Yuto Kimura's days began quietly, as if the city itself was still deciding whether to wake. His alarm chimed at six, a gentle melody that coaxed him from sleep rather than jolted him. He lay for a moment, listening to the distant hum of Tokyo-trains gliding along their tracks, the faint murmur of traffic, the caw of crows perched on the power lines outside his window. His room was small but tidy, lined with books and the odd baseball card, sunlight filtering through the curtains in pale gold stripes.
His mother's voice drifted from the kitchen, calling him to breakfast. The Kimura apartment was modest, perched on the fifth floor of a weathered building in Setagaya. The walls were thin, but the warmth inside was thick-his mother bustling over the stove, his father quietly reading the morning paper, and his little sister, Aki, grumbling about another day of school. Yuto always smiled at these rituals. He knew their simplicity was a kind of blessing.
Breakfast was always the same: steaming rice, grilled salmon, pickles, and miso soup. His mother fussed over his uniform, smoothing invisible wrinkles, while his father offered a rare but heartfelt, "Do your best, Yuto." He would step out into the corridor, shoes clicking on the concrete, and breathe in the city's morning air-tinged with the scent of rain and the promise of spring.
The walk to Seishin Middle School was lined with cherry trees, their branches heavy with pink blossoms in April. The petals drifted down like confetti, gathering in little piles along the sidewalk. Yuto liked to think of them as silent witnesses to the stories of every student who passed beneath their boughs.
Seishin Middle School itself stood at the edge of a sprawling park, its white buildings gleaming against the green. The school was old, its walls etched with the memories of generations. Ivy crept along the fences, and the main gate-a proud arch of stone-bore the school's motto: "Courage, Heart, and Harmony." The classrooms were filled with sunlight and the soft murmur of students, and teachers moved through the halls with a measured grace.
Yuto was not the kind of boy who drew attention. He was of average height, with soft, dark hair that always seemed a little too long, falling into thoughtful eyes the color of wet asphalt. His features were gentle, almost delicate, and he wore his uniform with a quiet neatness that spoke of careful mornings and a mother's loving touch. He preferred to listen rather than speak, and his favorite place was the library, a sanctuary where time seemed to slow.
It was on a rainy Tuesday that Yuto first met Sudo Hirata. The sky was a tapestry of gray, and students huddled beneath umbrellas as they dashed to class. Yuto, ever the early riser, was already in his seat, watching the raindrops race down the windowpane. Sudo burst into the classroom, drenched and breathless, his hair-a wild chestnut mop-plastered to his forehead. He grinned at Yuto, shrugged off his soaked jacket, and flopped into the seat beside him.
"Forgot my umbrella," Sudo laughed, shaking water from his hair. "Guess I'll be a fish today."
Yuto smiled, offering a spare handkerchief. "You'll catch a cold."
That simple exchange was the beginning. Sudo was everything Yuto was not-tall for his age, with unruly hair, a grin that seemed permanently etched onto his face, and eyes that sparkled with mischief. His laughter could be heard echoing down the halls, and his uniform was always a little askew, as if he'd run straight from the baseball field to class. Yet, beneath his bravado, Yuto sensed a kindred spirit, someone who understood the loneliness that sometimes crept in at the edges of joy.
They became inseparable, their days a blur of shared lunches, whispered jokes, and late-night study sessions. Sudo brought color to Yuto's world, and Yuto, in turn, offered Sudo a quiet anchor. Their friendship was a shelter, a place where both could be wholly themselves.
Seishin Middle School was more than a building-it was a world unto itself. The sports fields echoed with the shouts of soccer matches, the gymnasium with the rhythmic thud of basketballs. The art room smelled of paint and possibility, while the music room vibrated with the hopeful notes of the school band. Teachers like Mrs. Takahashi, the literature instructor, saw promise in Yuto's essays and encouraged him to write. Mr. Fujimoto, the math teacher, had a soft spot for Sudo's wild logic and often let him off with a warning and a smile. Yet, it was the student council that truly shaped the rhythm of school life, organizing festivals, mediating disputes, and setting the tone for harmony.
Yuto's first encounter with Rin Shinomiya was nothing short of dramatic. He saw her standing beneath the ancient sakura tree in the school courtyard, her hair-a glossy black bob-catching the sunlight. She was arguing, politely but firmly, with a group of older boys about the upcoming cultural festival. There was something magnetic about her-a quiet strength, a determination that shone even as her voice trembled.
