I reached the school gate later than usual. A few students were still making their way inside, their footsteps soft against the pavement.
I ruffled my hair lightly—giving up on forcing a clean middle part. I let the wavy texture fall naturally, accepting the minor visual chaos.
With an unhurried, measured pace, I headed toward the classroom building. Something felt significantly off today.
Instead of the usual few curious glances I received as the new exchange student, students lingered on me longer than necessary, their conversation lowering into audible whispers as I passed. The attention was widespread and distracting.
I didn't bother trying to catch their words. I simply lowered my gaze, letting my posture signal absolute distance while my left hand stayed tucked deep in my pocket and my right forearm rested loosely on my messenger bag, a comforting shield.
After climbing the stairs, I turned left toward my classroom.
Harukawa and Kimura were there—leaning casually against the glass window, talking.
I walked past them without acknowledgment. No greeting, no gesture. My eyes remained fixed on the door ahead, maintaining my composure at absolute zero.
Still, I could feel Harukawa's gaze—a warm, distinct pressure—following me, their conversation pausing for the single, telling second I occupied their space.
I slipped in through the back door of the classroom.
Kazama was already twisting around in his seat to face me, energized by our tryout success. "Aidan—did you bring your P.E. clothes? We have basketball game later."
I nodded calmly, continuing toward my desk in the middle row near the window."Yeah. I did."
I sat down, placing my messenger bag on the floor and sliding Saki's homemade bento under my desk. Resting my arms on the tabletop, I let out a slow breath, consciously regulating my heart rate, and lowered my head onto my forearms, simulating a brief, necessary disconnection.
That's when Rin Uchida approached.
"Aidan? For our Biology group meeting—can we gather after school at the library?" she asked softly.
I lifted my head, meeting her eyes with my usual composed expression. "Yeah. Sure. I don't mind."
She smiled warmly—gently, as if she instantly understood I wasn't fond of long, superfluous conversations. Then she returned to her seat.
Students gradually filled the room. I risked a brief glance toward the hallway. Once again, I caught unfamiliar faces from other classes looking in as they passed, their curiosity overt. Not everyone—but more faces than I could easily count or dismiss.
Did something happen? What's with this sudden inflation of attention? The tryout success alone could not account for this degree of pervasive observation.
A few minutes later, Reina Matsuda entered—the English teacher who had snapped at me for staring out the window on my first day. We stood and greeted her in unison. Once seated, I reached into my bag for my materials.
As I looked up, my eyes momentarily met Harukawa's across the aisle.
Her expression was different from the surprise of the night before—soft. Warmer than yesterday.
I turned away slowly, efficiently, avoiding holding her gaze for too long.
Focus. Class first. Maintain boundaries.
I wrote down the essential points as Matsuda taught. Most students were too intimidated by her quiet authority to misbehave, and the room remained silent except for the sound of pens scratching across paper.
Without realizing it, the bell rang—first period over. We rose, bowed politely, and the room erupted into chatter as usual.
I gathered my things with practiced calm and stood.
Next period was Physical Education. Indoor sports, in the basketball hall.
As I slung my messenger bag around my shoulder, Kazama called out again. "Hey, want to walk together?" He gestured toward Harukawa's group near his seat.
I glanced briefly at the group—Akari Harukawa, Kazuki Nishimura, and Hikari Kimura—then back at Hayate Kazama. "Nah… I'm fine." The rejection needed to be immediate and non-negotiable.
I stepped out of the classroom and walked along the hallway, deliberately choosing solitude.
After climbing down the stairs, I followed the flow of students to the right, blending in calmly. The hallway leading to the basketball hall was already crowded with students, They went in and out of the locker room to change into their P.E. shirts while carrying their gym bags. Today, Class 3–1 would combine with Class 3–3.
I walked at my usual steady pace, gaze forward, ignoring the whispers that drifted around me again. My internal calculation of the shift in social dynamics was ongoing. I went inside the locker room and changed into my P.E shirts.
Yesterday, I was largely invisible. Today, people were noticing too much.
The basketball hall was bright, echoing with the squeak of shoes striking polished wood. Sawada-sensei stood at the center, clipboard tucked under his arm, calling everyone to gather. He divided us into two sides—boys on one end, girls on the other.
