Oneshart

Cherry blossoms made spring what it was - at least that's what most people thought. But for Rui, spring meant something else entirely.

It meant their return.

The swallows.

They never forgot. Every spring, they returned to Clarisse Girls' Academy. Last week, she spotted the first pair circling the chapel spire, their forked tails distinct against the pale sky.

There was something fascinating about their certainty. While Rui drifted through her days without a clear direction, these tiny creatures crossed oceans and continents, drawn by an invisible thread back to the same nooks and crannies.

The students would crowd the courtyard soon, phones held high to capture photos of their nests being built. It was one of those rare moments when the whole academy shared in collective wonder.

-

A sharp ringtone pierced her head. Rui blinked, head spinning as she found herself sprawled across her apartment couch. How did she get back here? The room tilted as she sat up.

An unfamiliar phone buzzed on her coffee table. Her finger fumbled for the screen, accidentally accepting the call.

"Sis, hello?"

Rui managed a confused grunt.

"Did you actually go out drinking with the people at band? I can't believe you. If Mom and Dad find out, you're dead meat."

Rui blinked slowly. This wasn't her phone. This wasn't her sister because she doesn't have one.

"Look, I'll call back when you've sobered up. And seriously, why do you keep changing your password just to tell me? It's such a pain. It's 456545, by the way. Not that you'll remember this conversation."

The line went dead, and the screen went black. Rui stared at it, now reflecting her disheveled appearance - brown hair sticking up at odd angles, her uniform wrinkled beyond recognition.

Fragments of last night flashed through her mind. Hinata's excited face as she waved the band competition trophy. "Come celebrate with us!" Someone's apartment transformed into an impromptu party venue. Someone producing bottles from instrument cases.

Shit. Rui pressed her palm against her forehead. She'd never meant to drink. One cup had turned into two, then... bleg.

Did I steal this? Her stomach lurched. Rui Kusunoki, Student Council Vice President of Clarisse Girls' Academy, reduced to petty theft. She pictured police sirens, handcuffs, her parent's disappointed faces.

Okay, breathe. Rui forced herself to think logically. If she could just figure out who owned the phone and return it before anyone noticed, this whole nightmare would be over before it began.

The phone felt light in her hands as she turned it over. Plain black case, not even a sticker or charm to identify its owner. When she pressed the power button, the screen lit up to reveal the most basic wallpaper possible - the default blue gradient that probably came with the phone.

Who keeps the default wallpaper nowadays? Even she had customized her phone background to a photo of the academy's swallows.

Anyway, that mysterious call had mentioned a password - 456545. At least hungover-Rui had been coherent enough to remember those numbers, even if she couldn't remember how she ended up with someone else's phone in the first place.

Rui's fingers hovered over the keypad. 4-5-6-5-4-5. The phone unlocked with a gentle chime.

Same default wallpaper. Rows of generic-looking apps arranged in a perfect grid. Someone really went out of their way to keep this impersonal, huh?

She tapped the contacts app. Names scrolled past - none she recognized.

Then her thumb froze mid-scroll. Minori.

Rui shook her head. Plenty of people had that name. Surely this couldn't be her Minori. The same Minori she knew from student council. The Minori who'd gotten her the VP position. The Minori who wouldn't leave someone hanging like this.

Would she?

She opened the message thread, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Three days ago: "Can we meet somewhere private? There's something important I need to tell you."

Two days ago: "I'm sorry about yesterday. Please give me a chance to explain properly."

Yesterday: "Forget what I said. Can we go back to being friends like before?"

Rui's stomach twisted. The messages painted a picture she wasn't sure she wanted to see. Someone confessing feelings. Someone getting rejected. Someone trying to salvage what remained of a friendship.

Rui closed the message. Someone's private heartbreak didn't deserve an audience. But she needed to find the owner.

The photos app beckoned. Maybe there'd be a face, a name, something to identify the owner without having to dive deep into their private conversations.

The first image made her breath catch - a swallow perched on the chapel's stone ledge, wings spread mid-takeoff. The next showed a pair building their nest in that familiar corner by the greenhouse. Every shot captured the exact spots where Rui herself had stood, watching these birds.

They go to Clarisse.

This wasn't some random guy from last night's party. This was someone who walked the same halls as her, someone who found the same beauty in those birds.

Those texts to Minori suddenly carried new weight. Not just rejection, but the specific kind Rui understood too well. The kind that came with loving someone you weren't supposed to love.

Rui's head throbbed.

All those lingering glances in the hallway. The way her heart skipped when certain girls smiled at her. The thoughts she pushed down so deep she could pretend they didn't exist.

Pretending - she's gotten good at that.

But someone else at Clarisse wasn't pretending anymore. They'd been brave enough to speak their feelings.

And now they were alone.

Rui knew that kind of loneliness. It lingered even when you were surrounded by friends. It made you keep your screen impersonal, hiding behind default wallpapers and apps. It had you take photos of swallows just because you envied how they're free to be exactly what they were.

