Takuma wandered through the school courtyard after classes, only half-aware of where he was going. He was thinking of last night at Miu’s house and, more specifically, her mom’s horrified look when he almost knocked over the priceless vase by the door. He was lost in thought, imagining all the ways she could ban him from coming over, when he heard a voice call out.

“Takuma!” Miu’s voice sounded from behind him. He turned, seeing her rushing over with a small bag in her hands, face slightly flushed.

“You lost something?” he asked, eyeing the bag.

“Actually,” she said, catching her breath, “I brought this for you.” She handed him the bag, looking strangely nervous.

Takuma raised a brow, peering into it. His eyes widened as he saw… an assortment of vitamins, an energy drink, and… was that a pamphlet?

“What’s this? A ‘get healthy’ kit?” he said, half-amused, half-bewildered.

She sighed, slightly embarrassed. “I noticed… well, you don’t sleep much, right? And you’re always training, which means your diet probably isn’t the best. I thought these might help keep you on track.”

Takuma laughed, shaking his head. “What gave it away? My constant caffeine intake or the fact that I look like I’m half-zombie most of the time?”

“Maybe both?” she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I just thought it might be nice.”

“Nice?” he repeated, teasing. “You do know I can throw someone across a room, right? Don’t think I’m in danger of dropping dead anytime soon.”

Miu rolled her eyes, exasperated but also amused. “Fine, be stubborn. But I’m just saying—you could use the vitamins.”

Takuma chuckled, taking the bag. “Alright, alright. I’ll try it. But only because I trust your ‘medical’ expertise, Dr. Miu.”

They continued walking, and after a moment, Miu hesitated, looking around as if worried someone might overhear. “So, um, do you have any plans for tonight?”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Why, you need a bodyguard or something?”

She swatted his arm, but her face softened. “Actually, I thought… maybe you’d want to come over and, you know, help me with studying?”

Takuma blinked. “Studying? Wait, didn’t we just finish that big test last week?”

“Well… yes,” she stammered, clearly flustered. “But I meant, you know, to keep our skills sharp! And besides, there’s another… project, remember? And you’re not… bad at helping.”

Takuma raised an eyebrow, trying to contain his grin. “You know, Miu, you could just say you want me around.”

Miu’s face turned beet-red. “Wh-what?! That’s not what I—”

“Relax, I’m kidding!” Takuma interrupted, laughing. “I’d be honored to be your ‘study buddy,’” he said, emphasizing the last words in an exaggerated way.

She huffed, crossing her arms as she tried to hide her smile. “Good, because I already made space for us to work in the dining room. So, see you at seven?”

“Seven it is,” he agreed, tossing her a playful salute before heading off.

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That evening, Takuma arrived at Miu’s house, only to be greeted by her mom, who eyed him with a suspicious look.

“Takuma,” her mom said, arms crossed, “no breaking anything tonight, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, giving his most sincere nod. “I’ll avoid all priceless antiques.”

Miu appeared just then, waving him in. “Come on,” she said, grabbing his arm before he could put his foot in his mouth any further.

As they settled into the dining room with their study materials spread out, Takuma couldn’t resist a glance around at the perfectly arranged house.

“Are you always this… organized?” he asked, amazed.

Miu raised an eyebrow. “It’s called being prepared.”

He chuckled. “For what, a surprise visit from royalty?”

Miu rolled her eyes but continued going through her notes. After a few minutes, she frowned, looking at him. “Are you even taking any of this seriously?”

“Who, me?” He held up his notes, which were filled with drawings rather than actual study material.

Miu groaned. “Why did I even think you’d help me study?”

He grinned. “Hey, I’m here for moral support. That counts for something, right?”

She sighed, but the smile on her face betrayed her frustration. “Fine. But if I fail this project because you keep distracting me…”

“Then you can blame me in front of the entire school,” he offered, laughing. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

As the night wore on, they found themselves actually managing to study, with Takuma occasionally cracking a joke to keep Miu from getting too serious. Finally, as the clock struck ten, Miu’s mom poked her head into the room.

“You two still at it?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Almost done, Mom,” Miu replied.

