The memory of that quiet morning in the library lingered with Kaito for days.
He couldn't forget how peaceful it had felt — waking up with Ayumi beside him, her sleepy smile still vivid in his mind. The warmth of her shoulder resting against his, the way her fingers had brushed his hand before she left — none of it would leave him.
Kaito knew what it meant.
He liked her.
No — he loved her.
The thought terrified him. He barely knew how to say it in Japanese. How was he supposed to confess in sign language — without messing it up?
---
"You're overthinking it," Emi said, flicking his forehead with her pencil.
"Ow!" Kaito scowled.
"I'm serious," Emi grinned. "You've been moody for days."
"I'm not moody," Kaito muttered.
"You're definitely moody," Emi shot back. "Look, Ayumi's not expecting Shakespeare. Just... tell her what's on your mind."
"That's easy for you to say," Kaito grumbled. "You're fluent. I... I still mess up basic signs."
Emi paused, watching him carefully. "Then mess up," she said simply. "It's not about saying it perfectly. It's about meaning it."
Kaito sighed, rubbing his hands together anxiously.
"Just... don't overthink it," Emi added.
---
That night, Kaito practiced for hours.
He stood in front of his mirror, repeating each sign over and over. His fingers stumbled, his timing felt awkward, and half the time he forgot whether to use one hand or two.
But still, he kept going.
He practiced until his muscles ached, until the words felt less like motions and more like his own.
Until he was ready.
---
The next day, Kaito found Ayumi at the park, camera in hand. She was crouched near a patch of wildflowers, adjusting her lens to capture the sunlight filtering through the petals.
For a moment, Kaito just watched her — the way her hair caught the breeze, the way her eyes lit up when she found the perfect angle.
His heart pounded.
Now or never.
"Hey," Kaito called softly.
Ayumi looked up, smiling when she saw him.
Hi.
Kaito stepped closer, nerves making his hands tremble.
"I, uh..." He swallowed hard. "Can I... show you something?"
Curious, Ayumi nodded.
Kaito inhaled deeply — and began to sign.
I'm... not very good at this, he started. His fingers stumbled slightly, but he pressed on.
But... I've been wanting to say this for a while.
Ayumi's smile softened, but her eyes were guarded.
Kaito's fingers moved slower now, more deliberate.
When I'm with you... I feel different.
You make me want to try harder. To understand you better... because you're important to me.
His chest tightened. His next words were the hardest to say — but his hands knew the shape now.
I love you.
The air felt still.
Ayumi's eyes widened, and for a long moment, she didn't move.
Kaito's hands dropped to his sides. "I... I'm sorry if that's too much," he blurted. "I just... I had to say it."
Ayumi stepped closer — so close that Kaito forgot how to breathe.
Then, gently, her hands reached out and took his.
I know, she signed against his fingers.
Kaito blinked. "You...?"
Her fingers moved again. I know.
And...
Her hand hesitated, curling into a fist near her chest — the sign for love.
Then, she brought her fingers forward — I love you too.
For a moment, all Kaito could do was stare.
"You... really mean that?" His voice broke slightly.
Ayumi smiled — that warm, radiant smile he'd fallen for.
I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it.
Kaito laughed — shaky, breathless, and amazed. "Wow..."
Ayumi let go of his hands only to brush her fingers lightly against his face — a silent gesture that said everything words couldn't.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
They didn't need to.
---
Later that night, Kaito sat at his desk, staring at a half-written letter — one of the many unsent confessions he'd been too scared to deliver.
He didn't need it anymore.
Instead, he grabbed a fresh sheet of paper.
Dear Ayumi,
I'm still learning how to say things the right way... but I hope I never stop trying.
Yours, Kaito
---
To Be Continue