Chapter 4 — “Pink Lips, Red Lies”

The wind above Saint Elora’s rooftop always carried a faint scent of salt and jasmine. The sea stretched endlessly beyond the academy’s hill, sunlight glimmering like a hundred tiny mirrors. It was the kind of place people came to feel pure.

But purity, Himari thought, was always an illusion.

She found Mizuki waiting there after class, leaning against the rusted railing, the sky behind her painted in a slow, dying pink. The transfer girl’s uniform fluttered slightly, her sketchbook pressed tightly to her chest.

“Akane-san,” Mizuki said softly, almost as if saying the name itself might shatter something.

Himari tilted her head. “You don’t have to be so formal. Just call me Himari.”

Mizuki’s hands trembled. “Then... Himari.”

There was a pause — one of those moments that felt like the world was holding its breath. Then, in that small stillness, Mizuki spoke:

> “I love you, Himari. I think I’ve always loved you.”

The words were fragile, like paper soaked in rain. Her eyes, wide and shimmering, looked terrified to exist.

Himari blinked. “Love?”

Mizuki nodded once, as if she’d been waiting her entire life to do so. “You don’t have to answer right away. I just wanted you to know. Even if it’s strange. Even if it scares you.”

The wind pulled at Mizuki’s hair, and in that moment Himari saw how pale her face was, how red her fingers had become from gripping the sketchbook so tightly. She looked like she’d collapse if rejected.

Himari stepped closer. “You really mean that?”

“I do.”

“Even though you barely know me?”

“I know enough,” Mizuki said, her voice trembling. “You smile like you’re pretending to be fine. I think that’s beautiful. I think you deserve to be loved for real.”

Something inside Himari — a quiet, sharp thing — twisted.

No one had ever looked at her like that before. Not her friends, not the teachers who praised her, not her parents who called her “the good daughter.” They loved the version of her that smiled on command. Mizuki looked at her like she could see through that mask, and for some reason, that terrified and thrilled her at the same time.

Himari smiled, but her voice was colder than she meant it to be. “Then... I’ll go out with you.”

Mizuki froze. “...What?”

“I said yes.”

It was the first time Himari had ever seen someone cry from happiness. Mizuki’s tears fell quietly, her lips trembling. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I won’t ever let you regret it.”

---

They left the rooftop together, their shadows stretching long on the stairwell walls.

Outside the gate, Mizuki hesitated. “Can I walk you home?”

Himari shrugged. “If you want.”

The walk was quiet. Cherry petals drifted lazily down the path, catching in Mizuki’s hair. She hummed softly — a tune Himari didn’t recognize — and swung their joined hands like a child.

Himari looked at their reflection in a shop window they passed. Two girls holding hands. One smiling too wide, the other trembling too much.

She wondered which one looked more real.

---

When they reached the dorm gates, Mizuki stopped. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Himari.”

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips still parted as if she wanted to say more.

Himari touched those lips with her fingertip, gentle and almost curious. “Your lips are cold.”

Mizuki laughed softly. “Then warm them?”

Himari leaned in — and kissed her. A simple, short kiss. Not deep. Not passionate. Just... deliberate.

When she pulled away, Mizuki looked dazed, her breath trembling in small white clouds.

“Goodnight, Mizuki,” Himari whispered. “Sleep well.”

As she turned and walked away, her expression shifted — the gentle smile fading into something unreadable.

---

Later that night, she sat by her window, the moonlight tracing her fingers as she wrote in her diary:

> “I said yes today. Not because I love her, but because I want to know what kind of person she becomes when she thinks she’s loved.”

She closed the book and touched her lips again.

They still felt faintly cold.

Down the hall, in her dorm room, Mizuki lay awake clutching her sketchbook, whispering the same words into the darkness until her voice broke:

> “Himari loves me. She loves me. She loves me.”

The wind outside carried the sound of the sea, steady and endless — like a heart that didn’t know when to stop beating.