Chapter Text
The school corridors were louder than Nakamura remembered, even though nothing about them had actually changed.
Spring had ended its break with absolute indifference, and Hoshimi High School had returned to its usual rhythm as if the pause had never happened. Students filled the second-year hallway in uneven clusters, voices overlapping in a constant hum that bounced between lockers and classroom doors. Somewhere down the corridor, someone was laughing too loudly. Somewhere else, a shoe squeaked against the polished floor as a student rushed past, already late on the first day.
Nakamura stood near the entrance of Class 2-A and tried to make himself smaller than he already was.
It was a skill he had quietly refined over the past year. Not something he was proud of, but something that worked. If he positioned himself just right—close enough to the door not to look lost, but not so close that he became part of the flow—people tended to pass around him instead of through him.
It was safer that way.
His fingers tightened slightly on the strap of his bag as he glanced toward the classroom assignment board again, even though he had already memorized what it said.
Class 2-A.
The same as last year.
The same classroom.
The same homeroom teacher.
The same building.
Nakamura exhaled slowly through his nose.
Nothing had changed.
That was the problem.
Because somewhere in that same class list was Aiki Hirose.
And that part, too, had not changed.
He found himself looking for the name again without meaning to. It was automatic now, like a reflex his body performed before his thoughts could stop it. The moment his eyes landed on it, something in his chest tightened in a way that was no longer unfamiliar.
Aiki Hirose.
Also Class 2-A.
Of course.
Nakamura lowered his gaze slightly, as if that would somehow reduce the impact of the realization.
Last year, this would have felt like victory.
Last year, sharing a class with Hirose had meant possibility. Proximity. A chance to finally become something more than a background presence in someone else’s life.
Now it felt different.
Not worse, exactly.
Just heavier.
Because now there were expectations attached to it.
Expectations Nakamura had not agreed to, but somehow still carried anyway.
He forced himself to look away from the board.
That was when he saw Hirose.
He wasn’t close enough to call it an encounter, not yet. Hirose was several meters away, standing near a group of students, his expression relaxed in the way only people like him seemed capable of achieving on the first day of school. He was talking animatedly to someone Nakamura didn’t immediately recognize, gesturing slightly with one hand as if the conversation itself was something enjoyable rather than obligatory.
Nakamura’s body reacted before his mind did.
His shoulders stiffened.
His grip on his bag tightened.
His breathing became, for a moment, very deliberate.
Then, just as quickly, he realized Hirose hadn’t noticed him at all.
The realization should have been relieving.
Instead, it made him feel strangely… suspended.
As if he had been caught mid-step in a moment that didn’t belong to him.
Hirose laughed at something the other student said, the sound light and effortless, before turning slightly as if to leave the conversation.
And then he was gone, swallowed by the movement of other students filtering into the hallway.
Nakamura slowly exhaled.
Right.
First day.
He should probably go inside before he started thinking too much.
The classroom smelled faintly of disinfectant and chalk dust, the kind of smell that always seemed to belong to mornings like this. Desks had been rearranged slightly since last year, but not enough to make the room feel unfamiliar. Sunlight poured through the windows on the left side, cutting clean lines across the floor.
Students were already settling in.
Some had arrived early and claimed seats beside friends without hesitation. Others hovered uncertainly, scanning the room as if waiting for permission to exist in it.
Nakamura chose his seat carefully, as always.
Back half of the room.
Window side, but not directly beside it.
Visible, but not central.
Safe.
He placed his bag down beside the desk and sat slowly, letting himself adjust to the rhythm of the room rather than forcing his way into it.
A few seconds passed like that.
Then a voice spoke behind him.
“Nakamura-kun.”
His spine reacted instantly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to betray him.
He turned.
Hirose was standing beside the desk behind him, smiling as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
Which, for Hirose, it probably was.
“Good morning,” Hirose said.
Nakamura nodded once.
“Good morning.”
It came out steadier than he expected.
