The next morning at school, I sat at my usual desk—back of the room, window seat, the one no one ever asked to switch with.

It was cloudy outside. The kind of gray that clings to your thoughts. The cherry blossoms were still waiting for a reason to bloom.

Homeroom began, and as always, I stared at the trees beyond the glass while the teacher droned on about morning announcements. Nothing ever changed. No one ever noticed I was there.

Until the teacher said something that made me blink.

“We have a new transfer student joining us today.”

I turned my head.

And there she was—Hikari.

Same long black hair. Same sketchbook tucked under her arm. Same bright, clear eyes that looked like they could see through lies and straight into your heart.

She stood in front of the class with a small, casual smile. Not nervous. Not shy. Just… like she belonged, even in a place she clearly didn’t.

“My name’s Hikari,” she said. “Like the light. I like drawing and old things. I’m not very good at sports. Please treat me kindly.”

Someone whispered, “She’s cute.”

Another said, “She talks weird.”

The teacher gestured to the seat next to mine.

“You can sit over there, Hikari-san.”

And so, she did.

She plopped her bag down beside me, leaned over, and whispered, “Yo.”

“…Yo,” I replied, unsure how to process this sudden proximity.

She grinned. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“…Forget?”

“After school. Our first adventure. You better not bail, Amano-kun.”

She remembered my name. No one ever did that after one meeting.

Scene 2: The Legend of the Hidden Lake

School dragged on, but something was different. I kept glancing sideways, half-expecting Hikari to vanish like a dream. But she was real. Real and doodling in her sketchbook during class like she didn’t care about equations or maps of feudal Japan.

When the final bell rang, she stood up with energy that didn’t match the sleepy room.

“Let’s go.”

“…Where?”

She gave me a mischievous look. “You’ll see.”

We walked out of town together, past shuttered stores and vending machines that hadn’t worked in years. The air smelled like early spring—wet earth and old rain.

“Do you know about the Hidden Lake?” she asked as we walked along a dirt path leading into the hills.

I shook my head.

“They say it appears only to those who are lost. Not lost like ‘oops I took the wrong turn,’ but… lost in life.”

“That sounds dramatic.”

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “But cool, right?”

“…And you want to find it?”

“Of course. I’ve been trying for weeks. But I think I was missing something.”

“What?”

She turned to me and said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Someone to be lost with.”

Scene 3: The First Climb

The path narrowed as we entered the forest. It wasn’t deep or dangerous, but few people ever came here. Twisted trees lined the way, and the sounds of town faded behind us like the closing of a book.

I noticed the way Hikari would stop every few minutes to draw something—a moss-covered rock, a bird in flight, the way sunlight pierced through the branches.

She made everything feel significant. Even the ordinary.

We talked a little—about books we liked, weird stories from school, how she once climbed into a well just to see how deep it went. I listened more than I spoke, but with her, that was okay. She didn’t fill silences to avoid them; she just let them breathe.

Eventually, we reached a slope, and beyond it… a clearing.

And there it was.

Scene 4: The Hidden Lake

The lake was small—almost too small to deserve the name. But it was beautiful. Mirror-still, cradled in trees, with fallen petals drifting across its surface like tiny boats.

“See?” Hikari whispered. “Told you it was real.”

We sat at the edge, knees brushing, watching the water ripple as a breeze passed.

“I used to think,” she said quietly, “that if I could find one place the world had forgotten, maybe I could hide in it. Stay there forever.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes… the world is too loud.”

I nodded. I understood more than I could say.

She leaned back on her hands, eyes closed, hair catching the sunlight.

“Let’s make a promise, Amano-kun.”

“…What kind of promise?”

“That we’ll go on as many adventures as we can before summer ends.”

“Why summer?”

She opened her eyes and smiled. “Because that’s when everything changes.”

She held out her pinky.

I stared at it for a second, then linked mine with hers.

Our first promise.

A quiet echo of forever, sealed beneath the pale spring sky.

Scene 5: The Walk Back

We walked home as the sun dipped low, turning the clouds gold. Neither of us said much. We didn’t need to.

When we reached the edge of town, she turned to me.

“Thanks for today, Amano-kun.”

“…You’re the one who invited me.”

“I mean it,” she said. “I haven’t smiled like that in a while.”

Then, before I could respond, she did something strange—she took off running, laughing, like a child chasing the wind.

“Race you tomorrow!” she called.

And just like that, she vanished into the streetlight-dappled dusk.

Scene 6: That Night

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I kept thinking about the lake. The pinky promise. The way Hikari looked when she talked about forgotten places.

It was strange.

I had known her for just two days.

And already, it felt like I didn’t want to imagine a world without her in it.

[To Be Continued]