Chapter 21: “Parents’ Day Begins”

Parents’ Day at Hikamori High School always drew a crowd, and this year was no different. The front gate looked like a festival entrance. Students hurried around with papers, teachers smiled politely while trying to direct traffic, and parents gathered in small groups comparing whose child had grown taller. The whole place buzzed with the usual mix of pride, nerves, and gossip.

Touko walked between Kei and Yui, keeping her shoulders tight as if she were bracing for something. She wasn’t holding Kei’s hand, but her fingers kept brushing the cuff of his sleeve, just enough for her to feel he was there. Kei didn’t say anything about it, but every time she did it, he glanced down with a small, confused smile.

Yui, on the other hand, looked bright and cheerful. “Touko, I heard your class decorated the hallway. I can’t wait to see it. Your teacher told me you helped plan everything.”

Touko nodded. “Yes.”

Kei felt a warm pinch in his chest. No matter how quiet Touko was, the teachers always praised her. Hardworking. Polite. Top of her year. He wasn’t the type to boast, but he couldn’t deny it — walking into her school like this made him feel something close to pride.

A teacher waved them over. “Ah, Touko-san. Good morning! You brought both your parents today?”

Touko bowed politely. “Yes, sensei.”

The teacher’s smile widened before turning to Kei and Yui. “Your daughter is one of our brightest. Always dependable. She even helped keep the class running when we had a substitute last month.”

“It’s nothing…” Touko murmured, eyes down.

Kei felt her sleeve tug again lightly. She only did that when she was anxious, and he wondered if the crowd was getting to her. Or maybe that night was still on her mind — the scent, the shirt, the question she asked him. Who is she?

Touko stayed beside him, quiet but alert, like she was watching everything around her. Yui chatted with the teacher, laughing softly, but Touko didn’t relax.

As they moved deeper into the school, they passed bulletin boards covered with drawings and essays. Students waved to Touko more than Kei expected.

“Good morning, Touko!”

“Congrats on the math contest!”

“You’re class rep again, right?”

Touko nodded at each one, polite as ever, but her focus stayed on Kei’s side. Every few steps she checked his face, as if expecting something to happen.

Kei leaned down a little. “Are you alright? You look tense.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

But she wasn’t. He knew it. Ever since she smelled that perfume the night he brought Rurika home, something had unsettled her. Even after he explained everything to her the next day — that he didn’t know the girl was her classmate, that he only helped because she was in trouble — Touko still clung to him more than usual.

The hallway grew crowded as more families arrived. Yui took Touko’s hand to guide her forward, but Touko let go after a moment and stepped closer to Kei instead.

“Papa,” she said quietly, “stay near me.”

“Of course,” he replied.

They entered the main building where the class exhibits were set up. The air smelled like paper, glue, and the faint hint of chalk. Parents were already taking photos of projects, pointing out names they recognized.

Touko guided them toward Class 2-B’s corner. Her calligraphy piece hung in the center — clean strokes, balanced and steady. Yui clasped her hands. “Touko… this is beautiful.”

Touko lowered her head, but a faint smile appeared. Kei rested a hand on her shoulder, just for a moment, enough to tell her he was proud.

And then—

Touko stopped walking.

Her hand froze on Kei’s sleeve.

Across the hallway, near another display board, stood Rurika.

She had been laughing with her mother about a crooked papier-mâché animal, but her expression shattered the instant her eyes drifted to Kei.

Her face went pale.

Kei blinked, confused, not recognizing her at first. He only remembered the night on the train platform — a frightened girl, cornered by a man, shaking in shock as he helped her home. Her hair was tied differently today, and she wore her school uniform neatly pressed. She looked more like a normal student than the trembling girl he escorted that evening.

Rurika’s mother looked between her daughter and Kei. “Rurika? What’s wrong?”

But Rurika didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on him, wide and unsure.

Touko followed her gaze.

The moment she recognized Rurika, her shoulders tightened. Her face went blank in that way she only used when she was upset.

Kei didn’t understand why the girl looked like she had seen a ghost, until a faint memory clicked — the photo. The rumor. The anonymous account.

So this was the one.

Touko’s breath hitched.

Rurika tried to look away but failed. Her cheeks reddened, and she gripped her skirt, flustered and embarrassed. The way she looked at Kei wasn’t fear this time. It was something closer to… wanting his attention.

Touko felt a cold sting spread in her chest.

Yui didn’t notice the tension and continued chatting with another parent, oblivious.

But Touko stood still, sleeve still in her fist, staring at the girl who tried to ruin her life — and now stood frozen in front of her father.

Her heart thumped once.

Hard.

The hallway felt too bright. Too loud.

Kei sensed something was off and placed a hand on her back. “Touko?”

She didn’t answer.

Because Rurika wasn’t laughing anymore. She wasn’t smug or smirking.

She just looked at Kei with a soft, shy expression that made something twist sharply inside Touko.

Neither girl spoke.

But the air between them tightened — thin, heavy, and ready to break.

And Parents’ Day had only just begun.