A small success.
He would remember it later.
Hirose tilted his head slightly, as if evaluating something.
“You’re early.”
“I am not early,” Nakamura replied before he could stop himself.
Hirose blinked.
Then laughed.
“Okay. Not early.”
There was no malice in it.
No pressure.
Just familiarity.
That was the part Nakamura still didn’t know how to handle.
Because somewhere along the way, Hirose had stopped being someone he only observed from a distance.
Now he was someone who spoke to him like this.
Casually.
Normally.
Like it meant nothing.
And somehow, that made it harder.
Nakamura looked away first, pretending to adjust his desk.
Hirose didn’t seem bothered.
Instead, he glanced around the classroom.
“Looks like we’re together again,” he said.
“Yeah,” Nakamura answered.
A pause.
Then Hirose added, almost offhandedly, “That’s good.”
Nakamura stopped moving for a second.
Good.
It was a simple word.
But it lingered longer than it should have.
Before he could respond, more students entered the room, pulling the moment apart naturally. The noise level rose as chairs scraped against the floor and bags were placed on desks. Someone called out to a friend across the room. Someone else complained about seating arrangements already.
Normal school life resumed around them.
And Nakamura, without fully realizing it, remained seated in the middle of it.
For now.
By lunchtime, the tension that always accompanied the first day of school had begun to fade.
The classroom felt noticeably different from that morning. Students who had spent homeroom sitting quietly were now talking freely across desks. Groups had already started forming around shared interests, old friendships, and convenient seating arrangements. The noise level rose steadily as lunch boxes appeared and chairs were pulled together.
Nakamura preferred this part of the day.
Once people settled into their routines, there was less pressure to interact. Everyone became occupied with their own conversations, making it easier to disappear into the background.
He opened his lunch box and looked out the window while removing the lid.
The weather was pleasant. The cherry trees beyond the school grounds still carried traces of pink blossoms, and a light breeze occasionally swept petals through the courtyard. Several students were already eating outside, taking advantage of the warm spring afternoon.
It seemed peaceful.
At least, it remained peaceful for approximately ten seconds.
"Nakamura."
He looked up.
Takeuchi was standing beside his desk.
Behind him were Hirose and Mukai.
Nakamura immediately became suspicious.
Takeuchi never approached anyone with good intentions.
"What?"
Takeuchi placed a hand dramatically against his chest.
"Why do you sound so hostile?"
"Experience."
Mukai laughed quietly.
Even Hirose looked amused.
"I think he's got a point," Hirose admitted.
Takeuchi looked betrayed.
"You guys are terrible friends."
"You make it very easy," Mukai replied.
The conversation continued while the three remained standing around Nakamura's desk. It quickly became apparent that none of them intended to leave.
Nakamura glanced between them.
Then at the nearby desks.
Then back at them.
"...What are you doing?"
"We're sitting here."
Takeuchi answered as if the matter had already been decided.
A moment later he dragged a chair over and sat down.
Hirose followed.
Mukai did the same.
The entire process happened so quickly that Nakamura never had an opportunity to object.
Not that he would have.
Objecting required confidence.
Unfortunately, confidence remained in short supply.
Before long, lunch had become a group activity.
The conversation drifted naturally from one topic to another. Takeuchi spent several minutes complaining about a teacher who had assigned holiday homework. Hirose pointed out that he had waited until the final day to complete it. Takeuchi argued that this was irrelevant to the discussion.
Mukai disagreed.
Strongly.
Nakamura found himself listening more than participating.
That was normal.
Listening was easier.
It allowed him to remain part of a conversation without carrying the responsibility of keeping it alive.
Besides, Takeuchi talked enough for everyone.
"...and then the bicycle slipped."
"It did not," Hirose said.
"It absolutely did."
"You told us last year that you fell into the ditch because you were showing off."
"Those events are connected."
"They are not."
Takeuchi pointed accusingly at him.
"You weren't there."
