, the porch light gently illuminating the front steps. The warm yellow glow spilled onto the pavement like a scene from a nostalgic memory.

They stopped.

Haruki looked up at the house, then turned to her with a soft smile.

“Well… you’re home safe.”

Aizuna nodded slowly, hugging her schoolbag in front of her. “…Yeah. Thank you for walking me.”

The air between them held something—fragile and golden. Not quite spoken, but not quite hidden either.

Haruki looked up at the sky. “It’s colder than I thought it’d be tonight.”

Aizuna’s fingers tightened around her bag straps.

“…You should head back,” she said softly, eyes down. “Your leg…”

“I’m fine,” Haruki replied with a faint laugh. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, you know.”

But I do… I really do.

Her heart whispered it before her mind could stop it.

There was another pause. The kind that makes time feel longer than it is.

Then, slowly… Haruki reached out.

Just a simple gesture—his hand extending slightly toward hers. He didn’t take it. He didn’t even brush it completely.

But his fingers grazed against hers—lightly.

A gentle, wordless goodnight.

Aizuna froze.

Her heart skipped.

The touch was barely there. But it felt like everything.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed.

Haruki’s smile was small. Soft. Almost sad.

“Goodnight, Tachibana-san.”

And then… he turned.

Aizuna stood at the edge of the porch, watching him walk away, the warm light from the door behind her casting a faint glow across the concrete.

The chill of the air brushed her cheeks, but she didn’t move.

She could still feel his fingertips.

Her chest tightened.

He’s unfair. Always saying things that sound simple but cut so deep. Always smiling like it’s nothing… even though he makes it impossible to breathe normally around him.

She swallowed.

I don’t understand him. He says it’s nothing. That I make him feel calm. That I slow time down for him…

She closed her eyes.

But if he keeps being like this to me…

Her fingers curled into the sleeves of her cardigan.

I might actually fall for him.

Her eyes fluttered open, wide.

A warm breeze passed through her hair.

…No… I already am, aren’t I?

Her face turned bright red in an instant.

“—!!!?”

She nearly fell into the door, scrambling to open it and disappear into the safety of home.

Aizuna closed the door behind her, the soft click sounding louder than it should. Her back pressed against the wood, breath shallow and uneven.

Why did he say that?

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, stubborn and loud. Why did his words—so simple, so gentle—cut through her like this?

The quiet house embraced her, a sanctuary from the confusing noise inside her chest. Yet, in this silence, she felt strangely alone.

With a shaky breath, she pushed off the door and walked toward the dining room, where the warm smell of dinner lingered in the air.

Her mother sat at the table, eyes flickering up toward her with a knowing smile.

“Hey, Aizuna,” her mother said lightly, voice teasing but gentle, “What’s this new glow about? Feeling something you wanna share?”

Aizuna’s cheeks flamed hotter, and she quickly looked down at her plate, poking at the food as if it held all the answers.

Her father, absorbed in the newspaper, barely glanced up, while her older sister grinned mischievously, breaking the silence with a soft chuckle.

“Come on, little sis,” her sister teased, 

Aizuna swallowed, warmth flooding her face like a summer sunset. She forced a small smile but couldn’t meet their eyes.

“…Mama,” she finally whispered, voice barely steady, “How… how does it feel to fall in love?”

Her mother exchanged a glance with her sister and then softened her expression.

“Ahh, falling in love…” she mused, “It’s like suddenly seeing the world in a different color. Bright, thrilling… and maybe a little scary, too.”

Her sister nodded, “Yeah, it’s like butterflies doing cartwheels in your stomach and not knowing what to do with all the feelings.”

Aizuna’s fingers tightened around her chopsticks. Her heart fluttered in response—a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and something deeper she hadn’t expected.

“But… it’s okay to be scared,” her mother added, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Because those feelings mean you’re alive, and that’s a beautiful thing.”

For a moment, the family’s laughter and gentle teasing faded into a warm bubble around her. Still, inside, Aizuna’s thoughts raced.

How do I tell them what I’m feeling?

