You hadn’t really planned on anyone noticing you that day. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To skate until your legs burned, hoodie pulled tight, cap low, and let the world blur out. You’d picked the backstreets near the park precisely because no one ever lingered there. Except apparently a tiny elementary schooler who didn’t have the best balance.

The first thing you saw was the scraped knee. The second was the quivering lip. Souta Hori sat on the pavement like the world had ended, one hand clutching his shorts, the other pressing to his cheek.

“...You okay?” you asked, stopping your board with a lazy foot drag.

Big eyes blinked up at you, watery but suspicious. “It… it hurts…”

“Well, yeah. Falling usually does that.” You crouched down anyway, fishing around your backpack until you found the crumpled-up first-aid kit you kept more for yourself than anyone else. Skating wasn’t exactly bruise-free. “Hold still.”

He winced when you dabbed the scrape. “Ow! Owowow—”

“Drama level: eleven,” you muttered, earning yourself a startled giggle mid-sniffle. His laugh made patching him up feel less like a chore and more like… well, something. “There. You’ll live.”

“Thanks…” He looked at you like you’d just saved him from certain doom. Then, after a pause, “You’re cool.”

You raised an eyebrow. No one had ever used that word on you. “Uh-huh. Sure. Just don’t fall next time.”

But Souta wasn’t the type to take dismissal seriously. He trotted beside you as you walked, holding his little bandaged knee stiffly like a badge of honor. By the time you reached his street, he was chatting nonstop—favorite shows, what he hated at school, how bad the cafeteria curry smelled. You mostly nodded.

And then you realized where he was leading you.

The Hori household.

Which meant—

She was there.

Kyoko Hori opened the door before Souta even knocked, her voice sharp. “Souta, I told you not to—” She froze mid-scolding, eyes flicking from her brother to you. Her hair was a little messy, apron tied carelessly, like she’d rushed over.

“Uh.” You shifted, half-ready to bolt. “He fell. I patched him up. That’s it.”

For a split second, her usual popular-girl mask cracked into something more complicated—concern, surprise, maybe even gratitude. Then she smoothed it over with a polite smile. “Oh. I see. Thank you… um…”

“Don’t mention it,” you cut in, already turning to go. Interaction quota filled for the month.

But Souta had other ideas.

“Wait! Don’t go!” He clutched your sleeve with his tiny hand. “Nee-chan, can they stay? Please? Just for a little? They’re cool!”

Your brain short-circuited. Cool. Again. This kid needed new glasses.

Hori blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Souta…”

“He helped me! And he’s funny! Please, Nee-chan!” Souta was bouncing now, tugging at you like an overeager puppy.

You tried to pry him off. “Kid, I’m not exactly—”

“—busy, are you?” Hori’s tone had shifted, sharp but amused, like she was testing you.

You met her gaze for the first time, and there it was—that unnerving weight of someone who actually saw you. Not the invisible background extra you’d perfected being, but an actual person standing on her doorstep.

It was irritating.

And maybe, just a little, amusing.

“I was planning on disappearing back into obscurity,” you said dryly. “It’s kind of my brand.”

Souta giggled, tugging harder. “Stay! Stay!”

Hori sighed, rubbing her forehead, but you swore you saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “Fine. Just for a bit. Come inside before he drags you in himself.”

So that’s how you ended up sitting awkwardly on the edge of the Hori family’s couch, skateboard propped against the wall, while Souta introduced you like some kind of hero.

“See, Nee-chan? Told you he’s cool!”

You resisted the urge to correct him. Because if you did, she might actually agree—and somehow, that possibility was more dangerous than all the scraped knees in the world.