Chapter 11: New Friends, Old Feelings

Kosuke’s POV

High school begins to settle into its rhythm. Bells, schedules, crowded hallways—everything loops in a pattern that should feel normal by now. But even when the days look the same, something inside me still feels slightly off. Like I’m always two steps behind myself.

I guess that’s why I didn’t notice her at first.

Her name is Mina Shirosawa. She sits one row ahead of me, always turning around to ask questions—not about homework, but about anything she finds curious. She’s bright in a way that doesn’t try to shine. Easy to talk to. Easy to laugh with.

I didn’t expect someone like her to notice me.

One afternoon, while we’re packing up after class, she taps my desk lightly. “Kosuke, you’re spacing out again. Need help with the math assignment?”

I blink at her. “Was I?”

She tilts her head. “You always look like you’re thinking about something far away.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

If she knew what I was thinking about, she’d understand it’s not something I can explain casually.

Still, when she smiles, I feel a strange warmth I haven’t felt in a long time.

We start walking part of the way home together. Mostly because she insists.

“It’s boring walking alone,” she says with a grin. “Besides, you always look like you need someone to remind you the world is real.”

I laugh a little, and it feels unfamiliar.

Almost uncomfortable.

Almost nice.

She talks a lot, but not in an overwhelming way. She fills the silence with stories about her pets, her older brother’s ridiculous behavior, her failed attempts at cooking. I listen in a calm, drifting way, and sometimes—only sometimes—I find myself smiling without meaning to.

But every time that happens, guilt tugs at my chest.

It feels wrong to enjoy someone else’s company.

Wrong to laugh.

Wrong to let the heaviness around Hanami’s absence loosen, even for a moment.

One evening, Mina struggles with a physics problem, so I help her after school. We sit by the window, the soft sunset brushing the classroom walls. When she figures it out, she beams at me, her eyes bright with relief.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she says. “Seriously.”

And I smile back.

A real smile.

Then the guilt hits me again. Sharp. Heavy.

After she leaves, I sit alone in the fading light, pressing my hand against my chest.

Why does my heart feel like it’s betraying someone who isn’t even here?

As I walk home, the sky turns from gold to purple. I look up automatically, tracing constellations with my eyes. It calms me like always, but tonight, the stars also remind me of something I haven’t said aloud.

I’m growing used to someone else’s presence.

And I don’t know what that means for the person who used to be my whole world.

---

Hanami’s POV 

In her new school’s art club, Hanami meets Rina Sato, a girl with messy braids, ink-stained fingers, and a wide, fearless grin. Rina draws like the world belongs to her. Broad strokes. Bright colors. No hesitation.

“You think too much,” Rina says as she leans over Hanami’s shoulder. “Just draw what you feel. Don’t hold back.”

Hanami tries.

She sketches petals.

Snowflakes.

A train window.

A pair of hands nearly touching.

Rina studies the drawing and smirks. “Who’s the boy?”

Hanami’s breath catches.

“I… haven’t drawn anyone.”

“Sure,” Rina says, laughing softly. “But someone’s living in those lines.”

Hanami closes her sketchbook quietly.

---

Kosuke’s POV

A few days later, Mina brings me a strawberry bread during lunch.

“You look tired,” she says, pushing it into my hands. “Here. Sugar helps.”

I stare at the bread. “Why are you always doing things like this?”

She shrugs lightly. “Because you look like you need someone to care. Even if you won’t say it.”

I don’t know how to respond.

Her kindness is simple, honest.

And terrifying.

Because when I take a small bite and she grins, I feel something shift inside me.

Not a big shift.

Just a gentle tilt.

But it’s enough to scare me.

That night, I sit at my desk with a blank letter in front of me. I think about Hanami’s last message. The way she wrote about her art club. The way her handwriting curved, careful and soft.

I want to write back.

I want to tell her everything.

I want to say I miss her so deeply that it hurts to laugh with someone else.

But my pen doesn’t move.

Instead, I whisper into the quiet room,

“…I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say anymore.”

The words feel like a confession.

---

Hanami’s POV 

Rina nudges her during club practice. “Your shading’s gotten better. What changed?”

Hanami smiles faintly.

“I’m trying not to hold back anymore.”

But when she goes home and draws alone, the sketches soften again.

Gentler.

Quieter.

Full of someone she can’t forget.

---

Kosuke’s POV

The next day, Mina waits for me by the shoe lockers, waving when she spots me. I walk over, trying not to look as conflicted as I feel.

“Walk home?” she asks.

I hesitate for the briefest moment.

Just long enough to feel the guilt again.

But I nod anyway.

We talk about nothing important—homework, weather, a teacher who keeps forgetting attendance. And I laugh again, lightly, like my chest is stretching in two directions at once.

While we walk, Mina glances at me. “You know… you’re easier to talk to when you smile.”

I look away. “I’m not used to smiling much.”

“You should do it more.”

Her voice is warm.

Too warm.

And my heart feels heavier, not lighter.

When I get home, I finally sit at my desk and write a reply to Hanami.

Just a small one.

Just enough to keep the distance from growing too fast.

But when I seal the envelope, I realize something painful:

My letters are getting shorter.

Just like hers.

We’re breaking the same pattern.

We’re drifting at the same pace.

We’re mirroring the same quiet sadness.

Even with someone kind walking beside me, the part of my heart shaped like her still aches…

and refuses to let go.