Kazama jogged up beside me, bumping my shoulder lightly. "You ready for today, Aidan?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
He grinned, adjusting his P.E. shirt. "You're definitely getting attention. People rarely talk this much about tryouts, but you? They're starting to notice you. Even the girls from 3-3 are talking."
I looked at him blankly, maintaining the façade of disinterest. "…Why?"
He just laughed and ran ahead before answering, joining Nishimura further up.
Students formed a loose semicircle. Sawada-sensei explained the session—basic warm-ups followed by team drills. We would play basketball today.
Pretty standard. Same system back at home. Contained, predictable.
But as we split into groups, I felt it again.
Eyes on me. Some familiar, some not.
Whispers, glances that lasted a beat too long. A constant sensory tax.
Unnecessary attention. Annoying.
Keeping my expression unreadable, I stretched quietly with my assigned group, focusing intensely on the physical action.
Across the hall, Harukawa stood with the girls, tying her hair while talking with Kimura. She laughed—bright and full of energy—but every few moments, her eyes flicked toward me, a subconscious acknowledgment of my presence.
Yesterday's scene flashed through my mind, an unwanted visual replay:
Her soft expression.
Her kiss with Nishimura.
Her voice calling after me in the quiet street.
My heartbeat stuttered—an uncomfortable reminder of emotions I should've buried permanently.
She looked away the moment our eyes almost met, a reflexive break that offered no genuine relief.
Sawada-sensei blew the whistle, snapping me out of the distraction. We began warm-ups—jogging, sprinting, stretching.
My body followed the routine efficiently, automatically, but my mind stayed crowded.
Kazama jogged beside me again. "You okay? You're quieter than usual."
I gave him a deadpan look. "I'm always quiet."
He laughed. "Fair point. If you're not careful, you might end up popular as Nishimura for his look—even with your deadpan face." He bounced ahead energetically.
I prefer to be alone. Popularity is the antithesis of my goal.
I loosened my shoulders, stretching quietly until Sawada-sensei's whistle signaled the start of drills.
Once the drills began, mental focus returned easily.
Passing, positioning, movement—patterns flowed.
Sports were simpler than people.
Predictable, logical, understandable. A haven.
In one drill, a pass came too late and a teammate bumped into me. "Sorry, Aidan!"
"It's fine." I adjusted my posture calmly, my mind already correcting the pattern error.
I stepped back to observe the formation again. Even basketball felt easier than dealing with this flood of unnecessary, personal attention.
During the short break—while another group played their match—I sat on the bench, grabbing my towel. Sweat cooled on my skin as I watched students talk, laugh, and shoot casually.
Across the hall, Rin Uchida's group played with relaxed coordination. My eyes lingered on her for a moment.
Her group is calmer. Not chaotic like Harukawa's. I analyzed the dynamic.
…Where is she, anyway?
I scanned the gym while wiping my sweat, until my eyes found Harukawa. She sat with Kimura and another girl I didn't recognize—likely from Class 3–3. They talked animatedly, but Harukawa wasn't fully present in the conversation.
Every few seconds, her gaze drifted toward me again. Unwavering. Persistent.
Just like yesterday.
Just like during the walk to the cafeteria.
Just like the moment under the streetlight.
I looked away, pressing the towel to my face, cutting off the visual connection.
Distance. I need distance now.
My chest tightened—not painful, but persistent, an internal signal of systemic overload.
I needed fresh air.
I rose quietly, put my towel neatly on the bench, and walked toward the double doors. With a soft click, I stepped out of the basketball hall.
Click.
The double doors shut behind him, sealing Naim Aidan outside and leaving only the faint echo of sneakers and distant voices inside the basketball hall. My heart was already pounding, the lingering feeling of his dismissal clinging to me.
From where I stood, my eyes lingered on the spot he had occupied moments ago. His seat on the bench was empty now, his towel folded neatly beside it—exactly the way I expected him to leave things.
I tightened my grip around my water bottle.
He left again… without a word to me. Dummy. The biggest dummy in the world. Zero acknowledgment.
Nearby, Kimura and Naomi Amari laughed over something trivial. Kimura had already started her ridiculous matchmaking plan—insisting Amari wasn't interested in Aidan while asking about him every chance she got. Amari kept denying it, but her eyes betrayed her, flicking toward the closed doors whenever his name came up.