Suddenly, one of the boys shoved past her, and Rin stumbled, dropping her folder. Papers fluttered like wounded birds across the grass. Without thinking, Yuto rushed forward, kneeling to gather the scattered sheets. He handed them to her, their fingers brushing for a brief, electric moment.
"Thank you," Rin said, her almond-shaped eyes meeting his. There was gratitude there, but also something deeper-a flicker of recognition, as if she saw the quiet battles he fought within himself.
Sudo, ever the peacemaker, cracked a joke and diffused the tension. The boys wandered off, and Rin turned to Yuto, her smile shy but genuine.
"I'm Rin Shinomiya. Thank you for helping."
Yuto nodded, words caught in his throat. He felt, in that moment, that something important had shifted-a thread had been woven between them, fragile but unbreakable.
Rin was the picture of grace, but with a stubborn streak that showed in the set of her jaw. Her posture was straight and proud, but when she smiled, it was as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds. Her uniform was immaculate, her ribbon always tied perfectly.
The three of them often gathered beneath the ancient sakura tree, where the petals would fall like pink snow in the spring. Their conversations were a patchwork of jokes, gentle teasing, and the kind of easy camaraderie that comes from shared secrets.
One afternoon, as they lounged on the grass, Sudo was recounting his latest baseball triumph, miming a dramatic swing.
"You should've seen it, Yuto! Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, and I hit it clear over the fence. The crowd went wild!"
Yuto grinned, rolling his eyes. "You mean the three kids and the PE teacher?"
Sudo pressed a hand to his heart in mock outrage. "Hey, a crowd is a crowd! Right, Rin?"
Rin giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I heard you tripped over third base and nearly face-planted."
Sudo groaned. "Traitors, both of you. I need new friends."
Yuto nudged him with his shoulder. "Good luck finding anyone who'll put up with you."
Rin added, "Besides, who else would help you with your math homework?"
Sudo threw his arms around both of them, pulling them into a lopsided hug. "Guess I'm stuck with you, then."
Despite the lively group banter, Yuto and Rin shared quieter moments, often in the library or during student council meetings. Yuto admired Rin's dedication, the way she stayed late to organize events or help struggling classmates.
One rainy afternoon, Yuto found Rin in the library, surrounded by stacks of paperwork.
"You're working too hard," he said, sliding into the seat across from her.
She looked up, a tired smile on her lips. "Someone has to. The festival won't plan itself."
Yuto offered her a chocolate from his pocket. "Here. For energy."
Rin accepted, her fingers brushing his. "You're too nice, Yuto. People will take advantage of you."
He shrugged, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I don't mind. Especially if it's you."
She laughed softly, the sound like wind chimes on a spring breeze. "Careful, or I'll start expecting it."
They worked in companionable silence, the rain tapping softly against the windows.
One golden afternoon, as the baseball team practiced on the field, Yuto wandered past the gymnasium and spotted a familiar silhouette half-hidden behind a pillar. It was Rin, her cheeks flushed, eyes fixed intently on the field.
Yuto followed her gaze and saw Sudo, bat in hand, laughing with his teammates.
A smile tugged at Yuto's lips. He crept up beside Rin, careful not to startle her.
"Enjoying the game?" he whispered.
Rin jumped, her face going scarlet. "Yuto! Don't sneak up on people like that!"
He grinned, leaning against the pillar. "You know, you could just watch from the bleachers like everyone else."
Rin huffed, crossing her arms. "I was…just passing by."
Yuto raised an eyebrow, teasing. "With that blush? Come on, Rin. You like him, don't you?"
She glared at him, but the fight quickly left her. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Fine. I like Sudo, okay? But if you tell him, I'll…I'll kill you."
Yuto laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "Your secret's safe with me. But you know, he's pretty clueless."
Rin smiled, a little wistfully. "Yeah. That's what I like about him, I guess."
Yuto watched her for a moment, a strange ache blooming in his chest. He nodded, trying to keep his voice light. "Well, if you ever need a wingman, you know where to find me."
Rin nudged him with her elbow. "Thanks, Yuto. Seriously."
He smiled, but inside, he felt the first tremor of something breaking-a delicate, invisible thread.
The days passed in a blur of laughter and shared dreams. Yuto, Sudo, and Rin became a fixture at Seishin Middle School, their friendship a bright spot in the everyday routine. Yet, beneath the surface, Yuto carried Rin's secret like a fragile glass, careful not to let it slip.
