Sakuramine Academy – 8:05 AM

  Kazuki walked down the tree-lined path toward school, hands in his pockets, the morning sun slipping through the leaves in flickers.

  The air was warmer than yesterday, a light breeze carrying the smell of bakery bread from a shop down the street. The sound of his own footsteps on the pavement felt too loud without the usual voices to fill the space.

  No Kenji’s early-morning yelling.

  No Shun’s slow, dragging shuffle.

  No Naomi talking about the day’s plans.

  No Hana falling into step beside him with some dry comment to start the morning.

  It had been months since he’d walked this way alone, and the quiet felt wrong.

  He was still thinking about Hana — the way she’d bolted yesterday without a word — when a voice cut through his thoughts.

  “You’re early.”

  Naomi stood just inside the school gates, a clipboard balanced on one arm, flipping through pages with her free hand.

  “Not really,” he said, slowing to a stop. “You’re just always here before me.”

  “True,” she hummed, smirking. “And unlike you, I didn’t have to sprint the last ten meters yesterday to make it before the bell.”

  Kazuki gave the faintest smirk back.

  Naomi tapped her pen against the clipboard. “Stage timing, setlist adjustments… the usual. By the way—did Hana say anything to you last night?”

  He shook his head. “No. Why?”

  “She didn’t message me either. I figured she might’ve said something after she left early yesterday.”

  Kazuki’s gaze dropped for a moment. “You didn’t notice anything different?”

  Naomi shrugged. “Not really. But I wasn’t exactly looking.” She shut the clipboard with a soft snap. “Come on, before the hall monitor accuses us of conspiring.”

  They walked in together, parting as Naomi went to her seat and Kazuki crossed the room.

  Hana’s POV

  From her spot in the middle row, Hana watched him enter.

  Even without trying, she noticed things: the way his all-black headphones rested slightly askew from being jammed into his bag, how the ends of his dreadlocks brushed his collar with each step, the tiny crease between his brows when he was lost in thought. Details so small, she doubted anyone else saw them — details she’d found herself storing away without meaning to.

  Just… act normal.

  She leaned her elbow on the desk, chin in her palm, pencil tapping against the page. Her other hand twisted the hem of her skirt absentmindedly.

  Yesterday’s rooftop scene replayed in her mind — Shun’s blunt words, the image of Kazuki and Aoi framed by the setting sun, the way her chest had tightened before she’d even realised she was walking away.

  Kazuki reached his seat beside hers. She glanced up once… then dropped her gaze before his eyes could meet hers.

  Kazuki’s POV

  “How’re you doing?” he asked quietly.

  “Good.”

  “And rehearsal yesterday? Think we’re ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  Same tone. Same short replies.

  She didn’t look up once.

  Kazuki leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the desk.

  Kenji slid into his seat like he was arriving at a party, an energy drink in hand. “Kazuki, bro, you’ve gotta hear what happened this morning—”

  Kazuki gave a polite nod without really turning his head.

  Kenji squinted. “You even listening?”

  “Mm.”

  Kenji followed his gaze to Hana, his grin fading into an exaggerated oh. He leaned back, catching Shun’s eye. Shun gave a slow, knowing nod. Naomi glanced up too, brows furrowed, not quite piecing it together.

  Kenji mouthed dramatically: SOS.

  Kazuki, still staring at nothing in particular, muttered, “…What’s going on?”

  Sakuramine Academy, Class 2-B – 8:32 AM

  The chatter died when Ayame entered, a stack of neatly printed papers in her arms. Her student council badge caught the light as she set them on the desk.

  “The festival schedule is final,” she announced. “We’re performing right after lunch on day two.”

  Kenji’s eyes lit up. “Prime time?”

  “Prime time,” Ayame confirmed. “Which means a bigger audience… and more pressure.”

  A ripple of murmurs passed through the class.

  Naomi stood, tapping her pencil against her desk. “Alright. Daily after-school rehearsals from now on. Final week will be full run-throughs in uniform.”

  Kenji groaned. “Uniforms? In summer?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Yes,” Naomi said flatly. “And one more thing — no singing the song outside practice. We don’t need other classes stealing our arrangement.”