Their voices faded into background noise. My attention drifted back to the doors, my chest tightening with something I didn't want to name: disappointment.
The whispers hadn't gone unnoticed either.
The way people looked at him.
The sudden, invasive interest from students outside our class.
Of course people were talking.
Yamamoto from another class had started spreading things yesterday, right after the tryouts. Even Kazama mentioned it—people weren't intrigued by Aidan's looks; it wasn't just because he played decently either. It was because of the chasm between expectation and reality.
A quiet, unassuming transfer student—
who turned into something else entirely on the field.
People thought he was just a quiet nerd.
He shattered that image in a single afternoon, and now everyone was trying to categorize the new anomaly.
I took a slow breath, exhaling sharply as I pressed my feet into the floor, my gaze fixed downward.
He must've noticed the attention. Or maybe he didn't. He never reacts the way normal people do.
That's so dumb. He's such a dumb dummy.
My thoughts felt heavier than usual. This wasn't like me—I didn't usually get lost inside my head. I was the type who said what she thought, who acted before doubting herself. Yet here I was, staring at the door he had just walked through.
…Is he bothered by the attention? Or is he bothered by me?
My mind flashed back to yesterday—to the moment he saw me after I kissed Nishimura.
Why hadn't I asked Sora more about that "new" older brother of his friend?
Why hadn't I connected the dots sooner?
I don't regret kissing Nishimura. He's my anchor.
But somehow… I don't want Aidan to distance himself from me.
My chest tightened again, the feeling refusing to fade. Since this morning—since he walked past me like I didn't exist—it had been clinging to me, quiet but persistent.
Sawada-sensei's whistle cut sharply through the air, snapping me out of my thoughts as he called the girls back into formation.
Kimura tugged lightly at my sleeve. "Akari, hurry up."
I blinked and forced a small smile. "Yeah… I'm coming."
Even as I stepped forward, my eyes drifted back one last time to the closed doors, a faint crease forming between my brows.
Why did he leave?
The feeling lingered—quiet, unspoken,
and impossible to shake.
During the basketball match between groups, the ball bounced past me before I realized it. My mind was still tangled in the silence of the morning—the whispers, Nishimura's gentle concern, and the way Aidan had stepped out of the gym.
"Akari!" Kimura shouted as she passed the ball, urging me to run forward.
I turned too late. My foot slipped against the polished floor, the friction betraying me, and the next thing I knew, I was down. The sting came a second later—sharp and burning—my ankle scraping harshly against the court.
"I'm fine," I said quickly, even before anyone asked, scrambling up at once. I desperately avoided the inevitable lingering looks.
But I wasn't fine. My ankle throbbed with a dull ache, mirroring the deeper agitation within.
I excused myself from the game and sat out, my eyes following the rhythmic movement of the ball without truly seeing it. The whistle, the quick laughter, the screech of shoes against the wood—it all blurred together into a meaningless, distant noise.
I don't even enjoy this anymore.
Quietly, I slipped out and headed down the stairway that led toward the empty soccer field. It was cooler, quieter here. I sat heavily on the worn steps and hugged my knees lightly, my ankle throbbing beneath the skin.
This is stupid.
Jealous.
Guilty.
Confused.
I had Nishimura. I kissed him. We'd been together for five months already. We never fought—though I was always the one testing his patience. Still, he stayed gentle. Patient. He was my anchor.
…So why does it hurt this much to feel indifferent to him, and obsessed with someone else?
My vision blurred before I realized hot tears were falling. I wiped them away quickly, pressing my sweaty sleeve against my eyes.
Get it together, Akari.
Soft footsteps echoed from the bleachers behind the field.
I looked up as someone descended the steps from the bleachers staircase.
Aidan stood a short distance away, his expression calm, unreadable as ever. He didn't approach right away.
"…Didn't enjoy the game?" he asked quietly, his gaze steady on mine.
I looked away, embarrassed by my raw emotional state. "Yeah…"
He stepped closer, stopping a few stairs above me, allowing me space. "…Are you hurt?" he asked, softer now, the slight decrease in volume pulling my attention.
You always notice things, don't you? Dummy.
