01 ☆ ( "IT WAS THE SPRING OF 2019." )

Spring. It was the season of blooming flowers and the ceasing of dormancy. It was also when the school year restarted, and especially for me, it was my last year before heading to university. Spring was usually colored in carnation pink and sage green, but happiness seeped through the silence, and so, it became french and basil.

The train bustled with a bunch of students wearing different colored high school outfits, varying from junior high to senior high. Some were colored green, some were black, and some were burgundy red... the train, which used to be for transport, had a car full of talkative teenagers, all wondering where their fellow friends were currently going. I sat alone, as per usual, the train stopping at the current stop.

That silence which was filled with my voided headphones was now faced with distracting chit-chat, a giggle escaping my best friend's lips. I fixed my glasses on my face, eyes still on the speeding scenery. "Rie," She cooed, poking my cheek. I gave her a look, screaming at her with my pointed look to keep quiet, but she cared little about that. "Wasn't break fun?"

"Mhm."

"Are you happy to return to class for our last year of high school?"

"Mmhm."

"Rie," She warned, pointing at me with a cautious finger. "You better use your words. If it's because of what we did in early spring, you've got to cut me some slack! I didn't think it would be that high up!"

That's not what I was worried about, or rather, what I was speechless of. It's that my heart began to flutter at the reminiscence of March, at the person who caught me when I was easily fearing for my life. He would be at school, and I'd have to face him in a few minutes if he wasn't already somewhere on this train. His name was like a daze, like a beautiful, repetitive bridge that had exited its chorus, only filled with six syllables. Nishimura Riki.

"Do you think we're in the same classroom?" I ignored her question, starting a new discussion. She shrugged, leaning back, her head almost hitting the girl behind us. "Aoki Hanae, be careful. Can you please be self-aware of those around you?"

"It's fine," She grumbled, crossing her arms. Aoki Hanae, my best friend–my only friend–of both senior high and junior high school. She's eye candy, both objectively and subjectively. She's got the ideal look for teenagers: dark, luscious, and long black hair, a skinny body, and a long face. She smiles at anyone at any time, and I think that's what annoys me sometimes. She's so happy-go-lucky, and since we are complete opposites, it distracts me from what I do. Her extroverted personality clashes with my introverted one.

But, as extroverted and slightly boyish as Hanae is, boys swoon at the pure sight of her, and it's almost excruciating to witness it right next to her. Of course, her eyes have stuck to one man her whole life, who–

"Hanae!" There he is. He must've swung through the collections of people to see Hanae's long hair. It's as obvious as a cat's meow that he's into her too, but of course, they've stayed friends longer than Hanae and I have. She gasped, standing up as the train moved, and quickly, he caught her by the arm. "Woah, Hanae, are you alright?"

I swallowed. It's that familiar phrase that caught me by surprise and messed up every formulation in my head.

"Yeah, I am, Jungwon, thank you," Yang Jungwon, a Korean international exchange student who moved to Japan young and stayed here ever since. With curly brown hair and occasional glasses, Jungwon presents himself as an oddly shy yet gentle boy. He's got another friend I'm semi-close with, but he'll pop up later. He lives closer to our school.

He finally noticed me, swinging around Hanae's body. "Hey, Rie! How are you this morning?"

"Good," I nodded, trying to keep my voice to a lower volume. Although even a scream wouldn't penetrate through this horribly loud crowd, I wanted to stay respectful. "And you?"

"Good," That's how the conversation between us always went.

But, if there was one thing about Jungwon I had to acknowledge, it was that he was my bridge, my sense of reach to the person with whom I concurred was more relevant than even Hanae. He and that boy, who I'll introduce now as Kim Sunoo, another Korean exchange, were all close friends, and considering that Jungwon and Hanae had something going on, I could give it an attempt to try and get to know Nishimura personally, too.

The train halted its movement, the last stop blinking on a screen with a red neon light above it. I stood up with my bag, hanging it around my shoulder. Hanae and Jungwon were still conversing, for whatever they were able to talk about although they called all the time, eventually turning to me. "Oh, Rie," Jungwon pointed at me, breaking our usual conversation that always started with a therapeutic question. "I heard that you and my friend, Riki, had met recently. Did you want to get to know him?"