Her vision blurred. Maybe it was the hangover. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, it amplified every spiraling thought until Rui could barely think straight. Ha, straight. The irony wasn't lost on her.

Just give it to sensei. No need to get involved, to acknowledge the mirror this stranger had unknowingly held up to her.

Keep pretending. That's what she was good at, after all.

-

The cherry trees were in full bloom now, their branches heavy with blossoms that bathed Rui's path in soft pink light as she made her way to school. Her head still pounded, but it wasn't the hangover this time. A memory surfaced - one she tried to bury.

Two weeks ago, she'd walked this same path with Minori. The trees had been bare then, waiting for spring's warmth to coax their blossoms open.

"Rui, wait." Minori's voice had stopped her just as she'd turned to leave. "I need your advice on something."

Rui had paused, adjusting her bag strap. "What is it?"

"How do you... How do you turn someone down from our school?"

"You mean... like a confession?"

"Well..." Minori's gaze had drifted to the barren branches above. "Yes."

For a moment, hope had bloomed in Rui's chest. Someone else like me. The possibility that she wasn't alone, that someone else understood what it meant to love differently.

Then she'd seen Minori's face. The way her lip had curled, how her shoulders had tensed.

Pure revulsion.

"Do you..." Rui's voice had cracked. She'd wanted to say: give them a chance. Instead, she'd asked, "Do you like them back?"

"God no." Minori had spat the words. "It's just... wrong."

Wrong. The word echoed in Rui's mind. She wanted to argue. To defend this unnamed person who'd been brave enough to speak their feelings. To shake Minori and make her see there was nothing wrong about this kind of love.

Instead, she smiled. Perfectly pleasant. Perfectly fake.

"Just... be polite about it," Rui heard herself say. "Tell them you're flattered but you don't feel the same way."

Now, clutching the stranger's phone, those words tasted like ash. If it's really the Minori she knows… had she unknowingly authored their heartbreak?

I'm sorry, she thought to the nameless owner of this phone. I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough.

-

The teacher's office door loomed ahead. Rui's fingers tightened around the phone in her pocket as she reached for the handle. Through the frosted glass, she caught a glimpse of long dark hair. Tomori Tanabe stood by their homeroom teacher's desk.

Even from behind, Tanabe-san radiated that effortless grace everyone talked about. Top grades, first chair oboe. She excelled at everything without breaking a sweat. The kind of person who made excellence look easy.

Rui knew better than to interrupt. Whatever brought Tanabe-san here had to be important. She'd come back later, maybe during lunch break-

"...missing phone..." Tanabe-san's voice drifted through the gap beneath the door. "Black case, no decorations..."

"I apologize, Tanabe-san. No one has turned anything in yet, but I'll keep an eye out."

The phone in Rui's pocket suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. The default wallpaper. The photos of swallows that matched the ones Rui herself took. Those messages to Minori.

They belonged to Tanabe-san…?

Rui stumbled back from the door. She forced her feet to move, carrying her away from the office. Away from the truth she wasn't ready to face. That someone as seemingly perfect and put-together as Tanabe-san could be lonely like her.

-

The classroom buzzed with morning chatter as Rui slid into her seat. Everything looked normal - students comparing homework, sharing weekend stories.

"Someone had fun last night." Hinata leaned over Rui's desk. "Never thought I'd see our VP let loose like that."

Last night. The thought came to mind uninvited. Not the drinking - that part she regretted - but what came after. The accidental discovery burning a hole in her pocket.

Hinata poked her shoulder. "Earth to Rui? Don't tell me you're still drunk."

"I'm fine."

But she wasn't fine. The phone in her pocket felt heavier with each passing second. Tanabe-san's phone.

I should return it. Tell her I understand. That she's not alone.

But understanding meant acknowledging her own truth. The truth she'd spent years running from, burying under top scores and student council duties. The truth that maybe had finally caught up to her, handed to her in the form of a plain black phone and photos of swallows taking flight.

The class bell's ring snapped Rui from her thoughts. Students shuffled to their seats, the morning chaos settling into orderly rows.

"Catch you later." Hinata flashed a grin before heading to her desk.

Rui's gaze drifted to Tanabe-san's empty seat three rows ahead. Her desk was untouched. No books, no pencil case, no sign she'd ever been in the classroom, even though Rui had seen her in the office earlier that morning.

Did the rejection hit her that hard? The thought felt wrong. Tanabe-san never missed class. Even during exam season when several students called in sick from stress, she showed up.

The classroom door slid open. Sensei strode in, an attendance book tucked under his arm. He launched into roll call, each name followed by a "here" until-

"Tanabe?"

Silence.

Sensei frowned at the empty desk. "Strange. I just saw her in the office earlier." His eyes found Rui. "Kusunoki-san, would you mind checking if she's still on campus? As a member of the student council, I trust you can handle this discreetly."

The phone grew heavier in Rui's pocket. She wanted to say no, to sink into her chair and disappear. But everyone watched, waiting for dependable VP Rui Kusunoki to step up.

"Of course, sensei."

