Yui Himitsu often found herself crossing paths with others during their most vulnerable moments. It had become the usual pattern in her life, like an unspoken ritual she couldn't escape. So, she wasn't particularly surprised when she stumbled upon someone in tears. Usually, she would accept the awkwardness, avert her gaze, and then move along. But on May 8, after finishing her cleaning duties, she found herself pausing on the bottom step of the stairs.
Soft, stifled cries echoed from beneath the stairs. The source is a boy named Amari Isao, from the class next to hers. She had seen him in passing before, but he was just another face among the sea of students; the only reason she had noticed him before was because of his immense height. As she started toward her classroom on the first floor, she spotted him scrunched in the corner, making him look small despite his tall stature. Instinct urged her to keep walking, maybe even climb the stairs again, and pretend she hadn't noticed. But something in the way his quiet sniffles fractured the stillness held her in place.
Normally, Himitsu would mind her own business like always. But there was something different about him, something in the raw, heart-wrenching tremble of his cries that carried a loneliness she couldn't bring herself to ignore.
So, she sat.
She didn't say anything, didn't try to comfort him, and didn't intrude on his grief; she never would. Instead, she just sat on the step, listening as his sorrow spilled into the silence. She knew he was aware of her presence; his sobs had faltered slightly when she sat, only to resume moments later. The only sound between them was a soft cry and the faint hum of the school's evening air.
Her fingers traced the smooth curve of the can in her hand, a small reward from an upperclassman she had helped with cleaning. The cool metal was steady against her skin, grounding her thoughts as she waited. Eventually, his cries softened before dwindling into subtle sniffles.
She understood what it was like to cry alone, she had encountered many who cried in solitude. Himitsu also participated in the lonely act. She also knew that sometimes, the presence of another, someone who asked for nothing and who expected nothing, was enough.
As Amari's cries gradually softened into shaky breaths, she carefully placed the can on the ground, nudging it gently around the corner. Then, without a word, she stood and took the long way back to her classroom.
She wasn't in any rush; she never was.
Once the sound of her footsteps faded, Isao slowly sat up, his glassy light brown eyes peeking around the corner. His foot bumped against something, sending it rolling with a dull clank. He glanced down at the object as the unopened can of Blue Raspberry Lemonade came to a stop.
For a moment, he just stared at it. An unexpected gift from the person who had silently kept him company while he wept. He reached down, picking up the can, the blue metal cool on his fingertips. A smile broke out on Isao's face as he wiped away the last of his tears and cracked it open. The hiss of carbonation filled the air, followed by the crisp scent of citrus and berries. He took a sip, and the taste was sweet yet tangy; his first thought was that it was good. Though he had never tried it before, at that moment, he felt it was the best soda he had ever tasted.
The next day, as he passed by a vending machine at school, he grabbed a can. After the kind gesture from the girl he never saw, he grew fond of the drink.