Chapter 1: First Day of Snow

The first snow of the winter fell on the morning Arima Kosuke transferred to Takamine Middle School. It wasn’t the heavy kind that weighed down rooftops or swallowed the roads. It drifted lightly, almost lazily, as if the sky couldn’t decide whether it wanted to commit to the season or not. The air smelled clean and cold, sharp enough that Kosuke felt it in his chest every time he breathed in.

He paused at the school gate, watching the flakes melt on his gloves. His palms were slightly damp from nerves. A new school in the middle of winter felt strangely symbolic. A blank page. Fresh air. A clean start. At least, that’s what adults always said. But to Kosuke, it felt more like being dropped into cold water without a chance to warm up first.

He stepped inside.

The hallways were busy. Shoes squeaked, voices echoed, and the chatter felt like a fast-moving river he had to keep swimming through. He kept his head slightly lowered, bowing politely whenever someone greeted him. His homeroom teacher introduced him in front of thirty curious eyes. Some students whispered; some didn’t bother hiding it. He sat down at the desk assigned to him and did his best to focus.

Still, the morning dragged. Every minute felt too loud. Every lesson felt longer than necessary. Kosuke didn’t dislike people, but he needed time alone to breathe. By the time lunch came around, his shoulders were tense from forcing himself to smile.

He slipped out of the classroom quickly, hoping to escape before anyone invited him to join their group. Wandering the hall, he noticed a wooden sign: Library. That sounded safe. Quiet. Warm.

He slid the door open.

The library welcomed him with soft lighting and the familiar scent of paper. Most of the seats were empty, and the silence wrapped around him like a blanket he didn’t realize he needed until now.

Then he saw her.

A girl sat near the window, where the snowflakes outside danced against the glass. Her long hair fell gently around her face as she leaned over a sketchbook. The pencil in her hand moved lightly, almost tenderly. She was drawing the scene outside with a focus Kosuke found beautiful.

He didn’t know her, but something about the picture she was creating made him pause. It wasn’t just snow. It was silence. Stillness. Softness. Feelings he didn’t have words for but recognized.

Kosuke walked toward a nearby bookshelf, pretending to browse. He kept glancing in her direction, hoping she wouldn’t notice. But she did.

“You can sit here if you want.”

Her voice was gentle, with a softness that matched the snowfall outside. She didn’t look up at first, only shifted her sketchbook a little to make room on the table.

Kosuke blinked, surprised. “Oh… um, thank you.”

She finally lifted her gaze toward him. Her eyes were warm in a quiet way—not bright or loud, but steady and calm. The kind of eyes that made him feel seen without feeling judged. It made his heart thump once, unexpectedly.

“You’re the transfer student, right?” she asked.

“Yeah. Arima Kosuke.”

She nodded. “Fuyama Hanami.”

Her name sounded delicate. Kosuke found himself repeating it in his mind before he realized it.

He sat down across from her, careful not to disturb her things. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft scratch of her pencil. Kosuke watched the snow fall in slow circles outside the window. He let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding all morning.

Hanami was the first to speak again. “Do you like the library?”

“Yeah,” Kosuke said. “It’s quiet. Easier to think here.”

“I feel the same.” She turned a page in her sketchbook. “When school gets too loud, I come here. The snow looks softer from this window. It makes the day feel slower.”

Kosuke smiled a little. “I’m glad I found this place, then.”

Hanami glanced at him, as if studying him for a moment. “You looked like you needed somewhere quiet. You walked in like you were holding your breath.”

He let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Was it that obvious?”

“A little.”

There was no teasing in her tone, just an honest observation that somehow didn’t feel embarrassing. Kosuke relaxed slightly.

He noticed her sketch again. She was drawing the snow with quick, gentle strokes. The window scene reflected in her eyes, giving them a faint silver glow.

“You’re really good,” he said. “It looks… peaceful.”

Hanami hesitated for a moment, as if not used to praise. “Thank you. I draw because it helps me understand what I’m feeling. Snow always makes me think of quiet things.”

Kosuke leaned slightly closer, trying to see without invading her space. “It really is beautiful.”

This time she blushed—just a touch of pink on her cheeks. She lowered her gaze quickly, as if the compliment warmed her a little too much.

“Most people don’t look at snow for long,” she said softly. “They say it’s cold or messy. But I like the way it falls. Not in a rush. Not trying to impress anyone. Just… gentle.”

Kosuke felt something settle in his chest. The way she spoke matched how she drew. Honest. Thoughtful. Full of small meanings most people never noticed.

A comfortable silence grew between them. Not awkward, not heavy. Just simple and calm. The kind of silence that makes you feel safe.

After a few minutes, Hanami asked, “Will you come again tomorrow?”

Kosuke didn’t even need to think. “Yeah. I will.”

Her smile was small but genuine. “Good.”

The bell rang, breaking the spell of the moment. Hanami closed her sketchbook carefully. Kosuke stood from his chair, feeling lighter than he had when he entered the room.

As he stepped outside, the snow seemed brighter. The cold didn’t sting as much.

New schools were scary. New beginnings were hard. But meeting Hanami Fuyama felt like finding a quiet lantern on a winter path—a small, warm light guiding him through the cold.

Kosuke wasn’t sure why, but he already knew he would look forward to the next day. And maybe, for the first time in a long while, winter didn’t feel lonely.