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It's a strange event, and perhaps that's what makes it so captivating. Something like a meteor shower visible in Tokyo or a lunar eclipse. Even with you minding your own business, it's impossible not to see Mizuki Akiyama walk by.
It will always be impossible for you not to see Mizuki Akiyama walk by.
Even if you happen to miss her beautiful and striking pink hair, her neat and eye-catching outfits, or her signature red ribbon, you can't miss the trail of whispers she leaves in her wake. It's a trail of cruelty, of poison that follows her footsteps, as if she had truly done something wrong.
There's a quiet beauty in how she walks on, unfazed by the wave of venomous words and malicious gestures: it's simply mesmerizing.
Somehow, she manages to make your heart pound, to create a pain that spreads through your chest, something you vaguely recognize as longing. Even when you don't want to look too closely, you follow the student with your eyes, watching her disappear down the stairs toward the third-floor hallways where she'll have her classes.
You follow her footsteps, not exactly because you want to, but because you're going in a completely similar direction. Your classroom is next to hers, so it's obvious you have to go up the same stairs and head in almost the same direction. You glance at her as you pass her classroom, distracted, looking out the window while you try not to stare, failing for a few seconds until someone else nudges you, and then you resume your walk to your own classroom.
In the end, the routine repeats itself. Your friends approach you and talk about various things while you follow their conversation, still lost in thought. You never mention Akiyama; you don't want to hear the cruel things they might say, and you don't want to be forced to take her side, because it's frightening.
It's a strange fear, a gnawing fear, a corrosive fear, a fear that makes you hostile toward confrontation.
You lose yourself for a few seconds in your thoughts. Would Akiyama do the same in a similar situation?
Probably not. She'd probably proclaim it with pride. That's just who she is. Even when there are so many whispers in the hallways and venomous words, she carries on with a smile and her head held high. She's brave, unlike your cowardly self who can't even utter a word in the face of the most basic bullying. She responds to malicious comments with a cheerful smile, proud of who she is.
That's the brave Akiyama you fell in love with, even if you'd never admit it out loud.
You smile slightly, and your friends look at you in confusion, one eyebrow raised and a wry smile playing on their lips.
"It's nothing," you dismissively say before they can even ask. "Did you see the show last night?"
Soon the little slip-up is covered up, and you hear your friends happily discussing last night's variety show.
Only then do you allow yourself to look out the window, with Akiyama Mizuki scattered throughout every corner of your mind.
---
The school festival is overwhelming. There's so much to do, and even if your class decided to go with something as basic and embarrassing as a haunted house, it makes you feel a little dizzy seeing so many colors, shapes, and textures. Everything smells like a mixture of cheap makeup, powder, liquid latex, and the grease from the soba stand outside. The smell bothers you, irritates a sensitive part of you. And it's not exactly that smells are particularly unpleasant; you think it all boils down to your job at the haunted house. The costume you're wearing is stupid, ridiculous, clings horribly to your body, and itches all over from how uncomfortable the cheap fabric feels, as if your body is actively rejecting it being near to your skin. Your friends joke around a bit before apologizing and getting back to work the moment they notice your low mood. It makes you feel a little guilty; It's not their fault you're not enjoying this, it's not their fault you decided to sleep little last night, or that the costume is awful and they made you wear it despite your complaints.
Even so, you take it out on them a little, even if you don't want to.
Everyone seems preoccupied with their own thing; you're stuck jumping around in the darkness, making people jump and scream in fear. You're not having as much fun as you thought you would. It's not like in the manga, it's not a fun festival to spend with friends because everyone is busy with their own classes; there's no spark of fun or magic to make the moment special in any way.
At least not until you see a pink mane of hair fluttering around, and you realize she's actually here. Of course, you thought it wouldn't be like this, that Akiyama would never go to something like the school festival. She's far too cool and clever to give in to a festival that might seem a little pathetic in retrospect.
But no, here she is, strolling with Shiraishi and a blonde girl outside her classroom.