  Her eyes flicked toward the door like she could already sense eavesdroppers.

  “As you two are the leads,” she continued, looking at Kazuki and Aoi, “you’ll stay after longer if needed.”

  Aoi nodded easily. Kazuki gave a small shrug.

  From behind, Kenji muttered, “Oh, they’re so ready for this.”

  Naomi’s head turned sharply, eyes locking on him.

  Kenji froze. “I… meant that supportively.”

  She stared a moment longer before turning back to her notes.

  Sakuramine Academy, Class 2-C – 12:42 PM

  The lunch bell had barely faded when a knot of students claimed the back corner of Class 2-C.

  Desks were pulled close, the air thick with the smell of curry bread and melon soda.

  Sato leaned on the windowsill like it was his personal stage. “I’m telling you — their lead singer’s ridiculous. Pro-level ridiculous.”

  “You sure you didn’t imagine it?” a girl asked over a carton of milk.

  Kameda shook his head. “Nope. Five seconds of singing. Perfect pitch. You can’t fake that.”

  “That’s 2-B’s secret weapon?” someone else said. “A mystery guy who doesn’t sing in public practices?”

  Sato’s smirk widened. “Exactly. They’re hiding him on purpose.”

  “So what do we do?” Kameda asked, drumming his fingers.

  “We find out what they’re hiding,” Sato said. “Figure out their routine before the festival, and we make sure 2-C outshines them.”

  “You mean spy?”

  “Strategically observe,” Sato corrected.

  A chair scraped at the far end of the room as someone joined them, voice low and amused.

  “So… we’re finally making our stand, then.”

  The newcomer dropped into a seat, their smile unreadable. “Besides… I know one of them. Quite well.”

  Kameda blinked. “Yeah? Who?”

  The newcomer just chuckled, leaning back. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Sato’s smirk sharpened. “Damn right we’re making our stand.”

  The group exchanged glances — excitement, curiosity, and just enough mischief to make it clear this wasn’t idle talk anymore.

  Sakuramine Academy, Music Room – 4:11 PM

  The curtains were drawn halfway shut, letting in a narrow strip of late-afternoon sunlight that cut across the polished floor like a spotlight. The faint scent of wood polish lingered in the air.

  Naomi stood at the front, clipboard in hand, pen tapping against the page in time with an imagined beat.

  “Alright, we’re running the first verse with partial vocals,” she said. “Don’t slack on the timing — just because you’re not going full out doesn’t mean you can coast.”

  Kazuki stood center right, Aoi to his left. Their shoulders didn’t touch, but their postures mirrored perfectly.

  From the side of the room, Hana’s gaze kept drifting toward them. Her hands hung loosely at her sides, but her fingers curled in slightly, like she was holding something back.

  The track started.

  Kazuki’s voice came in first — not full force, but warm and precise, the notes landing exactly where they should. Aoi joined in seamlessly, her tone weaving around his like they’d been rehearsing together for years.

  Kenji let out a low whistle from the back. “Not fair.”

  Naomi didn’t look up. “Focus.”

  The backup dancers moved in sync, their steps sharp but fluid. Even Shun, who normally moved like the floor was optional, was hitting his marks without looking bored.

  Hana’s feet followed the choreography automatically, but her eyes stayed fixed on the center.

  When the track faded, Naomi clapped once. “Better. We’ll tighten transitions tomorrow.”

  Aoi glanced at Kazuki, smiling. “Your breath control’s solid. You could hold that last note longer, though.”

  Kazuki’s mouth quirked. “That was on purpose.”

  “Mm.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  Hana’s jaw tightened, though her expression stayed even.

  Kenji stretched his arms over his head. “If they get any more in sync, the rest of us should just wear matching shirts that say ‘Background.’”

  Naomi finally looked up, pen still in hand. “If you focused on your steps instead of commentary, maybe you wouldn’t be background.”

  Kenji gasped in mock offense. “Ouch.”

  Sakuramine Academy, Music Room – 4:39 PM

  The room was still buzzing as rehearsal wrapped. Backup dancers laughed in small groups, sliding bags over their shoulders, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

  Hana stayed by the wall, her weight leaned against it, arms loosely crossed. From here, she could see Kazuki and Aoi talking near the front — easy smiles, casual nods as they tucked away sheet music.