He found himself watching Sudo with new eyes, wondering if he'd ever notice the way Rin's gaze lingered on him, or the way her laughter changed when he was near. Yuto kept his promise, never breathing a word, even as his own feelings for Rin quietly grew.
And so, under the falling sakura petals, the trio's story began, each of them unaware of the storms that would one day test the strength of their bond.
The days that followed were painted in the gentle hues of spring, and Yuto found himself drifting ever closer to Rin Shinomiya. The trio's laughter still echoed under the sakura tree, but more and more, Yuto and Rin found themselves alone together, as if the world itself was conspiring to give them time.
It was in the small moments that their bond deepened. On a quiet afternoon, Yuto and Rin lingered in the library after student council duties. The late sun spilled through the windows, dust motes dancing like tiny spirits in the golden light. Rin was helping Yuto fold flyers for the upcoming festival, but her hands moved slowly, distracted.
"Do you think the sakura will still be blooming next week?" she asked, her voice soft.
Yuto glanced out the window, where the petals clung stubbornly to the branches. "Maybe. They always seem to hold on longer than you expect."
Rin smiled, tracing a finger along the edge of a flyer. "I wish some things could last forever."
Yuto wanted to say something, to tell her that some things did last-that memories, once made, could never truly disappear. But the words caught in his throat, so he simply nodded, and together they watched the sunlight fade.
There were other moments, too: Rin teaching Yuto how to make onigiri in the home economics room, her laughter bubbling over when he failed to shape the rice properly; their hands brushing as they reached for the same book in the library; the way she would sometimes look at him, her eyes bright with unspoken questions.
One evening, after a long day of festival preparations, Yuto walked Rin to the train station. The city was alive with the scent of rain and the distant rumble of thunder. They stood beneath the awning, waiting for her train, the silence between them comfortable.
"Thank you for today," Rin said, her voice barely above the rain.
Yuto shrugged, trying to hide his blush. "I should be thanking you. I'd be lost without your help."
Rin smiled, her eyes shining. "You're not as hopeless as you think, Yuto."
The train arrived, its doors hissing open. Rin stepped inside, turning at the last moment. "See you tomorrow?"
Yuto nodded, watching as the train carried her away, her silhouette framed in the window until it disappeared into the night.
He never imagined that tomorrow would not come.
It happened suddenly, like a summer storm that arrives without warning. Yuto's father came home late one evening, his face drawn and serious. There was a transfer, he explained. Kyoto. They would be leaving at the end of the week.
Yuto's world tilted on its axis. He wanted to protest, to beg his father to let him stay, but he saw the exhaustion in his father's eyes, the worry etched deep into his mother's brow. He swallowed his words, nodding in silent acceptance.
He didn't tell Rin. He didn't know how. The thought of saying goodbye felt impossible, like trying to capture the wind in his hands. Instead, he confided in Sudo, the only person who might understand.
They met at the station on Yuto's last morning in Tokyo. The sky was overcast, the city painted in shades of gray. Sudo was waiting by the ticket gates, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his usual grin nowhere to be seen.
"So, this is it, huh?" Sudo said, his voice rough.
Yuto nodded, clutching the strap of his bag so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Yeah. Kyoto."
Sudo looked away, blinking hard. "You'll text, right? We'll still play online, right?"
Yuto tried to smile, but it felt brittle. "Of course. I'll send you pictures. And I expect updates on your baseball scores."
Sudo laughed, but it broke halfway through. He kicked at the floor, then pulled Yuto into a quick, fierce hug. "Don't forget us, okay?"
Yuto's voice was barely a whisper. "I couldn't, even if I tried."
The train arrived, its doors sliding open with a sigh. Yuto stepped inside, turning to wave one last time. Sudo stood on the platform, hands raised in farewell, his figure growing smaller as the train pulled away.
At Seishin Middle School, the news of Yuto's departure came not from his lips, but from the homeroom teacher, who announced it at the start of class. Rin sat frozen at her desk, her mind struggling to process the words.
"Kimura-kun has moved to Kyoto due to his father's job transfer. He left earlier this morning."
The classroom buzzed with whispers, but Rin heard nothing. Her hands trembled as she stared at the empty seat beside hers. She didn't even have his Line ID. She had no way to contact him, no way to say goodbye. The realization hit her like a physical blow, and for the rest of the day, she moved through the halls in a daze, her heart heavy with regret.
Outside, the sakura petals continued to fall, indifferent to the ache in her chest.
