Slightly Out of Place

Next day at the Morita boarding house began with its usual routine.

The sound of dishes, the low noise of the kettle, and quiet footsteps filled the boarding house as Hina walked down the stairs, holding her school bag by her side.

In the kitchen, Yuta was leaning halfway over the table, talking with his mouth full again, while Aya sat across from him, completely unmoved by whatever he was saying.

“…I’m telling you, if I hadn’t slipped, that would’ve been a perfect landing—”

“You fell down the stairs,” Aya replied flatly without looking up from her tea.

“It was a controlled fall.”

Sachiko gave a small smile from the counter and turned toward Hina as she entered.  “Good morning, Hina-chan. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” Hina replied, stepping inside and bowing slightly. “Good morning.”

It wasn’t entirely true. 

She had woken several times during the night to unfamiliar sounds—the creak of floorboards, distant footsteps, a door quietly closing somewhere down the hall.

But saying that aloud felt strangely impolite.

Sachiko smiled anyway, as if she knew.

“Morning!” Yuta added, waving a piece of toast in her direction. “Second day! This is where things get serious. First impressions are over—now people decide if they actually like you.”

Aya didn’t look up. “Just leave him be. He thinks life is some kind of game.”

“It is a game,” Yuta argued immediately. “Most people just don’t know the rules.”

Hina gave a small, polite smile and moved toward the counter.

She became aware of another presence before she saw him.

Itsuki stood by the window, a cup in his hand, the steam barely visible in the morning light. He wasn’t looking outside this time. His gaze rested somewhere lower, unfocused—like he was listening to something no one else could hear.

“Morning,” he said.

He hadn’t turned.

“…Good morning,” Hina replied.

There was a brief pause.

She reached for a cup, careful with the distance between them, and poured herself tea. 

Behind her, Yuta’s voice rose again.

 “Hey, Hina-chan! Walk with us today too, yeah? It’s basically tradition now.”

The question sounded casual, but it still made Hina’s hand pause around the cup. It was a simple invitation; yesterday, she had followed without thinking. Today, she thought—just for a second.

“…If it’s not inconvenient,” she answered softly.

Yuta blinked.

“Why would it be inconvenient?”

“Wow. Betrayal before 8 AM.”

Sachiko sighed. “Both of you, eat properly.”

Hina turned slightly, holding her cup with both hands. “Thank you… for letting me join.”

Yuta blinked at her, then laughed. “You don’t have to say it like that. You live here.”

Live here.

The words settled strangely.

Hina nodded. “…Right.”

Across the room, Itsuki’s gaze shifted—not to her face, but to her hands. She was still holding the cup too carefully, still not drinking. He didn’t say anything.

The walk to school followed the same path as yesterday, but it didn’t feel the same. Yuta moved ahead, already mid-conversation with a neighbor.

while Aya trailed a step behind him at her usual calm.

Hina walked beside Itsuki this time.

Not by decision. Just… by how the space arranged itself.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The city was louder in the morning. Bicycles passing. Conversations overlapping. The distant sound of traffic building into something constant.

Hina kept her gaze forward.

“You paused at breakfast,” Itsuki said. “Before answering.”

 Hina’s grip tightened on her bag strap. “…I was thinking.”

 “About whether to go.” Itsuki said.

 Hina looked at him, her voice low. “…Does it matter?”

 “It might.”

 The answer didn’t resolve anything; it just stayed there between them.

Ahead of them, Yuta called out, waving his arm. “Hurry up! If we’re late again, I’m blaming both of you!”

Hina looked forward again.

“…We should catch up.”

Itsuki didn’t respond.

But he adjusted his pace to match her.

Not faster.

Just enough that she didn’t have to.

By the time they reached the school gates, the air had shifted.

Voices overlapped into a endless noise. Laughter, footsteps, fragments of conversation that never fully formed. It was the same as yesterday.

But Hina noticed it more now. Or maybe—she felt it more.

As they stepped inside, a few heads turned. Not as many as before, “Hey, it’s her,” someone whispered. “The transfer.” “She’s with Minato-kun again.”

The words didn’t stay long. They didn’t need to.

Hina lowered her gaze little.

