Chapter 7 — LANTERN WORKSHOP

The school gym smelled faintly of paint and polished wood, mingling with the scent of pine from a few leftover Christmas decorations. Lanterns of all shapes and sizes were stacked along the walls, waiting to be assembled. Jinsei felt a familiar tug in his chest as he spotted Akane, kneeling carefully on the floor with a small string of lights in her hands.

She looked up briefly when he approached, giving him that soft, unobtrusive smile that somehow made the space feel warmer. “I’m trying to figure out the spacing,” she said, gesturing to a row of paper lanterns. “I don’t want them to look messy.”

“You never do,” he replied quietly, kneeling beside her. His fingers brushed hers as he handed her a small bulb, and a tiny jolt ran through him. Akane didn’t pull away. She simply accepted it, her eyes soft and calm.

As they worked, she hummed lightly, a sound so quiet he almost thought he imagined it. Jinsei noticed how carefully she adjusted each lantern, how she pressed them gently into place. Every movement was deliberate, almost ritualistic.

“You always make things look… effortless,” he said after a pause. “Even when it’s complicated.”

Akane glanced at him, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. “I don’t always feel that way,” she admitted softly. Her voice was barely audible over the low hum of the gym. “At home… everything has to be perfect. Expectations, appearances… it gets exhausting.”

Jinsei’s chest tightened. “I never thought about that,” he said gently. “I always assumed… well, I didn’t know. But you don’t have to carry it here.”

She smiled faintly, almost shyly. “That’s why I like this project. No one’s expecting me to be someone I’m not. No one’s judging the mistakes.” Her fingers lingered on a lantern for a moment, as if tracing invisible patterns.

Jinsei found himself wishing he could erase every expectation and worry for her, at least for a little while. “Then let’s make them beautiful,” he said, soft but firm. “Together.”

Akane glanced at him, eyes wide for a fraction of a second, before returning to her work. They fell into a quiet rhythm, passing materials back and forth, adjusting strings, lighting tiny bulbs. Their shoulders brushed accidentally more than once, and each time Jinsei felt a warm, insistent tug in his chest.

At one point, a loose string of lights slipped from Akane’s hands. Jinsei caught it instinctively, their fingers touching again. “Careful,” he said softly, holding her gaze.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her cheeks coloring slightly.

They worked in near silence after that, the gym emptying slowly as other students left. Only the soft hum of bulbs and the faint creak of the floorboards filled the space. Jinsei noticed the way Akane’s eyes softened when she looked at the lanterns, how her lips pressed together slightly when she focused. Each small detail made him feel… more aware.

Finally, as they finished a neat row of glowing lanterns, Akane stepped back and smiled faintly. “It’s not perfect, but it feels… right.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jinsei said immediately, meeting her eyes. “And so are you.”

Her cheeks deepened into a warm blush, and she looked down at her hands. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, quietly, almost as if confessing to herself, she murmured, “Sometimes… I just want to be noticed for me, not for anything else.”

Jinsei reached out gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I see you,” he said simply. “Only you.”

She looked up at him then, eyes wide, and for a heartbeat, the world outside the gym ceased to exist. The lanterns glowed softly around them, their lights reflecting in her eyes. Jinsei felt the thread between them pull taut, unspoken words hovering in the air, waiting to be said.

The moment passed as gently as it had come. Akane turned to adjust another lantern, and Jinsei returned to his work, but something had shifted. They had both noticed, both understood, and the slow burn of awareness—of something more—grew a little warmer, a little brighter, like the soft lights above them.