Connection Established

The last desk was wiped clean, the final chair stacked. The classroom, now orderly and quiet, seemed to expand around them, holding the echo of Haruki's powerful words. The late afternoon sun, now a deeper, richer gold, slanted through the windows, casting long, peaceful shadows. A profound silence settled, not empty, but filled with the weight of the new ideas, the shattered fears, and the tentative hope blooming in Sora's chest.

For a long moment, Sora simply stood, absorbing it all. Haruki was gathering his bag, his movements unhurried, almost as if he hadn't just completely upended her entire understanding of the future. He didn't rush her; he just moved with his usual quiet efficiency. But as he turned towards the door, a sudden, undeniable impulse seized Sora. It was a flicker, bright and urgent, the most vibrant feeling she'd had all day. She needed to talk to him more. She needed more of his strange, logical calm, more of his unexpected insights.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a nervous rhythm against the quiet confidence that was slowly starting to assert itself. Taking a deep breath, she walked quickly to catch up with him, her voice, when it came, a little breathless.

"Kurosawa-san..."

He paused, turning his head, his expression unreadable as always.

"Could I... maybe get your LINE?"

She blurted out, the words tumbling over each other, her cheeks flushing with the sudden boldness.

Haruki looked at her. Just looked. His eyes, usually so analytical, offered nothing away. There was no surprise, no hesitation, just a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

"Oh. Sure."

He said, his voice flat, completely nonchalant, as if this was the most common request he received. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his thumb already poised over the screen.

Oh. My. God.

Haruki's mind screamed, a thousand internal sirens blaring even as his external facade remained utterly serene.

She just asked for my LINE! Stay cool. Don't look like you're about to spontaneously combust from shock and delight.

Is my hand shaking? Probably. Don't let it show. She's looking at me. Just... act like this happens every Tuesday. This absolutely does not happen every Tuesday. Or any other day for that matter.

His fingers, outwardly steady, were internally fumbling with the screen, desperately trying to open the LINE app without looking like he'd just been asked to solve a quantum physics problem while juggling chainsaws.

This is how normal people make friends. Who knew it was this... direct?

Must. Not. Smile. Must. Not. Do. Anything. Abnormal. Just. Be. Kurosawa. Haruki.

He held out his phone, screen open to his QR code, his hand perfectly still.

Sora quickly scanned it with her own phone, a wave of immense relief washing over her. The contact registered, a small victory.

"Got it! Thank you, Kurosawa-san."

A genuine, grateful smile bloomed on her face.

"You're welcome, Amami-san."

Haruki replied, equally neutrally, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Internally, a full orchestral score of triumph swelled, complete with a choir and a triumphant blast of trumpets.

SUCCESS! She has my LINE! My existence has been officially validated by a peer! Mission accomplished!

He fought the urge to pump his fist, or perhaps do a small, discreet celebratory dance. Instead, he simply gave another slight, unreadable nod and turned towards the door. The mission, he concluded, had been a resounding, if socially baffling, triumph.

Sora's relief was immediate, the weight of her courage lifting as the LINE contact successfully registered. She watched as Haruki, with that same detached calm, tucked his phone back into his pocket. Yet, as he turned to leave, a fleeting detail caught her eye.

He seemed so calm... but his ears were a little red. And he put his phone away so fast.

For someone who talked about primordial black holes and the death of dreams like it was nothing, completely unflappable, he looked a little flustered just now.

Interesting.

A small, almost private smile touched Sora's lips. The sudden warmth she felt wasn't just hope for her future, but a new, unexpected intrigue about the quiet, philosophical boy who saw the world so differently.

...

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a deep indigo bruised with the last vestiges of orange light. The oppressive heat of the day was finally beginning to recede, replaced by a cooler, gentler evening air. As Sora walked, the sounds of the neighborhood settled around her: the distant rumble of a train heading towards the city, the clatter of dishes from an open kitchen window, the low hum of a streetlamp flickering to life.

She turned the corner onto her own street, her mind replaying the conversation with Haruki. Lost in thought, she looked up.

And she stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

Hanging in the sky was the Moon, a brilliant, sharp-edged crescent. It was impossibly clear, serene, and achingly beautiful.

A jolt went through her as she realized: she couldn't remember the last time she had looked up at the sky and felt anything other than a dull ache. For weeks, the stars, the planets, the very idea of space had been a source of pain. Just this afternoon, the faded poster of the ISS on her wall had felt like a monument to her own obsolescence, a taunt from a future she could never inhabit. The vastness of space had been an unfeeling, insurmountable wall.

But now... looking at the Moon, the feeling was different. The crushing weight wasn't gone, not completely, but it had shifted. It was lighter.

Her mind, quiet for once, formed a simple thought.

It's still there. Still beautiful.

A small, genuine smile, just for herself, touched Sora's lips. She continued her walk home, her footsteps a little lighter than before, the image of the Moon, a bright promise in the gathering dark, imprinted in her mind.