In Kyoto, Yuto's life unfolded in muted colors. The city was beautiful, with its ancient temples and narrow lanes, but it felt distant, as if he were living inside a painting. The new school was friendly enough, but the laughter never seemed to reach his heart. He missed the familiar rhythm of Tokyo, the comfort of old friends, the warmth of shared memories.
For the first month, he and Sudo texted almost every day. They exchanged jokes, shared photos, and played games online. But as the weeks passed, the messages grew less frequent. Sudo was busy with baseball, Yuto with adjusting to his new life. The silences between them stretched longer and longer, until one day, Yuto realized it had been weeks since he'd heard from his friend.
He thought of Rin often, wondered if she missed him, if she remembered the afternoons in the library, the laughter beneath the sakura tree. He wished he'd had the courage to say goodbye, to tell her how much she meant to him. But the past was a closed door, and he could only move forward.
Years slipped by, each one blurring into the next. Yuto grew taller, his features sharpening into something older, more serious. He studied hard, made new friends, but a part of him always felt adrift, as if he were searching for something he'd left behind in Tokyo.
Then, in the final year of high school, his father announced another transfer-back to Tokyo. The news hit Yuto like a wave, equal parts excitement and dread. He packed his bags in silence, his heart pounding with anticipation and fear.
The city greeted him like an old friend, familiar yet changed. The streets were the same, but the shops had new signs, the trees seemed taller, the air heavier with memories. Yuto wandered through his old neighborhood, tracing the paths he'd walked as a boy. He paused beneath the sakura trees, now taller, their branches reaching higher into the sky.
He found himself standing outside Seishin High School, the building both strange and familiar. He could almost hear the echoes of laughter, the distant cheers from the baseball field, the soft murmur of voices in the library. The past and present overlapped, the city itself a palimpsest of memory and longing.
As he walked through the city, Yuto felt both lost and found, as if he were searching for the pieces of himself he'd left scattered among the cherry blossoms. He wondered what had become of Sudo, of Rin, of the friendships that had once meant everything.
The sakura petals drifted down, pale and silent, carrying with them the promise of new beginnings-and the shadow of old regrets.
Yuto's return to Seishin High School felt like stepping into a half-remembered dream. The corridors echoed with new voices, and yet the light slanting through the windows was the same as it had been years ago, golden and full of promise. He wandered the halls, feeling both like a ghost and a boy reborn.
He found himself drawn to the soccer field after classes, the shouts and laughter of a pickup game drifting through the open windows. The field was ringed with poplars, their leaves shimmering in the late afternoon sun. Yuto stood at the edge, hands in his pockets, watching the game with quiet longing.
A familiar voice rang out across the grass. "Kimura! Is that you, or am I dreaming?"
Yuto turned, and there was Sudo Hirata, taller and broader, but with the same wild hair and irrepressible grin. Sudo jogged over, his eyes wide with disbelief and joy. For a moment, neither spoke-then Sudo punched Yuto lightly on the shoulder.
"Where the hell have you been, man? Get over here!"
Yuto laughed, a sound that felt rusty but real. "Only if you promise not to trip over your own feet this time."
Sudo tossed him a jersey. "You wish! Let's see if you remember how to play."
As they joined the game, old rhythms returned. Sudo's passes were sharp, Yuto's defense steady. The other boys welcomed Yuto with cheers and teasing, and for a while, the years apart melted away.
Unseen by the boys, Rin Shinomiya watched from a second-floor classroom window. She was helping a classmate with math homework, but her gaze kept drifting to the field. At first, she didn't recognize the newcomer. But then he turned, hair falling into those thoughtful eyes, and her heart skipped.
She stood so abruptly her chair scraped the floor. "Sorry, I-I have to go!" she stammered, and before her friend could reply, she was racing down the stairs, her heart pounding with hope and disbelief.
By the time she reached the field, the game had ended. Sudo and Yuto were already heading toward the locker rooms, laughing together. Rin called out, but her voice was lost in the wind and the cheers of the other boys. She stood at the edge of the grass, chest heaving, watching them disappear. Her hands trembled-was it really him? Had he really come back?
In the locker room, Sudo clapped Yuto on the back. "You haven't changed, Kimura. Still quiet, still good at making me look bad."
Yuto grinned. "Kyoto didn't turn me into a stranger, I guess."
Sudo's tone grew softer. "Was it hard? Moving away?"
Yuto hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Kyoto's beautiful-temples, rivers, old streets. But it always felt like I was just passing through. I missed this. I missed you guys."
Sudo's eyes softened. "We missed you too, man. A lot more than you think."