You think it's a mistake, that she didn't know about the festival. After all, she tends to skip classes and miss school so often that your heart races on the rare days you see her. Akiyama didn't seem to have participated in her class either; she wasn't even wearing the ugly T-shirt that Class 1-A had designed.
But no. She's excited, she doesn't mind staying.
Soon after, it's your short break, and despite knowing she was at the festival, you really didn't expect to see her in Tenma's bizarre play, "Romeo: The Battle Royale." The play makes no sense whatsoever; it seems like a parody of a parody. It has no meaning, no coherence, and not even a clue as to why anyone would attempt something like that. You only went to see it because there was nothing else to do during your break, and you don't want anyone else seeing you in your ridiculous, tight costume. Therefore, the dark place is your best option; you can hide and no one should be able to see you in the dark.
The problem now is the seats.
Your gaze scans the room, hoping to find a secluded spot, only to realize the more you look, the more you realize it's not feasible. The few seats you see are illuminated by the lingering light from the stage lights, right in front of everyone, in a place you wouldn't normally want to sit, and definitely don't want to go if you want to remain unseen.
(And, according to Tenma himself, they're dangerous because of the sword fight scenes.)
The best option is to stick close to the wall, where the shadows envelop you and you feel safe again. The seats remain empty for only a few more seconds before three heads of brightly colored hair take them. The familiar red ribbon and pink hair make your heart flutter.
You feel a slight pang of regret when you realize that, had you sat in the front, you could have been close to her. That if you weren't so afraid of everything, you could have spoken to her, even if it meant enduring some teasing for your silly costume.
The thought makes your stomach clench with fear. Even more so when murmurs are coming from all directions, intensified now that she's in the front seats.
It's as always; Akiyama can't help but be the center of attention.
Perhaps that's why you can't help but be drawn to her when her laughter echoes throughout the room—loud, clear, and joyful. Beside her sit a red-haired boy you recognize as the support guy from the soccer team, Shinonome, and a blue-haired boy. Neither of them pays any attention to the occasional whispers; neither seems to even notice them. Instead, the redhead openly expresses his disdain for Tenma, and the blue-haired boy gets excited with every word he hears come out of the actor's mouth. Seated between them, Akiyama seems happy, proud, and free as she laughs heartily at each exaggerated performance, drowning out every murmur about her. In the end, you don't remember anything about the play; not a single line of dialogue has entered your mind. But you were able to see how she laughed and enjoyed herself over such silly, small things. It gives you a glimmer of hope that you can do the same.
So you try.
You wander around the different clubs on your own, stroll through the halls, and eat soba noodles that are poorly prepared but still taste good. You joke with others about your costume, managing to crack a few smiles.
You see Akiyama fluttering around, sometimes with Kamishiro, chatting with people you assume are from her class. She's always smiling, radiating an enormous amount of enthusiasm. She shines like the sun, smiling like a child in a candy store, even if she sometimes looks nervous. She tugs at your heartstrings; you can't help but laugh, a giggle rising in your throat, effervescent and hopelessly infected with bittersweet affection.
Your paths don't cross again after a while. You return to your class with a bit more energy, and your friends tease you about how happy you look in that ridiculous costume, but they say it's nice that you're starting to have fun.
Everything relaxes as the sun descends in the sky, everything calms down, and the only thing left to do in the day is head to the nighttime bonfire. There are no strangers, no students' families or guests; just students tired of spending all day doing anything other than burying their noses in books.
The night at school is strange, it has a calm vibe rather than the eerie one manga often portrays. Beyond that, you also feel a hint of camaraderie that makes you smile the more you notice the subtle, comfortable details. Whether it's your classmates dying of exhaustion while still teasing each other, or simply the fact that everyone seems content, as if they've had a great day and now just need to process it.
The darkness of the night is like a cozy blanket.