I winced, not internally, but for once, physically. How could Jungwon have read my mind so easily? I haven't even told Hanae that I felt something for this random boy I met. She knows that he helped me and has brought him up once before, but nothing after that moment. It couldn't be destiny, could it?

But before I could answer, someone shoved me right into Hanae. I fell into her arms, a sense of familiarity hitting me like a rock in the head. "Watch where you're going!" The person briefly apologized, causing Hanae to sigh miserably. "We should head out, or we'll be late. Save your conversation for later, Yang and Sato!"

Hanae began to skip off, and Jungwon's eyes filled with panic. The two left me in the dust, which didn't bother me. I began to walk in pursuit of their path, Jungwon trying to keep up with Hanae's swift steps.

Although their cuteness aggravates me, I had hoped they'd get together someday, whenever that day would be.

And deep down, I too, hoped that I would receive that eventual ending, even if I knew nothing about getting there. I just wanted to end up there, lying awake at night, with someone next to me, holding my hand–because that seems to be how far my knowledge of it goes.

"Lucky you, Sato," That was from Sunoo. Sunoo was a black-haired smartie, somewhat like me, and I think that's why we get along a little better than me and Jungwon, or me and Hanae. It's not that we're close, we're just similar. Although he was never the best, he sure studied hard and worked like there was no tomorrow. He pointed to my name, smiling. "You're in class A with Teacher Fujii. It'll be easy work for you there."

"You're in class A too," I commented. "But with Teacher Edo."

"What's the difference?" Jungwon and Hanae synchronized, sharing a room in Class B.

"Teacher Edo goes way harder on his students in whatever he teaches, almost similar to torture," Sunoo recalled from what I presumed to be information from friends, physically shuddering. "But, Teacher Fujii trusts his students every year enough to get their work done and make him proud. I hear all of them are hand-picked. I guess you really are quite special, Sato."

"Really, Rie!" Hanae clapped, eyes crinkling happily. "It's a shame we aren't in class B together this year, but that's alright. I'll always see you during break and lunch, and I'll fill you in on the conversations Jungwon and I have!"

I know for sure I won't miss that. "Well, let's all separate then," Sunoo smiled, waving. "See you guys during classroom break. We can meet right back here."

"Sounds good," Jungwon replied, waiting for confirmation from me. I nodded, turning around. I felt the soft pat on my back, which I knew was from Hanae because she'd always do that for good luck. I smiled, just barely, and went on my way to Teacher Fujii's class. It was down the hall by the last window, cutting us off from any other class. Sunoo trailed behind me since our classes were right next to each other, but since we had nothing to talk about, he went on his own way.

I went into Teacher Fujii's class, his podium empty as he awaited the bell to ring. I looked around: something wasn't quite right. There were varying people in here–some I could tell were smart, but others played around like Teacher Fujii wasn't a Class A professor. I do believe it's right to have fun but... on the first day?

Whatever. It's not my business. I fixed my glasses by pushing them up the bridge of my nose and walking to the middle seat by the curtains. I sat behind a boy with his textbook over his head, seemingly snoozing away. I blinked profusely, swallowing what should've been an insult.

It's not your business, Rie. Again, it's not your business.

As I opened my textbook, I started writing it down in my journal beside me. 'Teacher Fujii's class, 2019' When I did, I–

Pop!

I flinched, accidentally kicking the seat in front of me. I noticed before he could, panicking surfacing in my heart and expression. I muttered repetitive apologies, assuming he could hear me, but when the textbook slid down his back and fell, his head tilting upwards, I knew I was screwed. But, as I cast my gaze upwards, something hit me: Brown and blonde highlights.

"Scared of a simple pop?" He said without turning around. My heart pounding had somehow reached my ears–there was no scientific solution to that, was there? "Bubblegum isn't even that scary. How could you flinch?"