"I was literally there."
The argument immediately collapsed into laughter.
Nakamura lowered his gaze to his lunch to hide a small smile.
It still felt strange sometimes.
Not the conversation itself.
The fact that he was included in it.
There had been a time when simply sitting at the same table as Hirose would have seemed impossible. Back then, Nakamura had spent most of his energy trying to figure out how to start a conversation.
Now conversations simply happened around him.
Somehow, without noticing, he had become part of Hirose's daily life.
The realization was comforting.
It was also painful.
The two feelings often arrived together.
While the others continued talking, Nakamura found his attention drifting toward Hirose.
The sight was familiar by now.
Hirose laughing.
Hirose gesturing animatedly while telling a story.
Hirose leaning back in his chair with an easy smile.
A year ago, Nakamura would have spent the rest of the day replaying every detail.
Now he simply watched for a moment before returning his attention to his lunch.
Progress, perhaps.
Small progress.
But progress nonetheless.
The conversation eventually shifted toward spring break.
Takeuchi immediately launched into another dramatic story.
Mukai accused him of exaggerating.
Again.
Hirose listened for a while before shaking his head.
"My break wasn't that exciting."
"Really?" Takeuchi asked.
"Yeah. I mostly just went out a few times."
"With your girlfriend?"
The question was casual.
Completely harmless.
Hirose nodded.
The reaction around the table was immediate.
Takeuchi groaned.
Mukai rolled his eyes.
"Here we go."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"It's definitely something."
The discussion continued naturally, moving on almost as quickly as it had started.
Nobody seemed particularly interested.
Nobody found it surprising.
Why would they?
Hirose having a girlfriend was simply part of everyday life now.
For everyone else, at least.
Nakamura lowered his eyes toward his lunch.
The familiar ache in his chest made itself known for a moment.
Not sharply.
Not the way it once had.
The feeling was quieter these days.
Like an old bruise that occasionally reminded him it was still there.
Healing, unfortunately, was slower than he had hoped.
Still, he found that the pain no longer stayed as long as before.
That had to count for something.
While the others continued talking, movement near the front of the classroom caught his attention.
Kawamura had stood from her seat and was speaking with Hamaoka and Okuda.
The three girls appeared to be discussing something animatedly. Hamaoka was gesturing with both hands while Okuda looked moments away from laughing. Between them, Kawamura listened with an expression that was equal parts embarrassed and amused.
Nakamura couldn't hear the conversation from where he sat.
Whatever it was, it seemed to be making her flustered.
A moment later, Kawamura laughed.
The sound disappeared into the noise of the classroom, but the smile remained visible.
Nakamura found himself looking for slightly longer than intended.
Perhaps because he was used to seeing her quietly drawing during class.
Perhaps because she seemed different when she was with her friends.
More relaxed.
Less cautious.
Then, as if sensing his gaze, Kawamura turned her head.
Their eyes met.
Both immediately looked away.
Nakamura nearly dropped his chopsticks into his lunch.
Across the room, Kawamura hurriedly adjusted her glasses and returned to her conversation.
For some reason, Nakamura found himself staring very intently at a piece of tamagoyaki.
The egg offered no advice whatsoever.
The afternoon classes passed more quickly than Nakamura expected.
Perhaps it was because the first day of school rarely involved serious lessons. Most teachers seemed content to distribute syllabi, explain classroom expectations, and remind everyone that entrance exams were now one year closer than they had been yesterday.
The announcement had produced visible horror across the classroom.
Nakamura couldn't blame them.
The thought was unpleasant.
By the time the final bell rang, conversations immediately erupted around the room. Some students began discussing club activities. Others made plans to visit nearby shops before heading home. Several people left almost as soon as class ended, disappearing through the door with impressive speed.
Nakamura remained seated.
He preferred waiting until the initial rush subsided.
It reduced the risk of accidentally colliding with someone.
Unfortunately, his plans were interrupted.