Her mom’s gaze lingered on Takuma. “Well, just don’t keep him here too late. I’m sure he has a bedtime too.”

Miu turned back to Takuma, trying to keep a straight face. “Hear that? Better head home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

Takuma smirked. “Don’t worry, Cinderella. I’ll leave before your mom decides I’m a permanent fixture here.”

As he walked out the door, he couldn’t resist one last jab. “Same time next week? I’ll bring more ‘healthy’ snacks,” he said, winking as he waved the bag she’d given him.

Miu rolled her eyes, fighting a smile as she closed the door behind him, wondering how this supposed study session had somehow turned into the highlight of her week.

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How Takuma got caught:

Takuma stood at Miu’s front door, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a slight scowl on his face as he remembered the reason he was here. Never again, he thought to himself, cringing at the memory.

The first few times he’d come to Miu’s house, he’d done his best to avoid her mom entirely—ducking behind walls, sidestepping quick hellos, making an art out of sneaking out as soon as the clock struck ten. But that all changed one fateful evening when he’d been caught mid-sneak by Mrs. Harada in what could only be described as his worst nightmare.

He’d come over to drop off some notes Miu had forgotten, thinking he’d be in and out before her mom even knew he was there. But just as he was leaving, he heard her mom call out from the hallway, “Takuma, wait! I just wanted to talk to you!”

Takuma had panicked, glancing wildly around before spotting an open door and, without thinking, darting into it to avoid the conversation.

Unfortunately, he’d chosen Miu’s mom’s walk-in closet.

“Um… Takuma?” Miu’s mom’s voice had called from right behind him, and he’d frozen like a deer in headlights, staring at her shoes, her scarves, and the faint perfume scent of everything around him.

“Uh… I was, uh… just… admiring the, um… the…,” he stammered, his voice dying out as he realized just how bad this looked.

“Were you… hiding from me?” she’d asked, crossing her arms with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Takuma had felt the heat crawl up his neck as he tried to recover. “Uh… no… maybe?”

After a long, awkward pause, she’d sighed and said, “Takuma, you’re here all the time. I’m not going to bite.”

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But the real humiliation had come when Miu had overheard the whole thing from down the hall, a hand clamped over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“You were in her closet?” she’d teased him relentlessly after he’d escaped her mom’s disapproving look. “Really?”

Since that night, Takuma figured he had two choices: keep hiding (and risk more closet incidents), or suck it up and face the occasional conversation with Miu’s mom like a normal human being. Begrudgingly, he chose the latter.

Tonight, as he stood on the front step waiting for Miu to answer the door, he still felt a lingering embarrassment. He was lost in his thoughts when the door suddenly swung open, and there stood Mrs. Harada herself, a knowing smile on her face.

“Takuma, right on time,” she greeted him, waving him in like he was part of the family.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mrs. Harada,” he mumbled, feeling that familiar awkwardness. “No… closet detours this time,” he added, a weak attempt at humor that made her chuckle.

“Good choice,” she replied, clearly amused. “Just don’t break anything tonight, alright?”

Right. Because that happened too, Takuma thought grimly, giving her a sheepish nod.

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In the kitchen, Miu was already busy chopping vegetables, barely stifling a smile as Takuma came in.

“Mom didn’t corner you, did she?” she asked, voice full of mock concern.

“Only slightly,” he grumbled, slipping off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “Can’t believe you left me to deal with that alone.”

“Hey, you brought it on yourself.” She grinned, pausing with the knife mid-air. “Not everyone hides in closets, you know.”

“Can we just… not talk about that?” he mumbled, grabbing a cutting board to help her.

The two worked in tandem, Miu giving instructions as Takuma did his best to follow her lead. Despite the lingering embarrassment, he couldn’t deny that it felt… normal, being here with her.

As he chopped, Takuma’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it, and a slight frown crossed his face.

“What’s wrong?” Miu asked, glancing over.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Just my mom wondering if I’m studying or ‘just visiting.’ You know, subtly checking up.”

“Want me to back you up?” Miu teased, waving a half-chopped carrot. “‘Miu Harada confirms Takuma’s at the study session of the century.’”

