Makato dragged me by the arm to the empty lot behind the dorm. He looked down at the dirt like we had just stepped into some kind of martial arts arena, then turned to me.
"You ready?" he asked, clenching both fists. He cracked his knuckles like a villain in a B-movie, clearly thinking it made him look intimidating.
"Nope," I said without hesitation. "Not ready at all. I'm not even into karate, honestly."
"Ah, the classic 'who said I liked it' denial," he said, grinning. "But don't worry, bro. In two weeks, everyone in the club's gonna be like, 'Whoa, where'd you learn those moves?!'" He started throwing slow-motion punches into the air. "Right–left–right–left!"
I chuckled. "That's a little dramatic, don't you think? Don't hype me up too much."
Makato bowed like he was proud of the theatrics. "I've read your soul, my friend."
He took a stance, then shouted, "Alright! Let's start simple: mae geri!"
He kicked forward with full-on anime flair, like something straight out of The Matrix. I tried to copy him and ended up tumbling forward like a wounded animal.
Makato burst into laughter and collapsed onto the ground. "There it is! Your soul may flee from karate, but your body belongs in a sitcom!"
I gave him a dumb grin and went for my trump card to get out of this so-called practice: "Wait, wait—Makato, with great power comes great responsibility."
It didn't quite land the way I hoped. I stumbled back to my room, every muscle in my body aching like I'd just been hit by a bus made of discipline.
Classes had already started. As I walked into the classroom, the teacher gave me a "This kid again?" look, but said nothing.
History, literature, math… My mind was elsewhere. Maybe still stuck on Hinata's smile that morning.
At lunch, Hinata and I stood in line at the cafeteria, trying to find a seat. The cafeteria lady proudly handed over our ramen like she had just served us world peace in a bowl.
"There's something weird about this ramen," I said, stirring with my spoon.
"I was just thinking the same thing," Hinata replied. "It's like they went beyond chili flakes… pretty sure they added molten lava."
"Oof, straight from the depths of hell—Ramen #666," I added.
We laughed and made our way to the table. For a moment, there was silence. The background noise of students echoed around us, but at our table, the air felt different—softer.
Hinata set her spoon down and stared out the window. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," I said.
"Have you ever… felt like a side character in your own story?" Her voice was gentle, thoughtful.
I swallowed. "Sometimes, yeah. But I think being the main character comes with its own weight, too. You're responsible for everything. You're the reason the world exists. Then again, seeing yourself as the main character? That's a whole other level of ego."
"Maybe it's not about being the lead or not," she said. "Maybe it's about owning the story. Your story." She paused, then added, "You know how Socrates said, 'An unexamined life is not worth living'? Sometimes I think... maybe instead of examining it, we should just accept life as it is."
"Someone definitely paid attention in philosophy class this morning," I teased.
She lightly smacked my shoulder and puffed her cheeks in mock frustration. I kept going, "With everything going on lately, it's been hard to see what's ahead, let alone figure out who I am. But I like that quote—sounds like something you can drop at parties to sound smart."
Hinata turned to me and smiled. "Exactly. That's why I think the boldest rebellion is to not be ashamed of being yourself."
I nodded. And right then, a quiet little pulse echoed inside me. Life was messy. We were barely getting started. But that didn't mean we couldn't search for meaning.
After school, Hinata and I were walking toward the station. The streetlights were just starting to flicker on.
"So, tomorrow we ride the metro together again?" she asked.
"Of course," I said. "But first, I need to—"
Before I could finish, I spotted Mizuki across the street. She wasn't looking directly at me, but she didn't need to. That sideways glance was her signature signal. And sure enough, Takashi was already walking over to her.
I hesitated for just a beat, then said as casually as I could, "Hey, uh… my lawyer messaged me. Something about a will, apparently. I have to talk to him real quick."
Hinata blinked, a little surprised, but then smiled. "Alright. Text me later?"
I nodded and hurried off, a knot tightening in my stomach.
On the third floor of the school building, someone stood silently behind the window.
Ren.
From behind the curtain, she watched everything unfold. Her gaze was calm, but her grip on the notebook in her hands was iron-tight.
"Hinata… Mizuki… Takashi… Everyone's got their roles, huh? Then when it's my turn, I guess the stage needs to be bigger."
"While they're busy acting, I won't just sit in the audience anymore. I exist, too. And no one's stopping me."
Ren's eyes focused on the darkness outside. Somewhere between quiet rage and burning resolve, she opened her notebook and wrote a name.
Takashi.