"I'm sorry," I bowed my head although he didn't see me. Gulping, I repeated my apology. "I'm sorry, Nishimura."

Shoot. I was screwed for real this time. I saw his body stiffen, a storm metaphorically forming over his head. "How do you know my–" When he faced me, it seemed I wasn't the only one who knew of this familiarity between us. If there was a way to properly put this explanation, it was that his gaze did change–what looked heavy with a frown became filled with realization and somewhat a sense of regret, Nishimura swallowing his words. "You still... remember me?"

There goes my heart's pitter-patter; it was as if the storm above him was placing its downpour directly on the walls of my heart, causing it to get anxious. I clenched my pencil, only a little bit tighter, but his eyes caught my subtle movement, casting his eyes toward it. So, quickly, I said, "Yes," And his eyes met mine once more.

If there was such a thing called oblivion, I felt it–rather, I was in it. His eyes were beautiful, just like that afternoon in March. They had sucked me in like a black hole, creating a universe with only him and me in it. It was just us, sitting at two desks, in the middle of nowhere, but it was certainly somewhere. Just far away from any signs of life. 'Our own world,' I've seen people in romance books call it. But, we were still in the same classroom, surrounded by paper airplanes and desperate muttering. He just concealed us in oblivion.

I couldn't keep my words at a simple confirmation, so, I added, "I still remember you."

And that made him smile. It was the prettiest smile I'd seen. Prettier than Hanae's, prettier than that celebrity she always talked about–it was dainty, like the first spring flower blooming in the school garden. It slowly grew, bewitching me, eyes crinkling at the motion of his cheeks. It wasn't just his smile that was pretty–Nishimura Riki was pretty.

If, I guess, a woman could call a man that. I think I can.

"What's your name, then?" He didn't know mine? I can't clearly remember if he asked, nor can I remember if we ever held a conversation after I was held in his arms. He fully turned around by now, legs spread around the back of his chair, awaiting a response. I pressed my glasses closer to my face, swallowing down hard.

"Sato Rie," I said.

"Sato Rie," He repeated, feeling how my name tasted on his tongue. Then, he laughed a little. "Your name means something like 'the origin of logic.' You look... just like your name."

Huh? I winced. Was that a compliment, or rather, an attack? It's not that I wasn't aware of that or anything. My mother told me from a young age what my name meant. She gave it to me in hopes that I would become someone who approached things logically and wisely. She wanted me to be smart.

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you twice."

He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head softly. "What are you thanking me twice for?"

"Once for what you said just now," I replied gently, averting my gaze to my journal. He seemed to do the same. "And twice for saving me back then."

I saw his hands tap against the surface of his chair, indicating he was a little flustered. It was an automatic response for someone to fidget when they get embarrassed. You'd be a robot not to. "I didn't save you, Sato," The bell rang, indicating that our short conversation was about to end. "You were going to be fine. You were suspended by the rope above your head. I just... wanted to help you get over your fear."

Nishimura then added, "I thought you were only scared of heights, though. But, it seems like you're scared of everything–bubblegum girl."

And his words stuck to me like bubblegum, like a sticky substance starting to coat the exterior of my brain. I knew this would be impractical of me to do–to stick around and consider the potential between us. Teacher Fujii entered the classroom, and as I stared at Nishimura for the last time before he turned around, I watched as his hand tapped against my desk, head bowing.

That was how he left his imprint, a red stamp on my mind.

"Hello, class, I'm Teacher Fujii," The man greeted, bowing his head. "I'll be your final teacher before you leave for university, and even better, you're students of Class A. I expect to see you succeed and make me proud before you leave."

But his words weren't sticking, no, they were deflected off every which way. I burned a hole into the back of Nishimura's head, hoping he'd spare me another glance, but he didn't. Not for another ninety minutes, not even after that, where all he did was walk straight out of the room when break began.

It was the spring of 2019.

The spring when I had gotten my brain rewired by a sentence, by a phrase that made french and basil become beyond brighter, if there was even a color besides neon that shined that shade.

And it was all because of Nishimura Riki.