The sky stretched in soft hues of violet and ash, gently dimming over the city of Sapporo. It had only been a few hours since Ren cried in Siya's arms on the rooftop. That moment — raw and unfiltered — had lingered in the quiet corners of his mind ever since.
He didn't talk much on the way home.
Neither did she.
And yet, it wasn't the kind of silence that needed filling.
It was warm.
Complete.
Healing.
---
The next morning
The air was clearer than usual, kissed by the softest breeze. The cherry blossoms that lined the school's back garden hadn't fully bloomed, but some petals were brave enough to flutter down like confetti.
Ren stood near the shoe locker area, a little too early. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he'd hoped to see her before the usual chaos began. He kept fidgeting with the strap of his school bag — calm on the outside, mildly electrified on the inside.
She arrived.
No loud greeting, no flirty sarcasm.
Just a soft, mutual glance.
Her eyes flickered with a calm warmth, almost like she was checking if he'd slept well. He nodded once — barely noticeable — but it said more than any word could.
That morning, their conversations were subtle. Gentle shoulder nudges, stolen glances. Siya's touch still lingered on his arm from the night before, like a ghost of comfort he wasn't ready to release.
For once, Ren felt… okay.
Safe.
---
But of course — peace has a short expiry date in high school.
By mid-morning, whispers had begun to travel from classroom to hallway like static on a bad radio:
> "Did you hear? There's a new admission — from Tokyo."
> "She's not just pretty. She's unreal."
> "They say she was a semi-finalist in the national dance circuit."
Ren barely paid attention — until the classroom door slid open.
And the static became thunder.
In stepped a girl — tall, elegant, and impossibly confident. Her uniform crisp, shoes spotless. Long, jet-black hair framed her sharp features like she'd stepped out of a shōjo manga panel. There was a pause in the air, as if even time had decided to stare.
She bowed lightly.
> "Hello. I'm Himari Yukishiro. Please take care of me."
Her voice? Polished, but not cold. Smooth like old porcelain.
Every boy was struck speechless — except one.
Ren blinked.
Something tugged in his chest.
Like a page in an old photo album had flipped open without permission.
---
Later that afternoon
The class had been dismissed early. Everyone had rushed to the courtyard or art room or music wing, still high from the fest afterglow.
Siya and Ren were quietly heading to the rooftop — again. Not to cry. Just to sit. Maybe talk about stupid things like how bad cafeteria natto smelled this week or why Nina still pretended not to like Sam.
But at the stairs…
She was there.
Himari.
Leaning casually against the wall near the third-floor landing, sipping from a canned peach soda.
Her eyes locked with Ren's.
A flash of recognition. A sly smile.
> "Ren-kun. It's been a while."
Siya glanced between them.
Ren's face stiffened slightly.
> "Himari…"
And just like that — the air shifted.
Not violently. Not dramatically.
Just... enough.
Enough for Siya to feel something change in his tone — a heaviness, a history.
🦋🦋🦋🦋
> "Ren-kun. It's been a while."
Ren blinked at her voice — like a song he hadn't heard in years, but one that still lived somewhere in the background of his childhood.
> "Himari… Yukishiro? Seriously?"
She grinned and took a slow sip of her canned peach soda. Her sharp eyes sparkled as she tilted her head to the side, letting her long hair slide over one shoulder.
> "You still have that same confused face. Just like in kindergarten, when I made you be my husband during playtime."
Ren actually laughed.
> "You mean when you'd force me to pretend to cook and clean while you went off to imaginary work?"
> "Excuse you," she gasped theatrically, "I was the CEO. Obviously."
> "You were the tyrant."
> "Correction — I was your tyrant."
They both burst out laughing. Not politely. Genuinely. Loudly. A sound with history echoing behind it.
Siya watched them quietly from the step above.
Still. Still as the wind that hadn't arrived yet.
She wasn't angry. Of course not. Why would she be? She was just…
Just not in on the joke.
Not from that memory. Not from that version of Ren's world.
Her fingers curled softly around the strap of her bag.
> "So," Himari smiled, eyes now shifting briefly to Siya, "aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
There was something polite in her voice, something laced with sweetness…
… and something else. Too sweet. Artificially sweet.
Ren opened his mouth, but Siya was quicker.
> "Hi. I'm Siya. Ren and I are… classmates."
She smiled warmly. Genuinely.
Because that's the kind of heart she had — even when it hurt a little.
Himari tilted her head, observing her like someone reading a new chapter in a book with familiar characters.
> "Classmates. Interesting. You two seem… very comfortable."
She let the word hang. Not accusing, but not innocent either.
