The soft clink of glass against porcelain echoed faintly as Yuki adjusted the tiny vase on her dorm desk, the single violet inside tilted just slightly to the left. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. The morning light made everything look a little softer, a little more forgiving.

She stood in front of her mirror, running a hand through her dark brown waves, still kissed by soft white highlights. Today she’d chosen a pastel yellow top, one that hugged her frame just right—not too tight, but enough to feel cute—and paired it with a delicate lavender mini skirt that brushed her thighs with every step. Her sneakers, the same dreamy purple, matched her soft yellow pearl headband.

The colors made her feel like a flower just starting to bloom.

She tucked her lip gloss into her tote and hummed as she laced her shoes. A small, happy tune without lyrics, something she made up on the spot. She did that a lot—made up little songs, sang them to her toothbrush or her shampoo bottle. It made the silence feel more like company.

Outside, the morning air was crisp but gentle. The breeze carried the scent of cherry blossoms and newly cut grass. The sidewalks were starting to gather pink petals like confetti, leftovers from yesterday’s bloom. Students passed her on the way to their classes, some in a daze, others clutching coffee cups like they were lifelines.

“Morning, Yuki!” a boy called out, waving awkwardly with one hand while gripping his backpack with the other.

Yuki grinned. “Good morning!”

A girl walked past, eyes wide with admiration. “Love your colors today!”

Yuki’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she replied with a shy smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Compliments still caught her off guard sometimes, even though she got them more often than she expected.

She walked on, that same cheerful tune slipping from her lips as easily as breath.

Then, just ahead, she saw it: a boy—no more than ten or eleven—rushing across the courtyard with a stack of textbooks too big for his arms. He stumbled on a crack in the pavement, and the books went flying.

Yuki’s feet moved before she thought.

She was beside him in seconds, kneeling down, skirt fluttering as she reached for a hardcover that had skidded toward the edge of a puddle. “Oh dear,” she said gently. “Are you okay?”

The boy’s glasses were crooked, his face flushed. “I—I’m fine… thank you.”

His hands trembled as he scrambled for the books.

Yuki offered a reassuring smile. “Let’s get these back to safety, yeah?”

Together they gathered the scattered pile. She carefully wiped the cover of the soggy one on her skirt, ignoring the damp mark it left.

“There. Good as new,” she said with a wink, handing it to him like it was treasure.

He bowed his head. “Thank you so mu—”

His stomach interrupted with a low, growling rumble. Loud enough that both of them froze.

His face turned beet red.

Yuki tilted her head. “Hmm?”

He opened his mouth to lie—to say he was fine, that he wasn’t hungry—but she was already reaching into her bag.

She pulled out her carefully packed bento box, wrapped in pale yellow cloth with delicate white flowers. “You can’t learn on an empty stomach,” she said, holding it out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I—I couldn’t—” the boy began, voice shaking. “It’s yours…”

“I made it myself this morning. It’s got egg bears. They’re really good at cheering people up. Very wise, those bears.”

She said it with a small, soft grin, brushing hair from her eyes. Her hand didn’t waver.

He took it like it was sacred, fingers trembling.

“Thank you, miss,” he whispered, his voice thick with something close to tears.

Yuki smiled again, this time with more weight behind it. “You’re very welcome. Have a happy day, okay?”

He nodded and ran off, clutching the bento like it was the most important thing he’d ever been given.

Yuki stood there for a moment, watching him go, and let the wind play with the hem of her skirt. The sun had climbed higher now, making her squint a little. Her bag was lighter. Her stomach would be empty soon. But somehow, she didn’t feel hungry.

Across campus, by the soccer field, Kai had watched the whole thing.

He didn’t mean to. He was just heading to water break, towel slung around his neck, sweat dripping from his brow, when Daiki nudged him.

“Hey,” Daiki said, nodding toward the courtyard. “It’s her. The cherry blossom girl.”

Kai glanced up.

Yuki, standing with a small boy, both of them bent over something on the ground. Her skirt fluttered in the breeze, her smile soft and real. A moment later, she handed him something.

“She just gave that kid her fucking lunch,” Ryo muttered from the bench, peeling a mandarin with his cleats still on.

Kai frowned. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Ryo said, stuffing a piece into his mouth. “She handed him her whole-ass bento box like she was some kind of studio Ghibli angel.”

Daiki gave him a look. “Dude. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Ryo shrugged. “What? You don’t think it’s weird? Who the fuck does that?”

Kai didn’t say anything. He just watched as Yuki dusted her skirt and walked away, humming again. Like the world hadn’t just tilted a little because of her.

Daiki noticed his expression. “What, now you’re into her?”

Kai’s jaw tightened. “She’s… different.”

“She’s weird,” Ryo muttered. “Too fucking perfect.”

“No,” Daiki cut in sharply. “That’s what kindness looks like, dumbass. You should try it sometime.”

“You mean like you?” Ryo fired back, tossing the mandarin peel into a nearby trash can and missing.

Daiki rolled his eyes. “Like anyone who’s not a tool.”

Kai kept his eyes on Yuki as she disappeared behind the lecture hall. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

In his head, he just kept asking the same damn question.

Why the hell does she keep doing this?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Lunchtime arrived with a chorus of rumbling stomachs and the clatter of trays.

Yuki stood in line, bag a little lighter than usual, debating between onigiri and the sad little sandwiches in the cooler. She settled on the least depressing sandwich and a tiny juice box, because somehow that felt like balance.

She found a sunny table by the window and sat down, unwrapping her sandwich with delicate fingers.

“You gave away your bento again?”

Yuki looked up to see Mika, pink-haired and perpetually unimpressed, sliding into the seat across from her with a massive tray of curry.

“He looked hungry,” Yuki said simply.

Mika raised a brow. “Girl, you’re gonna starve one of these days.”

Yuki bit into her sandwich. “I’m fine.”

“You’re soft as mochi. And it’s kind of your thing, I guess.” Mika paused. “But seriously. You ever think people might take advantage of that?”

Yuki stared out the window. “Yeah… sometimes.”

“But?”

“But if someone needs something, and I can help…” She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Mika stared at her for a long moment.

“You’re impossible,” she said finally. “But I like you.”

Yuki smiled, grateful. “I like you too, Mika.”

Across the cafeteria, Kai sat alone, one earbud in, watching them through the noise and the crowd.

He didn’t hear his music.

All he could think about was a girl who danced with cherry blossoms and gave away her lunch without blinking.

And for the first time in a long time, Kai realized he didn’t have her figured out.

Not even close.