There was a pause, then Sudo's grin returned. "Anyway, you picked a good time to come back. I've got a new crush."
Yuto blinked, surprised. "Oh? Who?"
"Kei Morikawa, from 2-B. She's… different. Smart, funny, kind. You'll see."
Yuto smiled, but something in Sudo's voice made him wonder if this was more serious than the usual fleeting crushes.
The next morning, Yuto found himself in Class 3-C, a lively, chaotic mix of personalities. Takumi Ishida, the class rep, was already organizing notes for the next student council meeting. Aoi Nakamura and Yui Sasaki chattered by the windows about the latest school festival rumors. Kenji Sato, the aspiring manga artist, was sketching a dramatic scene in his notebook, while the teacher, Mr. Hoshino, tried valiantly to keep order.
Yuto introduced himself quietly, and soon found himself drawn into conversations about favorite foods, club activities, and the best spots to eat lunch. There was a warmth here, a sense of belonging he'd missed in Kyoto.
At lunch, Sudo found him and dragged him to the courtyard, where Rin was waiting under the old sakura tree. She stood nervously, her hands twisting in her lap, but when she saw Yuto, her face lit up with a joy so pure it made his breath catch.
"Yuto!" she cried, and for a moment, her voice trembled with emotion. "It's really you."
He smiled, feeling the last of his nerves melt away. "Yeah. I'm back."
She hesitated, then stepped forward and hugged him, quick and fierce. "I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered.
Yuto felt his throat tighten. "I missed you, too."
They sat together, Sudo launching into stories about baseball and school gossip, Rin teasing him about his clumsy footwork, and Yuto sharing stories of Kyoto-the quiet mornings by the Kamo River, the lantern-lit streets, the loneliness of being a stranger in a beautiful city.
"It sounds kind of lonely," Rin said gently.
Yuto nodded. "It was. But I think… maybe it helped me realize how much this place means to me. How much you both mean to me."
For a while, they just sat together, the breeze scattering sakura petals around them, the world feeling whole and bright.
Across the courtyard, Kei Morikawa sat with her friends, Miki and Haruka. Kei was striking, with long black hair in a loose ponytail and a calm, thoughtful expression. Miki, bubbly and always matchmaking, nudged Kei and whispered, "That's Sudo, right? He's totally going to confess to you."
Kei blushed, glancing at Sudo, then quickly looked away. Haruka, the quiet observer, watched everything with a knowing smile.
After classes, the school buzzed with club activities and after-school meetings. Yuto wandered the halls, reacquainting himself with the building. He passed Kenji showing off his latest manga panel, and Aoi practicing piano for the festival. The school felt alive, each room a small world.
As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in gold and rose, Rin lingered by the window of the literature club, her heart restless. She saw Sudo standing near the school gates, Kei Morikawa beside him. The two spoke quietly, Sudo's hands fidgeting, Kei's face serious.
From her vantage point, Rin could see everything but hear nothing. She pressed her forehead to the glass, willing herself to look away, but unable to do so.
Sudo took a deep breath, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Morikawa-san, I… I really like you. I've liked you for a while now. Would you… would you go out with me?"
Kei's eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, she didn't answer. The world seemed to hold its breath. Then she smiled, gentle and kind. "Thank you, Sudo-kun. I'm… I'm really happy you told me. Can I think about it?"
Sudo nodded, his relief obvious. "Of course! I'll wait."
From the third-floor window, Yuto watched too, having wandered up to the science lab to drop off a forgotten book. He saw Sudo's nervous posture, Kei's gentle smile, and the way Rin stood frozen by the literature room, her hands pressed against the glass.
Inside the literature club, Rin's friend Aoi noticed her trembling. "Rin, are you okay?"
Rin forced a smile, but her eyes glistened. "I'm fine. Just… allergies."
But as the petals drifted past the window, Rin felt her heart ache with a sharp, silent pain. She turned away, unable to watch any longer, her mind swirling with memories of laughter and hope and the quiet wish that maybe, just maybe, Sudo would look at her the way he looked at Kei.
Outside, Sudo stood in the golden light, hope and fear warring on his face. Kei walked away, her friends rushing to her side, while Sudo lingered, staring after her with a dazed smile.
Yuto, watching from above, felt a strange mix of happiness for his friend and sorrow for Rin. He wanted to go to her, to say something comforting, but the distance between them felt impossibly wide.
As the school emptied, Rin finally left the window, her steps slow and heavy. She walked home alone, the world blurred by tears she refused to let fall.