Haruki’s words… the way he said I make him breathe easier…

Her eyes shimmered as she tried to keep her emotions steady.

Finally, she quietly excused herself from the table, leaving behind the comforting hum of family chatter.

Alone in her room, she sat by the window, the night sky stretched wide above her. The stars twinkled softly, but her mind was filled with only one thought.

It’s complicated.

Sweet.

Terrifying.

And yet…

I think I’m already falling.

She clutched her cardigan tighter, a small smile ghosting her lips as Haruki’s soft smile echoed in her heart.

The night had settled quietly around the Aizawa household. Haruki sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting gentle shadows across his face. Outside, the city hummed softly—distant car lights, the murmur of late-night conversations, and the occasional flutter of wind through the trees.

He hadn’t meant to linger here, lost in thought. But Aizuna’s words and that delicate walk home kept replaying in his mind like a gentle melody he couldn’t forget.

Why did I say that? he wondered, fingers tracing invisible patterns on his desk. “I can breathe easier when I’m near you.”

It was strange, even to him. Aizawa Haruki—usually so composed, so steady—felt a sudden flutter in his chest when he thought about her.

The memory flickered in his mind like a soft-focus scene from a dream.

Walking side by side, the quiet between them heavier than usual. The way her eyes flicked up, wide and bright, when his fingers brushed hers. That almost imperceptible shiver in the air—like something unspoken, fragile, hanging between them.

He’d smiled then, a small, almost sad curve of his lips. But inside, his heart had thrummed loud enough to drown out the city noise.

She’s… different, he admitted quietly to himself. Not like anyone else.

Haruki’s gaze dropped to his hands resting on his lap. Normally so sure, so capable, now slightly trembling with feelings he wasn’t used to.

He shook his head, a faint laugh escaping.

Maybe this is what they call falling in love, he thought. Or at least, the start of it.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, he promised himself, he’d see her again. And maybe, just maybe, he’d say something more.

But for now, this quiet moment—this fragile, new feeling—was enough.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting gentle patterns on the tatami floor.

Aizuna blinked awake, the faint hum of the city waking around her. Her heart still fluttered from last night’s lingering warmth—a quiet smile brushing her lips as she slipped out of bed.

She moved slowly, the weight of new, unfamiliar feelings settling softly in her chest. The sky outside was a pale blue, promising a clear day.

Downstairs, the aroma of breakfast filled the house, mingling with the murmur of her family starting their day.

She dressed in her school uniform, smoothing the fabric over her shoulders, eyes distant yet bright.

—

Across town, Haruki sat at his desk, a notebook open but his gaze lost in thought.

His leg ached slightly, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that flickered every time he thought of Aizuna.

He glanced at the clock, then grabbed his bag, stepping outside into the crisp morning air.

—

The school bell echoed faintly in the distance as students began to gather.

Aizuna’s footsteps quickened as she approached the school gates, heart pounding in sync with the chatter around her.

She spotted familiar faces, smiles, and waves, but her eyes searched for one in particular.

There, near the entrance, stood Haruki—calm, steady, a quiet beacon in the bustling crowd.

Their eyes met.

A moment stretched, fragile and full of promise.

And the day began.

The schoolyard buzzed with the usual morning energy—laughter, greetings, footsteps clattering on the pavement. But Aizuna felt like the world had softened around her, her senses tuned only to the one figure ahead.

Why does my heart race this much? she wondered, cheeks warming again as she neared Haruki.

Haruki’s calm smile met her gaze like a gentle invitation. “Good morning, Tachibana-san,” he said quietly.

“Good morning…” Aizuna’s voice was barely above a whisper. She fiddled nervously with her bag strap, suddenly aware of every breath, every little sound around them.

Her thoughts tumbled like restless leaves in the wind. He looks so peaceful. How can someone make me feel so nervous just by standing there?

A light breeze teased loose strands of her hair, and she tucked them behind her ear, trying to steady herself.

But then—

The sky darkened suddenly, clouds rolling in like an unexpected curtain.

