Chapter 3: The First step

Kaito Sugiura wasn’t sure what counted as “normal” when it came to making friends.

Years of self-imposed isolation had left him with only vague impressions–be polite, don’t overshare, avoid dead air, appear useful, feign interest, suppress discomfort. A mechanical formula. Cold and efficient. Just like the way he preferred to move through life.

Now, he sat in the silence of his room, a manga volume open in front of him. His desk lamp buzzed faintly in the quiet. A faint breeze stirred the pages, but he didn’t turn them. Not yet.

The girl in question–Mio Hanazawa— smiled softly on the page, her eyes turned toward a boy whose every feature screamed “Main character,” Hiroshi. Charismatic, dense, and beloved. The kind of protagonist who solved emotional tension by smiling too much and falling over dramatically.

And then there was Mio.

The quiet girl. The one who spoke in half-whispers unless Hiroshi was around. The one who was always written like a ghost on the edge of someone else’s story—until she wasn’t.

Kaito flipped to a bookmarked scene and narrowed his eyes. He’d read it before. But this time, it felt different. Important. A blueprint, maybe.

(WIthin the manga)

Hiroshi flopped into his seat, dramatically drained.

“Mio, I don’t know how you do it. Just looking at a number makes my brain shut down.”

Mio covered her mouth, giggling. “Well, you’ve never exactly been the thinking type. Maybe your brain’s just for decoration.”

“Exactly! That’s why I surround myself with smart people. So I don’t have to think. It’s genius, really.”

She gave him a mischievous look. “So you’re admitting you’re on the same level as an animal?”

“Wait, what—”

Mio continued, deadpan. “Actually, that’s unfair. To the animals.”

“What?!”

She giggled again, then went quiet for a moment. When she finally spoke, her tone had changed—softer. Hurt.

“If your intelligence is below an animal’s… then I guess I’m like a terrified rabbit. I get so scared I can’t talk to anyone.”

Hiroshi blinked. “MIo—”

“But,” she said, cutting him off, “when we’re together… I forget all that. You make me feel like I can shine. ANd you shine too, even with that empty head of yours.”

Her voice echoed gently in the white space of the page.

“Thank you, HIroshi… for always being by my side.”

(End of manga scene)

Kaito stared at the page in silence.

“It must be nice,” he said flatly, “to have someone like that stay by your side.”

He closed the book with a soft snap and leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the ceiling.

He remembered how fans had praised this chapter online—how everyone had loved this version of Mio. Her teasing wit. Her slow emotional bloom. Her ability to speak her heart without apology. Then the confession chapter came… and fans lost their minds. They said it was butchered. That it came out of nowhere. That all the subtlety and buildup had been thrown away for a rushed, forced declaration that felt like the author just wanted to get it over with.

Kaito scoffed.

“That’s the problem with the childhood friend trope,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “It’s always the same thing. The girl waits forever, but she only confesses when another girl shows up. It’s not even about real feelings. It’s just a plot device to add drama. Cheap tension.”

His tone sharpened, bitter.

He looked back down at the cover of Cherry Day: Our Secret Spring. Hiroshi grinned up at him.

He feel into a silence again, eyes shifting toward a faded poster above his bed—a classical comedy and tragedy mask design, something left over from a brief stage play phase years ago.

The expressions stared back at him: Joy and sorrow. Storytelling in a single image.

He pulled the first volume of Cherry Days off the shelf again.

“If logic fails… maybe fiction’s the only thing that can save her.”

The next day, during study period, Kaito sat beside Mio, trying to control the pacing of his breath.

Start small, he told himself.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Hanazawa.”

Mio looked up, startled. Her eyes darted toward him, uncertain.

“I, uh…” He scratched his neck. “I kinda need help. With my grades.”

She blinked.

“I heard you’re one of the top students, right? Top five or something? That’s… seriously impressive."

MIo looked down for a moment, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I try… It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it is. You’re smart. That’s way more than I can say about myself when it comes to math. Or anything involving numbers. Or logic.”

He saw the faintest curve at the corner of her lips.

“Would you help me? I mean—if you’re not too busy.”

Mio hesitated, hugging her textbook a little together. “We could meet after school. In the Library?"

Kaito nodded quickly. “Perfect. Thanks.”

She gave another soft nod before turning away. Her expression didn’t change much, but her posture was a little less tense.

Kaito slumped back into his chair. That… actually worked?

He stared down at his desk?

Was that me talking… or Hiroshi?

When the school day ended, Kaito made his way to the library alone. The halls were loud with laughter and gossip, but the library was calm. Quiet. A sacred kind of silence.

He found a table tucked into a corner and sat down.

Maybe I should’ve gone to get her. That’s what Hiroshi would’ve done.

But a few minutes later, she appeared.

“I-I’m here,” she said softly, clutching her bag.

Kaito stood up slightly. “Thanks again. I mean it.”

She gave a tiny nod and took a seat across from him.

They opened their textbooks. Kaito pointed at a problem. “So, I get the first step, but after that, I’m completely lost.”

Mio leaned over the book. Her tone changed immediately.

“Well, the key is to break it down. Once you understand the fundamentals, it’s easier to build up from there.”

Her voice was clearer now. Steady. Confident.

Kaito blinked.

In the manga, Hirohsi had always said MIo became a “monster” when she tutored–0his dramatic way of saying she turned intense, maybe even scary .

He always assumed that was an exaggeration.

But now, sitting across from her as she meticulously explained formulas and calmly corrected his mistakes… Kaito began to understand.

This version of MIo wasn’t shy. She wasn’t unsure.

She was exact.

By the end of the session, Kaito slumped into his seat, defeated. He looked like he’d been hit by a textbook tsunami.

“I hope I was helpful,” Mio said gently as she packed her things.

“You were,” he groaned. “Without you, I probably would’ve just taken a nap and failed the test.”

He rubbed his neck. “Think you could help me again tomorrow? I kinda suck at more than just math…”

She hesitated again, gripping her bag.

Then, quietly: “I don’t mind. If it really helps you.”

Kaito smiled—just a little. “Thanks. Same time, same place?”

She nodded once, then walked briskly toward the exit.

Kaito watched her go, then let himself fall back into the chair.

“That… went better than expected.”

He stared up at the ceiling.

“Hiroshi called her a monster,” he muttered. “She’s more like the devil.”

But he wasn’t complaining.

The study table was empty again, but Kaito remained seated, letting the silence return. His expression softened.

“How much of Hiroshi do I have to become,” he whispered, “before I stop being what’s left of me?”

He touched his face, as if trying to feel if the mask had already started forming.

“I wonder… what kind of face am I even making right now?”

He didn’t have an answer.

Not yet.