Walk normally. Don’t hesitate. Don’t—

“Good morning, Hina!”

The voice cut cleanly through the noise.

Mio approached with the same bright energy as before, her smile appearing as naturally as ever. Kenta followed a step behind, hands in his pockets, expression relaxed.

“You left early yesterday,” Mio said. “We were going to get crepes! You missed out.”

“I’m sorry,” Hina replied, bowing her head. “I had something to—”

“Study, right?” Mio finished, grinning. “You look like the type.”

Kenta tilted his head, observing her.

“You always talk like that?” he asked.

The question wasn’t harsh. But it wasn’t gentle either.

Hina hesitated “…Like what?”

“Careful,” he said. “Like you’re measuring every word before you let it out.”

Mio nudged him lightly. “Kenta—”

“I’m just curious,” he added, a small smile forming. “It’s not a bad thing. Just… noticeable.”

Hina felt a faint discomfort settle in her chest.

“I didn’t realize,” she said.

“That’s usually how habits work,” Kenta replied.

The conversation moved on Like nothing had happened.

Mio started talking about a teacher. Yuta jumped in from somewhere behind them. Someone laughed.

Hina stood there, listening, waiting for a space to enter.

One opened—she tried to speak—and it closed again, filled by someone else’s voice before hers could reach it.

She stopped. The moment passed. No one noticed. Not even her, at first.

Across the courtyard, she looking toward the window again and again, even though she tried not to.

In class, Itsuki was sitting in his usual seat and reading a book. He wasn’t looking at her, but somehow it felt like he noticed everything.

The conversation continued without her, and this time, she didn’t try to step back in.

Hina didn’t remember how the conversation ended.

Before she knew it, the bell rang and everyone began moving. The classroom changed all at once—conversations cut off, chairs scraped across the floor, and students started filing out of their seats.

She followed.

Classes passed in measured intervals. Chalk against the board. Pages turning. Names called and answered.

 Hina copied everything, her handwriting neat as ever, each line aligned as if order might help her to keep mind calm.

Beside her, Itsuki wrote less.

He listened.

Sometimes, she noticed him simply sitting there beside her, quiet enough to disappear into the background, yet somehow impossible to ignore.

As soon as the lunch bell rang, the calm atmosphere of the classroom broke apart again.

“Lunch!” Yuta’s voice cut through the noise as he stretched his arms above his head. “I’m starving. Hina-chan, you’re coming, right?”

The question came quickly.

Hina looked up.

Mio was standing by the door, waving her over. Kenta lingered beside her, glancing back with that same unreadable half-smile.

There it is again, Hina thought.

That small space where an answer should be simple.

“Yes,” she said.

The courtyard was louder than the morning.

Groups of students filled the courtyard, talking over one another as they moved from place to place. The smell of lunch drifted through the air, mixed with the warmth of the afternoon sun.

They found a spot near the edge, half in shade.

Mio sat first, pulling Hina down beside her without hesitation. “You can sit here,” she said brightly. “That way you don’t get lost in the crowd.”

“I won’t get lost,” Hina replied.

Mio laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Kenta sat across from them, stretching his legs out.Yuta dropped down beside him and instantly started digging into his lunch like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Alright,” Yuta said. “Today’s mission: we get Hina-chan to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Hina said.

Aya had joined them without anyone really noticing. She glanced at Hina for a moment before opening her lunch.

“No, you’re not.”

Hina paused.

“…I’m trying to be,” she corrected.

“That’s the problem,” Aya said simply, before opening her own lunch.

The conversation moved on.

Mio talked about a teacher’s habit of mispronouncing names. Yuta interrupted more than once with exaggerated details of his own. Kenta stayed relaxed nearby, speaking only now and then, though his comments always managed to steer the discussion elsewhere.

Hina listened, following the rhythm—where to look, when to nod, when a smile was expected. She waited for a small opening.

“I think—” she started.

“Exactly!” Yuta cut in, clapping his hands. “That’s what I said yesterday!”

Laughter.

Not directed at her.

 her voice disappeared inside it all the same. Hina’s lips closed. 

The moment passed. 

She looked down at her bento and shifted her chopsticks.

