Chapter 1: Sunrise
The sun was already high by the time I hurried out the door, my bag slung over my shoulder as I rushed toward the station.
Living with Hana and Tsubaki had made mornings a little easier—no tense breakfasts, no walking on eggshells—but the adjustment still felt surreal.
There was relief in leaving behind the stifling atmosphere of home, yet an underlying guilt gnawed at me when I thought about how things had ended. I felt safe here, truly safe, but the echoes of my father’s words hadn’t faded entirely. Still, waking up to Tsubaki humming as she brewed coffee or Hana reminding me to take my time getting ready made it easier to believe that this new normal could last.
Their apartment was smaller but warmer, filled with the kind of comfort that made it hard to leave in the mornings. Everything felt... different now. Lighter. Brighter. Like something inside me had shifted over the summer, even if I couldn’t quite put it into words.
The streets were alive with early commuters, the rhythmic tapping of shoes against pavement mixing with the hum of traffic.
The familiar scent of fresh coffee and bakery goods drifted through the air from a nearby stall, blending into the morning routine of the city. As I turned the last corner toward the station, my eyes landed on Miki and Tsumuraya standing near the ticket gates, their contrasting personalities on full display.
Miki, my ever-expressive and theatrical girlfriend, was furiously tapping at her phone, her brow furrowed in what was probably an aggressive debate in some group chat about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza.
Knowing her, she was defending it with the same energy she would in an actual war. Her loose tie swung slightly with every dramatic movement, and every so often, she let out an exasperated huff under her breath.
Tsumuraya, on the other hand, stood poised beside her, effortlessly composed. She adjusted the cuffs of her blazer with slow, deliberate movements, the green streaks in her black hair catching in the morning light as she tilted her head slightly, observing Miki’s antics with quiet amusement.
As I approached, Miki groaned loudly, still glued to her screen. “I swear, if one more person types ‘LOL’ without contributing anything useful, I’m going to lose it.”
As I stepped closer, Miki looked up first, her expression shifting instantly into a wide grin. “Yo, Izumi! Almost thought you’d miss the train. You didn’t sleep in, did you?”
I exhaled a small laugh, shifting the strap of my bag. “No, just... took my time this morning.” I had spent a little longer getting ready, even if it wasn’t obvious. My hair was finally growing out past my ears, and though I wasn’t ready to wear skirts or blouses to school yet, I had experimented with a little concealer and lip tint. Small steps, but ones that felt important.
Tsumuraya gave me a small nod, the green streaks in her hair catching the morning light as she pulled out her phone. A second later, mine buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Tsumuraya: You look really pretty today.
My heart stuttered. I pressed my lips together, warmth creeping up my neck. I glanced at Tsumuraya, who was already looking away, her face unreadable as usual. I smiled, tucking my phone away just as the train doors slid open.
Miki, my ever-dramatic and chaotic girlfriend, followed me onto the train and immediately latched onto my arm before launching into conversation. “So I told my cousin I’d help her set up for this weird board game night she’s hosting, but I have no idea what any of these games are. Like, why are there so many rules? I swear, it’s like homework disguised as fun.”
“It depends on the game,” I said, leaning against the train doors. “Some are more about strategy, some are just for fun.”
“I just want to roll dice and yell dramatically,” Miki said with a sigh. “If I wanted to do math, I’d pay attention in class.”
Tsumuraya typed something into her phone, and a second later, her text-to-speech voice spoke aloud for everyone to hear: “Board games are just structured storytelling. You’d like it if you gave it a chance.”
I smirked and glanced at her. She wasn’t looking at me, but there was something almost playful in the way she tapped her nails against her phone case.
Miki, still oblivious, huffed. “That sounds like propaganda.”
I caught my reflection in the train window—soft, barely-there makeup smoothing out the exhaustion under my eyes, my hair longer than it had been at the start of summer. It was still short enough that no one questioned it, but every extra inch felt like a quiet act of rebellion, a small defiance against the person I had been forced to be.
I wasn’t ready for all the drama that would come from coming out at school yet, but this? This was something. I studied my reflection for a moment longer, tracing the slight change in my face, the way the lip tint added a warmth I hadn’t let myself embrace before. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. It was still short enough to be shrugged off as a different style, but I knew the reason why I was letting it grow out. Small steps. Tsubaki had called them “acts of becoming.”
Miki stretched against my arm, oblivious to my thoughts. “Ugh, this school year is already exhausting and it hasn’t even started properly. What if we just, I don’t know, collectively agreed to drop out and start a traveling circus? I’d be great at fire-eating.”
“You’d set yourself on fire in two seconds,” I said, smirking.
“She would,” Tsumuraya’s text-to-speech voice chimed in, flat and matter-of-fact.
Miki gasped dramatically. “You two are supposed to believe in me! Betrayal!”
I let myself laugh, letting the warmth of their presence settle around me. It really did feel normal. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder—would things stay that way?
The train slowed as we neared our stop, the familiar recorded announcement crackling through the speakers. I adjusted my bag strap as we stepped off onto the platform, the morning rush folding around us.
The school was only a short walk away, but the streets here always felt busier, full of students weaving in and out of the crowd, last-minute breakfast purchases in hand. The scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery mixed with the crisp morning air, and for a moment, I let myself take it in.
Miki stretched, stifling a yawn. “Ugh, why do mornings exist? We should start a petition to push school back by, like, three hours.” She draped herself over my shoulder dramatically, like she was moments from passing out.
I rolled my eyes but didn’t push her away. It was such a Miki thing to do—complain loudly about something minor, exaggerate it to high heaven, then move on like nothing happened. And somehow, I found it kind of endearing.”
Tsumuraya’s text-to-speech chimed in as she typed quickly: “Unrealistic, but amusing.”
