Chapter 8 — Echoes Beneath the Sakura Trees
The morning air carried a distinct sweetness, the kind only spring could bring. At the heart of the school courtyard, sakura trees were beginning to bloom—petals unfurling like secrets long kept.
The pink canopy whispered promises of change, and beneath it, students lingered longer, their laughter lighter, footsteps slower.
For Elena and Elira, spring had always been a distant dream, something painted in stories and drawn in sketchbooks. But this time, it felt real. It felt like theirs.
"Look," Elira whispered, tilting her phone screen toward Elena. "They bloomed."
The image captured that morning: a single petal resting delicately on the sleeve of her cardigan.
Elena smiled. "It's beautiful. Like something out of a novel."
Kaito approached them with a paper bag in hand. "Morning," he greeted. "I brought melon pan. I know it's your favorite."
Elira blinked, surprised. "You remembered?"
He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
They shared breakfast under the sakura trees. The morning was calm, like a page without lines waiting to be filled.
Later that day, the literature teacher announced a new school project: a joint class anthology. Each student was to contribute a short story, poem, or illustration under the theme "Unspoken."
Kaito, who had a natural talent for writing, was appointed project leader. He tried to refuse at first, but the teacher insisted, praising his responsibility and creativity.
"You'll need a co-editor," she added, eyes scanning the classroom. "Someone detail-oriented, with a good eye."
"I nominate Elena," Kaito said without hesitation.
Elena's eyes widened. "Me?"
"She's perfect," Elira added. "She's always proofreading my stories."
The teacher nodded. "Very well. Kaito and Elena, you'll be co-editors. I expect a full outline by next week."
After class, Elena approached Kaito.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I've never done anything like this before."
He smiled at her gently. "I trust you. That's enough."
Elira watched them from her seat, a flutter of something bittersweet curling in her chest. She was happy—truly—but a part of her worried about something she couldn't name yet.
...
The next few days passed in a whirlwind of meetings, outlines, and creative chaos. Kaito and Elena spent hours huddled over storyboards, organizing student submissions, writing feedback.
Kaito's handwriting was neat but lively, filled with arrows and doodles, while Elena's was precise and clean. They made a good team.
After school on Thursday, they stayed late in the library to finalize the draft table of contents.
"I like this order," Elena said, tapping the page. "But maybe we save Yuki's poem for the end? It has a closing feeling."
Kaito nodded, shifting slightly to better see her notes. "Good call."
Elira arrived just then, having finished her club duties early. She paused at the door, catching sight of them—so focused, so in sync. Kaito leaned in slightly, and Elena tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling.
Elira's stomach flipped.
She didn't want to feel this. Not jealousy. Not now.
But she did.
She turned away quietly, deciding not to disturb them.
That weekend, the three of them visited a nearby bookstore to gather inspiration for the anthology. It was a cozy little place tucked between two cafés, the kind of shop that smelled like history and old paper.
Elira wandered through the manga section while Elena and Kaito browsed literature.
She tried to focus on the shelves, but her thoughts kept drifting.
What if Kaito liked Elena more? What if they had something she wasn't a part of?
She shook her head.
Don't be ridiculous. He cares about both of us.
And yet, when she looked across the aisle and saw Kaito laughing at something Elena whispered, her heart clenched.
She turned away.
...
The anthology came together beautifully. Kaito and Elena presented the outline to the teacher, who praised their organization and vision. Students began submitting their works, some shyly, others excitedly.
Elira contributed a short comic strip—her first ever—and received warm feedback from her classmates. It was about a girl who bottled up words but learned to speak through pictures.
Everyone loved it.
"Your art always says more than your words," Kaito told her after reading it.
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
One afternoon, while they were walking home, Elira fell behind. Kaito and Elena were discussing page layouts and formatting details.
"Elira," Kaito called, noticing her distance. "You okay?"
She forced a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
He frowned but didn't push.
That night, she stayed up sketching.
She drew herself standing under the sakura trees… alone.
A few days later, something unexpected happened. The student council announced the annual cultural festival would be held next month—and this year, every class had to host a creative booth.
Class 2-B voted to create a "Story Garden," inspired by the anthology theme. Each corner of their booth would be dedicated to a different medium—poetry, art, fiction.
The twins were asked to design the booth's visual layout.
"It's a chance to showcase your talent," one classmate said.
Elira hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. We'll do it."
They spent the following days drafting layouts, color palettes, and decor ideas. Elena designed the signage, Elira worked on the illustrations.
One evening, while working at home, Elena looked up.
"You've been quiet lately."
Elira didn't respond.
"Is something wrong?"
"…Do you like him?"
Elena froze.
"Elira…"
"It's okay if you do," Elira said quickly, forcing a laugh. "I was just curious."
Elena set down her pen. "Why are you asking?"
"Because I think I do."
The words left Elira's mouth like a confession. Her voice trembled.
Elena looked at her for a long moment. Then she reached over and took her hand.
"I don't know if I do. Not yet. But I care about him. A lot."
Elira looked down. "Me too."
They sat in silence, the only sound the rustle of paper and the ticking of the clock.
"I don't want to lose you," Elira whispered.
"You won't," Elena said firmly. "Ever."
On the day of the festival, Class 2-B's booth was a masterpiece. Strings of fairy lights hung between painted archways, and student works were displayed on flower-shaped panels.
The twins' designs brought the booth to life—soft pastels, intricate illustrations, a peaceful ambiance.
Visitors praised the creativity and heart poured into every detail.
Kaito found the twins standing in the poetry corner, admiring a haiku written by a shy boy from the science club.
"This place feels magical," he said.
"It's everyone's magic," Elira replied.
"But you two made it bloom."
He held out a small slip of paper.
"What's this?" Elena asked.
"A thank-you note," he said. "For both of you."
The paper read:
To the ones who turned silence into stories, and loneliness into light—thank you.
Elira folded the note carefully and tucked it into her bag.
Later that evening, after the festival ended and the stars replaced the fairy lights, Kaito walked the twins home.
At their gate, he paused.
"I'm really lucky to know you two," he said. "You've changed my life."
"Same," Elena said.
Elira looked at him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think… it's okay if I liked you?"
Kaito blinked. "Elira…"
She bit her lip. "I just… I needed to say it."
Kaito's eyes softened. "Thank you for telling me."
He didn't say more. But his hand brushed hers, warm and reassuring.
When they stepped inside, Elena hugged her sister tightly.
"No matter what happens," she said, "we'll face it together."
Elira nodded, tears prickling her eyes.
Spring wasn't just blooming outside—it was blooming within them, too.
To be continued...