The morning after didn't feel like one.
Shoya hadn't slept. Not fully. He lay half-curled under his blanket with one arm hanging off the side of the bed, phone still in hand. The screen had dimmed long ago. The message remained unread—technically. But he'd read it a hundred times in his head.
> Start with her.
He didn't reply. What was there to say?
That he already had?
Naomi had been quiet, warm, gentle. Everything about her said normal. Everything except the way she answered certain questions. The way her voice dropped when talking about the garden. The way her hands stilled when Kaori's name was mentioned.
He told himself not to spiral. But the thought rooted in his mind like one of her plants—subtle, growing when he wasn't watching.
By the time he reached class, he was late.
Professor Amari was already mid-lecture, writing across the board in long, careful strokes. Shoya slipped into his seat without a word. No one said anything.
Except Naomi.
She turned halfway in her chair and gave him a small nod.
Amari's lecture echoed in the room:
"Details aren't always found in the light. Some truths prefer the corners."
Shoya didn't know if it was just the literature or something more. But when she said that, she looked at him. Briefly.
---
During break, Shoya found himself wandering again—not to the garden, not to the roof. Just… walking.
He ended up behind the old gym, where there was a narrow hallway of covered walkways and supply closets. No one really came here unless it rained.
He leaned against the concrete pillar, exhaling slowly.
Until a voice startled him.
"Looks like something is bothering you ."
Naomi.
She stood a few feet away, holding a half-empty water bottle. Her hair was loosely tied back. Stray strands fluttered as she stepped closer.
Shoya: "do you think??"
Naomi smiled faintly. "Your face is tightened a little. Like you're drawing lines in the air."
Shoya chuckled under his breath. "I guess I think too much."
Naomi: "I don't think that's a bad thing. But… maybe you should tell someone about it."
That landed heavier than expected.
He met her eyes. "You?"
Naomi blinked, then looked away. "I don't know. If you want."
Silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable. Just… cautious.
Shoya: "Back in the garden… you said you owe them."
Naomi's jaw tightened slightly. "I did."
Shoya: "You meant the club, right?"
She hesitated. Then nodded once. "Yes. The club."
A lie? Or not the full truth?
Before he could ask more, her phone buzzed.
She glanced at it, then tucked it away quickly.
Too quickly.
Shoya noticed. But said nothing.
Instead, he stepped back, nodding politely. "I'll see you later."
Naomi gave him a quiet, unreadable look. Then walked past him without another word.
---
Shoya watched her as she walked away
He was kinda curious, what could've been this important!
But whatever ….
—-
That night, the message returned.
Just a photo.
A blurry image—taken from behind. Naomi. Talking to someone in a greenhouse.
But Shoya had never seen her there.
And the greenhouse had been locked for almost a year now.
---
The greenhouse had been locked since last year.
At least, that's what Shoya remembered.
A rumor had gone around that something in the wiring failed—an electrical hazard or mold issue. After that, the school quietly taped it off. No one really questioned it.
So the photo didn't make sense.
It showed Naomi's silhouette, half-turned, her hair tied in that same loose ribbon she wore today. She was inside the greenhouse. Talking to someone whose face was just out of frame. Only a blur of dark color and what might've been long sleeves was visible.
The picture was grainy, almost like it came from an old phone or a camera behind fogged glass.
And the angle—it wasn't from outside the greenhouse.
It looked like it was from inside.
His mind reeled. Who took it?
More importantly: When?
And much more importantly: Why send this to him?
His fingers hovered again over the screen.
> Who's that with her?
But he didn't send it.
Because he already knew the answer would be silence.
Instead, he stared at the photo, zoomed in on Naomi's hand. She was holding something. Small, dark, metallic—clippers maybe? Or scissors? Hard to tell. But her posture wasn't tense. She looked… calm. Like this wasn't a one-time visit.
She'd been there before.
And if she had, then the greenhouse wasn't as locked as they thought.
