Mahiru Shiina sat at her desk, perfectly composed, her flaxen hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a halo around her, making her look almost ethereal. Around her, a small group of boys and girls hovered like moths drawn to a flame. Their laughter rang out, too loud to mask the nervous energy that thrummed beneath their words.
"Shiina-san, how do you memorize formulas so fast?" one boy asked, leaning in closer, his eyes wide with admiration.
She offered a polite smile, rehearsed and flawless. "It's just about consistency," she replied, her voice steady yet distant. "Practice helps."
Another girl chimed in, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear—a gesture Mahiru recognized as a sign of anxiety. "Your hair is so shiny! What shampoo do you use?"
Mahiru's caramel eyes flicked toward the girl momentarily before returning to the desk in front of her. "Just something simple," she said vaguely. The truth was she didn't want to share—didn't want them to dissect another part of her life.
The questions kept coming, each one tinged with admiration and envy. "What's your secret for staying so organized?" "How do you always get top marks?"
Her answers flowed like water from a tap—short and unremarkable. She could see their eager faces, expectant for more, but felt an invisible barrier rise between them and herself. Her smile never faltered, but inside, exhaustion seeped through the cracks of her porcelain mask.
As they continued to pepper her with inquiries, Mahiru shifted slightly in her seat, feeling the weight of their gazes like a heavy cloak draped over her shoulders. Each question felt like another layer added to the expectations they placed upon her—a trophy for them to possess rather than a person they could truly know.
When the bell rang, it sliced through the air like a knife. The students scattered away from her desk like spooked birds startled by an unseen threat. They left behind an assortment of half-eaten snacks and crumpled papers littering the surface—evidence of their fleeting presence.
Amongst it all lay a handmade cookie wrapped in pastel paper—a small token left behind by one of them. Mahiru tucked it into her bag without opening it. It was the third gift she had received this week alone; each one felt more like an obligation than genuine affection.
Her thoughts spiraled inward as she stared at the closed lid of her bag.
They don't see me. They see a trophy. A thing to possess.
_______
Mahiru Shiina opened her shoe locker, the familiar scent of polished wood and rubber greeting her. As she reached for her shoes, a neatly folded letter caught her eye, wedged between the sneakers. She pulled it out, her heart sinking as she recognized the trembling handwriting.
"Please meet me after school. I'll wait by the old gym."
With a sigh, she tucked the note into her bag. This was the second confession of the week—a trend that felt more like an obligation than a compliment. She could already hear herself rehearsing the polite refusal, crafting the words in her mind like a shield.
The day dragged on, each class a blur of faces and voices that faded into the background. When the final bell rang, Mahiru gathered her things and headed toward the old gym. The path felt longer than usual, each step echoing her reluctance.
As she approached, she spotted him—a boy with average looks but an anxious demeanor. He stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, muttering under his breath as if trying to gather courage.
"Yamada?" she called out when he noticed her.
His eyes widened as he took a step forward, his hands trembling at his sides. "Sh-Shiina-san! I'm Yamada from Class 2-B." His voice wavered as he continued, "I... I've admired you since last semester. Please go out with me!"
Mahiru tilted her head slightly, maintaining a gentle expression while feeling the familiar pang of sympathy mixed with discomfort. "Thank you for your feelings, but I can't accept," she said firmly.
Yamada's face flushed crimson as he stepped closer, desperation creeping into his voice. "W-Why? Just give me one chance to prove myself! I swear I'll make you happy!"
Her heart sank further at his pleading tone; it felt heavy and suffocating. She repeated her answer with quiet resolve and turned to leave.
"Wait!" Yamada grabbed her wrist, fingers gripping tightly as if anchoring himself to hope. "Why not? Am I not good enough?"
The mask Mahiru wore slipped just slightly; she turned back to face him, icy resolve settling in her voice. "Let. Go."
His grip faltered under the chill of her words as if struck by an unexpected gust of wind. But before he could respond further, Takeru Hoshino rounded the corner, one hand casually tucked in his pocket while he held a drink from the nearby vending machine in the other.
He paused at the sight before him—Yamada's anxious posture and Mahiru's tense expression spoke volumes without uttering a word.
"I heard shouting," Takeru said casually but with an undertone of concern as he approached them. He glanced at Mahiru first and then at Yamada before narrowing his gaze slightly.
