I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
My face looked pale under the flickering light, my jaw tight, eyes rimmed with tiredness—not from staying up late, but from carrying something invisible, a quiet weight pressing down on my shoulders every single day.
Loser.
Weak.
Those words weren't shouted at me. They never had to be. My family whispered them in silences, tucked them between bites at dinner, carved them into every pause heavy with disappointment.
But this morning, I didn't flinch.
I was tired of being haunted.
If they were right—that I was nothing more than a failure—I'd just live like that forever. But if there was even a tiny chance I was wrong, if even one small part of me believed I could be more… then I had to try.
Not for them.
Not even for her.
For myself.
That morning, I woke up an hour earlier than usual. The house was silent, the cold air prickling against my skin as I pulled on an old shirt and quietly rolled out a mat in the corner of my room. I played a beginner workout video on my phone. The instructor's cheerful voice grated on me, but I followed along anyway.
The first few push-ups were pathetic. I collapsed halfway down, my arms shaking. The sit-ups burned. By the time I reached the cool-down stretch, I was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.
It was humiliating.
And tomorrow, I'd do it again.
I started changing other things too. I cut my game time in half, swapped late-night snacks for water, started organizing my notebooks. Small, quiet acts of rebellion—not against my family, but against the person I used to be.
Haruto noticed first.
"Trying to act smart now?" he asked one afternoon, raising an eyebrow at the self-help book in my hand.
I didn't answer. Just flipped the page and kept reading.
Mom peeked into my room once to find me folding clothes and muttered, "Are you feeling okay?" with a half-joking smile. I just nodded. That flicker of surprise in her voice—I held onto it like a spark in the dark.
Haruki, of course, noticed the shift almost immediately.
It was on the weekend we were eating lunch in restaurant
"Did you just turn down extra fries?" he said, blinking at me like I was an alien.
I shrugged. "They were cold."
"Liar," Haruki grinned. "You're evolving. I don't know if I should be proud or scared."
I chuckled, but deep down, it felt good. Not to impress anyone, but to finally move. To finally stop waiting for life to be different and actually make it different.
It was during one of those quiet afternoons, we were still eating and joking then I see her
Tachibana.
She stood by the window, sunlight brushing against her hair as she flipped through a book. Our eyes met.
Time didn't freeze, but something tightened in my chest.
Her gaze lingered just long enough to make me wonder what she saw. The boy from last year? The shadow of a mistake? Or someone else entirely?
She blinked, then looked away.
No words. No scowl. No judgment.
But that silence said more than anything.
"Dude," Haruki muttered beside me, elbowing my ribs. "You gonna keep staring till graduation?"
"I—"
"Go," he said, grinning. "You promised no more hesitating."
Before I could object, he gave me a shove forward.
Walking towards her was like walking to danger at least that's what I'm s it for me
That's when I realized Tachibana wasn't alone. Tanaka stood beside her, sipping a can of iced coffee from the vending machine.
Tanaka spotted us first, eyes lighting up with mischief. "Well, look who wandered into enemy territory. Takahashi-kun, right?"
"Uh… yeah."
She leaned toward Tachibana. "He's cuter when he's nervous, huh?"
"Miyu" Tachibana sighed softly.
But Tanaka just smiled like she'd done her job and stepped aside, leaving me standing face-to-face with the girl I'd spent a year trying to forget.
She wasn't in uniform today—just a loose black hoodie, cropped white tee, and joggers. Streetwear.
It didn't match her usual composed image at all.
And somehow, that made it even harder to look away.
"You… look different," I said before my brain could stop me. "I mean, the outfit. It suits you, you look good."
Her brows lifted slightly, like I'd caught her off guard.
A pause. Then that faint, unreadable smile. "You're bolder than you used to be, Takahashi."
I exhaled, nerves catching up to my mouth. "Maybe I'm dead, and this is my ghost talking to you."
For a heartbeat, nothing. Then—
She laughed. Actually laughed.
Soft, short, and real. The kind of sound I hadn't heard from her in forever.
Tanaka blinked, grinning. "Okay, okay, who replaced Ice Queen Rina with this version? I'm keeping him around."
Haruki barked out a laugh. "Told you he's improving. Oh—by the way, I'm Haruki Nakamura, I'm this dumbass bestfriend" he said, turning toward her.
Tachibana nodded politely. "Nice to meet you, Nakamura."
"Just Nakamura's fine," Tanaka chimed in cheerfully. "Or Nakamura-kun, like me!"
Haruki blinked, mock-sighing. "You're too friendly for your own good, Tanaka-chan"
Tachibana's smile faded back to something small, but her eyes lingered on me a little longer than before.
"Keep surprising me, and maybe I'll believe that," she said.
And for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel like the guy from last year.
Just a boy standing in front of the girl he hurt—trying, one awkward laugh at a time, to make things right.
That night, I sat on the floor of my room, knees pulled to my chest, heart oddly calm.
I still didn't know who I wanted to become. But I knew I didn't want to be the boy who ran anymore. The one who waited for someone else to fix him. The one who stood in the back of the room, hoping not to be noticed.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel like I was starting from failure.
I was just starting.