A few scattered drops fell, then quickly became a steady drumbeat of rain.

Aizuna blinked up at the gray sky, panic creeping in. Umbrella… umbrella…

Her fingers brushed her bag. No umbrella. She’d forgotten it entirely.

A small pout tugged at her lips. “Well... I guess I can just walk,” she muttered to herself, placing her bag on her head like a makeshift shield.

Just as she was about to dart forward, a sharp whoosh and—

An umbrella snapped open right in front of her, startling her so much she bumped her nose against it.

“Ow!” she rubbed her nose, eyes wide as she looked up.

There stood Haruki, umbrella in hand, his usual calm smile teasing at the corners of his lips.

“What are you doing? Running off into the rain?” he asked softly, eyes flicking with quiet concern. “You’ll catch a cold, you know.”

Aizuna blinked, cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink.

“I— I was just... I thought I could manage,” she stammered, glancing away shyly.

Haruki’s smile softened, and without hesitation, he tilted the umbrella a little, sharing the small shelter between them.

“Then don’t,” he said simply.

And just like that, the world shrank to the space between them—warm, safe, and a little bit magical.

The rain pattered softly against the umbrella as they walked side by side.

Aizuna noticed something—her side was perfectly dry, sheltered beneath Haruki’s umbrella, but his left shoulder glistened with dampness from the raindrops that had sneaked past the edges.

Her gaze drifted down and caught the subtle, uneven limp in his step.

Even now, he’s still hurting…

A warm blush rose on her cheeks—not just from the rain or the close proximity, but from how effortlessly gentle and protective he was, despite his own pain.

“Ah… Aizawa-kun,” she began shyly, “how’s your leg? Does it still hurt?”

Haruki glanced down at the shoulder she’d been watching, then smiled softly.

“Oh? It’s okay, I guess,” he said, voice light but sincere. “I’ve been going to therapy, and my therapist says I’ll walk properly again—no more limping. Heh.”

He chuckled quietly, brushing a stray wet hair from his forehead. “Thanks for asking, though.”

Aizuna’s heart fluttered at the simple gratitude in his tone.

Then, he shifted his gaze back to her—serious now, eyes clear.

“How about you?”

“Eh?” She blinked, caught off guard.

“I mean, are you… really okay?”

Aizuna swallowed, her smile faltering.

Before she could answer, Haruki’s voice softened, yet carried a weight that made her freeze.

“I know about the bullying, Tachibana-san.”

The words hit her like a sudden gust of cold wind.

She stiffened, her breath catching. “H-how…?”

Haruki’s eyes didn’t waver. “I see things. People talk. I’m not blind.”

Her throat tightened.

For the first time in days, she felt truly seen—not just the shy, quiet girl trying to disappear, but everything beneath.

And somehow, that scared her even more than the rain soaking her shoes.

Aizuna and Haruki walked side by side beneath the shared umbrella, the steady rhythm of rain tapping softly overhead. The warmth of the small bubble of shelter wrapped around them, muffling the world outside.

As they rounded a quiet corner, a trio spotted them from across the street.

Two girls exchanged sly, knowing smirks.

One’s voice cut through the rainy haze, sharp and dripping with mockery.

“Look who’s out and about. Didn’t expect little miss ‘too fragile to speak up’ to show her face today.”

The other girl giggled cruelly. “Still crying to Haruki-kun for protection, huh? How pathetic.”

Aizuna’s stomach clenched painfully. Her cheeks flamed hotter than the sun piercing through clouds.

Haruki’s eyes darkened, the sharp sting of their words slicing through the quiet between them.

He slowed his pace, then stopped, turning deliberately toward the group.

His voice was calm, but edged with steel.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that. Care to repeat it?”

The girls exchanged uncertain glances — this wasn’t the reaction they wanted.

Before the first could answer, the boy stepped forward, his eyes burning with resentment.

“Well, if it isn’t Haruki Aizawa. The wannabe hero with his little shadow.”

He spat the words like venom. “Thought you’d be smart enough to stay away from losers like her.”

