The rain had stopped by the time Kaito returned to his dorm, but the damp chill still clung to his skin. He barely noticed. His mind was too full — of hands moving gracefully through the air, of hesitant smiles and soft glances exchanged across a crowded café table.
He barely knew Ayumi Tanaka, yet somehow, she had already taken up space in his thoughts.
As he toed off his shoes and dropped his backpack onto the floor, Kaito pulled out his phone and scrolled to the one contact who might help him figure out how to keep that space from shrinking.
Emi Saito.
They had exchanged numbers after lunch, largely at Emi's insistence. "In case you need help with sign language or if you do something stupid and need me to explain what you meant to say," she had said with a wink. Kaito hadn't expected to actually use it this soon.
He hesitated for only a second before tapping out a message.
Kaito: Hi, Emi. Quick question — how can I get better at signing? I, uh… want to be able to talk to Ayumi more.
The reply came almost instantly.
Emi: Ooooh, you like her, don't you?
Kaito groaned, rubbing his face. This was a mistake.
Kaito: I just want to talk to her properly.
Emi: Sure, sure. I'll help. But you owe me bubble tea.
Kaito: Deal.
Emi: Step 1 — learn the basics. Step 2 — practice with me. Step 3 — make Ayu smile. Step 4 — profit.
Kaito smiled despite himself. Emi's energy was infectious, even through text. And if anyone could help him navigate the unfamiliar world of sign language, it was her.
---
The next afternoon, they met in the campus library, tucked into a quiet corner far from the bustling study groups. Emi had brought a small whiteboard and markers, which she set up with the confidence of someone who had been both interpreter and teacher for most of her life.
"Okay, first things first," Emi said, exaggerating her mouth movements so Kaito could follow even if he missed her words. "You already know fingerspelling — kind of — but let's work on actual phrases. Real stuff you can say to Ayu."
Kaito nodded eagerly. "Like what?"
Emi grinned mischievously. "Like — 'You have a beautiful smile.'"
Kaito nearly choked on his water. "What? No! I can't say that."
"You can, and you should." Emi waggled her eyebrows. "But fine. Let's start smaller."
Over the next hour, Emi drilled him on greetings, basic questions, and common phrases. Kaito's fingers stumbled over the signs at first — his movements stiff and uncertain — but gradually, his hands began to relax, the motions flowing a little more naturally with each repetition.
Hello.
How are you?
Nice to see you again.
Do you want to sit together?
"Always make sure you're facing her," Emi reminded him. "She needs to see your hands and your face. Expressions matter just as much as the signs themselves."
Kaito filed that away, trying to remember all the tiny rules Emi tossed at him between jokes and teasing comments about his 'adorably awkward' attempts.
By the end of their session, his hands ached, but his smile was wide.
"Think you're ready to impress her?" Emi asked, elbowing him lightly.
Kaito didn't answer right away. His mind drifted back to Ayumi's soft smile and the hesitant way her hands moved when she introduced herself. He didn't just want to impress her — he wanted to understand her. To meet her halfway in a world where silence didn't mean absence.
"I'll do my best," he said softly.
---
The next day, Kaito found Ayumi sitting under a tree near the courtyard, her notebook balanced on her lap, the late autumn sun glinting off the edges of her hair. The sight was peaceful — until he realized that approaching her suddenly might scare her.
He took a deep breath, walked into her field of vision, and gave a small wave.
Ayumi looked up, her eyes widening slightly in recognition. She lifted a hand in return, the motion tentative but welcoming.
Hello, Kaito signed.
The effect was instant. Ayumi's eyes widened further, her fingers pausing in midair before she responded.
Hello.
Kaito's heart skipped at the small spark of warmth in her expression.
How are you? he signed, slower than Emi had shown him, but still legible.
Ayumi's hands moved fluidly in return, her reply almost too quick for him to catch.
He held up a hand, his smile sheepish. Again, please? Slowly?
Her shoulders shook with silent laughter, but she nodded, repeating the signs more deliberately.
I'm good. And you?
Kaito fumbled the reply, his fingers tangling in the middle of good, but Ayumi didn't correct him. Instead, she waited patiently, her smile gentle. The kindness in her gaze only made him more determined.
I'm good too. He got it right on the second try, earning a soft clap from Ayumi.
The conversation was simple — stilted at times — but it was theirs. Piece by piece, word by word, they built a bridge between their worlds. And with each successfully understood phrase, Ayumi's smile grew a little brighter.
---
Over the following days, Kaito made it a point to find Ayumi whenever he could — at the café, in the courtyard, even by the library steps. Each meeting was a chance to practice, to fumble and learn, to string together signs into conversations that felt like secrets only they shared.
Ayumi, for her part, grew less shy with each encounter. At first, her responses were brief — polite and careful — but gradually, her hands moved with more confidence, her personality peeking through the motions.
She teased him gently when he got something wrong. She taught him signs Emi hadn't covered — words like friend and rain and favorite. When they parted, she always signed see you later, her fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary.
Emi noticed, of course.
"She likes you," Emi declared after one such encounter, where Ayumi's ears had turned pink when Kaito accidentally signed you are my sunshine instead of you are funny.
"She's just being nice," Kaito protested, his own face burning.
"Trust me," Emi said, her grin wolfish. "Ayu doesn't smile like that for just anyone."
Kaito didn't know what to do with that information — or with the way his heart sped up every time Ayumi smiled at him. All he knew was that he wanted to keep seeing that smile, to keep learning her language until every word felt as natural as breathing.
---
One crisp afternoon, as they sat together under the same tree where their first proper conversation began, Ayumi set down her notebook and raised her hands.
Why are you learning sign language? she asked.
Kaito hesitated, his fingers twitching as he thought about how to explain.
I want to know you better, he signed at last.
The admission hung between them, fragile and clear.
Ayumi's eyes softened. She didn't reply right away. Instead, she reached for her notebook and scribbled something before holding it out to him.
Thank you for trying.
Kaito shook his head. "Not trying," he said aloud, and though she couldn't hear it, he signed it too. I want to.
For the first time, Ayumi's smile reached her eyes — a smile so radiant it made his breath catch.
And in that quiet, wordless moment, something shifted between them — a promise made not with sound, but with silence.
The kind of silence that didn't need filling.
The kind that spoke louder than any words ever could.