As the days passed, Hisui settled into a new rhythm.
Busy.
Structured.
Controlled.
Her schedule filled quickly—class duties, assignments, meetings. There was always something to do, something to manage.
And this time—
She didn't fall behind.
Hisui paid attention in class. Took notes. Reviewed ahead. When quizzes came, her scores were consistently high—sometimes perfect.
A quiet contrast to the version of her that once drifted through lessons without care.
…
Some things, however, remained the same.
"Murasaki Momoi," the girl introduced herself with a bright grin—orange hair framing her face, her eyes nearly disappearing when she smiled.
And beside her—
"Hibiki Chizu."
Smaller. Softer. Long dark pink-brown hair falling neatly down her back.
Familiar faces.
Familiar dynamics.
They often ended up in the same group—by chance, or perhaps by something more predictable than coincidence.
Momoi, whose family owned a bakery.
Chizu, whose family ran an auto repair shop.
Both from middle-class homes.
Both easy to talk to.
Not arrogant.
Not distant.
Just… normal.
Just like before.
…
In the past, Hisui had made the effort.
She closed the distance first. Initiated conversations. Pulled them into her orbit.
Little by little, she made them more open. More relaxed. More willing to laugh and speak freely.
She had liked that.
Back then.
But she also remembered how it ended.
A new school year.
Different classes
Different circles.
And just like that—
The connection faded.
No conflict.
No closure.
Just distance.
…
This time—
Hisui didn't reach as far.
She spoke when necessary. Responded when approached.
Polite.
Cooperative.
But measured.
She didn't push the friendship deeper.
Didn't invest more than needed.
Because she already knew.
It wouldn't last.
And more importantly—
She didn't have the time to waste.
…
Her responsibilities came first.
As class president, she made sure everything ran smoothly.
Rules were communicated clearly.
Expectations set early.
She watched carefully—ensuring everyone understood the importance of maintaining order.
No room for carelessness.
Not this time.
…
But even with all of that—
Hisui wasn't satisfied.
Not yet.
If she was going to change—
Then she would do it properly.
Student council.
That would give her more experience.
More control.
More visibility.
And—
Athletics.
Her gaze drifted briefly toward the school grounds outside.
In the past, she had stayed indoors.
Board games. Quiet activities. Safe choices.
Boring.
This time—
She would join the volleyball team.
Something active.
Something demanding.
Something different.
…
And music—
Her fingers tapped lightly against her desk.
She used to admire guitar.
Used to watch—
No.
She cut the thought off.
This time, it would be different.
Drums.
Something louder.
Something that didn't require quiet admiration from a distance.
…
Hisui gave a small, almost imperceptible nod to herself.
Right.
This is better.
A new path.
A better version.
…
But even as the thought settled—
A faint unease lingered beneath it.
If I change too much..
Will everything else change with it?
Her gaze lowered slightly.
Unpredictable.
Uncontrolled.
…
Hisui closed her notebook softly.
Hopefully—
It doesn't turn into something troublesome.
…
That night, Hisui laid everything out.
Plans.
Timelines.
Clear steps toward the changes she wanted to make.
She wrote them carefully, organizing each goal with quiet precision—academics, athletics, leadership, personal growth.
No guesswork.
No drifting.
This time, everything would be intentional.
…
The next step—
Permission.
She approached her mother first.
"I want to learn drums," Hisui said calmly.
Her mother paused, glancing up from the kitchen counter. "Drums?"
A slight crease formed on her forehead.
"If you're serious, you should ask your father," she replied. "You know he's the musician in the family."
Of course.
Hisui nodded.
Calling him felt… unfamiliar.
The line rang longer than expected.
Then—
"Hisui?"
Her father's voice came through, slightly distorted, carrying the distant hum of wherever he was.
A ship.
Always moving.
Always away.
"I want to take drum lessons," she said without hesitation.
A brief silence followed.
Then a soft chuckle.
"Drums, huh? Not piano?"
"No."
Another pause.
This time, thoughtful.
"…Alright," he said. "You have my permission."
Simple.
Just like that.
But then—
"On one condition."
Hisui already knew.
"You don't let it affect your studies."
"I won't."
Her answer came immediately.
Firm.
Certain.
"Good," he replied. "Then go ahead."
The call ended shortly after.
Short.
Efficient.
Just like their relationship.
…
The next discussion was harder.
"Volleyball?"
Her mother's tone sharpened slightly.
"You're leaving the chess club?"
Hisui nodded.
"I want to be more physically active."
Her mother crossed her arms. "Chess is good for your mind. Why the sudden change?"
Hisui held her gaze.
"Because I need balance," she said. "And… it will help me stay in shape."
A pause.
Then she added—
"You know how our family is."
That did it.
Her mother sighed.
"…That's true."
A hand moved absently to her waist, as if remembering.
"The women in our family do gain weight easily…"
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then—
"Fine," she said at last. "You can join."
Hisui didn't react outwardly.
But she listened carefully.
"You must take care of your skin," her mother continued. "No excessive sun exposure."
"And no injuries," she added firmly. "I won't allow it."
"I understand."
Conditions.
Always conditions.
But acceptable ones.
…
As for student council—
That part was already in motion.
Hisui had submitted her application.
There would be openings next year.
Graduating members would leave vacancies.
All she had to do—
Was position herself early.
Prepare.
Wait.
And take the opportunity when it came.
…
That night, Hisui reviewed everything once more.
Drums.
Volleyball.
Student council.
Academics.
Each piece placed carefully into her plan.
A different life.
A better outcome.
Her pen hovered for a moment before she added one final line.
Maintain control.
She stared at it briefly.
Then closed her notebook.