The bell rings.

  A sound that usually means freedom, but today feels more like a starting pistol in a race I didn’t train for.

  I’m packing up slower than usual. Not because I’m tired, but because Aika Fujishiro is still putting her books away right next to me, and my brain cells are holding an emergency meeting about how to act normal.

  Spoiler: I have no idea how.

  “Do you walk home?” she asks.

  Boom.

  Explosion.

  Mental collapse.

  “Me? Walk? Home? Yes. I do. Sometimes. Most times. Every day, actually. Yeah.”

  She blinks. “Cool. Let’s go together?”

  She says it so casually. Like we’ve done this a thousand times. Like I’m not five seconds away from spontaneously combusting.

  I nod too quickly. “Sure. That’s cool. I’m cool. Totally chill. Chill like… soup.”

  Soup is not chill.

  Soup is hot.

  Why did I say soup?

  After school. Outside the gates.

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  The sun’s already starting to dip, painting the sky with those weird anime pinks and oranges. I’ve seen this kind of scene in romcoms before. Usually it ends with a confession.

  This one’s gonna end with me tripping over a curb.

  We walk in awkward silence for a minute. Not uncomfortable, but definitely not comfortable. I keep side-glancing at her to check if she’s real. Spoiler: still real.

  “You’re quiet,” she says, not looking at me.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Dangerous.”

  I snort. “For me, yeah. My thoughts are like a bag of cats.”

  She actually laughs. Like, a soft, real laugh that makes me want to write it down so I don’t forget what it sounded like.

  “That’s a weird metaphor,” she says.

  “I’m a weird guy.”

  She glances at me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but I don’t know what to say.

  Nobody’s ever said that before. Usually it’s “You’re weird,” followed by a very safe distance being maintained.

  We cross a small bridge. It’s quiet. Just the sound of our footsteps and the occasional cicada crying like it’s going through a breakup.

  “Did you hate transferring here?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  She pauses.

  “No. I thought I would. But... it’s not bad so far.”

  I wait.

  She looks at me, tilts her head slightly.

  “I mean. You’re here.”

  Silence.

  My brain blue-screens.

  I do what any high-functioning teen male in denial would do—I pretend I didn’t hear it.

  “Haha, yeah. I’m definitely... here. Existing.”

  She smiles again. That calm, unreadable Aika smile that’s just a little warmer than it should be.

  We reach the fork in the road. My house is right, hers is left.

  “Well,” she says. “See you tomorrow, Kazama.”

  “Y-yeah. Later, Fujishiro.”

  She takes two steps, then turns.

  “Oh, and thanks for walking with me.”

  Then she’s gone.

  I stare after her for a second too long. Then I turn and walk in the opposite direction, fighting the dumbest grin trying to invade my face.

  At home.

  Daichi texts me:

  [Yo. How was the walk home? You still breathing?]

  I reply:

  [She’s gonna kill me, Daichi. Slowly. With kindness.]

  To be continued…