Takuma rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Very convincing. I’m sure my mom would believe it.”

“Hey, I can be professional if I want to be,” she protested, putting on her best serious face.

“You’re holding a carrot like it’s a microphone,” he pointed out dryly.

She looked down, realizing her mistake, and quickly tossed it back onto the cutting board, trying to hide her smile. “Well, not everyone’s a ‘closet professional’ like you, Takuma.”

“Really, Miu? We’re back to the closet thing?”

She grinned, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “Oh, come on. I’ll stop when you finally accept that my mom’s just a person.”

Takuma huffed, shaking his head, but he couldn’t stop the slight smile that tugged at his lips. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad—embarrassing memories and all.

Takuma closed the door behind him, the evening air melting into the warmth of his home. The familiar scent of cedar and freshly brewed tea filled the air—a subtle comfort he’d come to rely on. He wasn’t two steps into the hallway when a cheerful voice called out from the kitchen.

“Takuma! You’re home earlier than I expected.”

His mother emerged, wiping her hands on a dish towel with a bright smile on her face. Sayuri Kuroda was known for that smile—a warmth that could light up the coldest room and a quickness to laugh that could ease any tension. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and she had on her usual casual, oversized sweater that made her look relaxed and ready to listen.

“Hey, Mom,” Takuma replied, giving her a nod and a slight smile. He’d always admired her ability to make everything feel normal, no matter how strange or intense his day had been.

“So, how was school today? Any exciting battles in the arena of knowledge?” Sayuri teased, with a hint of dramatic flair in her voice.

Takuma chuckled. “Nothing like that,” he said, heading into the kitchen. “Though I did have another, uh… conversation with Mr. Tanaka.”

Sayuri raised her eyebrows, setting the towel down and crossing her arms with mock seriousness. “Again? Takuma, are you secretly a delinquent?”

Takuma rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If I were, I’d be a pretty bad one. I got caught in the school dojo… again.”

She snorted, barely able to suppress a laugh. “Ah, yes, my rebel son—causing chaos in the safest part of the school.” Her gaze softened, and she reached up to ruffle his hair, which he dodged with a slight groan. “But seriously, you’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, just the usual,” he said, feeling that familiar comfort that only his mom could bring. “Miu was there too. Things got a bit… intense.”

Sayuri’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Miu, huh? Sounds like you’re spending a lot of time with her.”

“Mom, it’s not like that,” he mumbled, feeling a slight heat on his cheeks. “We’re just friends. She was… she needed help.”

“Of course, of course,” she said, a teasing smile lingering on her lips. “But she must be pretty special if she’s willing to spend time with a ‘dojo delinquent.’”

Takuma laughed, despite himself, shaking his head. “You’re never going to let that one go, are you?”

Sayuri grinned. “Never.”

She turned back to the stove, stirring a pot that filled the kitchen with the savory aroma of miso soup. Takuma leaned against the counter, feeling the comfort of the scene—the warmth, the familiarity, and the way his mom made everything feel like it would be okay.

“Mom,” he began, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, “do you think… Do you think I’m weird? Different, I mean.”

Sayuri paused, setting the ladle down. She turned to him, her expression gentle but serious. “Takuma, I’ve always thought you were unique. And that’s a good thing.” She stepped closer, looking him in the eye. “Whatever you’re going through, whatever makes you feel different… it’s not something to hide from. It’s a part of you. And I’m here, no matter what.”

He nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime.” She patted his shoulder before turning back to the stove. “Now, if you’re going to keep talking about Miu, you might as well help set the table.”

“Alright, alright,” Takuma replied, a soft smile on his face as he grabbed the plates from the cupboard. “But I’m serious, Mom. She’s just a friend.”

“Sure, sure,” Sayuri replied, her tone so unconvinced that Takuma had to laugh.

As they sat down to eat, he felt the weight of the day lift slightly, comforted by the one person who understood him without needing to understand everything. Here, with his mom’s warmth and humor, the world felt a little easier to bear.

As they settled down at the table, Takuma’s mind wandered back to Miu, and he could feel his mom’s curious gaze on him. She took a sip of her tea, clearly waiting for him to speak.