"Nakamura-kun."
He looked up.
Hirose was standing beside his desk again.
Nakamura was beginning to suspect that Hirose possessed a supernatural ability to appear whenever he least expected it.
"Hm?"
"Are you heading straight home?"
The question seemed innocent enough.
Nakamura immediately became cautious.
"Why?"
Hirose laughed.
"Why do you sound suspicious?"
"Experience."
"You used that answer earlier."
"It still applies."
Hirose shook his head, smiling.
For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something else. Then his phone buzzed.
He glanced down at the screen.
The change in his expression was immediate.
Not dramatic.
Just softer.
Warmer.
Nakamura recognized it before he could stop himself.
A message from his girlfriend.
The realization arrived with uncomfortable accuracy.
"Oh, right," Hirose said. "Never mind."
Nakamura nodded.
"What?"
"I forgot I already promised to meet someone."
The explanation was unnecessary.
Both of them knew who that someone was.
Still, Hirose rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Sorry."
"You don't need to apologize."
"Yeah, but I already asked."
Nakamura stared at him for a second.
Then sighed.
"You really don't."
Hirose laughed.
The tension eased almost immediately.
"Okay. See you tomorrow, then."
"Tomorrow."
With a casual wave, Hirose left the classroom.
Nakamura watched him go.
Not because he wanted to.
Because the sight felt familiar.
For a long time, watching Hirose walk away had been accompanied by longing.
Now it was mostly accompanied by acceptance.
Mostly.
The remaining part was still a work in progress.
He looked down at his bag and began gathering his things.
A notebook.
A pencil case.
A few loose worksheets.
One worksheet.
Two worksheets.
Three—
"...Ah."
Something slipped from between the pages and drifted to the floor.
Before Nakamura could reach for it, another hand picked it up first.
"Oh."
A familiar voice followed.
"Nakamura-kun."
Nakamura looked up.
Kawamura stood beside his desk, holding a sheet of paper.
For a brief moment, neither moved.
Then Kawamura held it out.
"I think this is yours."
Nakamura accepted it carefully.
"Thank you."
The paper turned out to be one of the forms distributed earlier that afternoon. He hadn't even noticed it falling.
A terrible sign.
His organizational skills were deteriorating.
Or perhaps they had simply never existed.
Kawamura adjusted her grip on the stack of books she was carrying.
The pile looked surprisingly heavy.
There were notebooks, folders, and what appeared to be several sketchbooks balanced against her chest.
Nakamura glanced at the stack.
Then glanced again.
It looked even heavier the second time.
"Kawamura-san."
"Yes?"
"...Are you moving?"
For a second, she looked confused.
Then she looked down at the mountain of materials she was carrying.
A small laugh escaped her.
"No."
The answer arrived with surprising confidence.
Then she paused.
"Actually, maybe."
Nakamura found himself smiling slightly.
A very small smile.
The kind that appeared before he noticed it.
Kawamura seemed startled by the sight.
Not in a bad way.
More like she hadn't expected it.
Which was fair.
Nakamura rarely expected it either.
"I'm helping the Literature Club," she explained. "We have to reorganize some shelves before new members arrive."
"Oh."
That made sense.
Kawamura had always been involved with the Literature Club.
At least, as far as Nakamura knew.
Most of his knowledge about clubs came from accidentally overhearing conversations.
"You should be careful," he said.
The moment the words left his mouth, he wondered if they sounded strange.
Fortunately, Kawamura simply tilted her head.
"Careful?"
"The books."
She looked down.
One folder immediately began sliding toward the floor.
Both of them reached for it at the same time.
The folder wobbled dangerously.
Kawamura caught it first.
Nakamura nearly knocked over the rest of the stack.
For several terrifying seconds, disaster seemed inevitable.
Somehow, everything remained upright.
The two of them froze.
Then slowly withdrew their hands.
"...That was close."
Kawamura laughed nervously.
"It was."