---
He told Ken he had to finish a sketching assignment, and ignored Asuna's group message about parfaits at the train station.
Instead, he walked. Across the main courtyard. Past the club buildings. Until he reached the chain-link fence around the greenhouse.
From the outside, it looked exactly the same as before—cloudy glass panels, most of them stained or fogged with condensation. The latch on the gate was still rusted and tangled with a sun-bleached piece of tape. It looked sealed.
But when Shoya pressed gently against the side gate, it gave way with a soft click.
Unlocked.
His pulse jumped.
Inside, the air was thick and damp, the scent of earth immediately overwhelming. Old soil, rotting stems, trapped heat. But under it, something else. A softer, sweeter smell—flowers still blooming.
Rows of plants sat in neat trays. Some climbing up bamboo stakes, others overflowing out of their containers. He recognized the same white orchids Naomi tended to in the school garden. But there were others too—violets, foxglove, things he didn't know the names of.
There were footprints in the dirt. Small. Likely hers.
And something else—just ahead, near the far end of the glass house.
A chair.
And beside it… a second one.
Someone had been sitting here. Recently.
He took a slow step forward. Then another.
A faint creak behind him made him spin—but there was nothing there.
Just the silence.
But again—it wasn't empty. It was layered.
---
Then, he noticed the paper. Folded and wedged into a flowerpot, half-hidden under a fallen leaf. His fingers shook slightly as he unfolded it.
It was empty nothing written on it
There was no signature.
But on the back of the paper, a name had been faintly etched in pen:
Kaori.
The greenhouse held more than plants. It held memory.
Maybe… secrets.
Shoya folded the paper and tucked it inside his sketchbook .
---
The note stayed in his sketchbook all night.
He hadn't moved it.
Hadn't even opened the pages again.
But it was there.
Heavy. Like it had weight beyond its paper.
---
The next morning, Shoya walked slower than usual. His eyes tracked every shift of movement—students walking, teachers passing.
He didn't want to look at Naomi.
But he knew he would.
When he entered the classroom, she was already there.
Back row. Same seat.
Window slightly open beside her. A breeze stirred her sleeve.
She glanced at him for just a moment. No wave. No smile.
Just… acknowledgment.
And again, that invisible thread between them pulled.
---
During lunch break, he didn't follow Ken or Taka. Didn't join Asuna.
Instead, he wandered.
Not to the greenhouse. Not yet.
He stopped by the vending machines near the eastern stairwell. A small alcove with poor lighting, the machine always slightly buzzing.
He got water. Held it in his hand. Didn't drink it.
Then he saw her.
Naomi stood across the yard, alone, near the perimeter of the campus garden. She wasn't tending to anything. Just… standing there. Looking at something in her palm. A phone? No. A piece of paper?
He stepped forward—
And just as quickly, she turned and walked away.
Shoya didn't follow her he just found it weird.
---
Later that day, after lectures had ended, Shoya didn't go home.
He returned to the greenhouse.
Again. It was unlocked!
The air inside felt warmer than yesterday. It wasn't just temperature—it was presence.
Something had changed.
A faint trace of perfume lingered, barely there. Not Naomi's usual earthiness. It was sweeter. Almost nostalgic.
On the chair, a glove rested.
Dirt on the fingertips. Still damp.
She had been here again. Today.
And not alone.
He looked around carefully.
This time, there was no paper. No whispers. No sudden creaks.
But something did catch his attention—
One of the pots near the center had been moved. A violet with wide, curling petals. Tucked beneath it, just barely visible, was a small object. Silver. Round.
A key.
He picked it up and wondered what could this be used for? It looked like a locker's key but it also could be a key to a door!
He exited the greenhouse no one around as he looked carefully and walked away towards the dorm.
---
That evening, Shoya walked back to the dorms with that key in his jacket pocket. His hand gripped it the whole way.
His mind wouldn't stop.
Who else had been there?
Who was in the photo?
Why was Naomi the only one with access?
---
To be continued in chapter 11…