It had been three days since Aiko stopped showing up.
Three days since the halls of Hanamura University felt just a little quieter.
Three days since my mornings didn't begin with "Shouma-kun, good morning!" followed by her usual chaos.
At first, I told myself it didn't matter. That I preferred it this way — the silence, the space, the normalcy.
But then I caught myself checking her seat before class started.
Or scrolling through my messages even though she hadn't sent anything.
Or finding excuses to walk by the dorm area, just in case.
That's when I realized something was off.
---
On the fourth day, I saw her — Rin Amamiya — standing by the vending machine near the courtyard.
Perfectly composed, as always. Dark hair tied neatly, hands tucked into her blazer pockets like she owned the place.
She noticed me before I could even look away.
"Kisaragi."
I stopped mid-step. "Amamiya."
"She's still resting," she said immediately, before I could ask. "Aiko, I mean."
"I wasn't—" I paused. "…Okay, maybe I was."
Rin tilted her head slightly, her gray eyes unreadable. "You care about her."
"I'm just making sure she's okay."
"That's called caring."
"I didn't ask for your psychology degree."
That earned me the faintest smile — quick, sharp, and gone in a blink.
"She'd be happy to hear that," Rin said softly, then turned to leave.
"Wait."
She stopped.
"…Can you tell her to text me or something?" I asked quietly. "Just so I know she's alive."
Rin raised a brow. "Text you? I thought you hated talking."
"I do," I said. "But I hate worrying more."
She gave me that same assessing look she'd given me at the dorm — the kind that felt like she was reading between words.
Finally, she nodded. "I'll tell her."
That night, my phone buzzed.
> Aiko: you worried abt me?? 👀
Me: no
Aiko: liar
Me: how are you feeling
Aiko: alive!! kinda tired though
Aiko: rin-chan's been spoiling me with soup and lectures
Aiko: u miss me yet?
Me: class is quieter without you
Aiko: see!! u do miss me >:)
I stared at the screen for a long time, trying to come up with a response. I didn't.
She sent another message.
> Aiko: hey shouma-kun…
Aiko: i was thinking, when i come back, let's hang out again okay? not studying this time. something fun.
For some reason, reading that made my chest feel weird.
So I typed back:
> Me: sure
> Aiko: promise??
> Me: promise
And then, for the first time that week, I smiled without realizing it.
The next day, Aiko was back.
"Morning, Shouma-kun!" she said, her usual brightness back like nothing happened.
"You look… alive," I said.
"Thanks! Rin-chan made me drink something that tasted like sadness and medicine, but it worked!"
I almost laughed — almost.
Instead, I just nodded. "Good."
She grinned. "You were worried about me, weren't you?"
"I was worried you'd start haunting me if you died."
"Pfft, I'd be the cutest ghost ever."
"Debatable."
She gasped dramatically. "You wound me!"
The class around us was already staring. I could feel the whispers again, like tiny sparks. But this time, I didn't care as much.
She was back. That was enough.
At lunch, we went to Café Luna again.
This time, she ordered something ridiculous — strawberry parfait with extra cream.
"You sure you should eat that after being sick?" I asked.
"Recovery dessert! Doctor's orders."
"Which doctor?"
"Me."
I shook my head. "That's not how medicine works."
"It is in anime logic," she said proudly.
I sighed, but I couldn't help the corner of my mouth from twitching upward.
She noticed immediately. "Ohhh, was that a smile? A rare Shouma sighting! Someone get a camera!"
"Stop."
"Never."
Her laughter filled the air again. It was the same as before — bright, ridiculous, and warm.
But when I looked at her across the table, something felt different.
It wasn't just noise anymore. It was… something I didn't have a word for.
Something that made my chest ache in a good way.
Later that evening, I ran into Rin again.
She was sitting under the cherry blossom trees behind the dorms, reading quietly. The petals fluttered in the breeze, and for a second, the whole world felt still.
"You followed me?" she said without looking up.
"No. I was just walking."
"Convenient path."
I didn't answer. Instead, I sat down on the bench opposite hers.
She finally closed her book and studied me. "You really don't realize it, do you?"
"Realize what?"
"The way you look at her."
I blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Rin gave a small, knowing smile. "It means… you're changing."
"…I'm not."
"You used to be someone who built walls. Now you're letting her peek through the cracks."
"That's dramatic."
"Maybe." She turned her gaze to the falling petals. "But she's the type who changes people. She doesn't mean to, but she does."
I frowned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Not bad," Rin said quietly. "Just… dangerous."
The wind blew between us, carrying her words away.
The next morning, Aiko was late for class again. But this time, when she arrived, she was holding something behind her back.
"What's that?" I asked.
She grinned. "Close your eyes."
"No."
"Come on! Trust me!"
"I don't trust you."
She puffed her cheeks. "You're no fun."
Before I could react, she pulled something out — a small keychain.
It was a tiny plush character — black hair, deadpan expression, wearing a hoodie that suspiciously looked like mine.
"…Is that supposed to be me?"
"Yep!" she said proudly. "Custom made! I call him Mini-Shouma!"
I stared at her, unamused. "Why."
"Because now I can take you everywhere! You'll be my pocket companion!"
"That's creepy."
"It's cute!"
"It's concerning."
She laughed, shaking the little plush in my face. "See? He even has your pout!"
"I don't pout."
"You just did!"
I sighed, but I couldn't stop the faint warmth spreading through me.
"Fine," I said finally. "Thanks."
She blinked. "Wait—you're actually saying thank you?"
"I'm not heartless."
"That's debatable," she teased, and I flicked her forehead lightly.
She yelped. "Ow! Violence!"
"That was mercy."
That afternoon, I passed by the courtyard again — and caught Rin watching us from afar.
Her gaze wasn't sharp this time. It was softer. Thoughtful. Maybe even… sad.
When our eyes met, she smiled faintly, gave a small wave, and walked away.
For a moment, I wondered what she was thinking.
Then I looked back at Aiko, who was now holding her Mini-Shouma like it was the most precious thing in the world.
And for some reason, I couldn't look away.
That night, as I lay in bed, I replayed her laughter in my head — and Rin's words:
> "You used to be someone who built walls. Now you're letting her peek through the cracks."
Maybe she was right.
Maybe I was changing.
And maybe… that wasn't such a bad thing after all.