Spring had always been Hana's favorite season.
Not because of the warmth, nor because of the festivals that filled the streets with laughter — but because spring felt like a quiet promise. A beginning.
The cherry blossoms were in full bloom across Aoyama High School's garden, soft pink petals floating gently through the air like fragments of a dream. Students walked in groups, laughing loudly, planning the new school year ahead.
Hana walked alone.
She preferred it that way.
Her fingers clutched her books tightly against her chest as she followed the stone pathway that cut through the garden. The scent of blossoms mixed with the faint smell of fresh grass.
Peaceful.
That was how she liked her world.
"Hana!"
She flinched slightly at the sudden sound of her name but relaxed when she saw her friend Yui running toward her.
"You're late again," Yui teased, adjusting her bag. "Did you stop to admire the flowers like always?"
Hana gave a small smile. "They're beautiful today."
"They're flowers, Hana. They bloom every year."
But this year feels different.
Hana didn't say that out loud.
As they approached the school entrance, a sudden gust of wind swept across the garden. Petals swirled dramatically through the air.
And then—
Thud.
Hana collided into someone.
Her books slipped from her grasp, scattering across the ground.
"I'm so sorry!" a calm male voice said quickly.
Yui gasped dramatically. "Oh! Romantic first-day accident?"
"Yui!" Hana whispered urgently.
She knelt down to gather her books, slightly embarrassed. Another pair of hands joined her.
Long fingers. Steady movements.
When she looked up—
Her breath caught.
Messy black hair falling lightly over sharp but gentle eyes. Amber-colored. Warm. Almost golden under the sunlight.
"I didn't see you," he said softly. "Are you hurt?"
Hana shook her head. "No… I'm okay."
He picked up her literature notebook and paused.
"You like poetry?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "Y-Yes."
He smiled faintly. "That explains it."
"Explains what?" she asked before she could stop herself.
"You look like someone who lives in stories."
Her heart skipped.
Yui leaned closer and whispered loudly, "He's cute."
Hana wished the ground would swallow her whole.
"I'm Takumi," he said, standing up and offering his hand to help her.
For a second, she hesitated.
Then she placed her hand in his.
Warm.
That was the first thing she noticed.
"I'm Hana."
"Second year?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Same here. Art club."
Art club.
So he was one of those students who painted in the courtyard after school.
"Literature club," she replied softly.
"That suits you," he said.
Why does he keep saying things like that?
The school bell rang loudly, breaking the moment.
Students rushed past them.
In the sudden chaos, someone bumped into Hana from behind. She stumbled forward—
And Takumi caught her.
One hand around her wrist. The other steadying her shoulder.
For a brief second, she was close enough to hear his breathing.
Close enough to notice he smelled faintly like rain.
"Careful," he murmured.
Her cheeks burned.
"I'm fine," she said quickly, stepping back.
But her heart disagreed.
As they walked toward the building together, Yui gave Hana a look that clearly said: This is interesting.
Inside the classroom, Hana tried to focus on the teacher's introduction speech, but her eyes kept drifting toward the window.
And there he was.
Takumi sat near the back, sketchbook open.
He wasn't listening to the teacher.
He was drawing.
A soft frown formed on her face.
What is he drawing on the first day of school?
As if sensing her gaze, he looked up.
Their eyes met.
And instead of looking away immediately—
He smiled.
Not teasing. Not playful.
Gentle.
Hana quickly looked down at her desk, pretending to read.
Why does it feel like something just changed?
Lunch break.
Hana escaped to her usual spot under the cherry blossom tree in the garden.
She opened her book, but her mind wasn't absorbing the words.
Instead, she replayed the morning.
The collision.
The hand.
The smile.
"You're hiding."
She nearly dropped her book again.
Takumi stood a few steps away, hands casually in his pockets.
"I'm not hiding," she said.
"Then why are you sitting alone?"
"I like quiet."
He nodded as if that made perfect sense.
Without asking, he sat down beside her.
Not too close.
Not too far.
Comfortable distance.
The petals continued to fall around them.
"It's peaceful here," he said.
"Yes."
Silence followed.
But it wasn't awkward.
It felt… soft.
After a moment, he pulled out his sketchbook.
"Can I show you something?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
He turned the sketchbook toward her.
Her breath stopped.
It was a drawing of the garden.
But in the center—
A girl standing beneath the blossoms.
Holding books.
Looking slightly lost.
It was her.
"I—" she couldn't form words.
"I drew it this morning," he admitted. "Before we bumped into each other."
"How?"
"You walk through here every morning at the same time."
Her heart pounded.
"You noticed?"
He gave a small smile. "Artists notice things."
Hana looked at the drawing again.
The way he captured her expression — quiet, thoughtful — felt almost too accurate.
"Why me?" she whispered.
Takumi didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at the falling blossoms.
"Because," he said softly, "you look like someone waiting for something."
The wind blew stronger.
Petals swirled between them.
Hana's chest tightened.
Waiting for something?
Was she?
She had always lived quietly.
Safely.
But suddenly—
For the first time in a long time—
Her world felt like it was shifting.
And maybe…
Maybe she wasn't just waiting anymore.
Maybe something had finally found her.
Takumi stood up slowly.
"See you tomorrow, Hana."
He walked away before she could respond.
She remained under the tree, staring at the path he disappeared into.
Her heart was beating louder than the afternoon bell.
And as a single cherry blossom petal landed gently on her open book—
She realized something terrifying.
Spring wasn't just beginning.
A story was.
And she had no idea how it would end.