“So,” she said finally, raising her eyebrows in a way that said she wasn’t going to drop the topic easily, “what’s Miu like?”

Takuma shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. “She’s… cool, I guess. Smart. Pretty popular, actually. I’m still surprised she even noticed me at school.”

“Oh? And what did she notice?” Sayuri asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

He paused, trying to find the right words without sounding like he’d been thinking too much about it. “She, um, just seemed to need someone to talk to. And, well, somehow I became that person.”

Sayuri nodded thoughtfully, a glimmer of pride in her eyes. “Sounds like she sees something special in you.”

Takuma tried to hide the slight grin tugging at his lips by taking a bite of rice. “I don’t know about that. She’s just… nice, I guess.”

“Nice, huh?” Sayuri chuckled, shaking her head. “I remember being that age, you know. ‘Nice’ usually meant more.”

Takuma felt his cheeks flush. “Mom! It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

“Alright, alright,” she replied, clearly enjoying his flustered response. But her smile softened, and she looked at him with a more serious expression. “Just be yourself, Takuma. You don’t need to be anything more. People will see what’s good in you.”

They continued eating in comfortable silence, the clinking of chopsticks the only sound in the room. Takuma could feel the comfort of his mom’s words settling in, giving him the reassurance he didn’t know he’d been looking for.

After they’d finished eating, Takuma helped with the dishes, and Sayuri seemed to be in an unusually thoughtful mood. “You know, it’s been a while since you’ve had someone around outside of school,” she said, handing him a dish to dry.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. “It’s been nice, though. Not just Miu, but everything.”

“Well,” Sayuri said with a sly smile, “anytime you want to bring her by, you know I won’t say no.”

Takuma laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, Mom.”

She laughed too, a sound that echoed through the small kitchen, warm and full of life. And for a brief moment, Takuma felt like things might actually be okay.

Later that evening, Takuma sat in his room, staring at his phone. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the fan. He had Miu’s number saved, though he’d barely used it since she’d given it to him. He wasn’t even sure why he was staring at it now, his thumb hovering over the screen as if it had a mind of its own.

What am I even going to say? he thought, feeling foolish. It’s not like I have anything important to talk about.

His mind drifted back to dinner, to his mom’s teasing remarks, and he felt that familiar embarrassment creep up. Miu was a friend, nothing more. They were just two people who happened to help each other out. But for some reason, her friendship felt like a fragile thing—something he didn’t want to mess up by sending a dumb text.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he quickly typed, “Hey. Just got home. Thanks for the… uh, food tips earlier. Guess I’d be lost without them.”

He stared at the message for a long moment, debating whether to hit send. It sounded simple enough, right? Casual, like it wasn’t a big deal. Finally, he hit send, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety as the message marked “Delivered.”

He didn’t have to wait long for her reply.

“You mean without the ‘not-so-awkward’ dinner conversation too?” she replied, adding a winking emoji.

He let out a small laugh, feeling the tension ease a bit. So she’d picked up on that too, huh? He quickly typed back, “Guess you’ve got me there. Maybe next time, I’ll even cook.”

A few seconds later, her reply popped up: “You cook? Now that’s something I’d like to see.”

Takuma grinned, feeling the hint of a challenge in her words. “Careful what you wish for,” he typed, hesitating for a second before sending a quick follow-up: “You just might get invited.”

Her response came quickly, almost like she’d been waiting for his message. “I’ll hold you to that, Kuroda. You better be ready.”

For a second, he didn’t know what to say. Here she was, Miu—the popular girl who had no reason to notice him—and yet, she was making plans, talking to him like they were already close friends. It felt surreal.

“Guess I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” he finally replied, feeling that odd sense of contentment.

“Nope,” she answered, followed by a string of playful emojis. “Goodnight, Takuma. And don’t forget… you owe me that ‘special cooking lesson.’”

As the screen went dark, Takuma felt a small, strange warmth in his chest. He placed the phone down, lying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The day had been a whirlwind, and yet, somehow, he didn’t feel as alone as he used to.

Maybe, just maybe, things were changing.