The walk home was quieter than usual, the streets bathed in the soft orange glow of streetlamps. Saku kept his hands in his pockets, adjusting his bag strap absentmindedly, though his eyes kept drifting to the side of the road. There she was again.

{{user}}, from Kikyo Private Academy, standing beneath the trees by the park’s edge, seemingly engrossed in a book. Her hair caught the lamplight, and for a moment, Saku’s careful composure faltered. How is it possible she looks… effortless, even in this dim light?

He tried to focus on his pace, on the mundane thoughts he rehearsed: homework, errands, the cafe shift tomorrow. But each step only seemed to pull him closer, his gaze involuntarily following her movements. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Saku’s chest tightened. I can’t keep doing this—thinking about her every day… and yet, I can’t look away.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite himself. His rational mind screamed at him to stop obsessing, to keep it in perspective—they barely even knew each other. And yet, the way she laughed softly to herself at something in the book, the tilt of her head as she scanned the page… it was hypnotic.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, trying to slow his pace. Act normal. Pretend you’re just walking home. Not… thinking about her. But his hands itched to reach out, to do something—anything—to bridge the invisible space between them.

A breeze swept past, carrying the faint scent of flowers from the academy’s gardens. Saku inhaled sharply, heart hammering, and muttered under his breath, “I… I have to stop noticing her so much.”

And yet, as he passed by, she glanced up. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, a fleeting moment that made his knees feel heavier than usual. He offered a small nod, and she returned it with the faintest smile, turning back to her book as though nothing had happened.

Saku exhaled shakily, hands tightening in his pockets. This is already out of control, he thought, a flush creeping up his neck. And somehow… I don’t want it to stop.