I nodded once. "Just scraped my ankle."
His eyes flicked briefly to the injury, registering the detail, then returned to my face. "You should clean it."
"I know," I replied shortly. The defensiveness was automatic.
Silence followed. Not awkward—but heavy, filled with the things we weren't saying.
"…Take care," he said at last. It sounded like an exit statement.
Then he turned and left, climbing the stairs with those quiet, steady steps of his.
I stared at the place where he disappeared, my chest tightening again. My gaze drifted toward the empty soccer field.
Aidan and Kazama were here yesterday… that's when people started noticing him.
A few minutes later, the soft footsteps returned.
This time, Aidan stopped directly behind me. I turned to look at him. His messenger bag hung from one shoulder, a towel draped loosely around his neck. Without a word, he held out a small packet.
Bandages. Simple, antiseptic gauze.
He had walked all the way to the nurse's office, or wherever he found them, and returned—all without being asked, and without requiring thanks.
"…Thank you," I said softly as I took them, my voice barely a whisper.
He nodded once. "Don't strain it."
And just like that, he walked away again—heading toward the school building, not back to the basketball hall, even though class hadn't ended yet.
No lingering.
No questions about my well-being.
No promises of tomorrow.
I wrapped the bandage around my ankle, stood up, and made my way back toward the gym. The final bell rang soon after, and students began dispersing from the hall. I caught up with Kimura and Naomi Amari, the girl she wanted to set up with Naim Aidan, they on the way to the girls' locker room.
After changing, Kimura and I rejoined Kazama and Nishimura at the cafeteria as lunch break began. I sat quietly with the group, my ankle wrapped, my heart heavier than before. I let out a slow breath and glanced around the table.
Aidan wasn't there.
He's keeping his distance…
And somehow, the absence hurt the most.
The cafeteria settled into its usual rhythm—chatter, laughter, the soft clatter of trays. Kimura exaggerated my fall with animated gestures. "Did you guys see Akari fall during the basketball match? It was so dramatic!"
Nishimura scolded me gently. "You shouldn't push yourself. It's just a game. Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked, concern clear in his voice, his hand resting tentatively near mine.
I laughed lightly, grateful for his kindness. "It's fine. Already taken care of."
Kazama yawned loudly. "Since when do you carry bandages, Haru-san?"
"What, you think I'm that clumsy?" I snorted, deflecting the question instantly.
Nishimura cut in with a small smile, easing the tension. "As long as she's okay." He picked up his sandwich and ate slowly.
The conversation drifted back to normal. I laughed when expected, nodded at the right moments, finished my food.
Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
When we left the cafeteria, the hallway was crowded with students heading back to class.
Kimura broke the silence. "Hey… why didn't Aidan hang out with us today?"
"I asked," Kazama replied, scratching the back of his head. "He refused. He's hard to deal with."
I nodded absently in agreement—and that was when I saw him.
Aidan turned from the courtyard into the hallway ahead of us, his pace unhurried. Rin Uchida walked beside him, a notebook held to her chest as she spoke softly. He listened. He nodded. He matched her pace with an easy rhythm. Every time he replied, she smiled warmly, genuinely.
From behind, they looked… natural.
Not close.
Not distant.
Just aligned. Working together.
My steps slowed without me realizing it. The world narrowed to that single scene.
Kimura was still talking. "Ah—there he is. Look how focused he looks. With Uchida."
"Since when are they close?" Kazama added, confusion lacing his voice.
"Isn't he in her Biology group?" Nishimura said beside me.
I nodded, the word dry in my throat. Aidan didn't turn around. He didn't notice us.
Or maybe he did—and chose not to.
We entered the classroom after them. Aidan's space was already occupied by Uchida's group, collaborating efficiently for their next meeting. Though he remained reserved, he no longer felt like part of ours.
The final period passed quietly. The classroom felt steady, unchanged. Aidan sat near the window, focused, composed, a wall of calculated neutrality.
He never looked my way.
When the bell rang, he gathered his things and left with Uchida and the others toward the library.
For the group meeting.
I watched him go.
He didn't look back.
And for the first time since he transferred here, something settled in my chest with unsettling clarity—
He wasn't drifting aimlessly anymore.
He was moving forward.
Just… completely Out of Reach.