The hallway outside the lockers is quieter than usual, the end of the school day stretching the shadows long across the floor. Students have already started to drift out, their footsteps fading into the distance, leaving behind only the soft hum of fluorescent lights.

You stand beside Akane at her locker. It’s still new between you—just the beginning of whatever this is. The kind of beginning where everything feels uncertain but strangely magnetic at the same time. Akane doesn’t open her locker right away.

Instead, she lingers.

Her fingers rest lightly on the metal door, as if she’s gathering the courage for something heavier than words. Her golden eyes flick toward you, then away again, avoiding your gaze for a moment before returning with quiet determination.

“You know…” she starts, then stops. Her voice is softer than usual, almost careful. She swallows, as if the next sentence tastes difficult.

There’s a pause. The hallway feels even emptier now.

“I need to tell you something,” she says finally.

The words hang in the air between you. Not dramatic, not loud—just serious in a way that makes the world feel smaller.

For a moment, she looks almost like any other girl her age: a high school student in a white blouse, blue collar, black skirt, standing by her locker with a slightly nervous expression. But there’s something in her posture that doesn’t match that simplicity. A tension, like she’s balancing on the edge of a decision she can’t take back.

“I don’t want to lie to you,” she adds quietly.