The morning after felt deceptively ordinary.
Sunlight spilled across the courtyard in soft gold streaks. The cherry blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, their petals drifting down like quiet confessions no one dared to speak aloud.
Hana told herself nothing had changed.
But when she stepped through the school gates, her eyes searched for him automatically.
And she hated that they did.
Takumi was standing near the vending machines, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a canned coffee. He looked as composed as ever — as if yesterday hadn't lingered between them like unfinished words.
As if Sizu hadn't stepped out from the shadows and seen everything.
Their eyes met.
There it is again.
That moment.
Not dramatic. Not explosive.
Just a quiet recognition.
"You're early," he said as she approached.
"I could say the same."
He studied her for half a second longer than usual.
"You didn't sleep well."
It wasn't a question.
She forced a small shrug. "You're imagining things."
"I don't think I am."
Before she could respond, a familiar voice entered the space between them.
"Good morning."
Sizu.
She walked toward them with the same effortless confidence as always. Her uniform was perfectly neat, her expression warm but controlled.
Takumi nodded. "Morning."
Sizu's eyes shifted to Hana briefly.
"Literature club meeting today, right?"
"Yes," Hana replied.
"Busy week," Sizu continued casually. "Art Club has preparations for the spring exhibition."
Her tone was light.
But there was something deliberate about her presence — as if she had chosen to stand exactly where she was standing.
Exactly between them.
The bell rang.
The moment dissolved.
Classes dragged on.
Hana found it harder to concentrate than usual. Words blurred on the page. Teachers' voices faded into background noise.
She kept replaying Takumi's words from yesterday.
Because when you're around… I don't feel like I'm pretending.
What does that even mean?
And why did it matter so much?
When lunch arrived, she hesitated near the staircase leading to the rooftop.
Should she go?
If he's there… what then?
She turned away.
Coward.
But before she could escape to the library, someone caught her wrist gently.
Not tightly.
Just enough to stop her.
"Running away?" Takumi asked quietly.
She looked down at his hand before looking up at him.
"I'm not running."
"Then come upstairs."
His tone wasn't demanding.
But it wasn't optional either.
After a second, she nodded.
The rooftop was quieter than usual. The sky stretched wide and pale above them. The city sounds felt distant, muted by height and wind.
Takumi leaned against the railing.
"You've been distant today."
"So have you."
He almost smiled.
"Is this about Sizu?"
She didn't answer immediately.
He continued.
"She's been part of my life for a long time. That doesn't change overnight."
"I'm not asking it to."
"Then what are you asking?"
The question caught her off guard.
What was she asking?
Reassurance?
Definition?
A place?
"I don't know," she admitted.
The wind lifted strands of her hair. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Takumi said quietly, "You think she sees you as competition."
Hana's silence confirmed it.
"She doesn't," he added.
"You can't be sure."
He looked at her steadily.
"You're not competing."
"For what?"
"For me."
Her breath faltered.
"That's not something you win."
The words lingered between them.
Not romantic.
Not playful.
Serious.
And suddenly, the space between them felt smaller.
That afternoon, Hana did something she didn't usually do.
She went to the Art Club before Takumi.
The room smelled faintly of paint and paper. Canvases leaned against the walls, half-finished landscapes glowing in soft color.
Sizu was already there.
Alone.
She was organizing brushes when she noticed Hana at the doorway.
"You're early," Sizu said, offering a polite smile.
"I had time."
Sizu nodded and returned to her task.
The silence stretched, but it wasn't hostile.
Just aware.
After a moment, Sizu spoke.
"You like him."
It wasn't a question.
Hana's fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her bag.
"I don't know what I feel."
"That's not what I asked."
Hana met her gaze.
Sizu's expression was calm — almost kind.
"I've known Takumi since we were children," Sizu continued. "He doesn't let people get close easily."
Hana listened carefully.
"He moves. A lot. New schools. New cities. New faces. It's easier for him to leave when he never fully stays."
Something inside Hana softened.
"So why did he let me?" she asked quietly.
Sizu's eyes flickered.
"That's what I'm trying to understand."
The honesty surprised her.
"I'm not trying to take him from you," Hana said.
Sizu tilted her head slightly.
"You assume he belongs to me."
The statement wasn't angry.
It was precise.
"He doesn't," Sizu continued softly. "But I've been the constant. And constants don't disappear quietly."
The door slid open.
Takumi stepped inside.
He paused when he sensed the tension.
"What are you two plotting without me?"
"Nothing," Sizu replied smoothly.
Hana looked away.
But Takumi noticed.
He always noticed.
The club meeting ended later than usual.
As students filtered out, Takumi stayed behind to clean up.
Hana lingered by the window.
"Sizu said something interesting today," she said without turning.
"Oh?"
"She said you don't let people get close."
Takumi's movements slowed.
"She's not wrong."
"Then why did you let me?"
He walked toward her.
Slowly.
"Because you didn't try to get close."
She frowned slightly.
"That doesn't make sense."
"You didn't demand my attention. You didn't chase conversation. You just… existed. And somehow, that made it easier to stay."
Her chest tightened.
"That sounds fragile."
"Maybe it is."
For a moment, they stood inches apart.
No touching.
No dramatic gestures.
Just proximity.
"You're afraid I'll leave," he said quietly.
"Aren't you?"
The question surprised both of them.
Takumi looked away first.
"I'm tired of leaving," he admitted.
The vulnerability in his voice felt rare.
Precious.
And dangerous.
That evening, the cherry blossoms were illuminated by the setting sun, turning the petals into drifting pieces of light.
Hana walked slowly toward the gate.
Takumi caught up with her.
"Walk with me."
She nodded.
They moved side by side, not speaking at first.
Then—
"Sizu won't give up easily," he said.
"On what?"
"On being important."
Hana swallowed.
"And am I?"
He stopped walking.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No half-smile.
Just truth.
"But importance isn't ownership," he continued. "And it isn't history either."
She searched his face.
"Then what is it?"
"It's choice."
The word settled heavily between them.
Choice.
Not obligation.
Not familiarity.
Choice.
He stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
But enough that she could feel his warmth.
"I'm choosing to stay," he said softly.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
"With me?" she asked.
"With you."
The air shifted.
Everything felt delicate.
As if one wrong word could shatter the moment.
From a distance, unseen again—
Sizu stood near the school entrance.
Watching.
Not with anger.
Not with tears.
But with realization.
For the first time—
She understood that this wasn't about rivalry.
It was about timing.
And perhaps—
She had arrived too early.
As Hana boarded the bus that evening, she looked out the window once more.
Takumi remained standing there.
But this time—
He wasn't alone.
Sizu walked up beside him.
They didn't speak.
They didn't touch.
They simply stood.
The bus pulled away.
And for the first time since spring began—
Hana felt something different.
Not fear.
Not jealousy.
But the fragile beginning of hope.
Yet even hope, she knew, could fall—
Like cherry blossoms.
Beautiful.
And temporary.