Chapter 1: Sakura and Spring

Chapter 1:
Sakura and Spring

A S I PEERED SURREPTITIOUSLY at Sakura-san’s face, sure enough, it seemed to be crafted out of ice, just as everyone always said. Her eyes were empty mirrors, merely reflecting what was in front of her, no curiosity burning within.

It was spring, and we had just started our final year of junior high. As a result of my utter lack of assertiveness, I ended up assigned as a library helper. The official title was “Cultural Events Committee” or something to that effect, but our only real task was to sit around in the library. Hence, library helper. And today was our first day on the job.

The two of us were seated at the front counter, side by side, and admittedly, I was nervous. Sakura-san and I were in the same class last year as well, but I’d never spoken to her. Still, even from a distance I could tell what sort of person she was: cold, distant, quiet…and beautiful. At last, I finally understood why people likened her to an ice sculpture.

But of course, I couldn’t just sit here and admire her all day long. So I took a deep breath and summoned all my courage.

“Um…?”

Feebly, I called out to her, and the distant look in her eyes grew sharp once more.

“…What?”

A beat later, she turned to look at me, fixing me with those glossy, uninterested eyes at point-blank range. Once again, I got the sense that she honestly couldn’t care less about the people around her. It was probably a miracle that she was sitting here at all. What about our next shift? Would she even show up? Maybe if it was during lunch, like today, but something told me she wouldn’t stick around after school.

“Uh, your job…? The checkout card…?”

There was a girl standing literally right in front of her at the counter, trying to check out a book. She’d been there for quite some time now. But Sakura-san never seemed to notice her; thus, I had no choice but to intervene.

“Oh, right.” She didn’t bat a lash. Instead, she handled the girl’s checkout card at her own pace.

The girl in question put a hand on her hip like she was ready to give her a piece of her mind…but Sakura-san didn’t seem to notice that , either. Before the girl could find an opportunity to speak up, however, Sakura-san finished her half of the process and handed the checkout card back to its owner. Reluctantly, the girl bent over to write in her name and date. Gazing at the girl’s scalp, Sakura-san mumbled:

“…Sorry for the wait.”

At first, the girl didn’t realize the words were directed at her. By the time she looked up, however, Sakura-san had already averted her gaze.

“Uh…no problem,” the girl shrugged.

Meanwhile, I sat there in stunned silence. She apologized! I always thought she was too stuck-up, so this rare moment of humility caught me by surprise. But Sakura-san didn’t seem to feel too guilty about slacking off on the clock, because she went right back to spacing out…and I went right back to admiring her face in profile.

She was like this in class, too. She never spoke with anyone, never went anywhere with anyone. But she wasn’t isolated against her will; rather, she seemed to choose the loner life of her own volition. This was evidenced by the fact that she was never bullied or harassed, possibly because she had the sort of aura that suggested she’d clap back without batting an eye. Thus, everyone tended to avoid her…including me.

But now, my eyes were drawn to her. After all, this was a rare opportunity to get a closer look at something I could normally never approach.

Sakura-san had quite a few admirers, male and female, but no one ever reached out. They could look, but they couldn’t touch. After all, she was an ice sculpture—cold, sharp, and fragile.

***

Sure enough, Sakura-san didn’t come back for library duty the next day, probably because it was an after-school shift. As for me, I was far from pleased that my prediction was accurate. At the counter, I sat on the edge of my chair and contemplated what to do. Should I sit here, or should I go look for her? Was she even still on campus?

After a moment of debate in which I rose to my feet and sat back down several times in a row, I ultimately decided to go look for her. After all, the bell had only just rung, so chances were high she was still at her shoe locker.

To reduce the amount of time the library would be left unattended, I broke into a run as soon as I hit the hallway. Then I flew down the stairs. How long had it been since I ran this fast? It would’ve been autumn at the very least; winter had a way of making exercise uniquely miserable. Perhaps this was proof that spring had sprung.

Right as my legs went into high gear, I spotted her at last, pulling her outdoor shoes out of her locker. As I ran up to her, she glanced over at me, but only briefly. Evidently she didn’t realize my business was with her.

“Hold it right there!” I shouted as I closed in.

At last, Sakura-san realized she was my target. She turned back, annoyed. My heart fluttered in my chest.

