CHAPTER XXX
-The Garden of Almost-
Oh right! she thought, pulling it out. I should give it to him.
Just then, she turned her head—and found Rin’s face impossibly close, nearly touching hers.
“KYAAAAAH—” Yuzuki shrieked, startled beyond words, and tumbled backward onto the floor behind the desk. Her legs kicked up, landing on the chair’s seat, while her back hit the floor with a soft thud.
The classroom froze for a moment, then erupted into concerned murmurs. A few girls rushed over, their faces full of worry.
“Are you okay, Mikazuki-san?”
“Did you fall? That looked painful!”
“Here, let me help you up!”
Reina and her friends joined the circle, voices overlapping with concern and gentle teasing, trying to make sure Yuzuki was alright.
But before Yuzuki could gather herself, Rin floated again—this time right in front of her face, suspended inches away. His steel blue eyes glowed with a sharp, unwavering intensity, pupils focused like twin flames. His brows were relaxed but slightly angled downward, lending a serious, almost detached air. His mouth remained a neutral line—no smile, no frown—just a calm, blank stare that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken emotions beneath its surface.
The expression was haunting: a blend of emotional suppression and simmering depth, like a storm held quietly behind a serene lake. It was the look of someone who had endured much, yet remained stoic, otherworldly—an inscrutable presence that both unsettled and fascinated.
Yuzuki’s heart pounded as she met that gaze, caught between awe and a flicker of unease. The classroom’s chatter faded, the space between them charged with silent intensity, as Rin’s stoic glare held her captive in that moment.
Several girls hurried over, concern etched on their faces as they gathered around Yuzuki sprawled on the floor.
“Careful, Mikazuki-san!” one exclaimed, reaching out a hand to help her up.
“That was a pretty loud fall—are you alright?” another asked, her voice gentle.
“Let’s get you up before you hurt yourself again,” a third chimed in, offering support as they helped Yuzuki untangle her legs from the chair and sit upright.
All the while, Yuzuki’s wide eyes never left Rin. He hovered just above her, his steel blue eyes fixed on her with that same blank, emotionally suppressed intensity. The world around her—the worried classmates, the bustle of the classroom—faded into the background, leaving only the silent, powerful stare of the supernatural boy, his presence both haunting and magnetic.
Why… why… why’s he looking at me like that? Yuzuki wondered, her heart pounding as Rin’s steel blue eyes remained locked on hers, his expression unreadable and intense.
Before she could gather her thoughts, Rin’s hand darted out with supernatural speed, snatching the bag of gummies from her grasp. In the blink of an eye, his form dissolved into thin air, leaving behind a swirling trail of black, misty fog that lingered for a heartbeat above the polished floor.
The girls helping Yuzuki up gasped at her sudden distraction, but all she could do was stare at the fading mist, the stolen gummies, and the lingering chill of Rin’s otherworldly presence.
Reina noticed Yuzuki’s sudden change in mood and gently waved off her friends’ playful teasing.
“Alright, I’ve got to get back to studying,” Reina said firmly, brushing aside the fans with a graceful flick.
Her friends exchanged impressed glances, whispering excitedly,
“Oh my God, look at you! Studying and managing all those extracurriculars? You’re like a superhuman or something!”
“Seriously, how do you balance it all? Teach us your secrets!”
“Mikazuki-san’s got nothing on Reina-chan—she’s the real MVP!”
As the group dispersed, Reina turned back to Yuzuki, taking her gently by the arm and guiding her to a quiet corner of the classroom.
“Yuzuki-chan,” she asked softly, concern threading her voice, “what’s wrong? Why do you have such a long face?”
Yuzuki hesitated, then forced a small smile, stepping back toward her desk. “Umhh… it’s nothing…”
Reina watched her go, worry deepening in her eyes. Yuzuki’s been acting so off lately… she thought, her heart tightening with unease.
🎶🎵Kin-kon... kan-kon...🎵🎶
The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Reina turned to Yuzuki with a hopeful smile. “Let’s go together, okay?”
Yuzuki hesitated, then shook her head gently, pulling out her Japanese notebook from her bag. “Ah, oh… I’m sorry, that’s not possible. I—I’ve got some work to do,” she said softly, eyes focused on the pages as if to hide the flicker of something deeper.
