Chapter Two: Invisible Threads

The next morning, Aira sat at her usual desk by the window. The sky outside was a sheet of pale white, heavy with the kind of clouds that looked like they were thinking about raining but hadn't made up their mind yet.

She stared at the margin of her notebook. One little doodle had turned into a whole scene: a tiny coffee cup with a sad face, leaning toward another cup that wasn't looking back.

Pathetic.

She scribbled over it.

"Aira."

She looked up, startled. Haru stood there, adjusting the strap of his satchel. His glasses were slightly fogged, his voice quiet as always.

"You left your pen at the café."

He held it out to her.

"Oh." She blinked. "Thanks…"

"I figured you'd need it." A beat passed. "You always chew on that one."

Her ears burned. She didn't even remember doing that.

"Right," she mumbled, slipping it back into her pencil case like it didn't mean anything.

But it did.

At lunch, the courtyard was crowded. Aira sat alone at first, reading from a paperback even though she wasn't really absorbing any of the words. The voices around her blurred together into a kind of static.

Then Kaito sat down across from her.

He didn't say anything. He didn't even make eye contact.

Just… unwrapped a sandwich and started eating.

Aira froze, heart stumbling. Was he here for her? Or was this just coincidence?

She risked a glance. His headphones were around his neck, his silver hair still slightly messy. The wind ruffled it like he didn't even notice.

"You didn't eat anything yesterday," he said suddenly, not looking up. "At the café."

Her fingers tightened on her book. "You noticed?"

He shrugged. "You always order the same thing. It wasn't there."

Aira looked down, hiding her smile behind her bangs. She didn't know what to do with this quiet attention. It was almost worse than being ignored. It made her hopeful.

Later, in art class, Rina was telling a dramatic story involving spilled paint and an accidental confetti cannon. Everyone laughed.

Except Yuki.

She sat two rows back, sketching something with clean, graceful lines. Her face unreadable, posture perfect.

But her eyes flicked to Aira.

Again.

Just for a second.

Aira didn't know what it meant. But she knew it meant something.

After school, it rained. Of course it did. Aira didn't have an umbrella, so she stood under the awning, watching the drops slice the air.

"Didn't think ahead, huh?"

Tsubasa appeared beside her, spinning his umbrella like it was a prop in a music video. His jacket was soaked but he didn't seem to care.

"Story of my life," Aira replied.

He tilted the umbrella just enough to cover her too. "I'll walk you."

She hesitated. "It's okay. I don't want to—"

"Come on. I'm already wet. Might as well feel like a gentleman about it."

Aira let herself smile. Tsubasa was loud