The Distance Between Us

“…So….”

“Nothing,” Ryuji muttered, sipping his can of coffee. Across the playground, Yukiharu-san stretched with Fuyuki-san, her movements well practiced, her gaze never meeting his.

Sayuri-san leaned in, voice low but insistent, “You’re hiding something. What really happened during the test?”

Ryuji shrugged, eyes fixed on the children chasing a ball nearby.

He remembered the flash of triumph on Yukiharu-san’s face – the “yatta!” she’d let slip after the evaluation. A side of her he’s never seen before, and somehow, he didn’t want to share it. Not yet.

“Seriously, nothing happened.”

Sayuri’s eyes narrowed, her finger tapping her mole – a habit when she was thinking hard.

“Look at her,” Ryuji said quietly. “She’s even more distant now.”

Only Sayuri called him Minachi. This park had become their afterschool hangout since he got the nickname, but lately, the group felt more fractured than ever.

He shifted on the bench, the urge to leave tugging at him.

“Maybe I should just go home…”

Sayuri’s hand shot out, her expression firm. “No.”

Children’s laughter drifted across the playground, painfully out of place.

Sayuri-san clapped her hands together, forcing a bright smile. “Let’s go to Ko-chan’s family ramen place this weekend! All of us, together.”

Yukiharu-san’s eyes flicked to Fuyuki-san, then back to Sayuri-san. “I can’t. I have things to do.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Ryuji felt his chest tighten. He’d hoped—just for a moment—that things might be different.

He watched Fuyuki-san nod and fall in step behind Yukiharu-san, no questions asked. It struck Ryuji that he’d never seen them actually talk, not the way friends or cousins might. Sometimes it seemed like Fuyuki-san was just following orders, like a loyal pet or something. Ryuji frowned, uncomfortable with the thought. Maybe he was missing something—maybe there was more to their bond than he could see from the outside.

Sayuri-san’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

Why does she always do this?

Ryuji leaned forward to stand up, only to be stopped by a faint tug on his sleeve by Sayuri-san.

“If that was all, I am heading home.” Yukiharu-san walked past in front of Ryuji and Sayuri-san. Her cold sharp gaze cast down at him as she skirted by.

Ryuji watched Sayuri-san’s hopeful smile dash as Yukiharu-san turned away. He felt a surge of anger – not just for himself, but for Sayuri-san, who always tried to keep them together.

Why does she have to be like this? Doesn’t she see how hard Sayuri’s trying?

Maybe it was easier to speak up for someone else.

“What is your problem? She’s trying to cheer us up here.” Ryuji stood up, shaking off Sayuri-san’s hand.

Her eyes sharpened — a warning, not a question. “I don’t.”

“Don’t raise your voice.” Sayuri-san squeaked, her eyes darted over to the children playing on the other side.

Yukiharu-san took a step forward towards Ryuji. Fuyuki-san rushed to stand between the two.

“At least tell Sayuri-san why you cannot make it this weekend. Or …”

“Hanako doesn’t need to explain anything, Sayuri should understand.” Fuyuki-san spoke for Yukiharu-san.

“Understand? I don’t think she does. This doesn’t look like a good friendship if Yukiharu-san dictates whatever works for her and everyone else conforms to her demands.” Ryuji took a step forward and felt he was stepping into a ring. A three-way tension he barely understood. At least he wanted to champion for Sayuri-san this time.

“It’s you who doesn’t understand the situation.” Fuyuki-san said. “We’ve known each other for years. Hanako’s obligations to her family is none of your business.”

Sayuri’s fingers pinched his sleeve again - tighter this time, almost pleading. His sleeve trembled, fist clenched then relaxed. Ryuji kept his eyes on Yukiharu Hanako.

Her expression was still fierce, ready to jump into the ring to defend herself. Ryuji can feel she wants a fight. Her corner of the lips twitched as if they wanted to curl into a smirk. Fuyuki-san placed his hand on Yukiharu-san’s shoulder, gripping.

“Onee‑san, look out!” children shouted from the playground.

A bouncy ball shot toward Yukiharu-san’s face. Her hands blurred and snatched the ball out of the air. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and hit the ground. Even Ryuji saw her nails dig into the rubber.

She stared at it for a beat, then raised her arm to throw it over. Then let out a long exhale – shoulders sagged - and walked over to the kids.

She sauntered back; she was her calm collected self again.

She picked up the bag as if nothing had happened, but all three of them had seen it: the flash of intensity when she caught the ball, sharp enough to feel like killing intent.

“I’m heading home. I’m tired. Sayuri, I’ll call you tonight.”

Sayuri-san started to rise but Yukiharu-san lifted a hand without looking at her. “Masaki. Let’s go.”

“…Hanako’s very stressed right now.” Fuyuki-san bowed slightly. “She doesn’t mean it. I hope you understand.”

He followed her and took her bag.

Ryuji watched them slip by the trees around the corner. His tensed muscles relaxed and slumped back to the bench beside Sayuri-san.

“What is wrong with …” Ryuji couldn’t finish his sentence. He saw Sayuri-san whipping her head away from him, sniffling.

“Don’t look at me right now.” Her voice hitched. “Sorry, I’m not at my best.”

Ryuji froze, unsure what to do. He simply sat there in silence, trying to process everything.

“Don’t apologize, it’s Yukiharu-san’s fault for being so cold towards everyone.” He turned his head away from her.

“I try so hard… and it hurts.” She sniffled and voice uneven.

Ryuji opened his bag, then realized she doesn’t carry a tissue or any sort. Then he hears a plastic wrapper crinkle, moments later, a loud unfiltered blow to the tissue.

“It’s frustrating, you know?” Her voice was uneven. “I’ve known her for years and lately… I don’t know whether she’s the same person anymore” another loud blow.

“She’s so mean and stupid… she’s so head‑first, talk‑later. I don’t even know why I put up with her.”

Ryuji kept his head looking over the brush, giving her space.

“I’m sorry Tacchi, I was trying to keep us up together. But when she snaps at me like that, she’s scary.”

He nodded; He’d felt it too - that feral flash when Yukiharu‑san caught the ball. Maybe that was her honest side.

“Thanks Tacchi, talking really helped.” Her voice was still muted, but her usual hint of brightness crept back in. He felt the pinch on his sleeve again.

“Um… Can I have your phone number?” she asked, “Hana-chan said she’ll call me tonight so I can pass along whatever she says. And she’d better be prepared for some of Sayuri’s fury.”

Ryuji fumbled in his bag, tore out a scrap of notebook paper and scribbled his number and passed it to her without looking.

“Oh gee, you can look now, silly.”

She chuckled. He looked over and saw her smile. Tired but real.

“Thanks Tacchi.” She tapped his shoulder.

- - -

“…Tacchi…?” Sayuri‑san’s voice crackled through the receiver.

“Hey, Natsume‑san.”

“Sayuri‑san,” she corrected, a little huff in her tone. “Anyway—Hana‑chan said she’s sorry about earlier. She has something important in Kyoto this weekend, but she’ll be back by Sunday. Expect sweets from Kyoto.”

Her voice was bright and fast; Ryuji barely kept up, humming along.

“So, you and I will meet at the station in the morning, okay? Lunch first.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you!”

The line clicked. Masaki was right—there was a lot he didn’t understand about the three of them. But at least he was starting to.