The day has been long; there are moments when you can't stand it anymore and yawn from exhaustion. Your comrades nudge you, tease you about your weariness before being caught up in a pandemic of yawns, and the jokes fly back.
It's conciliatory. You think you couldn't have imagined a better way to end the day as you warm yourself by the flames of the nighttime bonfire.
At least until the microphone emits that annoying beep. Everyone's attention turns to the small stage you've only seen at the entrance ceremony, with Tenma, Shiraishi, Shinonome, and the blue-haired boy on it. Murmurs rise among the crowd, which gradually loosens up until everyone is enjoying the voices, the music, and the atmosphere. You feel your body move too, small movements with your foot and head as you watch more experienced and outgoing people dance and sing along to songs that are almost unfamiliar to you.
You don't think anything could get any better, but Shiraishi pulls someone's hands until they're next to her on the stage.
And your heart leaps.
Akiyama laughs, pushes Shiraishi aside, and sings into the microphone. Her voice is so rich, so beautiful, and it resonates throughout your body, reverberating in your chest and stirring your already racing heart.
The night lights up with her smile, with her powerful singing voice, with her laughter that isn't melodious but can't be mistaken for anything else now that you're watching her do karaoke on that stage.
There's an explosion, everyone screams in surprise, including Akiyama, but soon a shower of stars made of metallic-finished paper rains down on them all; they fill Akiyama's beautiful curly hair with glittering stars, and she sings louder, laughter seeping into her voice.
With pure happiness and ecstasy on her face.
And you feel the smile you've had since you saw her that morning expand. For a second you're happy, for a moment you're close enough to laugh along with her.
"Akiyama is truly eccentric,"
And it breaks down.
"Well, that's why he's with the Weirdo Wombo Combo! You know, I heard Akiyama and Kamishiro used to be friends."
"He's a weird guy, but I guess he's good as long as he keeps his distance."
"But it's awkward having him at this school, don't you think?"
Everything around you crumbles a little as you're unable to say anything.
The night falls dark once more.
Why do they have to be so cruel to people who are different? Akiyama hasn't done anything wrong, she's never made a harsh comment or picked a fight. Her only sin has been being herself, regardless of what others say.
Her only sin was being a little different.
Your heart shrinks, and you don't want to be there anymore, not when they're still laughing at Akiyama, not when you feel the uniform fabric is as tight as that ridiculous costume. The same tingling sensation runs through you, your eyes water as if your face were in the smoke of a bonfire.
Something inside you cracks more and more.
It's unpleasant, disheartening even.
And yet...
There's a beacon of hope, isn't there? Even in the distance, you can see Akiyama happy, laughing heartily while Shiraishi is just as cheerful beside her; Kamishiro waves to her as he runs from the teachers, and even Shinonome and the blue-haired boy wear kind smiles as they sing along. Tenma ruffles her hair in camaraderie and speaks so loudly that the microphone isn't even necessary.
Everyone stands proudly beside her, without a hint of doubt about her reputation or the bullying they might face if they're with Akiyama.
There are people by her side, people who stayed despite everything.
And even in the darkness, even if you're not brave enough to approach her light, you believe that one day you might.
A smile returns to your face as a traitorous tear trickles down your chin, and you can't tear your gaze away from the brightest star of all.
---
This month has been exhausting. You haven't felt well since the cultural festival; the cold seeps into your bones, and you've almost caught a cold four times because mid-autumn refuses to relinquish even a sliver of warmth.
This November is windy, tousling your hair and forcing you to tuck your nose into your scarf if you want to avoid another near-cold. It dries out your throat with every breath, as if the wind carries thin, rough sand.
And on top of that?
There are unsettling thoughts swirling around in your mind. Something bothers you, something scratches at something inside, wanting to get out. Your voice and your body keep changing; adolescence isn't over, and every time your body changes, you can't help but feel...wrong. Not the kind of wrong that would be getting a math question wrong or taking out the trash on the wrong day, but something more like...repulsive. Even now, you can feel the feeling lingering. It's there, nestled among bones, flesh, and veins, sleeping in every cavity like a parasite.
