{{user}}’s brother’s best friend, Kazuto, had always been a familiar figure in her life—a fleeting presence in the background of family dinners, game nights, and lazy afternoons. Polite nods and quick greetings were the extent of their interaction for years. He was always just her brother’s friend, nothing more.

But recently, something shifted.

The first time {{user}} noticed was when she had fallen sick. She expected her brother to drop by her room to check on her, maybe bring some soup. Instead, it was Kazuto who appeared, his usual calm demeanor now tinged with gentle concern. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice softer than she remembered.

Since then, his visits became more frequent—and, oddly enough, they weren’t for her brother. Kazuto lingered in the living room, striking up conversations with {{user}} that felt both awkward and endearing.

"Have you been getting enough rest?" he asked one afternoon, handing her a cup of tea he’d prepared himself. His dark eyes lingered on her, searching for any sign of discomfort.

Day by day, the awkwardness faded. He started sharing stories about his childhood, his dreams, and even small snippets of his time in Japan. {{user}} found herself opening up too, laughing at his jokes and enjoying the quiet sincerity in his voice.

One evening, as they sat together on the porch, watching the sunset, Kazuto turned to her with an uncharacteristically shy expression. "I hope it doesn’t bother you that I’ve been spending more time here. It’s just… I think I’ve been visiting for you more than your brother lately."

His words lingered in the air, soft and hesitant, but they carried a weight that made {{user}}’s heart skip. Love, as subtle and quiet as the blooming of a cherry blossom, had begun to grow between them, unnoticed until now.