The end of summer break arrived like the last breath of a long dream.
When Saito Kagami returned to school, the hallways buzzed with familiar faces, but something about them felt new—tanned from sun, more relaxed from days spent outside of routine. The trip to the beach had happened just one week ago, yet in Saito's mind, it played back like a compressed film reel he couldn't stop rewinding.
The classroom door slid open, and Saito stepped in. Class had not yet started, but most students had already gathered. Laughter echoed off the walls. Mari and Kana were showing off stickers they'd collected from a festival. Shun was telling Ryouta an exaggerated story about a haunted beach cave. Riko sat with her chin in her hand, staring out the window.
She looked back and saw Saito, offering a gentle wave. He nodded in return.
It was the first day of the second term.
As the homeroom teacher entered and began discussing the adjusted cleaning schedules and club announcements, Saito's thoughts drifted.
He had analyzed every moment from the beach trip. Every phrase, every gesture. Especially that night.
"I'm always happiest when I'm with you."
It replayed like a glitch in his system.
The day was filled with syllabus outlines and gentle reintroductions to academic life. But no matter how neatly the teachers presented their goals, Saito's focus was inconsistent. That phrase echoed in his mind like background noise.
During lunch, he sat under the tree in the school courtyard, unwrapping a convenience store sandwich while Ryouta and Shun flopped down beside him with their trays.
"Back to the grind, huh?" Shun said.
Ryouta leaned back against the tree trunk. "Feels weird being back after that beach trip. Like we time-jumped or something."
Saito nodded. "Temporal dissonance. Not uncommon after unstructured vacations."
"See, even your words are back in school mode," Shun joked.
Saito listened absently to their conversation, noting absences in his own behavior. Normally, he would be correcting their assumptions or contributing facts. Today, he observed. Compared.
Across the courtyard, Riko sat with Mari and Kana. She was laughing, something in her voice lighter than usual. But every now and then, her eyes drifted his way.
He pretended not to notice.
That afternoon, just as students began filing out for the day, Saito was called by their homeroom teacher.
"Kagami, you're on gym cleaning duty this week. That alright?"
"Yes."
The gym was already half-emptied by the time he arrived. Basketball club had just finished, the echo of sneakers still faint in the air. He began his routine: sweeping, stacking mats, aligning the volleyball net ropes.
He moved automatically—hands busy, mind elsewhere.
Everything about Riko lately made him feel unstable. The moments between them had grown—warmer, denser, harder to rationalize.
And he couldn't define what it was. Attraction? Affection? Affinity?
He didn't know.
He finished wiping down the equipment cart and began sweeping near the side door.
Then he heard it.
Voices. Just beyond the door's thin pane of glass.
He stopped mid-sweep.
"…I didn't expect you to ask me to meet out here," said a familiar voice.
Riko.
A second voice responded. Lower, tense.
"I figured it was quieter. I didn't want the others hearing."
Ryouta.
Saito stood still. The broom handle tightened in his grip.
This is a private conversation. I should not be listening.
But something made his feet anchor to the floor.
"Riko," Ryouta continued, his voice steadier than expected, "I've been your friend for a long time. Since we were kids. You probably already know what I'm about to say."
A pause. Only the cicadas outside filled the silence.
"I like you. I've liked you for a while."
Saito blinked.
His breathing wasn't irregular. His pulse wasn't racing. But he felt… something. A shift. A tremor beneath a still surface.
And he waited, behind the door, for what Riko would say next.