Chapter 6: Aya Notices Something Strange

Haruto had gotten used to the stares. At first, he thought people simply found him odd for wandering off alone so much, or for sitting by the cherry tree during breaks with what looked like a foolish grin on his face. But lately, it wasn’t just casual glances—it was puzzled ones.

Especially from Aya.

Aya was sharp. Too sharp, really. She was the class rep, a girl with her hair neatly tied back in a ponytail and a seriousness about her that made her seem older than the rest of them. She was good at noticing details. Like when Haruto muttered to himself during class. Or when he laughed a little too suddenly, as though at a joke no one else had heard.

But of course, it wasn’t to himself. It was to Yui.

Today was no different.

The final bell rang, students began packing up, and Yui cheerfully leaned on Haruto’s desk, resting her chin on her hands.

“Haruto-kun! Rooftop again? I heard there’s a breeze today!”

Her smile was as bright as always, and Haruto found himself nodding before he realized what he was doing.

“Sure. I’ll bring the melon bread this time.”

And then he froze.

Because Aya was staring.

Not just staring—her brow was furrowed, her pen held midair above her notebook.

“…Haruto-kun,” she said carefully, “who are you talking to?”

His heart skipped a beat.

Yui, of course, only giggled, placing her hands behind her back like a child caught sneaking snacks before dinner. “Oops! She noticed~.”

“Ah, no one,” Haruto blurted, fumbling as he shoved his books into his bag. “Just—just thinking out loud.”

Aya didn’t look convinced.

She tapped the eraser end of her pencil against her notebook, her dark eyes narrowing. “You do that a lot lately.”

Haruto laughed awkwardly. Too loud, too forced. “Do I? Must be a bad habit.”

Aya tilted her head, lips pressed in a thin line. “…Right.”

But Haruto could tell she wasn’t buying it.

---

The rooftop was warm that afternoon, the sky painted with streaks of orange as the sun lazily dipped toward the horizon. Yui sat cross-legged on the bench, watching him unwrap the melon bread.

“You were flustered,” she said, sing-song.

“Because you kept talking so loudly!” Haruto hissed. “What if Aya—what if she really thinks I’m crazy?”

Yui puffed her cheeks, pretending to pout. “Crazy for talking to such a cute girl like me? How cruel!”

Haruto groaned, tearing off a piece of bread and tossing it at her. Of course, it went straight through her. The crumbs scattered across the bench harmlessly.

“See? That’s the problem,” he muttered. “I look insane.”

Yui leaned back on her arms, smiling with an infuriating kind of serenity. “Maybe it’s okay to be a little insane, as long as you’re having fun.”

He tried not to meet her eyes. The way the fading sunlight lit her figure made her almost ethereal, strands of her hair glowing like threads of gold. He hated that part of him liked the idea of being insane if it meant she’d stay.

Still, Aya’s sharp gaze lingered in his mind.

---

The next day, Haruto thought he’d gotten lucky—Aya hadn’t said anything during morning homeroom. But when lunch rolled around and he headed up to the rooftop, he heard footsteps behind him.

“Aya-chan?”

She gave a curt nod, her arms folded. “You’ve been sneaking off up here every day. I was curious.”

Haruto swallowed. His palms were suddenly sweaty, his heartbeat quick. “Just… like the fresh air, that’s all.”

“Oh really?” Aya said, stepping onto the rooftop. Her eyes darted to the empty bench, where Yui was already sitting with her hands waving in exaggerated motions.

“Haruto-kun, she can’t see me, remember?” Yui whispered. “Act natural! Pretend I’m not here!”

Which, ironically, was the least natural thing to do.

Aya watched him like a hawk as he walked toward the bench, and Yui stuck out her tongue playfully, whispering, “Sit next to me!”

He hesitated. Then sat. A little too close to Yui, if anyone could see her.

Aya’s eyes narrowed. “You’re… a little strange, Haruto-kun.”

His laugh was nervous, his throat dry. “Strange? Hah, you don’t say.”

“Sometimes,” she continued, her tone firm but not unkind, “it looks like you’re talking to someone. Or… sitting with someone.”

Haruto froze.

Aya stepped closer, her ponytail swaying as the breeze caught it. “Is there… someone?”

Yui tilted her head, smiling mischievously. “Oooh, she’s jealous~.”

“I’m not jealous,” Aya snapped suddenly, and Haruto realized too late he had muttered Yui’s words out loud.

Silence.

Aya blinked. “…You just… repeated what I was thinking.”

His ears burned. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“Haruto-kun.” Aya’s voice softened, almost hesitant now. “Are you… okay?”

The concern in her eyes made his chest tighten. Because the truth—that he spent all his free time with a girl no one else could see—sounded like anything but okay.

And yet, Yui’s hand ghosted near his, her smile gentle now. “You don’t have to explain. Not yet.”

Haruto swallowed. “I’m fine. Really.”

Aya didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push further. She just sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag. “If you say so. Just… don’t isolate yourself too much, alright? We’re classmates. You can talk to me, too.”

And with that, she left, the rooftop door closing with a soft thud.

---

The moment she was gone, Haruto buried his face in his hands. “This is bad. This is really, really bad.”

Yui, of course, only laughed, leaning close enough that he could almost imagine the warmth of her breath.

“Haruto-kun,” she said softly, almost tenderly this time. “You’re not alone. Even if she doesn’t see me… I do. I always will.”

And for a fleeting moment, he wondered—was it really such a bad thing that only he could see her?