(Kiyomi's POV)
The air in Class 2A that morning carried an edge — sharp, invisible, and heavy with the kind of silence that made everyone glance up once in a while, unsure why the room suddenly felt colder.
I stood by my desk, my books pressed to my not-very-busty chest as I faced Akio. His words still lingered in the air like smoke.
Akio: Kiyomi… what were you and Minato doing on your way home?
I blinked, taken aback by his tone — not quite angry, but filled with something rawer.
Kiyomi: We were just talking (I said softly). You don't have to make it sound like it's something else.
Akio: Something else? (His voice cracked slightly, betraying the calm he tried to hold). You call holding hands and… acting like that "just talking"?
Before I could respond, Minato walked in, sensing the tension almost immediately. He glanced between us, eyes narrowing slightly.
Minato: Is something wrong here?
Akio:(Quietly) You should know. You were there.
Minato: Then maybe you should stop assuming what you don't understand.
The moment froze — I between the two of them, my heartbeat quick and uneven. Around us, a few classmates had started pretending not to listen. Even the gossip girls at the back had gone quiet, pretending to flip through their notebooks.
Kiyomi: Please… stop. Both of you.
But the words didn't dissolve the tension. Minato's eyes held firm — calm but clearly protective. Akio turned away, muttering,
Akio: You can have her all to yourself, then.
He walked out before the teacher entered, leaving the silence behind him like a storm cloud that hadn't quite finished raining.
At lunch, Hinata sat outside with Asahi under the shade near the field. He was eating quietly, occasionally glancing at her. She had barely touched her food. Her thoughts were somewhere else — or rather, on someone else.
Asahi: You're quiet today. What's going on?
Hinata:(Hesitant) It's… Akio. He's been different. Distant. Angry.
Asahi: That's on him, Hinata. You've done what you could. Some people just don't know how to deal with their feelings.
She looked at him — really looked at him — and realized how steady he was. Calm, composed, always knowing what to say. When he smiled at her, it was warm in a way that made her chest ache a little.
Hinata:(Softly) You talk like you've never been hurt.
Asahi:(Smiling faintly) Maybe I just hide it better.
For a moment, they both laughed lightly, the mood softening. But as the breeze brushed through the leaves above, Hinata caught herself staring at him longer than usual — noticing the tiny details she had never paid attention to before: the way he tucked his hair behind his ear, the calm steadiness of his eyes, the comfort in his voice.
She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on her drink.
Hinata:(Thinking) Why does it suddenly feel different when I'm with him?
Later that day, as classes ended, Akio returned to the room, quieter now. He didn't look at me or Minato, but his silence spoke volumes. Hinata noticed — and for the first time, she didn't approach him. She only watched from a distance, unsure of what she would even say.
Minato and I left together, our steps synchronized. We didn't say much — maybe because we didn't need to. Sometimes love grew loudest in the spaces where no words were spoken.
As for Akio, when he finally sat at his desk, his gaze drifted toward the window — the sky painted in fading orange light. He wondered when everything had started to fall apart.
And yet, even as he sat alone, a small part of him hoped — foolishly, quietly — that maybe it wasn't too late to fix it.
Because love, he thought, wasn't just about what we feel.
It's about what we choose to see.