Face Like Thunder

Ichiro stood motionless, his gaze locked onto the vacant desk.

It had been nearly four months since anyone had occupied that space. During this time, winter had cloaked the surroundings in ice, only to surrender to the warmth of spring. Even now, cherry blossoms adorned the scenery outside, their brilliance contrasting with the impending darkness of an approaching early spring storm.

As the days slipped by, the desk's significance waned, fading from the collective awareness of the rest of the class. Once a canvas for inappropriate scribbles and written messages, it now rested beneath a shroud of dust. Ichiro delicately traced his finger across its surface, inadvertently rekindling the poignant memories etched there. The sight of the desk alone left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Within him, a longing stirred—a desire to cleanse the desk and restore its former dignity. Yet, this yearning was swiftly extinguished by the realization that erasing the traces would also erase any proof of her presence. And so, he resigned himself to preserving the painful visage.

There was nothing he could do about it. Silence persisted since the New Year's Day parting with Izumi. He could have sworn the day had gone smoothly. Especially as she messaged him about her safe return and the joy she found in the day. She had ended that conversation saying that she had something important to tell him. But it would have to wait until later.

That day had yet to come. In its place, silence. The once-active account now bore a gray icon of inactivity beside her name. There had been fleeting instances of presence as she read his concerned messages, but replies were absent. Her last sign of activity dated back almost two months, a fact that cut Ichiro deeply each time he checked for updates.

Initially, he checked incessantly, almost hourly, for any sign of life from her. Gradually, the frequency diminished to a reluctant daily ritual, each interaction leaving him feeling more hollow and deflated than before.

He battled with himself, urging to cease checking and move on, yet repeatedly reopening the app and retracing the same process. Never did he let the unpleasant feelings he was harboring show. He kept his grades up, he stayed attentive in class and when it came time for college entrance exams, his head remained clear for the entirety of the testing.

To those around him, his life seemed to improve from the aftermath of his loss at the Koshien. His depleted state remained hidden, masked behind an emotionless visage he wore to avoid questions.

However, this masquerade proved irrelevant as the world moved forward around him. Friends remained distant, and he continued to sit in class, gaze fixed upon the outside world. He questioned the purpose of his gaze, pondering whether he was witnessing the same scenes that captivated Izumi's attention.

As he adjusted his backpack on his shoulder, Ichiro finally released the breath he had been holding and turned to leave the now deserted classroom. Graduation day was rapidly approaching, and the senior students were becoming increasingly absent from their daily classes. Consequently, the senior rooms were now primarily used for storage and sporadic club activities.

Though it was midday, Ichiro felt an urge to depart. There was no compelling reason to stay, but he lacked a specific destination in mind. Perhaps with the warmer weather compared to winter, he could find solace beneath the school's walkway again. With a vague sense of direction, he set his feet in motion. However, after just a few steps, he came to a halt.

“Having a good day so far?” Hina stood a mere step inside the classroom, causing Ichiro's brows to furrow in mild confusion. He hadn't even heard her enter. As she spoke, she drew nearer until she was only a few paces away. “Looks like it might rain soon, doesn’t it?”

Ichiro shifted his gaze toward the window, but his attention once again drew to Izumi's vacant desk. A pang of discomfort returned to his stomach. “Yeah, I guess,” he replied with a lack of enthusiasm, attempting to continue on his way. Yet, as he tried to sidestep her, Hina moved, effectively blocking his path.

Unwilling to cause a scene yet not wanting to linger, Ichiro stood still, looking down at her. She maintained a warm smile, leaning forward and tilting her head with an endearing charm. “Graduation is coming up soon, aren't you excited?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ichiro echoed, his tone even less animated than before.

To his simple answer, Hina batted her eyelashes playfully, drawing closer once more, while Ichiro remained rooted, unyielding. “We're on the verge of stepping out into the world as adults. Doesn't that stir some excitement?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

With each step she took, Hina narrowed the gap until she was almost touching him. The possibility of her chest making contact with him if she leaned even slightly forward crossed his mind. “We've created countless memories within these walls. Some delightful, others not so much. But at least we've shared them together, right?”

He couldn’t stop himself, but memories started rolling through his head, seemingly in reverse order. Before him, Hina shrunk away from the beautiful woman before him to a small girl still trying to hide behind her father’s leg. Nostalgia stirred in him and he winced slightly. As his eyes reopened on the Hina of the present day, he realized that she no longer resembled the girl who he called his best friend all of those years before.

“I think I'm heading home now,” Ichiro abruptly stated, sidestepping her with a sense of urgency. His eyes locked onto the exit, and he quickened his pace, eager to distance himself. Yet, his arm unexpectedly jerked backward. Turning to discern the cause, he saw Hina wrapping her arms around his and using her weight to pull him back.

“You're not leaving just yet.”

Ichiro's gaze narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “What is it?”

Releasing him from her grasp, Hina smoothed her clothes and cleared her throat before speaking again. “We won’t have many chances to see each other after graduation. Well, at least not until college starts up. Let’s hope we are in all the same classes again,” she began, intertwining her hands behind her back and swaying her hips in a playful motion that caused her skirt to flutter. “But until then, I will regret not saying this now. So, I'll just go ahead and say it.”

A moment of silence hung between them. Ichiro was uncertain how to react, but he felt allowing her to express herself at this moment was the most appropriate course of action. He turned to face her, his expression remaining inscrutable.

Slowing her swaying, Hina took a deep breath and continued. Despite the warmth of her smile, her cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

“I love you, Ichiro.”

Her eyes creased with the force of her smile, her cheeks pushing them upward. “I've loved you for a long time. Since the very first moment I saw you, I knew you were the one. No matter what it takes, I will be with you until the end.”