A brief silence followed.
Not uncomfortable.
Just the kind that happened when two shy people were trying to figure out whether the conversation had ended.
The problem was that neither seemed willing to leave first.
Nakamura cleared his throat.
"Do you need help?"
The question surprised him almost as much as it surprised Kawamura.
For a second, her eyes widened behind her glasses.
Then she immediately shook her head.
"Oh, no. It's okay."
Nakamura nodded.
Reasonable.
Expected.
The conversation should have ended there.
Instead, Kawamura hesitated.
"...Actually."
She looked down at the books.
Then back up.
A faint pink tint appeared across her cheeks.
"If you're not busy."
Nakamura blinked.
"If I'm not busy?"
"The shelves are really high."
She seemed increasingly embarrassed with every word.
"And I'm not very tall."
Nakamura considered this carefully.
Then looked at the stack.
Then at Kawamura.
Then back at the stack.
It was true.
The books looked heavy.
The shelves were probably high.
And, objectively speaking, Kawamura was not very tall.
The logic seemed sound.
"I can help."
The relief that crossed her face was immediate.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Thank you."
Her smile appeared so suddenly that Nakamura nearly forgot what he had agreed to.
Not because it was dazzling.
Not because it was dramatic.
Just because it was genuine.
The kind of smile people gave when they were sincerely grateful.
For some reason, Nakamura found that much harder to deal with.
A few moments later, the two of them stepped into the hallway together.
The afternoon sunlight stretched across the floor in long golden bands. Around them, students drifted toward clubrooms, staircases, and school gates. The building felt quieter now than it had that morning, as though the excitement of the first day was finally beginning to settle.
Beside him, Kawamura adjusted the books in her arms.
"Nakamura-kun."
"Hm?"
"Thank you."
He glanced toward her.
This time, he managed to answer without freezing.
"You're welcome."
And together, they continued toward the Literature Club room.
The Literature Club occupied a small room on the third floor.
Nakamura had passed by it before, but he had never actually gone inside. The room sat at the end of a quiet hallway, tucked between a storage room and an unused classroom. Compared to the noise elsewhere in the school, the area felt unusually peaceful.
Kawamura stopped in front of the door.
"This is it."
She shifted the books in her arms and pushed the door open with her shoulder.
Nakamura followed her inside.
The room was smaller than he expected.
Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Several tables occupied the center of the room, while stacks of novels and magazines were piled neatly in the corners. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows, bathing everything in a warm golden glow.
It smelled faintly of paper.
And dust.
A surprising amount of dust.
"Kawamura-san!"
A voice immediately called out.
Okuda looked up from a table near the back of the room. Beside her, Hamaoka was sorting through a pile of books while looking increasingly overwhelmed.
Both girls noticed Nakamura at the same time.
Then they noticed Kawamura.
Then they noticed Nakamura standing beside Kawamura.
The room became very quiet.
Nakamura immediately sensed danger.
"Oh."
Okuda's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh."
Hamaoka echoed.
Neither of them elaborated.
Somehow, that was worse.
"Kawamura-san?" Nakamura asked cautiously.
Kawamura looked equally alarmed.
"I don't know either."
That did not inspire confidence.
Fortunately, Okuda recovered first.
"Never mind!" she declared.
Then she pointed dramatically toward one of the bookshelves.
"We have a problem."
Nakamura followed her finger.
The top shelf was packed with books.
Several more boxes sat on the floor waiting to be sorted.
The problem became obvious immediately.
There was no easy way for someone Kawamura's height to reach the upper shelves.
"...Oh."
"Exactly."
Okuda nodded firmly.
"Kawamura keeps trying to do it herself."
"I can reach some of them."
"Some."
"Some."
"The lower ones."
Kawamura looked away.
The argument appeared to be an old one.
Hamaoka closed a box and sighed.
"We've been reorganizing since lunch."
Nakamura glanced toward the shelves again.
There were far more books than he had initially realized.
