[After The School Event Yesterday…]
The golden hues of the afternoon sun stretched across the courtyard of Hoshizora Academy, casting long shadows on the pristine pavement. The air buzzed with the quiet murmurs of students wrapping up their day, the occasional laughter ringing out as girls stood in their usual cliques, waiting for their rides to arrive.
Hana stood near the gates with Mei, her arms loosely crossed, fingers absently brushing over the crisp fabric of her sleeve—a nervous habit she hadn't quite shaken. The energy from yesterday's event had mostly faded, replaced by the usual rhythm of school life—but a lingering thought kept tugging at her mind.
Him.
Her grip on her sleeve tightened. Why was he still lingering in her thoughts?
A sharp nudge at her side jolted her from her trance.
"Earth to Hana." Mei's voice was laced with playful suspicion as she adjusted her bag strap, tilting her head to peer at Hana's face. "What's with that far-off look? Don't tell me one of those Ryokuzen guys actually left an impression on you."
Hana blinked, quickly smoothing out her expression, as if Mei had caught her doing something forbidden. "Of course not."
Mei narrowed her eyes, lips curling into a smirk. "Good. Because some of them were so unbearable." She huffed dramatically, flipping her sleek hair over her shoulder. "Especially that one guy—what was his name again? Ren? Riku? Whatever. He would not stop talking. He had the energy of a lost puppy trying way too hard to impress."
Hana let out a soft hum, but her mind wasn't in the conversation. The words drifted past her, distant, as if she were underwater.
"I mean, seriously," Mei continued, shifting her weight onto one leg. "I still can't believe our school let them join the event. It felt like watching two completely different worlds collide."
Hana sighed, finally turning to give Mei a look. "You're being dramatic."
Mei gasped, placing a hand over her chest like she'd been gravely insulted. "Hana Fujimura, are you actually defending them?"
"I'm just saying, not all of them were bad."
Silence. Then, Mei's eyes sharpened with interest. She leaned in, her amusement taking a more dangerous edge. "Wait a second. You weren't staring at someone, were you?"
Hana didn't flinch, didn't react. But the way her fingers instinctively curled against the fabric of her uniform for the briefest second—Mei caught it.
"Oh my god, you totally were."
Hana exhaled through her nose. "I wasn't."
Mei's grin stretched wider, delighting in her discovery. "Was he cute?"
Hana rolled her eyes. "You're imagining things."
"Uh-huh." Mei tapped her chin, eyes gleaming. "I know that look, Hana. It's the same one you had when you saw that actor in a suit at the gala last year!"
Hana's lips parted slightly, as if to deny it—but then she shut her mouth. This conversation was pointless.
Before she could reply, the soft purr of an approaching car drew their attention. Mei's sleek, black vehicle rolled to a stop by the curb.
Mei stretched dramatically. "Well, that's my cue." She turned back with a teasing glint. "Don't get too lost in thought, okay?"
Hana said nothing, simply watching as the car pulled away.
Her fingers absently brushed against her sleeve once more.
That boy.
She shook the thought away, but the strange, suffocating feeling of familiarity remained.
---
[Later that Evening – Fujimura Estate]
The sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of the grand Fujimura estate. The iron gates parted with a quiet hum, as if swallowing her whole. Hana exhaled slowly before stepping out, the cool evening breeze doing little to ease the stiffness in her shoulders.
The estate was as immaculate as ever—trimmed hedges, glowing lanterns, pristine marble pathways that felt too polished, too perfect, like a stage waiting for a performance.
She had barely slipped off her shoes when a familiar voice greeted her.
Renji: "Well, well, well ~ The school princess returns ~"
Hana sighed, stepping into the living room. The walls felt tighter today. As expected, Renji was sprawled on the couch, arm draped lazily over the backrest, his signature smirk in place.
Hana: "Do you seriously have nothing better to do?"
Renji: "Nothing as entertaining as watching you pretend to be the perfect daughter."
Her jaw tensed slightly. Not today.
From the corner of the room, Sayuri spoke without looking up from her book.
Sayuri: "She does look a little different today."
Hana stilled for a fraction of a second.
Hana: "It's called exhaustion. You should try it sometime."
Before Sayuri could respond, a blur of energy barreled into her.
Natsumi: "Hana-nee! You're home!"
Natsumi clung to her waist, the only warmth in this house.
Natsumi: "Did you bring me anything?"
Hana chuckled, ruffling her sister's hair. She forced the chuckle. It sounded real enough.
Hana: "I was at school, Natsu, not a bakery."
Natsumi: (pouting) "That's what you said last time."
Renji smirked.
Renji: "She's got a point. At this rate, I'd start thinking you're hiding a boyfriend."
Hana felt her patience snap.
Hana: "Shut up, Renji."
Before he could fire back, the air shifted.
A quiet, heavy presence settled over the room. A cold shadow.
Masaru : "Hana."
The atmosphere collapsed.
