Chapter 2: Her Smile, His Darkness
The sky was painted a dull gray, matching the silence that clung to the narrow hallway outside Haruki's apartment. Rinako stood there, nervously shifting the bag in her hands. It wasn't heavy, just filled with snacks and a few homemade rice balls, but her heart felt like it weighed a thousand kilos.
She had told the teacher she'd check on him. She didn't expect to feel this nervous doing it.
Her hand hovered in the air for a moment before she knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again, louder this time. "Haruki? It's me, Rinako. From class. You okay in there?"
Still silence.
Rinako frowned and pressed her ear to the door. Nothing. Then, just as she was about to give up, the door creaked open slightly. Haruki stood there, half-hidden behind the doorframe. His eyes were tired, sunken, and bloodshot. His hair was messier than ever, and there was a bitter odor coming from inside—instant ramen, maybe? Or maybe just despair.
"What do you want?" His voice was hoarse, almost broken.
"I brought snacks," she said softly, holding up the bag. "And… a bit of sunshine."
He stared at her like she was speaking a different language.
"I don't need anyone's pity," he muttered, ready to shut the door.
But she stuck her foot in the way. "It's not pity. It's... because I've been there too."
He paused.
That wasn't what he expected.
"Just give me five minutes," she said, stepping in before he could refuse.
His apartment was exactly what she feared—small, dark, unkempt. A single futon in the corner, empty cup noodles scattered near the trash bin, a broken fan spinning lazily on the floor.
"This place is kinda sad," she said bluntly, dropping her bag on the table.
Haruki didn't reply. He sat down on the edge of his futon and stared at the floor like it had something interesting to say.
"You know," Rinako said, opening her bag, "people used to laugh at me too. They called me a walking marshmallow in middle school. Some boys would moo when I walked by."
Haruki blinked. That... was unexpected.
"But I didn't break," she continued, smiling as she unwrapped a rice ball. "Not because I was strong, but because someone once told me, 'If you can laugh through pain, the world loses its power over you.' So I laughed. A lot. Even when it hurt."
She offered him a rice ball. He didn't take it at first. But after a long pause, he reached out.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
They sat in silence, eating. It wasn't awkward. Just quiet. Comfortably quiet.
"You really liked her, didn't you?" Rinako asked gently, not needing to say Yua's name.
He gave a bitter chuckle. "Yeah. Since childhood. I thought… maybe one day, she'd remember the old me."
"And now?"
"I'm just a joke to her."
Rinako watched him, her eyes soft. "Then let's change the joke. Rewrite the punchline."
Haruki looked at her, confused. "What?"
"I'll help you," she said brightly. "Not just with your image—but with everything. Your routine. Your confidence. Let's fix what life tried to break."
He scoffed. "Why would you do that for me?"
Rinako smiled, tapping his forehead. "Because I see myself in you. And I wish someone had helped me back then."
He didn't have a response. Just stared at her as if trying to understand why her presence didn't make him want to run away.
As she packed up to leave, she turned at the door and grinned. "Tomorrow morning. 6 a.m. Be ready. We're going for a jog."
"I don't jog."
"You do now."
She waved and left before he could argue.
As the door clicked shut, Haruki stared at the bag of leftover rice balls on the table, then at the calendar on the wall. Dust-covered dates. All the same until today.
Maybe… maybe something was about to change.
And maybe, just maybe… her smile was the first light he'd seen in a long, long time.
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