Chapter 08

The air between Tadashi and Nao remained heavy with the weight of her story. The city lights shimmered in the distance, but the park felt like an isolated world, untouched by time. Nao had laid bare a part of herself she had long kept hidden, and for a moment, neither of them knew what to say.

Finally, Tadashi broke the silence.

“After Aki… did you ever try to trust someone again?”

Nao hesitated, as if considering her answer. “Not really,” she admitted. “I had friends, acquaintances, but I never let anyone get close enough to hurt me again.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself.

“It’s easier that way.”

Tadashi understood that sentiment more than he wanted to admit. He, too, had been keeping secrets, shielding himself from the weight of his own past. But Nao’s honesty was like a mirror, reflecting his own fears back at him.

“You don’t think you’ll ever try again?” he asked carefully.

Nao let out a small, hollow laugh. “And risk another betrayal?” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”

Tadashi looked up at the sky. It was the same night he had seen the vision—the star-like spark that had slipped through his fingers again and again until he had finally caught it. He clenched his hands into fists, remembering the desperation and determination he had felt.

“Maybe trust isn’t something you just give,” Tadashi said after a moment. “Maybe it’s something you build, piece by piece.”

Nao turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. “And if it breaks?”

“Then you try again,” Tadashi said simply. “Not everyone will betray you, Nao.”

She sighed, glancing away. “That’s easy for you to say.”

He gave a small smile. “Is it?”

Nao blinked, caught off guard by his response. Tadashi wasn’t sure where this confidence had come from, but something about their conversation made him want to believe in his own words. Maybe it was because, for the first time, he wasn’t just trying to convince her—he was trying to convince himself, too. She didn’t respond right away, but the guarded look in her eyes softened, just a little.

“I’ll think about it,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tadashi nodded, not pushing any further. This was enough for now. The night air grew colder, and the two of them stood side by side in silence, lost in their own thoughts. For the first time in a long while, Nao felt something unfamiliar stir within her—a fragile, hesitant hope. And Tadashi? He felt that same spark from his vision flicker inside him once more, waiting to be grasped.

The first day at school passed in an unusual quiet for Tadashi. Though the usual antics of Kei, Rin, Daiki, Haruto, and Hikaru filled the air with laughter, there was an undeniable shift in his thoughts. He found himself watching Nao more often, not out of curiosity, but out of something deeper—concern, understanding, and an unspoken connection forged from their late-night conversation at the park.

Nao, for her part, seemed unchanged on the surface. She still carried herself with quiet confidence, still kept a careful distance from others. But every so often, Tadashi caught fleeting moments where she seemed… different. Less guarded. More present.

One afternoon, as the group sat under the tree in the courtyard, Daiki tossed a crumpled piece of paper at Tadashi’s head. “Earth to Tadashi. You’ve been staring into space again.”

Kei smirked. “Or maybe staring at a certain someone.”

Tadashi sighed, rubbing his temple. “You guys seriously need new material.”

Nao rolled her eyes. “You guys are unbearable.” But there was no bite to her words, only mild exasperation.

Daiki grinned. “It’s only because we love you, Nao.”

She scoffed but didn’t deny it.

Daiki gasped. “Wait, did she just accept our affection? Mark this day on the calendar, boys.”

Nao groaned. “I take it back. All of you are insufferable.”

Daiki clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me, Nao. Truly.”

Kei nodded sagely. “A tragic love story. Portrayed by the one we care for the most.”

Nao picked up her book and pointedly ignored them, though the hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

The conversation moved along, but Tadashi found himself wondering: was this what rebuilding trust looked like? Not some grand moment, but little pieces of warmth slipping through the cracks? Nao hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t shut him out. If anything, she was… letting herself be part of something again.

Later that evening, Tadashi found himself walking home with Nao once more, the sky painted in soft hues of orange and pink. Neither of them spoke, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was simply… quiet. Comfortable. After a while, Nao spoke.

“I don’t regret telling you.”

Tadashi turned to look at her. She wasn’t facing him, her eyes fixed ahead, but there was something vulnerable in the way she said it.

“I thought I would,” she continued.

“That I’d feel exposed. Weak. But… I don’t.”

Tadashi’s chest tightened. He didn’t know what to say, so he simply nodded.

“I’m glad.”

Nao let out a small breath, almost a laugh.

“Don’t get used to it.”

A grin tugged at his lips.

“No promises.”

Nao sighed.

“You’re really annoying sometimes.”

Kei’s voice suddenly rang in Tadashi’s head.

“Or maybe staring at a certain someone.”

Tadashi cleared his throat.

“You sound just like Rin and the others.”

Nao scoffed.

“I take offense to that.”

They walked a little further, and Tadashi found himself smiling. This was different. Not forced, not strained. Just… natural.

Nao’s walls had cracks in them now. And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t trying to fix them.

Tadashi never considered himself a particularly sentimental person, but as the day unfolded, he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed being around his friends. Whether they were eating lunch, hanging out after school, or dealing with the latest chaos Kei inevitably stirred up, there was something oddly comforting about the predictability of their unpredictability. The madness began in the classroom when Kei, for some unknown reason, decided to challenge Hikaru to a ‘serious’ game of rock-paper-scissors.

“Alrighty,” Kei announced, rolling up his sleeves like he was about to engage in a life-or-death duel.

“The loser buys drinks for everyone.”

Hikaru snorted. “You have the worst luck at this game. You sure you wanna do this?”

“I have unparalleled instincts, thank you very much.”

“Your instincts suck.” Rin’s voice cut through the air with all the grace of a hammer.

Kei scowled. “That was unnecessary.”

Rin shrugged. “I think it was.”

Tadashi, Daiki, and Haruto watched with amusement as Kei and Hikaru squared off. Three rounds later, Kei was groaning in despair, while Hikaru leaned back in his chair, arms crossed smugly.

“Wow, Kei, truly unparalleled instincts,” Tadashi said dryly.

Kei slumped over his desk. “I was this close!”

“You literally lost all three rounds!” Daiki pointed out.

“I almost won one,” Kei grumbled.

Rin tilted her head. “That’s like saying you almost survived after falling off a cliff.”

Daiki laughed. “Let’s go cash in our drinks, boys.”

After school, they all gathered at their usual hangout, a small café near the station. Kei, begrudgingly fulfilling his defeat, stood in line, muttering to himself about unfair luck. The rest of them had taken over a booth, chatting loudly over the background music. Nao, who had been relatively quiet up until now, sighed.

“You guys are a mess.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Hikaru grinned. “Statistically speaking, it is normal for people in our age group ,” He added.

She stared at him. “No it’s not.”

Rin took a sip of her drink. “No, it’s just that this group is filled with special idiots.”

Tadashi chuckled, watching them banter. Moments like these were easy—free of complications, expectations, or anything weighing on his mind. It wasn’t something he had always appreciated, but now, he did.

When Kei finally returned with their drinks, looking both exhausted and financially wounded, Rin didn’t miss a beat.

“So, how does it feel to be broke and humiliated?”

Kei groaned, dropping into his seat. “Rin, please, I’m already suffering.”

“Good.”

Nao hid a smile behind her cup.

As the evening continued, the laughter never stopped. From Hikaru’s failed attempts at smooth-talking the waitress to Daiki nearly choking on his own drink from laughing too hard, the chaos never ceased. But for Tadashi, this was more than just a regular day. It was a reminder of what he had. Of the people who made the mess of life bearable. And for once, he let himself enjoy it fully.