“We have library duty today! Remember?”

“Oh…right.”

Apparently she had simply forgotten about it. Her gazed flickered between me and her locker. Then she nodded to herself, and…set off for the front entrance.

“Wh… Hey, hey, hey! I don’t think so!”

Timidly, I grabbed her sleeve. She didn’t shake me off, but the look on her face was far from enthusiastic. Not a trace of motivation to be seen.

“Do you really need two people for that job?”

In terms of excuses, unfortunately, this was actually a good one. The library lines were never very long, and the fact of the matter was, I could probably handle it myself just fine. After all, Sakura-san had barely lifted a finger last time. Still, I couldn’t accept it. Without her there, there wasn’t much for me to look forward to…

“Maybe not, but…it’s still your job!”

With no other solid argument, I was forced to appeal to her integrity.

She seemed to have trouble thinking of a counterargument, because she reluctantly returned her outdoor shoes to her locker. Once again, as with the apology from yesterday, this was more evidence that she was, in fact, a sensible person. Granted, this ran counter to her reputation, but…maybe she was more normal than people made her out to be.

Once she changed back into her indoor shoes, we set off down the hallway, and I gazed down at my hand—at the fingers that had touched Sakura-san (technically just her clothes, but still). They were still faintly pink, with no sign of frostbite.

Arriving back at the library, Sakura-san took her seat at the counter without any fuss. Then, as with last time, she stared off into the distance, yawning occasionally. Was she sleepy, or just bored? She could always read books to pass the time like I did, and yet she chose not to. What was on her mind while she sat there perfectly still? Was she wishing her shift would hurry up and end already?

She was an enigma, and I found myself intrigued.

“Do you like to read?” I asked, after I gathered a bit of courage.

“If it’s a book I like, then sure, I’ll read it,” she answered, her chin propped up on her elbow. It was a vague answer, probably because Sakura-san didn’t really care whether I understood.

Hoping to get to know her, I summoned what little courage I had left and offered: “Would you like me to recommend you some of my favorites?”

Unfortunately…

“Huh? No, I’ll pass.” She waved her hand to dismiss the idea. Then she turned back and stared straight ahead once more.

I was appalled. She shot me down point-blank, no sugar-coating. And yet…she didn’t seem annoyed with me, either. Her tone was flat—bland and flavorless, like she sincerely wasn’t interested. But that only intrigued me more.

I snuck a furtive glance at her face. Surely there had to be something Sakura-san would take an interest in…but what?

I never imagined being a library helper would be so thought-provoking. I could scarcely concentrate on the book in my hands. Instead, I searched and searched for some sort of common ground with Sakura-san. Not that I really expected to find any.

Her expression was like perfectly polished ice, its chill keeping everyone at bay. And if she wasn’t going to meet me halfway, then I was going to have to be the one to reach out. The best way to get to know someone? Conversation.

“So, um…what do you like to do on weekends?”

“Nothing much. Sleep. Lay around in bed.”

Aren’t those the same thing?

She didn’t seem to be lying, though. But while I appreciated her honesty, it wasn’t very helpful for my purposes.

“Okay, umm… Do you get good grades, usually?”

“Just average.”

“Oh, okay… Cool…”

At least she was willing to answer my questions. It would have been far worse if she ignored me outright…­although this wasn’t much better. At the rate I was headed, I’d never strike upon any common ground. I needed to take this a step further. Could I break through that icy exterior? Or would I slip and fall on my face?

As I contemplated my next move, my vision grew hazy and distant. And as I hung my head, the words fell from my lips like swollen tears.

“Do you…have any friends?”

“No,” she replied flatly, without a single second of hesitation.

Her answer overwhelmed me all at once, like an avalanche. My fingers started to tremble as they clutched the edges of my book. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

In that case…

My throat quavered.

Would you want to be friends with me?

I wanted to say it. I tried to say it. But the words wouldn’t come.

I had plenty of friends here at school, but not once had I ever asked someone to be friends with me outright, like I was formally applying for the position. In an instant, I was overcome with shame and fear of rejection, and I needed some time to fight through it.

If only I could have said it faster, maybe things would have played out differently.

Instead, Sakura-san stared straight ahead and muttered, “But I’m fine with it.”

