The warmth of yesterday still lingered in Kaito's mind. The way Ayumi had signed Tomorrow?—the small but hopeful question—felt like a reassurance that their friendship hadn't been shaken by the careless words of others.
But when tomorrow arrived, something still wasn't quite right.
Ayumi was there. She met him at their usual spot by the school entrance. She smiled when he waved. She nodded when he signed Good morning. But there was something hesitant in her eyes, a subtle distance in the way she held herself.
Kaito wasn't sure how he knew—maybe it was the way she hesitated before responding, or the way her gaze flickered away just a little too quickly.
She was still withdrawing.
And this time, he wasn't going to let it slide.
---
At lunch, instead of heading to the cafeteria, Kaito grabbed his notebook and motioned for Ayumi to follow him. She hesitated at first, but after a moment, she nodded.
He led her to the rooftop, where the noise of students faded into the open sky.
Ayumi stood by the railing, her hands resting lightly against the metal. The wind played with the strands of her hair, but she didn't turn toward him.
Kaito didn't need words to understand what that meant.
He pulled out his notebook and wrote a simple sentence.
Are you still upset about yesterday?
Ayumi blinked as he held the page out to her. Then, after a pause, she reached into her bag, pulled out her own notebook, and wrote back.
I told you, I'm fine.
Kaito frowned. He tapped his pen against the notebook, thinking, before writing again.
You're not.
Ayumi exhaled, her lips pressing together. Then, with careful strokes, she responded.
Why does it matter so much to you?
Kaito stared at the words for a moment.
There were a dozen ways he could answer. He could tell her that seeing her upset bothered him more than he expected. He could say that he hated the way she had started to pull away, as if trying to make things easier for him when he didn't want that.
But instead, he wrote something simpler.
Because you matter.
Ayumi's fingers froze.
For a long moment, she didn't move. Then, slowly, she lifted her pen and wrote back.
Even when it's difficult?
Kaito didn't hesitate.
Especially then.
Ayumi stared at the page, her breath catching slightly.
She had spent so much of her life making things easier for others—adapting, adjusting, accepting that some people would never try to meet her halfway. But Kaito had never once made her feel like she was a burden. He learned her language, even when he fumbled. He stayed, even when things were complicated.
And now, here he was, spelling it out in ink, in a way that left no room for misunderstanding.
She mattered to him.
Not because he felt bad. Not because it was convenient.
Just because.
Her fingers hovered over the page, unsure of what to write next.
She could have thanked him. She could have deflected with a joke. But instead, she did something else.
She reached out and gently tapped her fingertips against the back of his hand.
A silent confession.
Kaito's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't pull away.
Instead, he lifted his hand and, in response, gently tapped the back of hers.
A quiet understanding passed between them. No grand words. No dramatic speeches. Just this—just them.
And for the first time in days, Ayumi didn't feel invisible.
---
As they walked back to class, Ayumi felt lighter.
Kaito glanced at her as they reached the classroom door, hesitating before lifting his hands.
Tomorrow?
Ayumi's lips curved into a soft smile.
Tomorrow.
And this time, she didn't have to think twice before answering.
---
To Be Continue