She stood, chair scraping against the floor. Each step toward the door echoed her racing heart. She didn't want this confrontation. Didn't want to face the girl whose secrets she'd accidentally uncovered.

But that's what VPs did, right? They handled things. Fixed problems.

Rui checked everywhere - the library's quiet corners, the music room where Tanabe-san usually practiced, even the greenhouse where students sometimes hid to skip class.

Nothing.

Maybe this is for the best. Those texts to Minori - she must have misread them. Projected her own feelings onto someone else's messages. Because Tanabe-san couldn't possibly be like her.

Rui thought about turning back. Make up some excuse about Tanabe-san going home sick. Hand the phone to a teacher and pretend she never saw those messages, never recognized that same emptiness she carried in herself.

She could keep pretending.

But her feet didn't listen. They carried her to the stairwell that led to the roof - the last place left to check, and then she could wash her hands of this whole mess.

The door creaked as she opened it, splitting the morning stillness.

Tanabe-san stood at the roof's edge, bent over the railing at an angle that made Rui's heart stop.

"DON'T!" The word tore from her throat as she reached out uselessly, too far away to do anything but watch.

Tanabe-san straightened, turning with that same graceful composure she always carried. "Kusunoki-san?" She gestured to something below. "I was just checking on the new nest. The swallows picked quite a precarious spot this year."

But her voice cracked on the last word. And now that Rui was closer, she saw what Tanabe-san tried to hide - red-rimmed eyes, tear tracks cutting through her delicate face, shoulders trembling with the effort of appearing fine when nothing was fine at all.

The kind of look that said I'm breaking but no one can know.

"Were you really looking at the swallows?"

The perfect smile on Tanabe-san's face cracked for a split second - so brief Rui might have imagined it if she hadn't been looking for it.

"Say, Kusunoki-san." Tanabe-san's fingers traced patterns on the railing. "Do you ever wonder why they return here every spring? There must be thousands of other places they could go."

Rui recognized this tactic. She'd used it herself countless times. Change the subject, keep the walls up. But something in Tanabe-san's voice - was it desperation? - made her answer anyway.

"I think… they come back to places they know are safe. Even if they don't fully understand why."

The words caught in her throat. How many times had Rui herself wished for such a place? Somewhere she could spread her wings and just be, without fear of judgment or rejection.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Tanabe-san's lips. "You have my phone, don't you?"

"How did you-"

"I saw you through the office door." Tanabe-san's fingers stilled on the railing. "I assumed you were there to return it."

Something in Tanabe-san's tone suggested she knew more - knew that Rui had seen beyond the default wallpaper. But Tanabe-san didn't press, and Rui couldn't bring herself to confess.

Slowly, Rui pulled the phone from her pocket. Tanabe crossed the distance between them. But when she reached for the device, Rui pulled back.

"Doesn't it feel lonely? Having to hide who you are all the time?"

"I don't know what you mean." But Tanabe-san's fingers trembled, betraying the lie behind her smile.

"I saw your texts. To Minori."

Color drained from Tanabe-san's face. "It's wrong, isn't it? That kind of love."

Those words - they echoed Minori's but where Minori's had been filled with disgust, Tanabe-san's was filled with self-loathing.

Rui's heart pounded against her ribs. All those years of careful pretense, of hiding behind perfect grades, student council responsibilities. Always deflecting questions about boyfriends, always pretending she was too busy for dating.

All of it would come undone with her next words.

But when she looked at Tanabe-san - really looked - and saw that same loneliness reflected back at her, the fear lost its grip.

None of it mattered anymore.

"No. It's not wrong. It was never wrong."

"How can you say that so easily?"

"Because I understand. The loneliness you carry."

A flash of movement drew their attention upward. Two swallows darted through the air, their wings almost touching as they wove intricate patterns against the blue canvas. They dipped and soared, completely free in their dance, uncaring of who watched below.

Something stirred in Rui's chest watching them. An ache, yes, but also hope.

"Instead of Minori... Would you want to be with me?"

Tanabe-san's eyes widened. "Be with... you? What do you mean?"

"I don't really know myself. But maybe we could figure it out together? If we hang out, it might feel less..."

Wrong? No.

"Less lonely all the time."

Tanabe-san's face transformed before Rui's eyes. First came disbelief - eyes wide as if she'd heard wrong. Hope flickered for a second before doubt crept in and twisted her expression.

Rui knew those expressions intimately. She lived them just a few hours ago, when she'd first discovered those messages on Tanabe-san's phone. That moment of recognition - someone else feels this way - followed by the instinct to deny, to run, to keep pretending.

Tanabe-san's shoulders started shaking. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and for a moment Rui panicked. Had she misread everything? But then she caught the slight upturn of Tanabe-san's lips, the way her hands pressed against her heart as if trying to contain something too big to hold.

No. These were tears of joy. The kind that came when you finally discovered someone who understood.

Above them, the swallows completed their dance, landing side by side on the roof's edge. Their small bodies pressed close, sharing warmth against the spring breeze.