The ice was smooth, transparent, cold, and hard…without a single crack. And the sight of it chased away the question on the tip of my tongue.

“I see,” I muttered in kind.

She offered no reply to this, and for the first time, I accepted defeat.

After that, I went back to just looking at her. I didn’t try to make conversation with her. And on the days she forgot about library duty, I didn’t chase after her. To her credit, however, she turned up for the majority of our shifts. And as for me, I spent that time admiring her face in profile while pretending to read a book. Because I knew that was the most I could ever ask for.

Each time I gazed at her pretty pink lips, I was wracked with guilt. Deep down, I felt like I had failed her somehow. But that failure never stopped me from appreciating her beauty.

***

With the arrival of the second semester came a shuffling of job assignments, and my one tenuous connection to Sakura-san was unceremoniously severed. We were still classmates, of course, but I could never find the opportunity to go and talk to her. Plus, she was often absent, particularly on days that involved a lot of hassle.

And so nothing ever brought us together again for the rest of the year, right up to the day of our graduation. I half-wondered if she’d skip the ceremony, too, but fortunately she didn’t. Honestly, she probably didn’t even remember me. So I gazed at her from afar.

She stood at the front of the line, looking bored and uncomfortable, her head swaying to and fro. Once the principal’s speech came to an end, the procession would start moving, and I’d lose sight of her…so for the first time in my life, I prayed that his dull rambling would never cease.

At the end of the ceremony, we all broke off into our own groups. Some left the gym, while others stayed behind. Following my intuition, I strayed away from my circle of friends and walked outside.

At the center of the school grounds was a single sakura tree, its blooms yet faintly budding. For now, spring was still just a whisper on the wind. As I gazed at the tiny specks of pink in the distance, I spotted a retreating figure I recognized. Instantly, my legs moved on autopilot, and I broke into a run.

“Sakura-san!” I called as I chased after her.

She slowly turned back to look at me. Even now, under the first rays of spring sun, her ice was unmelted. But her expression shifted slightly. Maybe she still recognized me after all.

“What’s up?”

Sakura-san was prepared to walk off campus without saying goodbye to a single soul. This was the girl I had spent the past year admiring. And for some reason, I found I was delighted to have one more chilly moment with her.

“I, um…I wish you well… No, I mean, uh…”

Was that really all I wanted to say? This was my last chance. It was now or never. All at once, I was filled with reckless courage, or desperation, or whatever you want to call it. Regardless, I spurred myself forward.

Even if my message didn’t land, I still wanted to put it out there.

“Thank you.”

Her eyes narrowed in confusion, as if to ask what for? The answer, of course, was for letting me observe her during her most unguarded moments. For filling my days with something worthwhile. But even if I explained it to her in depth, I got the feeling it wouldn’t resonate with her. She didn’t need all the details. So instead, I smiled.

She stared at me dubiously for a moment, but eventually offered me a cold, curt “Glad it’s over.” A disinterested token response.

A sharp chill pierced my chest. Yeah…I’m glad, too, I answered silently. Then she walked off without so much as a goodbye.

Surrounded by cheers and laughter, I watched her go…and as the minutes ticked by, lukewarm water dripped down my torso as the ice in my chest started to melt.

In the future, if I ever encountered Sakura-san on the street, we probably wouldn’t say a word to each other. That was why I chose to thank her.

Like a petal on the breeze, she vanished into a horizon as pink as her namesake…without ever looking back.

***

“Wait… Your first name is Sakura?”

“Yep.”

Adachi started this conversation after the opening ceremony, as we left the school building. But she wasn’t looking up at the blossoms overhead—no, she was looking at the dirty petals trampled into the ground below. Kind of depressing, actually. I tried my best to avoid walking on any and ended up staggering to and fro like a sloppy drunk.

“Did you mention that before?”

“Probably,” Adachi nodded.

When was that? Back in the gym loft when we first met? I couldn’t remember.

“I see… Well then,” I muttered vaguely to fill the silence as I looked at the gym in the distance.

During the winter, the gym floor was practically ice, but I noticed it wasn’t that bad during the ceremony today. As the sun’s rays grew stronger, the loft would steadily become more and more appealing. Granted, all we could really do up there was sit in perfect silence like a couple of meditating monks, but it was still an escape. I glanced furtively at Adachi, wondering if perhaps we had outgrown our old hiding place…but wasn’t especially encouraged by the look on her face.