The sakura petals drifted down, silent witnesses to the tangled hopes and heartbreaks blooming beneath their branches.
The weeks that followed Sudo's confession to Kei Morikawa unfolded like a bittersweet melody. Sudo, once the center of every group, now drifted through the halls with Kei at his side. They became a fixture together-sharing lunches under the ginkgo trees, walking home in the golden dusk, their laughter a gentle harmony that seemed to echo through the school.
Kei, with her quiet grace and thoughtful eyes, brought out a softer side of Sudo. He listened more, joked less loudly, and even tried to help her with her literature homework-though he always ended up doodling in the margins. Sometimes, Yuto would catch them from afar: Sudo leaning in, Kei's cheeks flushed, their hands almost touching. It was a picture of young love-fragile, hopeful, and, to those watching, a little painful.
For Rin, the world had lost its color. She wandered through her days as if wrapped in glass, every sound muffled, every smile forced. She watched Sudo and Kei from a distance, her heart aching with every shared glance, every whispered secret. At night, she lay awake, replaying memories of laughter beneath the cherry trees, of jokes and dreams and the hope that maybe, just maybe, Sudo would see her.
But he never did.
One afternoon, as the sky threatened rain, Rin found Yuto in the library, his face half-hidden behind a book. He looked up as she approached, and for a moment, she saw the same gentle boy she'd always known-steady, kind, always there.
"Yuto," she said, her voice trembling, "can I ask you something… strange?"
He closed his book, searching her face. "Of course."
She hesitated, twisting her fingers together. "Will you… be my boyfriend? Just pretend, I mean. Maybe if Sudo sees us together, he'll… I don't know. Notice me."
Yuto's heart lurched. He wanted to say no, to tell her that this would only hurt more, but the hope in her eyes was too raw, too desperate. He nodded, forcing a smile. "If that's what you want, I'll do it."
For the next week, they played their roles. They walked to class together, shared snacks at lunch, even laughed a little louder than usual. But beneath the surface, everything felt brittle. Yuto knew Rin's smiles weren't real, and he wondered if she could see through his as well.
Meanwhile, Sudo and Kei's relationship began to fray. The first cracks were small-a missed call, a forgotten promise, a silence that stretched too long. Kei grew distant, her eyes drifting to Yuto during class, her laughter fading when Sudo tried to cheer her up. Sudo noticed. He watched the way Kei glanced at Yuto, the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way she lingered in the halls when Yuto was near.
Then, one rainy afternoon, it ended. Kei met Sudo by the old gym, her umbrella trembling in her hands.
"I'm sorry, Sudo-kun," she whispered. "I think… I think I need time alone."
Sudo stared at her, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. "Is it because of him?" he demanded, jerking his chin toward the window, where Yuto sat reading. "Do you like Kimura?"
Kei shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "It's not like that. I just… I'm sorry."
She ran off, leaving Sudo standing in the rain, fists clenched.
That evening, Sudo found Yuto in the empty hallway, the storm outside rattling the windows. His face was twisted with pain and fury.
"You think you're so perfect, don't you?" Sudo spat, his voice shaking. "Always quiet, always helpful, always there. You just had to steal her, didn't you? Couldn't let me have one thing!"
Yuto's breath caught. "Sudo, I-"
"Don't act innocent!" Sudo's words were knives, each one sharper than the last. "You're nothing, Kimura. Just a shadow. No wonder you had to move away-no one cared then, and no one cares now! You think you're everyone's friend, but you're just a pathetic, lonely loser. Stay away from me. Stay away from all of us!"
Each word landed like a blow. Yuto felt his chest tighten, his vision blur. He wanted to shout, to defend himself, but the words stuck in his throat. He stood there, silent, as Sudo stormed away, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Rin watched from around the corner, her hands pressed to her mouth. She had seen everything-the anger, the pain, the way Yuto's shoulders shook as he tried not to cry. She wanted to run to him, to say something, anything, but her feet wouldn't move.
Later, as the rain poured down, Yuto sat alone on a bench beneath the old sakura tree. The petals were gone now, the branches bare and black against the stormy sky. He let the rain soak through his uniform, his hair plastered to his forehead, his hands clenched in his lap.
The world felt empty. He remembered every moment with Sudo and Rin-the laughter, the late-night study sessions, the way they had once fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Now, it was all gone, scattered like petals on the wind.
Rin found him there, her umbrella forgotten, her hair dripping wet. She sat beside him, silent for a long time.
