April brought a fresh breeze to Yamato High School, and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. Hiroshi Nakamura stood at the school gates, his heart light but nervous. Spring break was over, and the new school year had begun. He was now a second-year student, no longer the shy newcomer. But today was special—class assignments were posted, and the school buzzed with excitement as students welcomed first-year students. Hiroshi hoped for one thing: to be closer to Emi, the girl from the literature club who made his heart race.
In the school courtyard, Hiroshi found the class lists pinned to a bulletin board. Students crowded around, laughing or groaning at their assignments. He scanned the list for Class 2-B and froze. His name was there—and so was Emi’s. His heart leaped. Then he saw Kenji’s name, too. His best friend and Emi in the same class? It felt like a dream.
“Hey, Hiroshi!” Kenji’s voice boomed behind him. “We’re in 2-B together! And guess who else?” He grinned, nudging Hiroshi. “Your literature club girl.” “Shut up,” Hiroshi mumbled, his face red, but he couldn’t hide his smile. Kenji laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulders as they headed to their new classroom.
Class 2-B was bright, with sunlight streaming through the windows. Hiroshi chose a desk near the back, and Kenji plopped down beside him. Emi arrived soon after, her dark hair tied in a loose ponytail. She smiled at Hiroshi as she took a seat near the front. “Hi, Hiroshi. We’re in the same class now,” she said, her voice warm. “Yeah, cool,” Hiroshi replied, his heart pounding. He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. Kenji smirked, whispering, “Smooth, man.”
Their homeroom teacher, Mr. Sato, welcomed everyone and introduced the class. Some students were new to Hiroshi, but he was glad to see Aiko and Yumi in other classes nearby. The first day was full of introductions and schedules, but Hiroshi’s eyes kept drifting to Emi. She took notes carefully, her bookmark—the one he’d given her for White Day—peeking out of her textbook. Did she still use the notebook, too? The thought made him hopeful.
As a second-year student, Hiroshi helped welcome the first-years. The art club set up a booth during the club fair, and he stood with Sana, showing sketches to curious newcomers. Two first-years, a shy boy named Daichi and a cheerful girl named Miki, joined the club. Daichi loved drawing manga, while Miki was into watercolor. Hiroshi felt a strange pride guiding them, like he was passing on something important. “You’ll like it here,” he told them, remembering how nervous he’d been a year ago.
The literature club was nearby, and Hiroshi caught glimpses of Emi handing out flyers. She laughed with a new member, a first-year girl with glasses, and Hiroshi felt a pang of envy. He wanted to be the one making her smile. But he stayed quiet, focusing on his booth.
In class, Hiroshi’s days revolved around Emi. She was kind to everyone, helping classmates with notes or joining group projects. Once, during a history lesson, she turned to ask Hiroshi for a pencil. Their fingers brushed, and he nearly dropped it. “Thanks,” she said, smiling. He nodded, too shy to reply. Kenji kicked his chair lightly, mouthing, “Say something!” but Hiroshi just blushed.
Kenji was a lifeline in class. He kept things fun, joking with teachers or planning pranks. One day, he dragged Hiroshi to the cafeteria to try a new dessert. “You gotta stop staring at Emi and talk to her,” Kenji said, biting into a cake. “I know,” Hiroshi sighed. “It’s just… hard.” He wanted to tell Emi he liked her, but fear held him back. What if she didn’t feel the same? What if he ruined their friendship?
The art club was busier with new members. Hiroshi helped Daichi with shading techniques, and Miki’s bright energy made meetings lively. Sana paired Hiroshi with Miki for a spring project—a mural of the school’s cherry blossoms. Miki chatted nonstop, and Hiroshi found her enthusiasm contagious. But his thoughts often wandered to Emi. He saw her in the library, reading with her club, or in class, laughing with friends. She was so close, yet so far.
One afternoon, the art and literature clubs worked together on a school newsletter. Hiroshi and Emi were tasked with designing a cover. They sat in the library, sketching and picking fonts. Emi hummed softly, a habit Hiroshi loved. “This is fun,” she said, looking at his sketch of a book with cherry petals. “You’re so good at this.” “Thanks,” Hiroshi said, his cheeks warm. “Your ideas are great, too.” He wanted to say more—maybe ask her to hang out—but his courage failed again. They finished the cover, and Emi smiled, but the moment passed.
As April turned to May, Hiroshi felt both happy and frustrated. Being in Emi’s class was a gift—he saw her every day, her smile, her kindness. But he couldn’t take the next step. New relationships bloomed around him—new classmates, new club members—but his heart stayed stuck, caught between hope and fear. Lying in bed one night, he traced the lines of a sketch he’d drawn of Emi, her face soft in pencil. Maybe, he thought, the new year would give him the strength to finally speak his truth.