Ren didn't pick up on it.
But Siya did.
So did Himari.
---
On the rooftop, minutes later
The wind had started to pick up. The sky was more golden than blue now.
Siya sat beside Ren as he laid back, arms crossed behind his head. She was quiet. Watching clouds. Or pretending to.
Ren turned to her.
> "You okay?"
She smiled without turning.
> "Yeah. Just a little tired."
He didn't buy it. But he didn't press.
Then she softly asked, as if plucking the thought from her chest:
> "She's your childhood friend?"
> "Yeah. We were in the same kindergarten in Tokyo before I moved here. I didn't even know she'd be coming to our school."
> "You two seemed really close."
> "She was bossy," Ren chuckled. "Still is."
Siya smiled again. It didn't quite reach her eyes.
---
Meanwhile, downstairs…
Himari stood by the window, watching the rooftop from afar.
She tapped the side of her soda can with one nail, thoughtfully.
> "So that's the girl who walks next to you now… huh, Ren-kun?"
Her reflection in the window looked as poised as ever. But there was a slight tightness at the corner of her jaw.
A flicker of green in her otherwise calm brown eyes.
Then, she smiled again — wide, charming, practiced.
> "Let's play house again," she murmured, almost to herself.
"But this time… let's make it real."
Ren had laughed.
> "You haven't changed," he said, ruffling her hair like she was still five. "Still full of dramatic ideas."
He shook his head and turned away, thinking she was just joking — nothing serious.
But Himari wasn't laughing anymore.
---
Back in the corridor…
Siya stood there with a tired smile on her face, pretending to check messages on her phone.
She waited just long enough.
Long enough to be polite.
Long enough to not make it look like she was walking away.
But then she was walking. Back to class. Quiet steps.
And something inside her shifted.
She didn't understand why exactly — maybe it was the ease of their laughter, the way Ren forgot she was there for a few minutes, or just… that awful familiar feeling of being the extra piece in a puzzle you thought you were meant for.
> "Third wheels shouldn't spin too long," she muttered under her breath, her smile tightening.
---
Later that day...
Ren was on the field, stretching his arms and finishing up practice when someone called him.
> "Aarav," Ren said, nodding as the boy jogged over with two drinks.
They sat together, sweat cooling on their backs as the sun dropped behind the trees.
> "You okay these days?" Ren asked casually, tossing the empty bottle aside.
> "Better," Aarav said. "Thanks to you people… especially Siya. And you."
Ren glanced at him.
> "You know," he said slowly, "there was a time I thought maybe you had feelings for Siya."
Aarav laughed. "She thought that too."
Ren raised an eyebrow.
> "And?"
> "I don't," Aarav said simply. "Not in that way. Never did."
There was something peaceful in his voice. Final.
Ren stared at the ground and let out a low chuckle.
> "Good. I mean — I'm not… you know. I just…"
> "Yeah," Aarav smiled. "You don't need to explain it."
From that moment, something changed between the two. The subtle rivalry faded, replaced by mutual understanding. A friendship formed from clarity — unspoken, honest, effortless.
---
The walks that followed…
Sometimes, all three would walk together. Siya, Ren, and Aarav — talking about random things like festival food, stupid classmates, or whether cats were better than dogs (Aarav and Siya said cats, Ren said he was better than both).
Sometimes it was just Siya and Ren.
Those walks were softer.
They didn't talk much on those — they didn't need to. The silence was never awkward. It was full of glances, shared snacks, and feet matching pace without effort.
They didn't hold hands. But there was closeness, almost like their hands knew they wanted to.
---
And then…
Himari arrived the next morning, looking devastatingly well-dressed for someone who "accidentally" bumped into Ren near the school gates.
> "Ren-kun!" she waved. "My guardian said I should get to know the city. Who better than you?"
> "Uh—"
> "You did say you'd help me settle in, remember?" she smiled, slipping her arm through his.
He froze for a second, startled.
> "Okay okay, let me just message someone."
---
Siya's phone buzzed.
> Ren: Just got home. Himari wants to explore the city. I'm taking her out to show her around. Wanna join us?
She stared at the message.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Her heart was being silly again. It shouldn't matter.
But it did.
She typed:
> No. You go ahead. Enjoy.
Then she tossed the phone aside, rolled over in bed, and buried her face in the pillow.
> "I hate this," she whispered into the quiet.
She wasn't angry.
But there was a pinch in her chest she didn't know what to name.
And somewhere across town, Himari was laughing too loudly at a joke Ren didn't really make — but Ren was smiling anyway.
Because sometimes… you smile just to be polite.
Even when someone else was missing.