Chapter 3: The Boy Who Always Stares Out the Window

Homeroom had just ended, but Haruki didn’t move.

His chin rested against the back of his hand, elbow on the windowsill. He sat at the very edge of the classroom, with no one behind him and no one beside him either. Outside, the sky was overshadowed by clouds so thick, it felt like the day hadn’t truly begun. The track team was doing warmups below, the faint rhythm of sneakers on gravel drifting in through the glass.

“Still staring out the window again, Sakamoto?”

The voice came from beside him. A boy with messy blond brown hair and an easy going grin had pulled up a chair. Akari Yamada. Loud, sociable, and never in his seat unless forced. He belonged to a different group, yet somehow always found his way to Haruki during breaks.

“Just enjoying the peace while it lasts,” Haruki replied.

“Peace, huh?” Akari leaned forward. “You're like one of those old school anime characters who knows everyone’s secrets but never says anything.”

Haruki gave a dry chuckle. “Maybe I’m just boring.”

“You’re mysterious. That’s different,” Akari insisted. “People are starting to talk, you know. About you and Kisaragi.”

Haruki’s fingers twitched, just slightly. He looked away from the window. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“C’mon. You bring bento to school one day, and everyone sees Kisaragi eating alone at the back courtyard the next—”

“That’s not related.”

“Isn’t it? Some say she smiled when she looked at your lunchbox.”

“…That’s a weird thing to notice.”

Akari laughed, standing. “High school is a weird place. Anyway, you should get to know the class more. It’s already mid September.
You planning to ghost everyone till graduation?”

Haruki shrugged. “Maybe.”

The bell rang. A shuffle of feet followed as students returned to their seats.

Haruki thought the conversation was over, until Akari turned back at the door.

“Oh, almost forgot. If you’re free after school, come to the literature club. We’re hosting an open day for new members. You don’t have to join. Just… drop by if you want.”

Then he was gone.

Haruki stared after him for a while. The literature club, huh?

He didn’t plan to go.

He really didn’t.

But after the final bell rang and most of the class cleared out, Haruki found himself wandering. Down the third-floor hallway. Past the music room. Past the art room. Until finally, he stopped in front of a door with a faded sign: Literature Club.

It was slightly open.

Inside, warm orange light poured across worn wooden floors and tall shelves stuffed with books. The windows were wide, letting in the smell of rain that had just started outside.

There were only two people inside.

One was Akari, chatting with a petite girl in glasses. The other… was her.

Reina Kisaragi.

She stood by the window, fingertips brushing the spine of a poetry book. Her long black braid hung neatly down her back, swaying slightly when she turned.

Her eyes met Haruki’s, just for a second.

He opened his mouth.

But she looked away again, not startled just calm, like the moment didn’t require words.

Haruki wasn’t sure whether to step inside or turn around.

“Hey!” Akari noticed him. “You came!”

“Just… passing by.”

“Sure you were,” he smirked. “This is Aoi. She’s the club president. Don’t let her height fool you, she can quote Soseki in her sleep.”

Aoi gave a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Sakamoto kun. You’re welcome to read anything you like.”

Haruki nodded, then found himself drifting to a shelf, pretending to browse. His eyes weren’t really focused. Instead, he kept catching Reina in the corner of his vision.

She wasn’t doing much just reading quietly.

But that, in itself, was enough.

Somehow, he felt more aware of the air when she was in the room. Of how his sleeves brushed against his skin. Of the faint ticking of the old wall clock.

Then, from behind the shelves, he heard Reina’s voice soft, almost a whisper.

“Do you like poems?”

He turned.

She wasn’t looking at him, but he knew she was speaking to him.

“I haven’t read many,” he said truthfully.

Reina nodded once, then stepped forward. Her hands were holding a slim book bound in faded blue.

“This one’s simple,” she said. “I think… you might like it.”

He reached out, and their fingers briefly touched as she handed it over.

Haruki’s heart rate went upward, Just a little.

He opened the book.

The poem was short. Only a few lines.

If you watch the sky long enough,
you’ll see a bird disappear.
But just because it’s gone,
doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

When he looked up, Reina was already turning back to the window.

He stayed until the sun began to fall below the clouds, casting golden light across the room.

He didn’t join the club.

But the next day, he found himself back at that same shelf, hoping to borrow another book.

And Reina was there again quiet, distant, and yet somehow close enough that her presence felt like a gentle string tugging at his thoughts.

He still didn’t know what to say to her.

But for now, silence seemed okay.