I wake up to the soft light seeping through the curtains. The mornings have become almost mechanical in their predictability—dress up, brush my hair, head downstairs to join my family for breakfast. Lately, though, I've started noticing the smaller things: the smell of fresh coffee from the kitchen, the gentle clatter of plates as my mom sets the table, and the way Hiro's voice hums a tune while he pours juice into glasses.
Sitting at the table, I glance at my parents and Hiro, exchanging brief words about the day ahead. I feel… settled, more so than usual. I suppose it's because, lately, I've made the decision to at least attempt friendliness, though my efforts often feel clumsy and awkward. I'm not looking to dive deep into friendships or open myself up too much, but just… a little more than before.
After breakfast, I pack my bag and make my way to school. The crisp morning air clears my mind, preparing me for the day's familiar routine. At the school gate, a few students call out a cheerful "Good morning, Reina-san!" as I pass. Usually, I'd keep walking, but now I offer a curt "Good morning" back. Though my tone isn't exactly warm, it's something. And oddly enough, I find myself feeling… lighter for it.
In class, as I walk to my seat, I return a "Morning" to the various greetings I receive, no more, no less. I slip into my seat and prepare for the day's lessons, tuning into the instructor's voice and occasionally glancing out the window. My mind drifts, inevitably, to my projects and the journal that's taken up so much of my attention.
Throughout the day, I maintain this minimal level of socializing—a nod here, a one-word answer there. I know it's not much, but it's comfortable, and it lets me keep some distance. By the time the final bell rings, I'm ready to retreat to my sanctuary—the lab.
My lab is exactly as I left it: neatly arranged, a little too quiet, and filled with the calming smell of old books and new paper. There's a sense of calm here that nowhere else seems to provide. I go straight to my workstation, feeling the familiar rush of anticipation as I pick up the journal I've been working on for months.
The journal represents countless hours of research, planning, and experimenting, each page filled with detailed notes, sketches, and data. I run my hand over the cover, feeling a swell of satisfaction. It's not quite finished—there are still a few ideas I want to expand on—but for the most part, it's complete. It's everything I could hope for in a research journal: meticulous, informative, and personal. I'd be proud to share it, even, if it didn't contain my most private projects. I decide to keep it for myself, a record of my journey and discoveries, stored safely where only I can see it.
I grab a special display case from my storage closet and carefully place the journal inside. I find the perfect spot on the wall, right next to some of my other projects, and hang it up with care. Standing back, I take in the sight, feeling a rare sense of pride and contentment.
Just then, there's a soft knock on the door. I glance up, seeing Himari stepping inside, smiling with her usual polite demeanor.
"Good afternoon, Reina-san," she greets, giving a slight bow.
"Afternoon, Himari," I reply, motioning her in. "What brings you here?"
"I was passing by and thought I'd check in," she says, glancing at the journal display. "Oh, did you finish your journal?"
I nod, crossing my arms. "Almost. There are still a few things I want to add, but the majority is done."
She steps closer to examine it, her eyes wide with admiration. "It's so detailed. I can only imagine the work you put into this."
Her praise feels genuine, and I find myself giving a small nod of appreciation. "It's taken a while, but I think it was worth it."
She smiles, and we end up chatting about my various projects. I answer her questions, explaining bits of my research and some of the findings that I find particularly interesting. Himari listens intently, nodding along and occasionally asking questions that make me realize she's actually invested in what I'm saying.
As we talk, I glance at the clock and notice it's already 2 p.m. My schedule today is surprisingly empty; with most of my major projects completed or on hold, I have more free time than I'm used to. The month ahead is nearly blank in my planner, save for a few small tasks here and there.
I reach for my pen, intending to jot down some ideas for new projects, but Himari's voice stops me.
"Reina-san… maybe you could take a break?"
I look at her, slightly surprised. "A break?"
She nods, giving me a gentle smile. "You've been working nonstop. Perhaps you could use a little rest."
"I don't need a break," I reply instinctively. The idea of idling around feels… unproductive. There's always something to do, something to improve.
Himari, however, stands her ground, crossing her arms in an almost scolding manner. "Everyone needs a break sometimes, even you, Reina-san. Taking a week off won't harm your work. It might even help."
I open my mouth to argue, but something in her determined expression makes me pause. Finally, I sigh and nod. "Fine. One week."
Himari's face lights up. "Good! You'll thank yourself for it."
Reluctantly, I clear my schedule for the week, feeling a strange mixture of relief and discomfort. I'm not sure what to do with so much free time, but maybe Himari is right. Perhaps a break is what I need.
We leave the lab together, and I lock the door behind us. Himari gives a small bow, saying, "Have a good rest of your day, Reina-san. I'll see you next week."
I nod, watching her walk away. A moment later, I remember something I left in the classroom. Retracing my steps, I head back inside, finding Ayumi and Hana still at their desks.
"Oh, Reina-san!" Ayumi exclaims, looking up from her notebook. "Did you forget something?"
"Just a few things," I reply, walking over to my desk. I pick up my notes and turn to them, curious. "Why are you two still here?"
Hana smiles sheepishly. "We're finishing up some homework. We were just about to leave, actually."
Glancing at the clock, I note that it's already past 4 p.m. "It's late. You should both head home," I say, my tone unintentionally cold.
Ayumi and Hana exchange a look, then giggle softly, which throws me off.
"What's funny?" I ask, a slight frown creasing my forehead.
"It's nothing," Hana replies, her smile turning into a grin. "It's just… your way of showing you care is unique, Reina-san."
I blink, caught off guard. My intention had simply been to remind them of the time, not necessarily to be… considerate. I take a moment to rephrase, softening my tone. "I meant… it's already late, so you should head home and rest."
Ayumi and Hana smile, collecting their things. "Thank you, Reina-san," Ayumi says with a warm tone. "We appreciate it. We'll see you tomorrow!"
I nod, watching them walk out of the classroom together, their laughter echoing down the hallway. Once again, I feel that peculiar sense of lightness, realizing that, in a small way, I'm slowly opening up. It's not much, but it's something.
The walk home is calm and quiet, the sky slowly fading into shades of dusk. When I step inside, Hiro is sprawled on the couch, glancing up at me with a teasing grin.
"Welcome back, Reina-nee! How was school?"
"Fine," I reply, setting my bag down and joining him.
He raises an eyebrow. "Just 'fine'? Any exciting discoveries in your lab?"
I shrug, reluctant to reveal too much. "Not exactly. I just… finished a big project."
"Oh?" He sits up, curiosity lighting his eyes. "So you're taking a break now?"
I give a slight nod, still uncertain about the idea. "Yeah, a break."
"Good," he says, grinning. "You work too hard, Reina-nee. Maybe you can finally join us for a movie night!"
I chuckle softly, feeling a warmth spread through me. "Maybe I will."
As we settle into the evening, I can't help but feel a small thrill of satisfaction. My world may still be filled with projects and research, but it's beginning to expand, bit by bit. And, for once, I think I'm okay with that.