A surge of emotions coursed through Ichiro. He had anticipated that something like this might come to pass, but a part of him had hoped to delay this confrontation indefinitely—or at least until he wouldn't have to deal with it any longer. Yet, here it was, inescapable.

Closing her eyes and placing her hands over her chest, Hina pressed against her heart as if seeking solace there. “I understand you've had your mind elsewhere for a while. But now that all of that is out of the way, I had hoped the Ichiro I know and loved would return to me. But since that hasn't happened, I suppose I'll just have to say it again. I love you, Ichiro.”

A simmering sensation ignited within Ichiro. He felt his knuckles tighten around the strap of his backpack, his teeth grinding together with increasing force.

“I'm relieved to have gotten that off my chest,” Hina sighed, taking a step back. Placing her arms behind her back once more, she lowered her head slightly. As her smile dimmed, she raised her gaze to meet his through fluttering lashes. “But I want to know how you feel. Please, tell me you feel the same way.”

Several moments passed as Ichiro struggled to regain control over his emotions enough to respond. With a final sigh, he conveyed his genuine sentiments.

“What did you say to her?”

“Pardon?” Hina's eyes flashed with surprise, her confusion evident.

“On the Ferris wheel. When you were alone with Izumi,” Ichiro's tone remained direct and intense, though his volume unaltered. “What happened?”

Hina hesitated, her eyes widening as she processed his question. Then, she scoffed and straightened, crossing her arms beneath her chest, a brow arching in frustrated disbelief. “You're still fixated on that?”

Unfazed by her change in demeanor, Ichiro pressed on. “I also witnessed you bothering her at one of my games. Care to explain that?”

“Did she say something to you?” Hina's eyes narrowed in disgust, a hint of disdain touching her expression.

“No,” Ichiro shook his head, his frustration at not knowing more evident as his shoulders slumped. “She kept insisting that nothing happened.”

Hina maintained her gaze fixed on him, carefully assessing the authenticity of his words. After a pause, she nodded in agreement. “Well then, if that's the story, let's stick with it,” she said, a small smile beginning to grace her lips, satisfied with how the conversation was progressing. Those lips began to part as if to say something of a new topic, but were cut short by Ichiro’s sudden interjection.

“You mentioned you wanted me to tell you how I feel about you, right?”

“Huh?” Ichiro's abrupt question caught Hina off guard. Hina's thoughts momentarily scrambled as she abandoned her contemplation, registering Ichiro's intent expression and unflinching gaze.

“I won't answer your question until you answer mine. What happened on the Ferris wheel?”

Her initial expression was marked by concern, but it quickly shifted to frustration as she lowered her gaze. With a scoff, she shook her head. “We just had a conversation, that's all.”

“That’s all?”

Glaring at him in irritation, she snapped back, “Yes. Fine, I told her the truth.”

“And what truth would that be?”

Her patience seemed to be wearing thin, as she dropped her shoulders and rolled her eyes, her arms still crossed beneath her chest. “That you belong to me. I reminded her that she couldn't just snatch you away from me. If she continued clinging to you, she would only bring you down.”

“That’s what you told her?”

“Yes.” She made no attempt to conceal her words, completely unyielding. As she continued, her tone turned more somber, akin to a disappointed mother addressing an errant child. “And it seems she ignored my advice. Her presence around you contributed to your loss at the Koshien. I'm sorry that happened, Ichiro.”

With those words, Ichiro shifted his eyes away from Hina. “She had nothing to do with that.” his voice rang hollow even to his own ears. He wasn't entirely certain if he truly believed those words, but he couldn't muster any other response at the moment.

“Don't worry.” While Ichiro's gaze had drifted downwards, Hina had moved closer, standing directly in front of him this time. There was no longer any space between them. Her body pressed firmly against his, her head resting on the side of his chest, and her hand playfully tracing a path from his stomach to his chest. “I was already aware of all those dates you went on. But I'm not upset.”

“They weren't dates.” Ichiro's tone retained its unchanging quality throughout the narrative, yet he inwardly chastised himself for allowing her to shift the conversation.

“It's OK,” she raised a finger to his lips to silence him, a gentle smile gracing her cheeks as she looked up at him. “I've already forgiven you. After all, I love you.”

But from beneath her touch, he spoke once more.

“I don't love you.”

Hina's eyes widened in shock. She froze in place, then looked up at him. Ichiro had not moved, yet his eyes had regained their intense fire, boring into her. The intensity was so palpable that she involuntarily took a step back. “What?”

“How could I?” His words were laced with bitterness, his tone measured. “You mercilessly targeted someone you know nothing about. And for what purpose? To demonstrate your love for me? How can I ever claim to love that?”

“But, I—”

“I don't want to hear it.” Ichiro raised a hand to stop her, then turned on his heel, resuming his intended exit. Shaking his head, he put an end to the conversation. “I'm leaving.”

However, he was once again halted, his arm pulled back forcefully. Without needing to look, Ichiro knew Hina had grasped his arm once more, holding him back.

“Wait!” Her voice was pleading, desperate. “I'm not letting you go that easily.”

“Let me go!” His voice rose, a trace of anger surfacing for the first time that day. He wrestled his arm free from her grip and continued striding toward the door. “I don’t even know who you are, but you aren’t the Hina I know.” As he crossed the threshold, he cast one last glance back at her. She had sunk to her knees, her trembling hand reaching out toward him. Her lips quivered, and tears welled at the corners of her eyes.

Her lips suddenly clenched together as she threw her fist against the ground, crying out loudly, “What’s so special about her? She is worthless compared to me! I do so much for you! So damn much and just for you! So why? Why her!?”

“I never want to see you again.” With those words, he closed the classroom door behind him and made his way toward the front entrance.