Chapter 9: 

Something He Couldn’t Say.

The early spring air had begun to warm, but the breeze still carried a soft chill. In the classroom, sunlight poured through the windows like honey—slow and golden. Most students had gone for club activities, but Haruka Renji sat at his desk, head resting in his hand, his gaze distant.

Across from him, Yui flipped quietly through her notebook. She wasn’t taking notes—just pretending to. The silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore, but it wasn’t light either.

Because there was something Renji hadn’t said.

And she could feel it.

“I heard you turned down Naruse’s confession,” Yui said suddenly, not looking up.

Renji blinked, caught off guard. “…How did you—”

“Girls talk,” she replied, shrugging.

A pause.

He sighed. “I didn’t want to give the wrong answer.”

Yui looked up. “Then what would’ve been the right one?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

She smiled faintly. “That’s what I thought.”

The sunlight shifted. Dust floated through the air like memories that wouldn’t settle.

Renji stood and walked to the window. “I don’t really understand people who fall in love easily.”

“You mean people who don’t think twice before saying what they feel?”

He nodded.

“And yet,” she said softly, “you remember a girl from six years ago who handed you an umbrella in the rain.”

He turned to her—stopped.

There was no teasing in her voice. Just quiet truth.

Yui stood as well, hugging her notebook to her chest. “Maybe you’re not afraid of love. Maybe you’re just afraid it won’t be returned.”

Renji looked down.

Because she was right.

Again.

“I didn’t want to hurt Naruse,” he murmured. “But I couldn’t say yes… when someone else is still in here.”

He touched his chest.

Yui’s eyes widened—but she said nothing.

She walked toward him, slowly.

“I never asked you this,” she said. “But… did you really recognize me on the first day?”

He looked at her, eyes honest. “I did.”

“And why didn’t you say anything?”

“…Because I wasn’t sure you’d want to remember me.”

The room went quiet.

Then, for the first time, Yui closed the distance between them completely. She stood inches away, looking up at him.

“I remembered you,” she said. “The moment I saw your eyes.”

Renji’s breath caught.

And there, in that silent room of unsaid things, something shifted between them again—not dramatic, not loud.

Just real.

Like the moment before a raindrop falls.

---