Miki gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Betrayed by all of my friends. Is nothing sacred?”
I smiled as we made our way up the hill toward the school gates, the morning sun casting long shadows ahead of us.
By the time we reached school, the front courtyard was buzzing with students. As soon as we stepped through the gates, a familiar voice called out.
“Izumi! You made it just in time!”
Haruki’s voice cut through the morning noise, clear and brimming with energy.
A second later, he was jogging toward me, his soccer bag slung over one shoulder, his uniform slightly disheveled like he had already been practicing before school even started. His golden-brown hair was slightly damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, and his usual confident grin stretched wide across his face. His presence had a certain magnetic quality, like the world naturally moved in rhythm with him.
“Izumi!” he called, waving enthusiastically before stopping just in front of me, practically bouncing on his heels. “Did you hear? We have a big match coming up—some scouts might be there. It’s huge! I could really use some moral support.”
I blinked, caught off guard by how bright his grin was, how the energy around him always seemed infectious. “Oh, wow, scouts? That’s a big deal, right?”
Haruki nodded eagerly, shifting his soccer bag higher on his shoulder. “Yeah, exactly! This could be the chance to start making a name for myself. But, you know, it’d be easier to keep my head in the game if I had my best supporters there.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, his expression turning just a little more serious. “Especially you. You’ll come watch, right?”
I hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. Haruki was always like this—confident, driven, and completely unafraid to say what he wanted. It made moments like this feel oddly intimate, even if he didn’t mean them that way. Or maybe he did.
I buffered for half a second, caught off guard by the way his eyes flickered with something beyond just excitement—maybe nervousness? Hope? I nodded, shifting my bag slightly. “Of course. I’ll be there.”
His grin widened, and he clapped a hand on my shoulder, the warmth of it lingering even after he pulled away. “Awesome! I’ll be looking for you in the stands, then.” He jogged back toward his teammates, already launching into an animated discussion about strategies.
As he disappeared into the crowd, Miki leaned toward me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders in an exaggerated show of affection. “You do know he’s totally inviting you personally, right? My super cool, totally adorable boyfriend getting a personal invite from Haruki—should I be jealous?”
“What? No, he’s just excited about the match,” I muttered, suddenly very interested in the ground beneath me.
Miki hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
Tsumuraya simply typed something into her phone, and a second later, her text-to-speech voice spoke aloud for everyone to hear: “He does look at you a lot.”
I groaned. “Not you too.”
Miki cackled, squeezing my shoulders before letting go. “Don’t worry, Izumi I’ll protect you from Haruki’s undeniable charm.”
We made our way into the school building, and as we passed the second-year lockers, I caught sight of Ichiha, their arms crossed, wearing their usual confident smirk. Their eyes flicked up briefly, assessing their surroundings like they always did—sharp, calculating, and just a little bit amused.
They shifted their weight lazily against the lockers, one brow raised as if the world itself was their stage. Across from them stood a tall boy with deep blue hair, his baseball bag slung over one shoulder. His posture was relaxed but poised, the kind of person who was used to being watched but didn’t mind it.
Ichiha leaned in slightly, their voice low and teasing. The boy chuckled, shaking his head before adjusting the strap of his bag with an easy confidence. “See you later, Tamaki,” they called after him as he walked off, their smirk deepening as he glanced back at them one last time.
Miki nudged me. “Who’s that?” she asked, eyes flicking between Ichiha and Tamaki with curiosity.
“No idea,” I admitted, still watching the way Ichiha watched him leave. Something told me we’d be seeing more of him soon.
Class was already filling up when we stepped inside. I slid into my seat, my fingers automatically reaching for the Kotetsi charm hanging from my bag. The cool metal pressed into my palm, grounding me as I twirled it between my fingers.
So much had happened over the summer. I still wasn’t sure how to process it all. It felt like stepping back into a life that was supposed to be the same—but wasn’t. Like I was playing a role I wasn’t sure fit me anymore.
Miki flopped into the seat next to mine, dramatically resting her head against my shoulder like she was about to faint from exhaustion. “Man, I already feel like I need another vacation. How are we supposed to survive the school year after that summer?”
I let out a small chuckle. “It was kind of a lot.”
“Kinda? It was wild,” Miki said, propping her chin on her hand. “We should talk about it later. We should have a debrief.”
“A debrief?”
“Yeah, like in spy movies. Sit in a dark room with a single lamp overhead and be all mysterious about it. ‘The mission was a success, but at what cost?’”
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “You watch too many movies.”
Tsumuraya, as always, had already pulled out her phone. A second later, her text-to-speech chimed in, its robotic monotone blending into the rhythm of our morning routine. “I’ll bring the lamp,” it announced, and Miki snorted before nudging my arm.
“See? Even Tsumuraya is committed to the bit. We should make this official. Operation Summer Secrets: Debrief.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. It was just one of those things that made our group, well... us.
I laughed, shaking my head as the teacher walked in and the chatter in the room settled down.
I glanced out the window, watching as the morning light poured into the classroom. The warmth of the sun against the glass should have felt comforting, but instead, it reminded me of summer—the sweltering afternoons spent lost in thought, the late-night conversations with Tsubaki and Hana, the moments that felt like pieces of myself finally fitting into place.
Now, back in this familiar setting, everything felt like it should be normal again, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to return to the routine as if nothing had changed. Would people notice the difference in me? Could I even pretend things were the same? A new day.
A new start.
But even as I let myself breathe it in, my mind drifted back to summer—the long, heated days, the nights spent tangled in thoughts I hadn’t been ready to face, the moments that changed everything. It was strange, how the past felt both distant and right on my heels, waiting for the right moment to catch up.
