Chapter 4 – The Library Incident

The school library smelled faintly of ink and old paper, the kind of scent that clung to dust motes floating lazily in the shafts of afternoon sunlight. Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched like solemn guardians, each packed with tightly arranged volumes. It was quiet enough that even the soft turning of pages seemed loud.

Haruto had always liked libraries. They were calm, predictable, a place where rules were clear. After a few days of chaotic encounters with Yui, he was looking forward to some peace.

At least, that was the plan.

“Psssst, Haruto-kun!”

He nearly dropped the book in his hands. Turning his head, he spotted Yui crouched behind a shelf, peeking at him like some mischievous cat. Her chestnut hair caught the sunlight, and her grin was far too wide for someone in a place dedicated to silence.

“What are you doing here?” Haruto whispered sharply.

“What does it look like? Helping you study, of course!” She bounded over before he could protest, plopping into the seat across from him. “You’ve got that serious face again. It’s adorable.”

Haruto rubbed his temples. “Yui, this is a library. You can’t just—”

“I know, I know. Quiet voices only.” She pressed a finger to her lips dramatically. “See? I’m totally behaving.”

Her definition of “behaving” was questionable at best.

---

Haruto returned his attention to the open math workbook on the table, pencil tapping lightly as he tried to focus. He could feel Yui’s eyes on him, though, and it was maddeningly distracting.

“…Do you need something?” he muttered without looking up.

“Mm-mm.” She shook her head, then leaned forward on her elbows. “I just like watching you study. You’re so focused, it’s kind of inspiring.”

Haruto sighed. “If you’re going to sit there, at least don’t distract me.”

“Fine, fine,” Yui said. For exactly ten seconds, she was silent. Then: “Ooooh, is that trigonometry? I was terrible at that!”

“Yui.”

“What? I’m just being supportive!” She giggled, then reached across the table, her hand passing right through his pencil as she tried to point at a problem. “Ah! You made a mistake here—”

The pencil clattered against the desk, slipping right out of his fingers.

Haruto froze. So did Yui.

“Oops,” she said weakly, retracting her hand.

Across the library, a pair of students looked over, frowning. Haruto hurriedly picked up the pencil, pretending nothing was wrong. His ears burned.

---

“Yui,” he whispered once the others turned away, “you can’t just—touch things like that.”

“I didn’t mean to! It just… happened,” she said, puffing out her cheeks like a scolded child. Then she leaned back, arms crossed. “Besides, you did mess up that equation. I was trying to help.”

“You can’t even hold a pencil,” Haruto pointed out.

Her pout deepened. “That’s mean. You don’t know, maybe I’m secretly a math genius ghost.”

Haruto stared at her. “…Did you just say ghost?”

For a split second, her eyes widened, like she’d realized she’d said something dangerous. Then she laughed nervously, waving it off. “Kidding! Totally kidding. Why would I be a ghost? That’s silly, right?”

Haruto didn’t answer. The unease he’d been trying to bury resurfaced, twisting in his chest. But Yui’s smile—bright, insistent—pushed those thoughts aside.

---

“Anyway!” Yui hopped up, wandering between the shelves. “Let’s find you a better textbook. Something that explains trigonometry without making it look like rocket science.”

“Yui—don’t—”

Too late.

A moment later, books began sliding off the shelf one after another, as if an invisible hand were yanking them free. Haruto’s eyes widened in horror as three, then four volumes toppled onto the carpet.

Students nearby turned, whispering.

“Hey, did you see that?”

“The books just… fell by themselves.”

“Creepy.”

Haruto leapt to his feet, scrambling to gather the scattered books. His heart hammered as he forced a laugh. “S-Sorry! My fault, I, uh… bumped the shelf.”

The librarian gave him a sharp glare from across the room, one finger to her lips in a silent keep it down.

Mortified, Haruto stacked the books back in place. Behind the shelf, Yui peeked out, her expression a mix of guilt and sheepish amusement.

“…Maybe I don’t know my own strength,” she whispered.

Haruto glared. “Stop messing around!”

“I wasn’t! Honest! They just kind of… slipped.” She clasped her hands together in mock prayer. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

---

They returned to the table, Haruto doing his best to disappear into the background as the whispers around them faded. Yui, however, seemed utterly unbothered.

“You’re really good at covering for me,” she said cheerfully. “Thanks, Haruto-kun. You’re like my knight in shining armor.”

Haruto groaned. “Don’t say embarrassing things in a library.”

She leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “But it’s true.”

His face heated again, and he buried himself in his textbook to avoid her gaze. Still, a small part of him couldn’t deny the warmth that spread in his chest at her words.

---

Eventually, the quiet settled again. Haruto managed to finish a few practice problems while Yui hummed softly to herself, swinging her legs beneath the table.

Out of nowhere, she asked, “Haruto-kun, do you like studying?”

“…Not really,” he admitted. “But I have to. My parents expect good grades.”

“I see.” Yui tilted her head. “I used to think studying was pointless. But now… I kind of wish I’d tried harder.”

Her voice softened at the end, almost wistful, and Haruto looked up. There it was again—that fleeting sadness in her eyes, the kind that didn’t match her constant cheerfulness.

“…Yui,” he began carefully, “what exactly—”

The bell rang, cutting him off.

Yui blinked, then smiled brightly, as if the moment hadn’t happened. “Looks like lunch break’s over! Guess we survived the library.”

Haruto exhaled, gathering his things. She was dodging again—just like on the rooftop, just like when he asked about her missing lunch.

As they left, Haruto glanced at her walking a step ahead, her skirt fluttering in the breeze from the open window.

She looked so alive. So vibrant.

And yet…

Why was it that, whenever he tried to grasp her truth, it slipped through his fingers like mist?

---

That afternoon, Haruto barely paid attention in class. Yui’s laugh echoed in his head, tangled with the image of books falling without cause.

There was no denying it anymore.

Something about Yui didn’t belong to the world he knew.