Haruki’s jaw clenched tight.

Aizuna’s fingers tightened on his sleeve, trembling just slightly.

The rain intensified, drumming harder around them as the world shrank to this charged moment.

Haruki’s voice dropped low but firm, carrying an unshakable warning.

“Apologize to her. Now. Before this gets ugly.”

The boy sneered, stepping closer — clearly itching for a fight.

But Haruki stood his ground, unwavering even with the limp that marked each step.

Aizuna’s heart thundered in her chest, torn between fear and a fierce, quiet pride in the strength standing beside her.
Haruki stepped forward, calm and steady, shifting so he stood protectively just in front of Aizuna. The umbrella tilted slightly, sheltering them both from the relentless rain.

The boy sneered, cracking his knuckles as he took a step forward — ready to throw the first punch.

But then, Haruki’s gaze sharpened, cool and unwavering, cutting through the tension like a blade.

A heavy silence fell. Time seemed to freeze.

Even the rain felt hushed — as if the world itself was holding its breath.

The boy’s raised fist trembled for a moment.

Then, with an irritated click of his tongue, he stepped back and shoved past Haruki, bumping into him roughly.

Haruki didn’t flinch. Not even a twitch.

The two girls flounced after their companion, voices dripping with scorn, but their confidence had dimmed.

Once they disappeared into the gray wash of rain and city noise, Haruki’s eyes softened.

He turned to Aizuna, voice low but sincere.

“Are you… okay?”

Aizuna blinked, heart still pounding, but the storm inside her quieted by the steady warmth of his concern.

She nodded, managing a small smile.

“Y-Yeah. I’m okay.”

The rain had softened to a gentle drizzle as they walked side by side toward Aizuna’s home. The rhythmic tapping of their footsteps blended with the distant murmur of the city waking up.

Aizuna glanced up at Haruki, her cheeks still tinged pink from the confrontation and the rain. “You looked really scary back there,” she teased softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

Haruki’s eyes widened in surprise. “Eh!? I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t just going to let them talk bad about you!” His voice was quick, a little flustered, like he’d accidentally admitted something too honest.

Aizuna covered her mouth with her hand, giggling quietly, the sound light and genuine. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him—soft and warm, like a secret shared between them.

Haruki’s breath hitched. He’d never seen her look like that before.

“Thank you… for stepping up for me, Haruki-kun,” she said gently, her voice almost a whisper.

At the sound of his first name spoken so sweetly, Haruki’s face flushed a deeper shade of red. He looked away, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I-It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

Their steps slowed, the space between them filled with something unspoken, tender, and quietly electric.

The night had wrapped the streets in a soft blanket of quiet and cool air as Haruki walked Aizuna all the way to her doorstep. The occasional glow of street lamps flickered through the lingering mist, casting gentle shadows that danced between them.

Haruki’s voice was calm, yet carried an unusual softness as he stopped in front of her door. “Well… here we are. Take care, Tachibana-san.”

Aizuna looked up at him, her heart pounding like a tiny drum in her chest. “Thank you, Haruki-kun. For everything today.”

He gave a small, shy smile, eyes flickering away before meeting hers again. “Anytime. If you ever need someone, just… call on me.”

Their hands almost brushed, a breath away from contact, but neither reached out. Instead, the unspoken feelings hung in the cool night air—delicate and precious.

Haruki turned to leave, then paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Good night.”

“Good night, Haruki-kun,” Aizuna whispered, watching him walk away until his figure faded into the shadows.

Haruki’s POV:

His steps were slow as he walked home, replaying the moments of the evening in his mind. Her smile… the way she looked up at him with those bright eyes… It stirred something inside him, something gentle and new.

Aizuna’s POV:

Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it, heart still racing.

Why does he make me feel like this? Her thoughts fluttered, wild and bright. This… this is what they call falling in love, isn’t it?

A shy smile curled on her lips as she whispered to the quiet room, “I like him.”

And with that simple truth, the night seemed to hold a little more warmth, a little more hope—just for her.

End of Chapter 3  🌸