If there were anything to compare it to, it would be reaching into the sink and accidentally touching the food stuck to the drain. Like shaking out your shoe and seeing a centipede or a spider fall out. It's almost paranoia at this point: you feel like every gaze is following you, like some psychotic is chasing you, trying to catch you.
Maybe that's what's been on your mind?
Maybe it's just exhaustion. A humorless laugh escapes you as you gaze at the sky for a few seconds, taking in how perfect it looks. A vast reddish-blue after the early sunrise. It's beautiful. There's a comfort in its immensity that makes you feel insignificant enough for the wind to carry away, at least for a second, your troubles and worries. The clouds look like trails of cream, rosy in the sunlight, making you want to walk around with your headphones on, savoring the feeling of being insignificant.
It's almost idyllic.
The feeling lingers as you snuggle inside your roomy, plush coat, even as you change your shoes at the locker, and even as you're disappointed not to see the pink hair.
Even as you walk upstairs, reach your classroom, and take your seat, there's a remnant of peace you can cling to for a little while longer. Classes continue: you take notes, chat, even grab a bite from the school store, all while enjoying that remnant of peace. The day slowly unfolds; you have to clean the classroom—it's part of your assignment for the day.
It's the last thing you do for the day. After that, you can go home, daydream about love, read manga, or just get some sleep; maybe even enjoy that last bit of peace undisturbed, feel good for the first time in a while, resting from your half-formed cold.
Or not.
That last bit of peace is cut short when you look around. The dry chores are done, you have to get your hands wet, and that means taking off your coat.
You don't understand why the idea makes you feel uneasy (Or maybe you do?). And you also don't understand why even starting to unbutton it makes you feel sick. Taking off your coat is like peeling off a layer of skin; uncomfortable, with the strong feeling that this second skin is necessary.
Leaving your coat on the desk feels terrifying. You do it reluctantly, hoping you can finish cleaning soon and finally go home.
You want to find, at least for a second, a little more of that peace you felt earlier. You search for it in the sky, in the lilac hue that begins to appear before sunset.
But there's nothing.
There's no peace, no comfort, no tranquility.
The truth is, when you pick up the small bucket of water to wash the marker remnants on the whiteboard, all you find is something that makes you feel uneasy.
A premonition? A bad omen? The non-cold?
Out of the corner of your eye, you see pink. It's gone when you turn around.
One of your old friends whistles while sweeping, the silence deepens as you hear two pairs of footsteps leaving the room. There's a rather unsettling tension in the air, wanting to say something, but being unable to find the right moment or the right way. The whiteboard is spotless, you're about to go outside to empty the water and wash the erasers when your friend's voice stops you.
"I've been hearing some weird things lately, you know?" The sound of a broom hitting the blackboard forces you to turn around. "They say Shiraishi from the other class is dating a girl from Miya. They sometimes walk together after school." Your friend's foot taps something on the floor. "There's also a strange rumor about you."
The seriousness of the situation is odd.
You stop. A fear is brewing inside you, an underlying terror that anchors your feet to the building. "A rumor?" Your voice is hoarse from the non-cold.
"They say you like Akiyama." Your friend looks away; doesn't seem to want to confront you, and neither do you. "It's a stupid rumor, right? They've been repeating it like parrots since the school festival." Tries to force a laugh. It comes out strange, uncanny.
Your body feels freezing cold; the water in the small bucket ripples as your hands begin to tremble. You can't look at your friend, so you stare at the floor.
"Who told you that?" you murmur. You hear the rustle of your comrade's clothes, feeling the heavy gaze on you for a few seconds before your friend looks back out the window, avoiding your eyes.
"Does it matter? It's nonsense anyway, isn't it?"
«It doesn't,» you agree. What would you do if you knew who did it? Confront them? Tell them "you're a bad person"? Could you even look for that person? The mere thought of facing them, of standing up to them, of doing anything even slightly disruptive... makes you dizzy, nausea rises, and trying to suppress it only leads to a lurch that tightens your stomach.
