Spring had arrived, quiet and shy—just like her.
Yuki Shirakawa stood alone outside the classroom door, clutching the strap of her schoolbag with both hands. Her long, snow-white hair shimmered softly under the morning light, and her pale blue eyes blinked slowly, nervously, as voices echoed from the classroom.
They'll stare, she thought. They always do.
Inside, students chatted loudly about club sign-ups and new homeroom teachers. But by the window, one boy sat quietly, eyes drifting between the sky and the blossoms outside.
Haruki Aozora liked peaceful mornings. He wasn't the loudest or the most exciting in class, but he always smiled when he could, and he had a gentle way of noticing things others didn't.
Like the way cherry blossom petals danced in the wind.
Or how empty the seat next to him was.
"Alright, everyone, settle down," the teacher said, stepping in. "We have a transfer student today."
The door slid open with a soft click.
Haruki turned to look—and time paused.
She stepped in slowly, like she didn't want to disturb the air around her. Her snow-colored hair fell past her shoulders, and her expression was calm but fragile, like porcelain that might crack under a breath.
"My name is Yuki Shirakawa," she said, voice as light as a breeze. "I just moved here. I hope we can get along."
There was a long moment of silence before the teacher nodded.
"Thank you, Shirakawa-san. You can sit next to Aozora-kun—Haruki, by the window."
As she walked over, her eyes flicked to him for just a second.
Haruki sat a little straighter. He wasn't sure why.
She sat down beside him without a word. Up close, her presence felt even softer, like a snowflake that hadn't melted yet.
"I'm Haruki," he said quietly, trying not to sound awkward. "Welcome to our class."
She blinked and gave a tiny nod, not quite a smile—but close.
He thought maybe, just maybe, she looked a little less nervous now.
Outside, a breeze carried a few blossoms through the window. One landed gently on the corner of her desk.
And as Haruki glanced at her once more, he thought—
She looks like spring snow.