The morning light was faint, soft like paper soaked in milk.
Yuto sat by the window in class, head resting on his hand, eyes half lost in thought. The world outside was still the same washed-out, gray, lifeless. But next to him… there was something different.
Takamine Mika.
The same girl he had seen on the bridge a week ago.
The same one he had pulled away from the edge without knowing why.
Now she sat quietly beside him, her head slightly lowered, her black hair falling neatly against her cheek. She didn't talk much didn't even look at him, really but Yuto could feel something move when she was near.
It wasn't her voice, or her face. It was something deeper.
A faint pulse behind his eyes… a shimmer of something he hadn't felt in years.
Color.
It came softly at first like a glitch in his sight. The corner of her ribbon… faintly red. The sunlight touching her hair… a golden hint before fading again into gray. He blinked hard, unsure if it was real or just his imagination playing tricks.
His heart raced. He turned away quickly, pretending to focus on his notes.
Why? Why only her?
The teacher's voice droned somewhere in the background, words about literature and poetry floating past his ears. Yuto barely heard a thing. He glanced again, carefully, pretending to stretch his arms.
Mika was sketching something in her notebook a small, simple drawing of what looked like waves beneath a bridge. Her lines were gentle, but there was pain in them. He didn't dare ask.
At lunch, the class grew louder. Friends gathered in little circles. Laughter echoed down the hallway.
Yuto sat alone, half-eating his lunch, half-stealing glances at Mika who sat a few seats away. She didn't eat much just nibbled at her bread and looked out the window, lost somewhere far away.
That was when someone approached him.
"Hey, you're Manabe, right? The manga guy?"
Yuto looked up. A boy with messy brown hair grinned at him, holding a carton of juice. "I'm Hayato. I sit behind you sometimes when the teacher switches seats."
"Ah… yeah," Yuto said softly. "I guess that's me."
Hayato leaned in. "You really jumped off a bridge to save her last week?"
"W–what? No, not like that!" Yuto stammered, face heating. "She was just… standing there, I thought she might..."
"Relax, man, I'm kidding," Hayato said, chuckling. "Still… gutsy move. She doesn't really talk to anyone, though. Even the girls say she barely looks at them."
Yuto glanced at Mika again. She was reading, expression unreadable.
"Yeah," he murmured. "She seems… alone."
"Guess some people are built that way," Hayato said, shrugging. "Anyway, if you ever wanna join us for lunch, come over. Sitting alone looks depressing."
Yuto managed a small smile. "Thanks. Maybe next time."
When classes ended, the hallway began to empty. Mika was packing her books slowly, as if every movement required effort. Yuto hesitated, then spoke.
"Hey, Takamine… do you...do you walk home this way?"
She looked up, startled. "Why?"
"I just… thought maybe we could walk together."
Her eyes flicked toward him sharp, guarded. "You don't have to do that. I'm fine on my own."
"I know," he said, voice calm. "I just thought… maybe you'd like someone to talk to. Sometimes."
She didn't reply. She just stared for a moment, as if measuring something in him.
Then, softly: "You shouldn't get involved with me."
"Why not?"
Her hands tightened around her bag strap. "Because people who do… regret it."
There was something trembling behind her words fear, exhaustion, maybe both.
Yuto didn't push further. He just nodded, walking beside her quietly as they left the school.
The sky was pale that evening, gray clouds drifting lazily across. They crossed the same bridge where they first met. The wind carried the scent of river water and rust.
Mika stopped halfway across. "This is where you found me," she said quietly.
Yuto's steps slowed. "…Yeah."
"I didn't ask for help," she added, eyes still fixed on the water below. "But… thank you."
Those words soft, small, and honest made something stir in him. The world flickered again. The sunset glowed faintly orange for a second before draining back to silver.
He smiled, though she didn't see it. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just… glad you're here."
She turned her head slightly, studying him as if she couldn't understand why he meant it. For a moment, her usual coldness faltered. Then she spoke, her tone quieter than ever.
"Manabe… do you ever wish you could just disappear?"
He didn't answer immediately. The question cut through him like a whisper from his own memories.
"…Yeah," he said at last. "But I also know disappearing doesn't stop the pain. It just moves it to someone else."
Mika looked down, her shoulders trembling faintly. "You sound like someone who's tried to disappear too."
Yuto didn't reply. He just looked at the water, remembering the day color left his world.
They stood there for a long time, the wind brushing past them, the city lights blinking awake across the river. For the first time in years, Yuto didn't feel completely empty.
Later that night, Mika sat by her window, her small apartment dimly lit. She held her phone tightly, reading a message she would never send:
"Dad… why did you drag me into your mess?"
Outside, a car stopped briefly on the street below. A man in a dark coat looked up at her window before driving off. She flinched.
Her eyes softened fear, regret, and something unspoken.
Then, in her mind, she saw Yuto again on that bridge his hand stretched out toward her, his voice trembling but real.
Maybe… not everyone who reaches out wants something in return.