"Haruto! What am I asking you? What's the answer to this problem?"
The teacher's booming voice cracked like thunder across the classroom.
I snapped out of my daze, blinking at the chalkboard as if the symbols written there were some sort of ancient alien code. My heart jumped into panic mode, my brain scrambling to form a single coherent thought. But nothing came.
"I... I don't know, sir," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Laughter exploded around the room. Loud. Echoing. Mocking. I wanted to vanish into thin air. Or sink through the floor. Either was fine.
Yumiko didn't laugh. She didn't even look amused. She stared straight ahead, the definition of poker face. Her long hair draped over her shoulder like silk, and her eyes held the mystery of a locked diary. Not even a smirk.
Why did that sting more?
"Haruto," the teacher sighed,
disappointment heavy in his voice. "Please pay attention in class. I don't want to see you fall behind, my boy."
I nodded sheepishly.
What was I thinking about anyway? Ah—right. That dumb daydream.
Yumiko and I walked home from school. The evening breeze tangling her hair, our fingers brushing until they intertwined like they were always meant to. Her soft voice calling my name...
Wait, WHAT?!
I shook my head violently. No. Nope. Stop it, Haruto!
THWACK!
A piece of chalk nailed me in the forehead.
"Pay attention!" the teacher barked again.
Daiki wheezed, practically falling off his chair from laughter.
At lunch, Daiki slammed his tray down next to mine and immediately leaned in like he was interrogating me for national secrets.
"So, Haruto… what exactly were you fantasizing about during math, hmm?"
I choked on my juice. "I wasn't fantasizing!"
"Oh really? You looked like you were about to propose."
"Daiki!" Miyako snapped. "Don't be a jerk."
He pouted. "Let me have my fun! It's the first time in, like, ever that our boy has had a crush! Since forever!"
"I don't—! It's not like that!" I said too quickly. My ears were turning red, I could feel it.
"Don't worry," Miyako said slyly, "It's totally normal. Puppy love. Very cute."
"Can we please just eat in peace?" I mumbled, burying my face in my curry rice.
"Alright, alright," Daiki said, still grinning. "Just don't start daydreaming about holding hands during dessert."
The next few days were... confusing.
Yumiko still sat beside me, her presence calm and quiet—but it felt like she existed in a different universe. Her gaze rarely drifted my way. When it did, my breath would
hitch like I'd just run a marathon. But whenever I tried to speak, she either responded with one-word answers or, worse, completely ignored me.
Still, I started noticing the little things.
How she tapped her pencil three times before starting a question. How she always brought her own tea in a small pink thermos. How she would glance at the sky through the window like she was searching for something far away.
She wasn't just beautiful. She was mysterious. Like a story I hadn't read yet, but one I desperately wanted to.
Then came that morning.
The atmosphere felt weird even before I reached the classroom. A tense energy buzzed in the air like static before a storm.
I turned the corner—and froze.
A crowd had gathered near the door. Students whispered in anxious tones. I pushed through, heart thudding.
There, standing at my desk, was a group of guys—older students, rough-looking. Their leader held a red rose in his hand and a smug grin on his face.
Yumiko stood tall beside her seat. She didn't flinch. She didn't speak. She just
watched him.
"Take this rose, Yumiko," the guy said smoothly. "Let's stop wasting time. Everyone knows you're out of place here. I'm the only one who matches you."
She blinked. Then, in one fluid motion, she took the rose—and flung it right back in his face.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
His smile faltered. "You think you're better than me? Just because of that pretty little face? Hah. Maybe I should give you a scar to humble you."
My legs moved on their own.
I walked up, slow, calm, eyes locked on him. "Hey," I said. "You're in the way. That's my seat."
He turned. His eyes widened.
A beat of silence.
Then, like someone hit a switch, his whole attitude crumbled. His hand jerked to his pocket, then froze. He swallowed hard. "S-sorry, sir. Didn't realize. I'll get going."
The other boys followed, confused and startled.
"Wait," I called after him. "You're from my old school, right?"
He didn't turn around. "Y-yeah... different division." And then he vanished.
Lunch was chaotic.
"What. Was. That?!" Daiki shrieked, pointing at me like I'd just revealed I was a secret agent.
Yumiko appeared beside our table; her expression softer than I'd ever seen.
"Haruto," she said, almost unsure. "Can I... sit here?"
Daiki practically kicked me under the table. I nodded like a robot. "Of course."
She sat down, brushing her skirt neatly. "And... Thank you. For earlier. But... Why did he call you sir?"
Miyako jumped in immediately. "Yeah, spill. We're DYING to know."
I scratched the back of my neck. "Ah... it's not that big a deal. Just a misunderstanding, really."
"Does it involve a duel on the school rooftop?" Daiki asked seriously.
I sighed. "Back in my old school, there was this bully. I tried to avoid him. One day, he was chasing me and accidentally ran into this gang. Like, actual gangsters. They thought he was picking a fight and beat him up so badly he didn't come to school for a week."
Miyako gasped. "No way!"
"Everyone thought I did it," I shrugged. "Word spread, and the legend kind of... grew."
Daiki nearly spit out his rice. "You became a mythical beast by tripping a guy into a mob? That's amazing."
We all burst into laughter—even Yumiko.
And just like that... the girl who never looked at me before...
Smiled.