The dusty air of the stairwell offered no solace, only the echo of my own ragged breathing. Eventually, the metallic tang of panic began to fade, replaced by a dull, throbbing dread. I couldn't hide forever. Ms. Sato had assigned me to that group – Haru's group. The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea through me. Haru, who Emi had linked me with, Haru whose sketch was hidden in my violated notebook, Haru who might have seen… whatever that strange shimmer had been.
My legs felt like lead as I forced myself to stand. Each step back towards the classroom, now repurposed with scraped-together islands of desks for group work, was a monumental effort. The cheerful din of festival planning assaulted me as I paused in the doorway, my gaze sweeping the room until I found them.
Haru's group had claimed a cluster of desks near the windows, slightly apart from the louder, more boisterous clusters. Besides Haru, there were two other students. A quiet girl with sleek, dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, her attention fixed on a notepad where she was already sketching something – a diagram, perhaps. And a boy with glasses perched on his nose, flipping through a thick book with an air of serious concentration. They both seemed…calm. Normal. Unlike the churning chaos inside me.
Taking a breath that did little to steady my racing heart, I approached. My shadow fell across their table. Three heads looked up. The girl with the ponytail offered a small, hesitant smile. The boy with glasses blinked at me, his expression neutral. And Haru… Haru simply looked at me, his blue eyes steady, that familiar, unreadable expression in place.
My throat was so tight I doubted I could have spoken even if I were able. I gave a tiny, awkward bow, my gaze fixed somewhere around Haru's shoulder. I wanted to write something in my notebook, a simple, 'Ms. Sato assigned me here,' but the thought of Emi's mocking voice, of my private words being exposed again, made my hand clench. I couldn't. Not yet.
An awkward silence stretched, amplifying the frantic thumping in my chest. I felt my cheeks begin to burn. Just turn around. Run away.
Then, Haru shifted slightly, creating a small gap between his chair and the girl's. He didn't say anything, didn't even make a specific gesture towards the empty space. He just… made room.
It was such a small thing, almost unnoticeable. But it was an invitation, of sorts. Or at least, not a rejection. Swallowing hard, I slowly pulled up a nearby empty chair and sat at the edge of the newly formed space, perching stiffly, ready to bolt. I kept my hands tightly clasped in my lap, terrified they might betray me again with some unwanted gesture, some accidental spark.
The girl with the ponytail spoke first, her voice soft. "I'm Aya. And this is Kenji." She gestured with her pen towards the boy with glasses, who nodded briefly without looking up from his book. "We were just starting to think about the protective spirits theme for the exhibit."
I nodded, keeping my eyes mostly downcast. Aya and Kenji began to talk, their voices a low murmur. Kenji, it turned out, was a fountain of information on local folklore, referencing obscure texts and local legends about guardian entities and the significance of certain shrines. Aya was the artist, translating his dense knowledge into visual concepts, her pencil moving quickly across her notepad, sketching intricate symbols and flowing, ethereal shapes.
Haru was quieter. He listened intently, occasionally interjecting with a thoughtful question that would make Kenji pause and reconsider, or offering a suggestion to Aya that would make her tilt her head and then nod with dawning understanding. He seemed to be the anchor of the group, guiding their separate talents into a cohesive direction.
I listened too, or tried to. My mind was a whirlwind. Don't make any sudden movements. Keep your hands still. What if that shimmer happens again? What if they see? What if Haru knows? Every so often, I'd risk a fleeting glance at him. He never seemed to be looking directly at me, his focus on Aya's sketches or Kenji's explanations. Yet, I felt his presence acutely, a calm, steady point in my peripheral vision.
Once, Aya held up a sketch of a swirling, almost flame-like creature. "What if we represent the spirit's energy like this? Something dynamic, almost alive?"
Kenji frowned. "Traditionally, they're seen as more… stoic. Guardians. Not so volatile."
Haru leaned closer to look at the sketch. "Maybe it depends on the spirit," he mused, his voice low. "Some could be fiery, others more like a deep pool of water." He glanced briefly, almost accidentally, in my direction, then back at the sketch. "Or like a whisper in the air."
My breath caught. A whisper. Like the whispers in my hands. Was he… No. It was just a turn of phrase. A coincidence. He couldn't possibly know anything.
Emi and Rika sauntered past our table, their voices deliberately loud. "Oh, look, Haru's group got stuck with the silent treatment," Emi called out, not even bothering to look at me. "Good luck getting any bright ideas from her."
My shoulders tensed. I shrank further into my chair, wishing I could meld with the wood.
Aya frowned slightly in Emi's direction but said nothing. Kenji didn't even look up. Haru's expression didn't change, his gaze still on Aya's drawing. He simply picked up a spare sheet of paper and a pencil from the center of the table and pushed them gently across the surface until they rested near my clasped hands. He didn't look at me. He just continued his conversation with Aya and Kenji as if nothing had happened.
My eyes fixed on the blank paper, the sharpened pencil. It was another offering. A silent permission to speak, if I chose to. My fingers twitched. The idea I'd had earlier, about using sign language in a visual display, flickered again. But the fear was too strong, the memory of Emi's mockery too fresh. I couldn't risk it. I left the paper untouched.
The bell for the end of the period vibrated through the floor. Relief, so potent it almost buckled my knees, washed through me. I practically jumped from my chair, grabbing my bag.
"We'll meet again tomorrow, same time?" Aya asked, offering me another small, kind smile.
I managed a jerky nod and fled, not looking back, my heart still pounding, my mind a confused jumble of fear, awkwardness, and a tiny, inexplicable something else.
Haru hadn't spoken a word to me directly. He hadn't looked at me for more than a fraction of a second. And yet… he'd made space for me. He'd given me paper. He hadn't let Emi's taunt visibly affect him or the group's work.
Was it politeness? Indifference? Or something else?
I didn't know. And the not knowing, I realized as I hurried down the corridor, was almost as unsettling as the fear itself. But it was a different kind of unsettling. Less like a cold dread, and more like a tentative, hesitant question mark hanging in the air.