Masaru stood at the entrance, his sharp gaze unreadable, his suit immaculate as always. Yet, for all that polish, there was no warmth.
Masaru: "How was the school event?"
Hana straightened instinctively, posture perfect, voice carefully even.
Hana: (calmly) "It went well, Father."
He studied her, dissecting her.
Masaru: "And?"
Hana's throat felt dry. She knew what he wanted to hear.
Hana: (choosing her words carefully) "I upheld our name. There were no issues."
Silence. Then, a slow nod.
Masaru: "Good. I expect nothing less. Our family's reputation is not something to be compromised."
She had never once been allowed to compromise.
Masaru turned, his presence fading.
Masaru: "Do not disappoint me."
His footsteps echoed as he left.
Renji exhaled.
Renji: "Man, I almost forgot how suffocating that guy is."
Hana didn't respond.
Her fingers twitched at her sides.
She already knew.
[Later that night…]
Dinner at the Fujimura estate was always the same—elegant, quiet, and precise. Silverware clinked softly against porcelain, conversations were minimal, and every movement felt rehearsed. Hana played her part effortlessly, answering when spoken to, maintaining perfect posture, and keeping her expressions neutral.
By the time she excused herself, the weight of the evening pressed down on her shoulders, heavy and unshakable.
The warm water of the shower did little to ease the tightness in her muscles. Steam curled around her, blurring the edges of the mirror, but even with her eyes closed, the image surfaced again—dark eyes meeting hers across the crowd. A fleeting moment, but something about it had unsettled her.
Back in her room, she sat at her vanity, running a towel through her damp hair. Her gaze flickered to her reflection, but her mind was elsewhere.
Familiarity.
It made no sense.
Hana exhaled, reaching for the ornate brush resting on the table. With slow, practiced movements, she combed through her hair, the rhythmic strokes grounding her.
Softly, to no one in particular, she murmured, "Why did it feel like I knew him?"
The words hung in the air, fragile and uncertain.
Her fingers paused for a moment before she continued brushing, her tone quieter this time.
"But that's absurd, isn't it? I've never seen him before… I would have remembered."
And yet, she felt it. That strange pull. A recognition that shouldn't exist.
She set the brush down carefully, her brows knitting together.
("…Who are you?")
The question was barely a whisper, lost in the stillness of her room.
Hana sighed, pushing the thought aside.
Whatever it was, it was nothing more than a passing curiosity.
And yet, as she climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her, the feeling lingered—just beneath the surface, waiting.
---
Hana had just settled under the covers, the silk sheets cool against her skin, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She blinked at the screen before reaching for it.
Mei: Still alive, princess? Or did dinner at the Fujimura castle finally do you in?
A soft chuckle escaped Hana as she propped herself up on one elbow.
Hana: Barely survived. I almost drowned in etiquette.
Mei: Tragic. If only I could've been there to save you.
Hana: With what, exactly? A dessert spoon?
Mei: Excuse you, I'd use a steak knife. Very effective.
Hana shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.
Hana: Remind me to never rely on you in an actual emergency.
Mei: Noted. But seriously, today was fun, right? That event actually turned out better than I expected.
Hana: It did. I thought it would be unbearable, but I suppose it wasn't the worst thing in the world.
Mei: Wow, high praise coming from you.
Hana: Don't get used to it.
Mei: Too late. But really, I can't wait to see you tomorrow. I need someone to suffer through morning classes with.
Hana exhaled, some of the tension from the day melting away.
Hana: I'll be there. Try not to cause trouble before I arrive.
Mei: No promises. See you, your highness ;)
Hana locked her phone, rolling onto her side. Mei was ridiculous, but… somehow, the conversation made the day's weight feel a little lighter.
Still, as she closed her eyes, that lingering sense of familiarity returned.
Fleeting. Unplaceable. But there.
---
At first, the room was silent.
Then—
A breeze. Warmer than it should be. Carrying the scent of burning wood.
Her brow furrowed, shifting under the sheets.
Her eyelids fluttered open—except… she wasn't in bed anymore.
The air smelled of smoke and earth, thick with something unspoken. Shadows stretched across broken stone walls. Lanterns flickered in the distance, their dim light casting an eerie glow over the rubble.
Somewhere, hurried footsteps echoed—desperate, frantic.
She turned.
There he was again.
The same boy. His figure blurred at the edges, swallowed by the hazy glow of the lanterns, but she could feel it—the same presence, the same pull. His voice was faint, calling out to her, laced with urgency.
Her chest tightened.
(Who… are you?)
The wind howled, carrying the scent of something burning. The boy took a step closer, his presence unwavering, his voice just within reach—
And then—
Darkness.
Yet, the dream didn't fade.
The sensation lingered, seeping deeper into her. The warmth of his presence, the urgency in his voice—it was stronger this time, refusing to slip away like a passing thought.
Her fingers curled into the sheets. A quiet ache settled in her chest, as though something long forgotten had stirred awake.
("No.")
("No, it was just a dream...")
("Wasn't it?")
End if chapter 4