Reina’s smile faltered, a hint of disappointment crossing her face. “Oh… okay,” she murmured, trying to mask her upset.
Just then, Reina’s friends arrived, ready to escort her away. She glanced back once more at Yuzuki, concern and a touch of sadness in her eyes, before she turned and left with the group, the gentle rustle of their departure fading into the quiet classroom.
As Ayaka passed by Yuzuki’s desk, she called out with her usual nonchalance, “If you’re staying back, might as well return home together by 6 PM. Alright? Meet yah at the entrance gate.” Without waiting for a reply, she strode off.
“Hey. I didn’t agree to that!” Yuzuki protested, standing up in surprise.
Ayaka just glanced back, a sly glint in her eyes and a small smile on her lips. “I don’t need you to,” she replied, and disappeared out the door.
“HMPH.” Yuzuki pouted, cheeks puffed in mild annoyance. Still, she packed her bag and hurried out of the classroom.
It was 4 PM as she reached the staircase on the 3rd Floor. There, the Korobokkuru—those mischievous little supernatural beings—were waiting, their eyes glinting as they tugged at her feet.
“I see you! I see you!” they chanted, their voices echoing with playful energy.
Oh, they must be calling me to play with them, Yuzuki thought, a small smile flickering across her face. “Korobokkuru, I’m sorry… I can’t play today. I need to go. I’m sorry. Byee!” she called out, dashing past them toward the 2nd floor.
But what Yuzuki didn’t realize was that her interpretation was wrong. The Korobokkuru hadn’t come to play—they’d come to warn her, their tugging and chanting a signal of something more urgent lurking just ahead.
Shigure’s head tilted ever so slightly as he felt a familiar presence stir the stillness of the library air. Slowly, gracefully, he turned—his dusky violet eyes locking onto her with a glint of recognition and something softer, deeper.
“Yuzuki~,” he called, his voice like a breeze through wind chimes—gentle, musical, and warm with meaning.
With a fluid motion, he tossed the book onto the table, its pages fluttering like wings. He slipped down from his perch, landing lightly on his feet, and began walking toward her, his steps unhurried, his presence poetic.
“You’ve come through the hush of pages and dust,
where stories sleep and time forgets to move…
And here you are—
like spring rain in a forgotten garden.”
His words flowed like a song, each syllable soaked in softness, as though the very air around him shimmered with verse.
“I waited,
not with impatience,
but with the quiet ache of a poem missing its final line.”
He stopped just before her, a smile blooming on his lips—tender, rain-kissed, and full of something unspoken.
Shigure stood before her, a soft breeze seeming to follow in his wake, the scent of old pages and rain lingering in the air. His eyes sparkled with a quiet mischief, and his voice, as always, was laced with the rhythm of poetry.
“This place, though filled with stories,
holds none as lovely as the one we might write—
not in ink,
but in footsteps,
laughter,
and the hush between heartbeats.
Come, Yuzuki…
Shall we let the campus become our wandering verse?”
Yuzuki blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invitation, but then her face lit up with a radiant smile, the kind that made her eyes crinkle and her heart flutter.
“I’d love that,” she said, her voice soft but full of joy.
Shigure extended his hand, palm open, fingers relaxed—an invitation not just to walk, but to share a moment stitched in time.
“Let your hand be the thread,
and mine the needle—
together, we’ll stitch a path through fading sun and whispering leaves.”
Yuzuki giggled, cheeks warm, and gently placed her hand in his. Their fingers intertwined, warm and sure, and for a moment, the library, the world, everything else faded.
Hand in hand, they stepped out of the vast library, the golden hour light spilling across the hallway as they began their quiet adventure—two souls walking not just through the campus, but into the unfolding lines of a shared poem.
The golden light of late afternoon poured through the windows as Shigure and Yuzuki stepped out of the library, their hands still gently intertwined. The air outside was warm, touched with the scent of summer grass and the faint rustle of leaves whispering secrets above them.
They walked side by side down the quiet corridor, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor. Yuzuki glanced up at him, her heart still fluttering from the way he had spoken—like every word was a verse meant only for her.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice light with curiosity.
Shigure turned his head slightly, offering her a smile that was both serene and playful.
“To a place where time forgets to tick,
where the wind hums lullabies to the trees,
and the sky leans down just a little closer.
My favorite place…
Would you care to see it?”
