A soft, genuine smile tugged at the corners of Komi’s mouth. It was a rare sight, one that she only shared when the school was empty and the pressure of the world was lifted from her shoulders. Walking Home Together

The final bell’s echo hadn’t even faded when I saw her. Komi stood by the ginkgo tree at the gate, her school bag held in front of her with both hands, like a shield. The late afternoon sun bled gold through the leaves, catching the edges of her dark hair.

A car passed. A crow cawed from a telephone wire. In that small pocket of quiet, I realized: this was the most she’d ever “said” to me at once.

In moments of pure excitement or nervousness—like stopping by a convenience store for ice cream—imaginary cat ears pop onto Komi’s head, signaling her inner joy to Tadano.