 “Don’t force it.” she told herself. 

Just wait.

Another pause.

“…It’s interesting how—”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Mio leaned forward suddenly, her voice bright with recognition. “Kenta, didn’t you say something about the festival committee?”

The discussion shifted.

Hina stopped speaking.

This time, she noticed it instantly Not the interruption— just how easily the conversation kept moving around her, like no one thought twice about her being there.

She leaned back a little, her fingers curling tightly enough to wrinkle the edge of her sleeve.

Across from her, Kenta’s gaze flickered.

“You’re silent again,” he said.

The words weren’t loud But they landed.

Hina looked up at him.

“I’ve been talking,” she replied.

“A little,” he said. “But it feels like you’re waiting for permission.”

Mio frowned a bit. “Kenta, that’s—”

“I don’t mean it badly,” he added, glancing at her. Then back at Hina. “It’s just… most people jump in. You don’t.”

Hina met his eyes for a moment.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” she said.

“You won’t,” Mio said quickly. “We’re not that strict.”

Yuta nodded. “Yeah, just talk over me. Everyone else does.”

Aya didn’t look up. “That’s because you don’t stop talking.”

A small ripple of laughter went through the group.

Hina smiled.

Just a second too late.

She sensed it.

The small distance between her and the moment itself.

Kenta watched her, his expression thoughtful now.

“See?” he said in low voice. “You’re measuring it.”

The words stayed with her longer than they should have.

“I should go to the library.”

The sentence came out before she fully decided to say it.

Mio blinked. “Already?”

“I have some things to review,” Hina added, her tone steady.

It wasn’t completely untrue.

But it wasn’t the reason.

Yuta groaned. “Again? You’re going to become one of those people who lives there.”

Aya shrugged. “Better than becoming like you.”

Mio hesitated, then smiled. “Okay… but come with us after school, alright? We’re thinking of stopping by the shopping street.”

There it was again—that small pause, that expectation. Hina felt it settle in her chest.

“…Okay,” she said, the words coming out an instant.

Mio brightened. “Good!”

Hina stood, her gaze drifted without her noticing toward the cherry tree. Itsuki sat in the same place as yesterday, his book open and his body composed. But this time, he wasn’t reading.

His eyes were on her. Not intense, not intrusive. Just… aware.

For a second, Hina felt that same strange sensation from before—Like being seen in a way that wasn’t loud, but wasn’t avoidable either.

She looked away first.

“…I’ll go ahead,” she said.

No one stopped her.

The hallway was cooler.

Each step felt more defined without the blur of voices around her.

Hina slowed as she reached the staircase, her hand easing its grip on the strap of her bag.

“You left early.”

She stopped.

Itsuki stood a few steps ahead, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“I have things to study,” Hina replied.

Itsuki watched her for a moment.

Then:

“You said that yesterday too.”

Hina’s fingers curled a little tighter around the strap again

“…I do have things to study.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t.” Itsuki said

A pause.

The silence between them wasn’t empty.

It pressed.

“You don’t like being there,” he said.

Hina looked at him.

“I’m just not used to it yet.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

The words settled into the space between them, quiet but unchanged.

Hina exhaled slowly. “Then what is it?”

Itsuki shifted his weight, his gaze still fixed on her,

“You’re trying to match something that keeps moving.”

Hina frowned, just little.

“…Is that wrong?”

“No.”

A beat.

“But you’ll always be late.”

That stayed—not sharp, not cruel, but quietly, undeniably certain.

Hina looked away first this time.

“…I said I’d go with them after school.”

Itsuki’s gaze didn’t change.

“Do you want to?”

Another pause.

Longer now.

Hina didn’t answer immediately.

“…It’s easier if I do.”

Itsuki nodded once.

Like that confirmed something.

“It usually is.”

He turned slightly, as if to leave.

Then stopped.

“If you don’t want to be noticed,” he added, “you’re doing it the hardest way.”

Hina’s breath caught.

Before she could respond, he continued walking.

The sound of his footsteps faded into the quiet hallway.

Hina stood there for a moment longer.

Her reflection faintly visible in the window beside her.

Still composed, careful—just slightly out of place.