CHAPTER 2 — A DAY THAT FEELS LIKE IT’S MOVING

The morning air was cooler than usual, brushing against my face as I pedaled down the quiet streets toward school. The sun was low, not harsh, just warm enough to make the shadows feel long and soft. I had my headphones in, mostly ignoring Aoi and Isumu’s early messages about meeting up.

It was peaceful. Too peaceful, maybe. I kept thinking about yesterday—about the way Akane had smiled when I bumped into her, faintly, almost politely. Not the kind of smile that demanded attention, just… notice. The sort of smile that lingers because it feels like it belongs somewhere.

I tried not to think too hard about it. My life was supposed to be simple. Predictable. Quiet.

And yet, somehow, it felt slightly less so.

When I arrived at school, Aoi and Isumu were already hovering near the entrance, arguing about nothing of consequence.

“I swear,” Aoi said, brandishing a notebook, “if the café project doesn’t involve pastries, I’m walking out. Literally.”

Isumu rolled his eyes. “Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? You’ll leave your own project because of cake?”

“Exactly!” Aoi shouted. “I have standards!”

I walked past them, ignoring the commotion, but I caught a whiff of something faint—flowers, maybe, or some perfume carried by the morning breeze—and for a moment I thought of Akane. Tiny, fleeting thought, easy to ignore.

Class started with the usual chatter and shuffle of papers. Mr. Hoshino entered, looked tired, and muttered something about the festival schedule. Class 2-B would meet Class 3-E again for project work today.

I kept my head down. I didn’t need excitement. But the room already buzzed with whispers.

“Do you think she’ll actually talk to us this time?” Aoi muttered.

“Maybe,” I said without looking up. “Or maybe we’re still invisible.”

“You’re the invisible one,” Isumu added dryly. “Not her.”

Aoi flopped dramatically on his desk. “That’s unfair!”

I smirked. Unfair was a word for everything in life.

By third period, we were in the multipurpose room again. Tables pushed together, papers scattered, everyone murmuring ideas.

Akane was already there, notebook open, quietly noting things down. She moved with a confidence that didn’t announce itself, but somehow made her presence feel firm, unshakable. Not because of wealth or status, but because she seemed entirely grounded in herself.

I watched her from across the table. Not in a “creepy” way, I told myself. Just… noticing. The way her fingers held the pen, the calm tilt of her head, the subtle way she organized things.

I thought, almost automatically, She’s… good at this. Really good.

And then I realized that noticing that made my chest feel… warm. Strange.

Our group began discussing the café project.

“Coffee, tea, some pastries?” Hana suggested quietly.

“Simple, clean, and comfortable,” Akane added, glancing at the sketches already on the table. “Not too much decoration, but welcoming.”

Reina nodded. “Good. I’ll handle decorations.”

Aoi, of course, immediately began arguing. “What if we add cat ears? Or a theme? Theme’s fun!”

“Not everything has to be fun,” I said flatly.

“You’re a killjoy,” Aoi whispered.

Akane glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, but didn’t comment. Just a small, amused twitch, like she had already noticed this type of person before. I felt a tiny flutter, and I hated that it surprised me.

Isumu muttered something about fire safety, and Aoi groaned. The room fell into a chaotic rhythm, papers and ideas bouncing around. Somehow, it all came together.

A short break came, and the group dispersed to gather materials. I ended up walking with Akane by chance.

“Do you live nearby?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Five minutes by bike. You?”

“Same. Pretty quiet streets.”

She smiled faintly. “I like quiet streets. You notice small things there, don’t you?”

I stopped. “Huh… yeah, I guess. I notice small things.”

She looked at me, and for a second I felt like she could see right through me. “Sometimes the small things matter more than we think.”

I nodded slowly, unsure what to say. It sounded simple, but I felt like it carried something heavier. A subtle truth. Something I didn’t fully understand, but that felt important.

Later, at the end of the day, we walked home together again. The sunlight had softened into evening, long shadows stretching across the street.

“Your friends are… lively,” she said quietly.

I glanced at her. “Yeah. They make life… interesting.”

She tilted her head. “I like it. You seem calm around them.”

I shrugged. “I’m used to chaos. It’s not new.”

She smiled faintly. “I guess some people are meant to be calm. Not because they don’t care, but because they notice.”

I wanted to reply, but no words came. I simply nodded. She was right, in some way I couldn’t yet explain.

That night, I sat at my desk and looked at my notes for the festival. Akane’s calm confidence, her independence, the way she seemed to quietly take charge without demanding attention—it all kept playing in my mind.

Not love. Not yet. Just… awareness. Curiosity. Admiration.

But a tiny part of me wondered if noticing someone like that was the beginning of something bigger.

I thought about her voice, her subtle smile, the faint perfume she always carried.

Small things. Tiny things. Yet they left a mark.

And maybe that’s what love is—not the fireworks or confessions, but noticing someone, quietly, and letting them matter.

And somewhere deep inside, I felt the first sparks of something unpredictable. Something like… change.