  Her chest tightened.

  Why does it get to me like this?

  Aoi wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was talented, confident, kind enough to everyone. But when Kazuki looked at her while talking about music, his focus was sharp. Bright. Different.

  Her fingers dug into her arm without her noticing. She hated feeling like she was outside a conversation she didn’t know how to enter.

  The room thinned out fast. Naomi was chatting with Ayame by the door. Shun had already slipped away.

  Hana pushed off the wall, heading toward the front — only to slow when she realised she was walking straight toward Kazuki.

  She pivoted, picking up an abandoned water bottle instead. Pathetic.

  Naomi caught her on the way back. “Heading out?”

  “Yeah. Just grabbing my stuff.”

  “You didn’t walk with the group this morning,” Naomi said casually.

  “Overslept,” Hana replied. It was easier than admitting she’d been avoiding someone.

  She left before Kazuki even noticed she’d been close enough to speak.

  Sakuramine Academy, Second Floor Hallway – 10:21 AM (Next Day)

  The hallway between classes was a blur of footsteps, lockers clanging, and the faint scent of someone’s overly sweet perfume.

  Hana walked beside Naomi, half-listening to her break down rehearsal plans.

  Then she heard it — two girls ahead, voices carrying over the crowd.

  “They’re gonna be unstoppable,” one said. “Kazuki and Aoi… they just look right together on stage.”

  “Yeah,” her friend replied with a laugh. “Like a perfect duo. You could tell they were in sync without even trying.”

  Hana’s steps faltered.

  Naomi glanced over. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” Hana said too quickly, forcing herself back into step.

  But the phrase stuck. Perfect duo.

  She tried telling herself it was just talk. Festival hype. But the image came anyway — Kazuki and Aoi framed in stage lights, moving in perfect rhythm.

  Her grip on her bag strap tightened. I can’t go another day ignoring him. It doesn’t feel right.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped. “I’m gonna wait for Kazuki. I’ll catch you later.”

  Naomi’s smile was faint but knowing. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?”

  “…What?”

  “Never mind. See you tomorrow.” Naomi turned to leave, then tossed over her shoulder, “Good luck, Hana.”

  The warmth in those words caught her off guard, but it stayed with her as she nodded, a quiet conviction settling in.

  Sakuramine Academy, Second Floor Hallway – 4:52 PM

  Hana’s footsteps were soft as she approached the music room.

  The door opened before she reached it.

  Kazuki and Aoi stepped out mid-conversation.

  “…so if we shorten the pause, it’ll hit harder,” Aoi was saying.

  Kazuki nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “See you tomorrow,” Aoi said, heading down the opposite hall.

  Kazuki turned — straight into Hana.

  She was looking down, her hair framing her face. For a moment, the air felt thick.

  “Do you want to walk to the train station with me?” she blurted.

  Kazuki blinked, then smiled faintly. “…Sure.”

  They walked in silence until the school gates were behind them. The sky had turned warm orange.

  “What’s wrong?” Kazuki asked.

  She kept her eyes down.

  “…Look, I don’t know what I did, but if I upset you, I’m sorry.”

  She stopped walking, eyes glistening.

  Kazuki slowed too.

  “I don’t like how Aoi makes me feel,” she said quietly. “What it looks like… what people are saying.”

  Something shifted in him then — realising her absence today had cut deeper than it should have if they were just friends.

  “I don’t like Aoi,” he said firmly. “We only talk about music. That’s all.”

  He pulled her into a hug without asking. She didn’t resist.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  When she stepped back, he asked, “Ready to keep walking?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I want to say one more thing.”

  She opened her mouth, hesitated — then smirked, swatting him on the head. “Idiot. You made me cry.”

  He didn’t react, just smiled — wide, bright, almost boyish.

  “…What?” she asked.

  “I haven’t smiled like that since I was a kid,” he said. “It’s good to have you back, Hana. And the performance… it’ll be special. Only for you.”

  Her breath caught. For a moment, she wasn’t teasing. She was just there, looking at him.

  A drop of rain landed on her cheek.

  They laughed, and the moment broke as they sprinted together toward the station.