"I don't like Akiyama. Why would I?" you spit out. Your friend doesn't seem to believe you. Fear rises, cold and sharp, from the soles of your feet to the top of your head. You don't have the strength to deny it violently and angrily.
"Why are you staring at him so much?" Finally asks. The inflection, the way is saying those words, forms a lump in your throat.
"When have I ever looked at her?" The answer comes out faster, a sharp lash of tongue that makes your comrade recoil. You manage to raise your gaze for a few seconds; your friend's face seems shocked, but beyond that, you don't know why also looks so unreadable. The floor seems interesting again.
"You always look at HIM when he walks by," emphasizes with a sharp cadence. "Did you think we wouldn't notice? You always get distracted and have that stupid smile on your face. If you don't like him, then tell me, why do you stare at HIM so much?"
Bile rises in your throat. For the first time in the entire conversation, you raise your gaze, taking in that dark eyes.
"What do you have against Akiyama? What did she ever do to you?" Your comrade stares at you, as if your eyes were in your mouth. "Is it because SHE'S different? Is that why you hate her so much?"
"He's a freak! Why are we even arguing?! You don't even like him, he's a weirdo who likes to cross-dress, why are you defending him so much?!"
"She's never done anything wrong to me." The courage that made you raise your voice slips through your fingers, now you mutter like a frightened mouse. "All Akiyama has done is be herself... Why is that so bad?... Even if I could like her, tell me then... Why would it be worse than falling in love with someone else?"
"The rumors were true then... You... You like Akiyama," states with something that tastes like rejection, like deception. There's nothing but poison in that sentence, little more than disgust and disdain.
Only when you hear a gurgle behind you do you realize your classmates have returned. All eyes turn to you. There's something in the air, thick and heavy, that screams something is wrong.
The fear returns, the faint spark of whatever it was that finally inspired you to speak dies, suffocated by your anxieties. You leave, grab your things, abandoning the cleanup.
There's no way in the world you can look them in the face.
Not now that you're broken.
You must look absolutely awful in that state, crying and hiccuping like you're six years old, shaking as the world wobbles around you. Before you even have time to process everything that just happened, you know you need to calm down before going home. Ideally, you'd stop somewhere on your way home, but you don't want to go out. You don't want to run into your parents, you don't want them to ask why you're crying, and you don't want the stares you might get on the street.
The stairs are empty; night classes should start soon. Soon, dozens and dozens of students will be around you for their night classes, watching you at your worst.
The idea of where to go comes to you so quickly it surprises you.
The rooftop.
No one should be up there right now.
There's a certain sense of peace the higher you climb, as if each step somehow brings you a little closer to breathing.
Your hand brushes against the handle to push open the half-open door, and you're inches away from filling your lungs with the sunset air when...
"Huh?"
"Mizuki! Finally, I found you!"
"E-Ena...? What are you doing here...?"
Your hand releases the handle. Someone else is there. The voice sounds so surprised and familiar that your mind turns pink for a few seconds.
Akiyama?
As far as you know, Akiyama usually goes up to the rooftop to skip classes, but classes ended a while ago.
Was she waiting for someone? Or...
"To look for you. I couldn't get a hold of you on Nightcord or your phone. Do you know how tired I am now? I never would've figured out where you were if it weren't for Shiraishi."
Maybe... She's hiding?
You know how wrong it is to eavesdrop, it's in terrible taste, but you can't find a way to move. Your feet won't respond, and you can't breathe.
"Um... You talked... To... An...?"
"Yeah, I went to visit your class and ran into her, so I decided to ask if she knew where you were."
"Y-You went to my class?"
Something was wrong with that conversation. Something was wrong with that faceless, unidentifiable stranger. Akiyama had never sounded so... scared. Who was that girl, and why did she frighten her so much? What was going on?
