After classes ended, the classroom slowly emptied, as if the day itself was exhaling. Chairs scraped, bags zipped, voices drifted into the corridor in scattered fragments. The usual rhythm. Familiar. Unremarkable.
Takahashi leaned back in his chair, glancing toward Shin Hitori, who was already packing his things with quiet precision.
"So, Hitori," Takahashi said, stretching his arms lazily, "why don't we study together for midterms? After all, we're first and second in scores."
Hitori paused for a moment, then closed his bag.
"Okay," he replied simply.
Takahashi blinked, slightly surprised by how easily that had worked. "Then let's go now."
"Now?"
Takahashi raised an eyebrow. "You've got library duty, don't you?"
Hitori shook his head. "Not today."
A small smile appeared on Takahashi's face. "Good. Then we can use the library."
They both stood, slinging their bags over their shoulders, and stepped out into the hallway. The afternoon light stretched across the floor in long, quiet lines. Students moved past them in groups, their laughter bouncing lightly against the walls.
For a while, they walked side by side without saying much.
Then, just before the stairs, Hitori spoke.
"Hey… you go ahead. I want to grab a drink. I'll catch up."
"Oh," Takahashi nodded, turning slightly. "Then come fast."
"Yeah."
Takahashi continued on, his footsteps fading into the background noise, while Hitori changed direction toward the vending machines near the far end of the corridor.
The area was quieter there. The sounds of the school dulled into something distant, almost unreal. Hitori stood in front of the machine, staring at the rows of drinks as if the choice required more thought than it actually did.
He slipped a coin in.
A soft mechanical hum followed.
A bottle dropped with a dull thud.
Cold.
Simple.
He picked it up, the chill pressing lightly against his palm.
At that same moment, footsteps echoed from the other side of the corridor.
Laughter. Familiar voices.
Minato.
He was walking with a small group, caught in the easy flow of conversation, hands moving as he spoke, expression alive in a way that naturally drew attention. It was effortless for him. It always had been.
Then, mid-sentence, his eyes shifted.
He saw Hitori.
The words he was saying lost their direction, fading unfinished as his steps slowed.
"…I'll catch up," Minato muttered to his friends, waving them off without waiting for a response.
He turned and walked toward Hitori.
Hitori noticed him, of course. But he didn't react immediately. He simply twisted the cap of the bottle open, as if timing mattered.
Minato stopped a short distance away.
"Hey," he said.
A pause.
"Long time no talk."
Hitori took a small sip before answering.
"Yeah… maybe."
It wasn't cold.
It wasn't warm either.
Just something in between, like a door left slightly open but never fully inviting.
Minato shifted his weight.
"So… how's it going?"
"Fine."
"Yeah?"
The word lingered, but didn't go anywhere.
Silence followed.
Not the comfortable kind they used to share, where nothing needed to be said.
This one felt different.
Heavier.
Like both of them were aware of it, but neither knew how to move past it.
Minato let out a small breath, glancing away for a second before looking back again.
"Well…" he said, forcing a lightness into his tone that didn't quite hold, "see you around."
Hitori didn't respond.
Not even a nod.
He simply tightened his grip on the bottle and stepped past him, his shoulder brushing the air between them rather than the person himself.
His footsteps were quiet.
Measured.
Fading down the corridor without hesitation.
Minato stood there, unmoving.
Watching.
Hitori's figure grew smaller with each step, dissolving into the crowd, into the light, into something distant again.
For a moment, the noise of the hallway returned, filling the space Hitori had left behind.
But it didn't reach him.
Minato's gaze lingered on the empty stretch where he had disappeared.
A faint smile touched his lips, but it carried no warmth.
"...It takes just few words, huh?," he murmured softy.
After finishing his brief, fragile conversation with Minato, Hitori walks toward the library without looking back.
The corridor feels longer than usual. Voices pass by him, laughter rises and falls, but none of it stays. His grip tightens slightly around the bottle in his hand before loosening again, as if even that small tension is unnecessary.
By the time he reaches the library door, the noise of the school has already begun to fade.
He pushes it open.
A soft creak slips into the silence, then disappears.
Inside, the air is calm, almost untouched. The kind of quiet that does not demand anything from you, only asks that you exist gently within it.
Takahashi is already there.
Seated straight, books arranged neatly, pen in hand. He looks up the moment Hitori steps in.
"It took you long, huh?"
Hitori walks over, pulling out the chair across from him.
"Did it?"
There is no weight in his voice, no apology either.
Takahashi studies him for a second, then exhales lightly and leans back.
"Whatever. Let's start our study."
Hitori nods and sits down. His bag rests beside his chair. He opens his book, flips to the marked page, and picks up his pen.
But before his attention settles, his eyes shift.
Not fully.
Not obviously.
Just enough.
Toward the librarian's desk.
The seat is empty.
The same place where she sits every day.
For a moment, his gaze lingers there. Quiet. Still. Then, without any change in expression, he looks back down at his book.
"Page forty-two," Takahashi says, already ahead.
Hitori turns the page.
The words are clear. Organized. Easy to follow.
Yet they do not stay.
Minutes pass.
The silence deepens, filled only with the faint turning of pages and the distant ticking of a clock.
Then the door opens.
Slowly.
The sound is soft, almost careful, but it reaches him.
Hitori's pen pauses for a brief second.
Someone steps inside.
Light footsteps.
Unhurried.
He does not turn immediately.
But he knows.
When he finally looks, it is her.
She walks in as if she belongs to this quiet. No searching, no hesitation. She simply moves to her place near the librarian's desk and sits down.
From a distance, Hitori watches her.
Just for a moment.
She opens her book and begins to read, her presence settling into the room as naturally as silence itself.
No words are exchanged.
No glances acknowledged.
Still, something shifts.
Hitori lowers his eyes back to his page.
The text remains the same.
But the room feels different now.
"You're not reading," Takahashi says without looking up.
"I am."
"You haven't turned the page."
There is a small pause.
Hitori flips it.
"Now I have."
Takahashi glances at him, slightly suspicious, but says nothing more. He returns to his notes.
Across the room, a page turns.
A simple sound.
Yet somehow, it lingers longer than it should.