"I saw what happened," she whispered.
Yuto didn't look at her. "It's fine. He's right. I ruin everything."
Rin shook her head, tears mixing with the rain. "No, Yuto. You're the best friend I've ever had. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."
He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest almost unbearable. "It's okay, Rin. I just… I wish things were different."
The days after Sudo's breakup with Kei Morikawa slipped by like cold rain against the windows. For the first time since Yuto's return, the trio was no longer a trio. There were no more lunches under the sakura tree, no laughter echoing down the corridors. Yuto drifted through his days in silence, his gaze lowered, his steps careful to avoid the places where Sudo and Rin might be. Rin, for her part, wandered the halls with uncertainty, her heart a battlefield of guilt and longing. Sudo, meanwhile, threw himself into baseball practice with a kind of desperate energy, his voice louder, his jokes sharper, as if noise could drown out the ache inside him.
Rin hesitated at every turn. She wanted to talk to Yuto, to explain, to apologize for dragging him into her mess. But every time she saw him in the hall-head down, books clutched to his chest-he turned away before she could call his name. Sudo, on the other hand, seemed to be everywhere: waiting by the gates after school, sending her messages she didn't know how to answer, showing up at her classroom door with a forced smile and a hopeful question in his eyes.
Two days after his breakup, Sudo found Rin alone in the music room, her fingers idly tracing the keys of the old piano. He closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the empty space.
"Rin," he said, voice trembling, "can we talk?"
She looked up, startled. "Sudo…?"
He took a deep breath, fists clenched at his sides. "I know I've been a mess lately. I know I hurt you. But… I realized something. All this time, I was looking for something that was right in front of me. I like you, Rin. I always have. Please… will you go out with me?"
The words hung in the air, heavy as thunderclouds. Rin stared at him, her heart pounding. Part of her wanted to say yes, to believe that this was what she'd always wanted. But another part-quieter, but insistent-whispered that something was wrong. Sudo's eyes were desperate, searching her face for an answer that would heal him.
"I… I need to think about it," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sudo nodded, trying to smile. "Take your time. I'll wait."
That night, Rin lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Memories tumbled through her mind: Sudo's laughter, Yuto's quiet kindness, the way the three of them had once fit together so perfectly. She thought of Yuto's gentle smile, the way he always listened, the way he never asked for anything in return. She wondered what he would say if she told him about Sudo's confession.
The next afternoon, she found Yuto sitting alone in the library, the late sunlight painting golden patterns across the floor. He looked up as she approached, his expression unreadable.
"Yuto," she said, her voice trembling, "can I ask you something?"
He nodded, closing his book. "Of course."
She hesitated, then blurted out, "Sudo confessed to me. He said he likes me. I… I don't know what to do."
Yuto's eyes softened. He looked at her for a long moment, then spoke quietly, his voice gentle as falling rain. "Rin, I think you should think carefully before you answer. Sudo's been through a lot lately. Sometimes, after a breakup, people feel lonely and confused. I'm not saying his feelings aren't real, but… maybe he's looking for comfort more than anything else. Just… don't rush. Make sure you know what you want."
For a moment, Rin stared at him in disbelief. Then her face twisted in anger, her voice rising."So that's what you think of him? That he's just using me to get over someone else?"
Yuto felt a cold ache in his chest. No, that's not what I meant. I just… wanted you to be careful. I wanted you to be happy. Why does it sound so wrong coming from her lips?
"You're always so calm, so reasonable, aren't you, Yuto? Always acting like you know what's best for everyone."
Is that how she sees me? Not as a friend, but as someone distant, above it all? I never wanted to sound like that. I'm just… scared for her. For Sudo. For all of us.
"Maybe Sudo was right about you. Maybe you really are just a shadow, always hiding behind your quiet words, never brave enough to say what you really feel."
Each word struck like a stone. A shadow… I've always been in the background, haven't I? Maybe that's all I am. Maybe I never deserved to stand in the light beside them.
"You think you're so selfless, but you're just a coward. You let people walk all over you, and then you act surprised when they leave."
Coward. The word echoes in my mind. Maybe I am. I never told her how I felt. I never fought for anything. I just let life happen to me, and now I'm losing everything.
"Maybe if you actually fought for something, people wouldn't keep abandoning you. Maybe if you weren't so pathetic, Sudo wouldn't hate you, and I wouldn't have to ask you for help in the first place."
Pathetic. I want to protest, to tell her she's wrong, but my throat is tight. I can't move. I can't breathe. I thought helping her would make her happy. I thought being there was enough. Was I wrong all along?