"i did, and-..."
"S-Sorry about yesterday, Ena! For ditching you like that! You became worried based on how I was acting, right? I don't blame you. But I'm okay now! I must've been in a bad mood then, and-" her hurried ramblings were cut short by the other voice.
"It's okay"
A small, confused "Huh?" escaped her. You could almost see her head fall to the side, like a confused puppy.
"Well, to be honest, it still bothers me but... I'm here to talk to you about something else today"
"Talk to me...?" The cold wind blew, the draft sending a shiver through you even behind a half-closed door.
"So, Mizuki... Something is bothering you, right? Something really big"
Something like a sigh echoed, like an exhalation of relief. Why did it sound like that?
That stranger on the roof terrifies Akiyama, yet she even calls her by name. And Akiyama performs acrobatics to pretend she's okay, even if her voice trembles, even when she seems so out of her element.
Where did the confident girl who stole your heart go?
"Ahaha! It's nothing, really! I probably wasn't feeling great because of what's been happening lately"
"You're not fooling me. This isn't going to work"
Her severity sends shivers down your spine. There's something so raw and terribly painful in her tone that makes you wonder... What is Akiyama hiding? Maybe she doesn't know...?
"I have been staying up pretty late, which could be irritating my skin, you know? At this rate is gonna be as bad as yours, Ena..."
"Mizuki, I'm being serious"
"What's with you today, Ena...? Why are you all no-nonsense now...?"
"Let me be honest with you. I've been hoping that you'd talk to me about this ever since we went on that mystery tour"
"Again, there's nothing to talk about! And even if there was, it's none to do with you, Ena..."
"You're wrong! I don't want to keep seeing you like this, Mizuki, because whatever you're going through is starting to affect me too!"
"Huh...?"
"Whenever Kanade or Mafuyu seemed like they needed help, you wanted to be there for them, right?"
"That's..."
"It's exactly the same! It's normal to want to help out a friend when they're in need!"
"A friend..."
You feel like you've heard too much. The emotional outburst from those two is enough to make you feel uneasy. The conversation from before replays in your mind, remembering those eyes filled with resentment and venom.
It's... a reminder of your own cowardice. You're not brave enough to stand up for the girl you like, and you're not brave enough to even face your own problems. Do you deserve the chance to love someone when you're so cowardly? Do you deserve a happy ending if you can't even stand tall enough to admit you like the school's "weirdo"?
Do you deserve anything but contempt when you can't even face yourself? Your demons?
Tears keep streaming down your face. It's the dull ache in your chest, the dizzying exhaustion, and the constant reminder of your cowardice that hurts.
But you don't know what else to do. Even when you think you could do something, you freeze. Right now you're on the stairs, a pathetic wreck, halfway there as your legs finally give way, leaving you weak and helpless in the middle of that November sunset.
You're scared.
The rooftop door opens and closes. There's not much else you can do but hide inside your fuzzy coat, try to hide your tears with your damp scarf.
Beside you, a short, dark-haired student hurries down the stairs. You see her turn down the hallway, looking hurried.
There's a moment of silence. Everything is so secluded and quiet that you can hear the November wind whipping through the building, the way it rattles the windows, slams the rooftop door.
So quiet that you can hear the watery laughter coming from the rooftop.
All you can do is bury yourself deeper in your scarf and keep crying.
---
It's a strange event, and that's probably why it's so striking. Something like a fire rainbow or a solar eclipse.
Even as you're minding your own business, a cup of amazake in hand, your attention focused on the fortune you just drew, you can still catch a glimpse of Akiyama Mizuki.
It will always be impossible for you not to see Akiyama Mizuki.
The sight is pleasant; you haven't seen her since you transferred to another school. You no longer take the bus to Kamiyama, and you haven't seen those people you considered your comrades.
You no longer see Akiyama Mizuki in the hallways, nor do you follow her with your eyes as you leave your shoes in the locker. And even if you find it hard to admit, you miss her.
