Chapter 12 – “The Love Letter Draft”

Mizuki was a poet.

At least, that’s what she told herself every time she failed math.

She sat by the window of the study club room that afternoon, her pen hovering nervously over a clean page. The sun filtered through the glass, glinting off her long black hair as she mumbled to herself.

“Okay, Mizuki… this is just a literature exercise. Not a love letter. You’re practicing metaphors. For class. Totally.”

Her pen trembled as she began to write.

> Dear Kanda-kun… your eyes remind me of the exams I can’t pass—

She stopped, groaning softly. “What does that even mean? Exams I can’t pass? That’s depressing.” She scribbled it out and tried again.

> Dear Kanda-kun… your smile shines brighter than the fluorescent lights of the library.

She winced. “No! That’s so lame. Why am I comparing him to lighting fixtures!?”

A small voice in her head whispered, because you stare at him more than you stare at your homework.

Her cheeks flushed. “S-shut up, brain…”

Across the room, Rika and Yuuto were busy going over chemistry formulas. Rika looked as composed as always, though every few minutes her eyes flicked toward Mizuki with suspicion. After yesterday’s “Experiment in Love,” the atmosphere in the study club had grown… awkward.

Meanwhile, Yuuto was doing his best not to remember that Rika’s face had been inches from his yesterday. His brain still rebooted whenever their hands brushed.

Mizuki peeked at them, fidgeting. Yuuto’s gentle voice carried over the table—patient, focused, kind. When Rika got a formula wrong, he didn’t tease; he encouraged.

It made Mizuki’s heart flutter like pages in a storm.

She stared at her half-finished note again. “Just write what you feel…” she whispered.

> Dear Kanda-kun, thank you for always helping us. I know I’m not as smart or confident as the others, but when you smile at me, I feel like I can do anything. Even solve quadratic equations.

Her pen paused. Her heart thumped. That… actually sounded kind of sweet.

Then the door slammed open.

“GUUUUUYS!” Akari ’s voice exploded through the quiet room. She was holding a sports towel, still in her track uniform, hair tied in a messy ponytail. “I’m starving! Do we have snacks?”

Yuuto jumped. “Akari, could you not yell like we’re at a festival?”

“Sorry, sorry!” she said cheerfully—then noticed Mizuki clutching a folded piece of paper like it was the nuclear launch code. “Ooooh? What’s that?”

“N-Nothing!” Mizuki yelped, trying to hide it behind her back.

Akari grinned like a cat that found a secret stash. “A love letter!? Wait—don’t tell me—it’s for Yuuto!”

The entire room froze. Even Rika looked up from her textbook.

Mizuki’s face went nuclear red. “N-no! It’s—it’s a literature assignment! For practice! I’m just… uh… writing metaphors!”

Akari leaned over. “Then let me see! I’m good at drama, I’ll act it out!”

Before Mizuki could protest, Akari snatched the paper and hopped onto the teacher’s desk like she was performing Shakespeare.

“‘Dear Kanda-kun,’” she began dramatically, her voice echoing. “‘Your eyes remind me of exams I can’t pass—’”

“AKARI!!!” Mizuki shrieked, leaping to her feet.

“‘Your smile shines brighter than the fluorescent lights of the library!’” Akari continued, ignoring her, waving the letter like a script. “‘When you speak, my heart skips beats like an old calculator!’”

Yuuto’s face turned redder than Rika’s test correction pen. Rika herself snorted, muttering under her breath, “Poetic inefficiency detected.”

Mizuki’s soul left her body. “S-stop! It’s not finished! It’s not even good!” She tried to grab the paper, but Akari danced out of reach, still reading dramatically.

Yuuto coughed into his fist. “A-Akari, seriously, that’s enough—”

“‘Even if you never notice me,’” Akari read, voice softening for effect, “‘I’ll keep cheering for you in silence…’”

The room went still.

For a split second, nobody laughed. Mizuki’s trembling hand lowered, her lips parting slightly. She hadn’t even realized she’d written that line.

Akari blinked. “Whoa… that was actually… kinda sweet.”

Mizuki’s eyes welled up with embarrassment. “I-I told you it wasn’t for real!” she cried, ducking under the table and covering her face. “Forget you ever read it!”

Akari scratched her head, feeling guilty now. “Sorry, Mizuki. I didn’t mean to…”

Yuuto walked over gently, crouching beside the desk. “Hey, Mizuki… it’s okay. It was really nice writing. Honest.”

She peeked up at him, eyes wide. “Y-you think so?”

He smiled awkwardly. “Yeah. You’ve got a way with words. Even if they’re… kind of dangerous to my blood pressure.”

That made her laugh through the tears, cheeks glowing pink. “Thanks, Kanda-kun…”

Rika rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a small smirk. “Poetic, but inefficient. Still… admirable attempt.”

Later, as everyone packed up, Yuuto noticed the crumpled paper on the floor near his desk. He picked it up, smoothing it out curiously. The words were messy, emotional, unfiltered.

> Dear Kanda-kun…

He stared at the signature space—blank. No name.

“Who could this be from…?” he murmured to himself, pocketing it.

At the window, Mizuki glanced back one last time, whispering under her breath, “Don’t figure it out yet, okay? Not until I’m brave enough to mean it.”