The Literature Club apparently took literature very seriously.
Or perhaps they simply enjoyed collecting things.
He understood that feeling.
His room contained an alarming number of octopus-related items.
Best not to judge.
Before long, everyone settled into work.
The task itself was simple. Books needed to be sorted according to labels attached to each shelf. Kawamura handed them over while Nakamura placed them where they belonged. Occasionally Hamaoka would call out corrections from across the room whenever someone made a mistake.
Most of the time, however, the room remained pleasantly quiet.
Nakamura found that he didn't mind.
The silence here felt different from the silence he usually experienced. It wasn't awkward or lonely. Everyone was simply focused on what they were doing.
For some reason, that made it easier to relax.
"Here."
Kawamura held out another book.
Nakamura accepted it and placed it on the shelf above his head.
Then another followed.
And another.
The process repeated several times before Kawamura suddenly froze.
"Huh?"
Nakamura glanced down.
"What is it?"
She stared at the book in her hands.
Then at him.
Then back at the book.
A faint pink color appeared on her face.
"Oh."
Nakamura became concerned.
"Oh?"
Without a word, Kawamura quickly turned the book around.
The cover disappeared against her chest.
Too late.
Nakamura had already seen enough to understand.
It was one of the BL novels she enjoyed reading.
The realization arrived simultaneously for both of them.
Kawamura looked horrified.
Nakamura looked horrified.
Not because of the book.
Because they were both embarrassed.
"Sorry," Kawamura said quickly.
"You don't need to apologize."
"I wasn't paying attention."
"It's okay."
Neither of them knew where to look.
Several seconds passed.
Then Hamaoka burst out laughing from the other side of the room.
"Kawamura, you're red."
"Hamaoka!"
Now she was even redder.
Nakamura immediately focused on the bookshelf.
The bookshelf, fortunately, asked no difficult questions.
After that, conversation came more naturally.
Perhaps because the embarrassing moment had already happened.
Perhaps because surviving embarrassment together made things easier.
Whatever the reason, the atmosphere became noticeably lighter.
By the time the last box was emptied, the sunlight outside had begun turning orange.
The room looked different now.
Cleaner.
More organized.
The books finally occupied their proper places.
"We finished," Hamaoka announced.
Okuda raised both arms triumphantly.
"Victory."
Kawamura laughed.
The sound was soft, but genuine.
When Nakamura looked over, he found her smiling at the completed shelves.
There was a quiet satisfaction in her expression.
The kind people wore after accomplishing something small but meaningful.
For a moment, he found himself smiling too.
Not because the work had been particularly exciting.
Because it had been pleasant.
Unexpectedly pleasant.
As everyone began packing up, Kawamura approached him.
"Thank you for helping."
Nakamura adjusted his bag.
"It wasn't a problem."
"It still helped a lot."
She smiled again.
This time, Nakamura managed not to look away immediately.
The achievement felt significant.
Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the school grounds. Students were gradually leaving campus, their conversations drifting through the open windows.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Kawamura adjusted her glasses.
"See you tomorrow, Nakamura-kun."
"Yeah."
Nakamura nodded.
"See you tomorrow, Kawamura-san."
The words felt surprisingly natural.
As he left the clubroom and made his way toward the school gates, he found himself reflecting on the day.
This morning, he had spent most of his time worrying.
About Hirose.
About second year.
About whether anything had really changed.
Now, as he walked home beneath drifting cherry blossoms, another thought quietly surfaced.
The most enjoyable part of today hadn't happened during lunch.
It hadn't happened during homeroom.
And it hadn't happened while talking to Hirose.
It had happened in a dusty clubroom filled with books.
Walking a few steps behind him, Kawamura had laughed at something Hamaoka said.
The memory appeared unexpectedly.
Then lingered.
Nakamura frowned.
That was a strange thing to remember.
He decided not to think about it any further.
Unfortunately, his thoughts had never been very good at following instructions.