The first day back tasted faintly like chalk dust and leftover humidity.
Eadlyn stepped into the gates of Hamikawa High with his bag slung over one shoulder, the summer sun still hot enough to sting the back of his neck. The campus looked the same—buildings square and clean against the sky, the courts already claimed by early club members—but something in the air had changed.
Summer had split everyone into two categories: those who had simply passed time, and those who had returned with something unspoken in their eyes.
He knew which one he was.
Inside Class 1A, desks were dusted, windows half-open, curtains swaying in weak currents of air. The room buzzed with familiar chatter: complaints about homework, stories about trips, exaggerations about how much they had "definitely studied."
A few heads turned when he entered. It wasn't the usual "foreigner" curiosity anymore.
It was sharper. More focused.
He slipped into his seat at the back. Manami sat down beside him a minute later, hair tied up, summer tan giving her a sharper outline. She didn't greet him immediately. She placed her bag down, pulled out her notebook, smoothed the cover, then finally glanced sideways.
"You survived," she said.
"Barely," he replied.
Her lips twitched. "The festival looked fun."
He looked at her. "You were there."
"Mm." She flipped her pencil in her hand. "We saw you."
We.
He looked forward, noticing Ken strolling in next, tossing a juice box at a guy near the front before dropping into his seat.
Ken turned, caught Eadlyn's gaze, and grinned.
"How's the celebrity?" he called.
The class turned more openly this time. A few boys leaned closer to each other. A girl in the middle row lowered her voice and whispered behind a raised notebook. Someone stifled a laugh.
Eadlyn stayed relaxed, one arm hooked over the back of his chair.
"Depends," he said. "Am I getting paid yet?"
The class laughed, the tension loosening just enough.
Manami exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. She looked amused—but her eyes tracked the room carefully, the way a runner watches the track before sprinting.
Rin slipped in just before the bell, hair still damp from early swim practice. She waved lazily at him on her way to her seat, as if this were any other day.
But when she sat down, she leaned forward and tapped his desk lightly.
"Nice yukata," she said under her breath.
"Nice company."
He raised a brow. "You too, stalker?"
"Not me," she replied. "Ken's idea."
"Traitor," he muttered.
Ken only snorted, wholly unapologetic.
Naomi entered, and any stray comments evaporated. Homeroom started: announcements, sighs, the clack of chalk. Timetables handed out, club reminders, warnings about "maturity now that you're not new students anymore."
They made it through the first half of the morning without anything exploding.
It was during the ten-minute break before second period that the first real fracture appeared.
A group of boys gathered near the back window, glancing between Eadlyn and the corridor. Their voices were low enough not to disturb the teacher in the hall, but not so low that no one could hear if they wanted to.
"…you saw the photo, right?"
"Yeah, my senpai posted it. Sayaka-senpai in yukata, with some foreign guy. That foreign guy."
"That's him?"
"Looks better in person. Annoying."
"Heard she turned down three confessions last term. And then goes to a festival with him?"
"Tch. Must be nice being imported."
A small cluster of girls near the middle row spoke too, their tones softer, more curious than bitter.
"I thought Sayaka-senpai wasn't interested in dating."
"She always seems so serious."
"But he makes her smile."
"Did you see the way she was holding that stuffed cat?"
"Do you think they're… you know?"
The rumor wasn't a sentence yet. Just questions, scattered like seeds.
Eadlyn heard enough to understand the shape forming. He didn't react.
He underlined a sentence in his notebook.
Manami watched him for a moment, then spoke just loud enough for him to hear.
"If you deny it too loudly, they'll only talk more."
"I figured," he said.
"If you play dumb, they'll fill in the silence with what hurts most."
He looked at her.
"What do you suggest?"
She looked back at the board, her expression unreadable.
"Just live," she said. "Rumors don't know what to do with people who stay consistent."
It sounded like theory.
It felt like experience.
At lunch, the rooftop felt hotter than usual. The concrete radiated stored summer heat; the sky above was empty, a hard blue with no clouds to soften it.
Rin and Manami ate from their bentos. Ken sprawled inelegantly against the fence, chewing on store-bought bread. The four of them sat in a loose circle, the center filled with crumbs and half-finished stories.
"So," Rin said, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth, "how was your date?"
"It wasn't a date," he replied calmly.
Ken kicked lightly at his foot. "You're holding hands in yukata under festival lights. That's either a date or a promotional poster."
Manami chewed slowly, watching him with the faintest hint of entertainment in her eyes. She didn't ask. She waited.
He put his chopsticks down.
"Fine," he said. "Ask properly."
Rin grinned. "Were you and Sayaka alone?"
"Yes."
"Did she smile more than usual?"
"Yes."
"Did she look at you like she was glad it was you and not someone else?"
He paused.
"…Yes."
Rin blinked, clearly not expecting such a straightforward answer.
Ken snorted. "At least you're honest."
Manami swallowed, then said,
"And Nino?"
The question dropped into the space between them like a stone into a pond.
He didn't evade it.
"We talked," he said. "She was… lonely. I stayed."
Rin rested her chin on her hand.
"You're really bad for people who don't know the difference between being seen and being chosen."
He met her gaze directly. "I'm not choosing right now."
Rin nodded slowly. "That's the problem."
Manami didn't scold. Didn't warn.
She just said, almost casually,
"Whatever happens, make sure you're not someone they have to heal from later."
The words didn't stab.
They settled.
He tucked them away for later inspection.