Yuzuki nodded, enchanted. “Of course.”
They descended the stone steps of the school building, the sun casting long shadows across the courtyard. Students had mostly cleared out by now, leaving the campus bathed in a peaceful hush. The world felt slower, softer.
As they walked across the grounds, Shigure pointed out little things with poetic commentary—how the ivy on the old walls curled like sleeping dragons, how the wind carried the scent of jasmine from the garden beds, how the clouds above looked like forgotten brushstrokes from a sky painter’s hand.
Yuzuki listened, smiling, her heart warming with every step.
Eventually, he led her behind the main school building, past a narrow garden path that curved behind a grove of tall camphor trees. The path opened into a small, hidden clearing—untouched, quiet, and bathed in golden light.
There, nestled beneath an ancient cherry blossom tree, was a small stone bench covered in moss, and beside it, a shallow pond that mirrored the sky. Fireflies had already begun to flicker faintly, dancing in the hush of the coming evening.
Yuzuki gasped softly. “It’s… beautiful.”
Shigure’s smile deepened, but his voice softened, almost reverent.
“This is where I come when the world speaks too loudly.
When I need the silence between the stars.
When I want to remember… that beauty doesn’t need to shout to be heard.”
He let go of her hand and stepped forward, brushing his fingers gently along the bark of the cherry tree.
“This tree blooms late every year,
as if it’s shy,
or as if it’s waiting for someone special to see it.”
Yuzuki stepped beside him, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s like a secret garden…”
“And now,” he said, turning to her with that soft, poetic smile,
“it’s not a secret anymore.”
They stood there for a moment, the world quiet around them, the leaves rustling like pages turning in a forgotten book. And in that silence, something gentle and unspoken bloomed between them—something that didn’t need words to be real.
Shigure’s gaze softened, drifting over the tranquil clearing like petals borne on a gentle breeze.
“Yuzuki,” he breathed, voice a tender murmur woven with quiet longing,
“I have long wished to share the peace that dwells here—
the stillness that cradles the soul like a whispered lullaby.
But now… I find myself yearning to share something more profound,
something that stirs even the softest breeze that plays through my hair.”
Yuzuki tilted her head, curiosity sparkling like morning dew in her eyes.
“Something more? Like what?” she asked, voice light and expectant.
He turned to her, the wind weaving through his open hair, sunlight catching the depths of his gaze like scattered stars.
“Yes,” he murmured, voice low and poetic,
“something as delicate and fleeting as the breeze that dances through these leaves—
a quiet tether to hold me close, even as the world spins on.”
Suddenly, Shigure’s restlessness took over. He paced the clearing, words tumbling from his lips in a thousand fractured verses—each one a confession, a hope, a longing. His voice rose and fell, sometimes barely above a whisper, sometimes trembling with emotion:
“I have wandered like rain across rooftops,
drifted like mist through empty halls,
and in every quiet moment,
I have searched for a tether—
someone to anchor my drifting soul.”
He spun, laughter and tears mingling in his eyes as he continued:
“You are the hush after the storm,
the gentle weight of belonging,
the hand I wish to hold
when the world is too loud.”
Finally, breathless and trembling, Shigure stopped before her. He knelt, one knee pressed to the mossy ground. In his hands, he held his cherished fan—its surface covered in delicate, handwritten poems, each line a piece of his heart.
He offered it to her, his voice breaking with sincerity:
“Yuzuki,
will you accept this—
my words, my heart,
and become the tether
that keeps me from drifting away?”
His confession hung between them, fragile and beautiful, shimmering with hope in the golden light.
Yuzuki’s heart was torn, a silent storm raging beneath her calm exterior. She stood motionless, words caught in her throat, unable to respond to Shigure’s heartfelt confession. The weight of her secret—the invisible tether she shared with Rin—pressed heavily on her chest, pulling her in two directions at once. She longed to reach out, to answer Shigure’s beautiful plea, but fear and uncertainty rooted her in place, her silence speaking of the turmoil she could not voice.
The memory of Rin’s warning echoed in Yuzuki’s mind, chilling her resolve: If you break the contract—emotionally or physically—it will haunt you… The words lingered like a shadow, binding her in silence. Every heartbeat reminded her of the supernatural bond she shared with Rin—a tether not easily severed, one that carried consequences she could neither ignore nor fully understand.
To be Continued...
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