The warmth of Kaito's hand lingered in Ayumi's memory long after the festival ended.
For days afterward, her thoughts kept returning to that quiet moment in the garden — fingers brushing, palms meeting, his thumb tracing gentle circles over her knuckles.
But more than the feeling itself, it was what it meant.
Did Kaito realize what he'd done? Was it just a casual gesture — something fleeting — or was there more to it?
Ayumi didn't know how to ask.
---
Meanwhile, Kaito had his own dilemma.
He sat at his desk, tapping his pen against a notebook. The paper in front of him was covered in messy kanji — some correct, some horribly wrong.
He had started writing letters.
It began as practice — a way to improve his kanji since Japanese wasn't his first language. But the more he wrote, the more these "practice letters" became something else entirely.
Each letter turned into things he couldn't say aloud — thoughts that felt too heavy, too awkward to bring up in conversation.
"I don't know why I care so much if you're okay, but I do."
"I'm always worried I'll say the wrong thing."
"When you smiled at me during the festival... it felt like the world stopped."
He never intended to send them.
But still, he kept writing.
---
One evening, Ayumi arrived early for their study session. Kaito wasn't back yet, so she waited in his family's living room.
Books were scattered on the table — his kanji workbook, a half-finished math worksheet... and a folded piece of paper with her name on it.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Is this… for me?
Curious, she opened it.
The handwriting was messy but legible. The first few lines seemed like harmless practice sentences — introductions, polite phrases, random vocabulary.
But then the words changed.
> I don't know how to say this, but you make me nervous. In a good way.
You're... special.I feel like I understand things better when I'm with you.
I don't know if you'll ever feel the same way, but... I think I'm falling for you.
Ayumi froze, her eyes wide.
Her fingers hovered over the page as if touching the words might erase them.
She read the letter again — slower this time — feeling her pulse quicken with every word.
Was this a joke?
But no... this was Kaito's handwriting. His clumsy kanji. His voice written out in ink.
He meant it.
---
When Kaito returned, Ayumi still sat on the couch, the letter folded tightly in her hands.
"Oh," Kaito said, surprised. "You're early."
She stood quickly, stuffing the letter back between the pages of his notebook.
I didn't mean to read it, she signed hurriedly.
Kaito frowned. "Read what?"
Ayumi hesitated, guilt tightening her chest.
The letter... the one with my name on it.
His expression shifted from confusion to panic.
"You read that?" His voice cracked slightly.
Ayumi's hands twitched as she tried to respond, but no words came to mind.
"I didn't... I mean..." Kaito raked a hand through his hair, flustered. "That was just... practice writing! It's nothing!"
His voice was too fast, too loud — like he was scrambling to bury the words that were already out in the open.
Ayumi's hands moved before she could second-guess herself.
You said I was special.
Kaito froze.
"You... you understood that?"
I'm not fluent, she signed slowly, but I know enough to read that much.
Kaito groaned and sank onto the couch, his head in his hands. "Great. Fantastic. Just go ahead and forget it, okay?"
Why? Ayumi's fingers tightened. Why would you write that if you didn't mean it?
"I didn't say I didn't mean it," Kaito mumbled. "I just... wasn't planning to say it yet."
His voice was quieter now — softer.
Ayumi's breath caught.
He wasn't denying it.
---
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Kaito sat up, meeting her gaze. "I know I'm probably the last person you expected to say something like that. But... yeah. I like you."
The words hung in the air, fragile but certain.
Ayumi felt her hands move again, this time without thinking.
Why me?
"Why not you?" Kaito shot back, almost offended. "You're smart. And funny. And... I just feel like I can be myself when I'm with you." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know I screw things up sometimes — I get words wrong or sign something embarrassing — but... you still put up with me."
Ayumi swallowed hard.
She wanted to say something — to tell him that his mistakes didn't bother her, that she felt safer with him than anyone else. That she liked him too.
But the words stuck.
Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the charm Kaito had won her at the festival. She held it out in her palm, fingers closing around his.
I kept this, she signed with her free hand. Because I didn't want to forget that day.
Kaito stared at her — startled, hopeful — before his hand tightened gently around hers.
"You're not the only one who remembers," he said softly.
In that moment, Ayumi realized she didn't need to find the perfect words.
The warmth of his hand — steady and sure — was enough.
---
To Be Continue