Her laugh is loud, her clothes the stylish in the place, and of course, she has that smile that makes your heart sink when you see what your cowardice made you lose.
However, that's okay. Maybe you still don't have the courage to express how much you love Akiyama, but you've taken small steps. Your hair looks different, the clothes you're wearing are new, bought in absolute secret with your savings, and the face mask prevents anyone from recognizing you.
And more importantly, it allows you to be at peace with yourself.
And you feel at least a little more dignified, a little more entitled to the soft light that is Akiyama. A little more like yourself, and at the same time, it makes you feel at least a little less cowardly.
You don't even look at the omikuji you slip into your pocket, hesitantly approaching the overly pink-clad young woman who walks excitedly through the shrine.
She's so close, and you think there's nothing left to stop you from getting closer; no school reputation, no one who recognizes you, or even enough fear. You want to do what you should have done so long ago; Your hands tremble with excitement and some of the amazake seeps through your gloves, your mind spins in all possible directions, trying to find words that get stuck in your throat.
However, you're barely three meters away when you realize she's not alone.
She's small. Or at least she looks small as Akiyama drags her along, their arms intertwined as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and a huge smile spreads across her face.
You don't know when you stopped getting closer, only that your feet are frozen to the ground.
The shorter girl seems exasperated, but not with that annoying, violent exasperation, but rather affectionate. She hides her smile with her scarf and complains as Akiyama drags her to the amazake stall.
Your feet are still rooted to the ground. You're not such a big nuisance now that most people have left. Few are waiting to see the first sunrise of the year, few people gather in the early morning chill, praying at the shrine. To your exasperation and dismay, Akiyama holds the young woman closer, her eyes filling with an adoration you've never seen before.
You wish you had seen it differently.
The shorter girl returns those glances with pure affection when she thinks no one is watching, and despite her complaints that can be heard all the way to you, she clings tightly to Akiyama.
You have no right to be angry. You know that perfectly well.
You were okay (and you still are) just watching her from afar. The longing in your chest that constricts your heart like a thorny vine is entirely your own fault.
And yet, you can't help but smile.
She's okay. She'll be okay, because unlike you, she has the courage to be who she is. Because Akiyama Mizuki keeps walking with her head held high even when whispers follow her, because she sings on stages and becomes the center of attention in the room with her enchanting charisma, because she shines as brightly as the sun at dawn.
Because she has kind and brave people who stand by her side, who talk, laugh, and treat her as everyone should.
The amazake in your hands has long since cooled, the sip you take is almost cold, the faint taste of rice lingers on your palate for a few seconds after you swallow.
The sun begins to illuminate the sky. Even with the excitement you felt at seeing the first sunrise of the year, you find you can't take your eyes off Akiyama.
The way she gets excited, how her whole body vibrates with nervous energy for a few seconds before calming down.
How the soft pink of her hair and eyes contrasts with the pale blue that gradually illuminates the sky.
Melancholy seems to settle comfortably in your chest.
You've been watching for a long time, your eyes are tired, and a couple of tears fall, wetting your face mask.
You tell yourself that is okay, because you don't want to be so selfish.
Instead, you make your offering and pray.
The bell shakes; you're the only person standing in line to pray at that moment.
Your prayers are simple. You pray for good health for yourself and your family, you pray for a good school year at your new school, you pray for good luck.
You pray, for a moment, that one day you'll be brave enough to be yourself, to be someone courageous, someone strong who can stand by the people they love without fear of others.
When you finish your prayers, you decide it's a good time to leave.
Your eyes meet a pink-eyed gaze. You think you've lost track of time, because her brow furrows for a few seconds when your eyes meet. You try to evade her eyes, embarrassment and cowardice reaching the surface of your being.
However, instead of approaching to confront you, instead of feeling self-conscious, her gaze lights up with recognition. Instead of a look of disdain, a wide, bright smile spreads across her face, lasting only a blink.
That's your first sunrise of the new year.