"And you know what? I think Sudo was right. You ruin everything you touch. You're not even worthy of being anyone's friend."
Yuto felt the world collapse inward. Not worthy. Not even a friend. I want to disappear. I want to go back to when things were simple, when we were just three kids laughing under the sakura tree. But that world is gone. I ruined it. I ruined everything.
Rin's words lingered in the air, heavy and irreversible. Yuto stood frozen, his heart pounding, his mind a blur of regret and longing. He wanted to reach out, to explain, to beg her to take it back-but all he could do was stand in the silence she left behind, feeling each word settle like a stone in his chest.
After Rin accepted Sudo's confession-her heart still raw from the fight with Yuto-she tried to convince herself she'd made the right choice. In those first days, Sudo was attentive and eager, eager to fill the silence and the empty spaces left by their fractured trio. They walked to school together, Sudo sometimes cracking jokes to make her laugh, sometimes falling quiet as if weighed down by something he couldn't say. At lunch, he'd pull her into his circle of friends, introducing her as his girlfriend, and she'd force a smile, feeling strangely out of place even as everyone congratulated them. They went to the arcade on weekends, where Sudo would win her plushies with loud bravado, and Rin would clutch them on the train ride home, her mind drifting back to quieter days with Yuto. Sometimes, Sudo would reach for her hand, and she'd let him, but the warmth she longed for never quite reached her heart.
Yuto, meanwhile, watched from afar, each moment between Rin and Sudo like a fresh cut. He kept his distance, burying himself in his studies and avoiding the places they might be. If he passed them in the halls, he'd look away, pretending not to hear Sudo's laughter or see the way Rin's smile never quite reached her eyes. Every night, he replayed their last conversation, Rin's words echoing in his mind, leaving him feeling small and unwanted. He wondered if things would ever feel normal again, or if he would always be a ghost in the lives of the people he cared about most.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, Sudo broke up with Rin. There was no warning, just a short, awkward conversation by the school gates. Sudo's words were flat and final: "I don't think this is working. Let's end it here." He didn't look her in the eye, and before Rin could respond, he was already walking away, leaving her stunned and alone as the world carried on around her. The heartbreak was sharp and overwhelming-she felt crushed, discarded, and utterly alone34. She wandered the city after school, replaying every moment, every laugh, every forced smile, searching for where things had gone wrong.
A few days later, as she passed the gym, Rin overheard Sudo talking with his friends. His voice was bitter, almost mocking: "Yeah, I only dated her to get back at Yuto. He always thought he was better than me. I just wanted to see how he'd react." The words hit Rin like ice water. The truth-that she'd been used as a pawn in someone else's game-left her feeling betrayed, humiliated, and deeply regretful. All the anger she'd thrown at Yuto, all the trust she'd placed in Sudo, now twisted inside her, leaving her feeling not just heartbroken, but ashamed and lost. She realized how much she'd hurt Yuto, and how much she'd lost in chasing something that was never real.
She remembered every cruel word she'd said to Yuto, every moment she'd ignored his pain. She tried to study, but the guilt gnawed at her, making it impossible to focus.
She tried to find Yuto, to apologize, but he always slipped away. He left the classroom early, avoided the library, disappeared during lunch. She sent him messages, but he never replied. The distance between them grew wider with each passing day.
Finally, on a rainy afternoon, she found him sitting alone on a bench beneath the old sakura tree, the branches bare and black against the stormy sky. The rain fell in sheets, soaking his uniform, plastering his hair to his forehead. He stared at the ground, his face pale and empty.
Rin approached slowly, her heart pounding. She stood in front of him, her hands trembling.
"Yuto…" she began, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
He looked up at her, his eyes dull, his face expressionless. For a long moment, neither spoke. The rain fell harder, drumming on the leaves, washing away the last traces of summer.
Rin dropped to her knees in front of him, tears streaming down her face. "I was wrong. About everything. I should have listened. I should have trusted you. I hurt you, and I can never take that back. Please… please forgive me."
Yuto watched her, his gaze unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was soft, almost gentle.
"Don't worry about it, Shinomiya-san. I'm fine. You don't need to apologize."
He stood, his movements slow, and walked away, leaving her kneeling in the rain, her sobs lost in the storm.
The world moved on. The sakura tree stood silent, its branches reaching for a sky that would never answer. And beneath it, two hearts broke quietly, each mourning the loss of something too fragile to name.