"Is everything okay?" Takeru asked Mahiru directly.
"It's nothing," she replied coolly, stepping away from Yamada's grasp and pulling herself together before walking past Takeru.
Yamada stumbled over his words as he tried to follow after Mahiru. "I'm sorry! Shiina-san! Please—"
But Mahiru didn't stop or turn back; she kept walking away with purpose.
Takeru's expression shifted subtly as he turned to Yamada, pinning him with a glare that seemed to carry an unspoken warning hidden beneath layers of calmness.
"Listen," Takeru began slowly, patting Yamada's shoulder firmly yet gently. "I think you're aware that harassment is a crime and something we don't tolerate here."
Yamada's eyes widened under Takeru's scrutiny; guilt washed over him like cold water splashing against hot skin.
Takeru released him but lingered for a moment longer before turning back toward where Mahiru had disappeared down the hallway. The concern etched across his features deepened as he considered what had just unfolded between them all—an unwelcome intrusion into their fragile dynamic that had only begun to blossom in quiet moments shared over cooking and laughter.
He shook his head slightly and walked away.
_______
Mahiru Shiina wandered the hallways, her thoughts still swirling from the encounter with Yamada. She needed a moment to breathe, to gather herself after the rush of emotions that had threatened to spill over. As she turned a corner, she spotted Chitose Shirakawa slipping into the girls' restroom. A spark of curiosity ignited within her.
Following her instinct, Mahiru approached the door and hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the stark white tiles and stalls. Chitose stood at the sink, splashing water on her face, blissfully unaware of Mahiru's presence.
"Shirakawa-san," Mahiru called out, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet space before Chitose could step into a stall.
Chitose turned, surprise lighting up her features as she wiped her hands on a paper towel. "Hey! What's up?" Her smile was bright, an instant lift to Mahiru's mood.
Mahiru took a breath, recalling their earlier conversation about honesty and bluntness. "You mentioned I looked bored in class." She paused, gauging Chitose's reaction. "I just wanted to say... I'm not upset about it."
Chitose raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from playful to serious for just a moment. "You sure? You looked like you wanted to escape."
"I did," Mahiru admitted with a small smile. "But Takeru-sensei said I should get to know you better." She felt warmth in her cheeks as she spoke his name but pushed through it. "So... would you like to eat lunch together tomorrow?" She asked with resolute eyes.
Chitose blinked in surprise, laughter bubbling up before she could contain it. "Sorry, it's just, you look so cute right now with that determined expression!" She giggled, the sound light and infectious.
Mahiru felt herself blush deeper but quickly composed herself. "It's not like that," she protested softly, though her tone lacked conviction.
"Sure it isn't," Chitose teased playfully before leaning against the sink with a grin that radiated mischief. "But I'll accept your offer on one condition."
"What condition?" Mahiru asked, intrigued despite herself.
"Keep acting like this—like how you are right now." Chitose's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "I want more of this Mahiru—the one who's free and alive—rather than the girl who sits quietly in class."
Mahiru's heart skipped at Chitose's words; they struck a chord deep within her. It felt strange yet comforting to hear someone recognize that part of herself she often kept hidden behind walls of propriety and perfectionism.
"Okay," she nodded slowly, warmth blooming in her chest as she smiled back at Chitose. "But you can't tell anyone."
"Deal!" Chitose exclaimed and without warning, she pulled Mahiru into a tight hug. The sudden embrace caught Mahiru off guard; she stiffened for just a moment before relaxing into it.
"This is going to be amazing!" Chitose yelled excitedly, bouncing back with an energy that seemed boundless.
Mahiru laughed softly, feeling lighter than she had moments ago. The prospect of lunch together filled her with unexpected joy; maybe this was what Takeru had meant about connections beyond academics.
As they shared smiles and laughter in the restroom—two girls finding common ground—Mahiru thought briefly about Takeru Hoshino and how he would react to this new development in her school life. Would he be happy for her? Would he see this friendship as a sign of growth?
She shook off those thoughts quickly; they felt too personal amidst the thrill of newfound companionship blooming around them.
"So tomorrow then?" Chitose asked brightly, breaking through Mahiru's reverie.
"Tomorrow," Mahiru confirmed with newfound determination coursing through her veins as they walked out together into the bustling hallway once more—a small step toward something different from what she'd known so far.