Then it occurred to me: it still hadn’t been a full year since we met. Hard to believe, I know. When I stopped to think about my friendship with her, it felt like I’d known her all my life, but at the same time, it also kinda felt like she might disappear one day. Perhaps our foundation was shaky…but if so, I wasn’t really sure how to, you know, firm it up or whatever. Hmm .

“Sakura-chan!” I called, mostly as a joke.

At first, Adachi didn’t react whatsoever…but when she realized I meant her, she whipped around and looked at me, her eyes as wide as saucers. I laughed and shrugged, and her whole face flushed pink, from her cheeks to her ears to her neck. A fitting color for a Sakura.

“Or would you prefer Sakura-san?” I teased.

At this, her shoulders began to shake, causing her hair to flop around like dog ears. It was kind of cute, actually. She seemed to need some time to recover, so I stared straight ahead and waited. Then, once the flopping sound stopped, I glanced back over—

“Hmm?”

She was grinning. A big, toothy grin, too, like she was only barely suppressing her weird giggling. This wasn’t an expression I was aware she was capable of, so I peered at her curiously for a moment. Then she snapped back to her senses and looked up like she’d sensed my gaze. Her smile vanished, and her pink cheeks turned scarlet.

“Wh-what?” Adachi asked, readjusting her grip on her bookbag a dozen times as her eyes darted in all directions. Given her relative composure, maybe she wasn’t aware she was grinning like a goof just now. If I told her about it, she’d probably flip out… I debated it for a few seconds, then decided to keep it to myself. After all, it’d be a real hassle to chase her down if she tried to bolt.

“Nothing. I was just looking at you,” I lied.

She recoiled, bug-eyed. Then her gaze started to dart around again. What’s so weird about what I said?

“Oh…huh… So you were… Okay then…”

This time her smile was stiff, like she was forcing it too hard. Now her eyes and mouth were all shaped like apple slices. It was painful to look at.

We passed through the school gates, and as we walked alongside the farm fields, in the back of my mind, something felt vaguely off.

Then I realized: it was Adachi’s presence.

“Why are you following me?” I asked.

She froze, looking at me with puppy-dog eyes, like I’d hurt her feelings. This, in turn, alarmed me. What’s the matter?

“Didn’t you bring your bike today?” I pressed.

The bike parking area was, obviously, on school grounds. Not only that, but she lived in the opposite direction from me. So why was she still walking with me? Where was she going?

“Oh, that’s what you meant?” Her eyes and mouth softened, like the binds holding them in place had come undone. She seemed relieved to hear it. But I was confused—what else could I have possibly meant?

She hadn’t smiled even once during the opening ceremony, so I was worried she was having a bad day, but maybe not.

Today marked the start of our second year of high school, and the seating arrangement was currently in alphabetical order by last name, so Adachi was positioned diagonally to my left. I had chatted briefly with the new classmates seated around me, but Adachi hadn’t spoken to anyone at all. Occasionally she would glance over at me, then look down at the floor, but that was about it. She just sat there, like she was waiting for time to tick by. Then, once the bell rang, she made a beeline right to me, reminiscent of my little sister.

While part of me was inclined to laugh and say “That’s Adachi for you,” another part of me was starting to get concerned. Not that I had any right to try to act like an older sister to someone my own age, but I couldn’t help it. At this rate, she wasn’t going to fit in with the rest of our new second-year class… Then again, if you asked me whether she “fit in” in our last class, the answer was a resounding no .

Ultimately, this was probably just…the sort of girl she was. But once she opened up to you, you quickly realized there was more to her than met the eye…and she had really opened up to me.

“Shimamura?”

“You really enjoy using that puppy-dog look on me, don’t you?” I commented, casually leaving out the “pathetic” adjective I had in mind.

“What? I don’t have a puppy-dog look ,” Adachi objected, patting her nose and cheeks. She seemed to take offense to the mere idea.

Maybe she didn’t like dogs. But I did.

So, uh…is this the part where you turn around and go home? Because if you keep following me, you’re gonna end up at my house.

But I had lost my opportunity to point this out, and so the two of us kept walking through the petals.

With the spring sun at my back, I quietly let out a breath.