Faced with the girl who’d suddenly stepped into her path, Sham should’ve pounced like a kitten chasing sun, or breezed in with a grin to tease. Today, she stayed still, a pond without ripples, just watching.

Mizuki sensed the wrongness at once; her smile thinned like mist under wind. She saw the weariness pooled in Sham’s eyes. “Sham?”

Sham, usually heart-light and a little sly, was no porcelain saint at all. To those who knew her, she was a goof with a hidden sting, sunlight on water with the occasional shadow.

She was the spark that lit their days; without her, life dulled to gray sky. The Sham Mizuki knew never sank over small bumps. She’d stand up where she fell, brush off dust, and keep walking. Despair didn’t fit her shape.

But that truth had begun to crack like ice in spring. Ever since Mizuki had glimpsed Sham’s sadness, doubt had crept in like night fog. She was hiding something.

“Sham, let’s go to class together.” Mizuki kept her tone breezy, like usual. She took Sham’s hand, smile soft as a breeze. Sham didn’t flinch. She only nodded, a quiet pebble of a response, and said nothing more.

Mizuki watched her from the corner of her eye. The more familiar the look, the surer she felt it: Sham had a stone on her heart.

She didn’t call it out. She just walked and smiled, side by side, like old times.

“Ugh, next period’s math,” Mizuki chirped, light as a sparrow. “What do I do, I’m already stressed, Sham.”

“Mmm...”

“Right, you’re good at math, aren’t you? Can you tutor me?”

“Mmm...”

“Great! Then come to my place today. We’ll study and have dinner.”

“Mmm...”

“Hey, Sham, I...”

“Mmm...”

No matter how Mizuki tossed the ball, Sham returned only a single syllable. It tortured Lady Mizuki; she’d never learned how to comfort anyone.

For once, the young lady felt helpless; her chest ached like bruised fruit. She didn’t know how to coax this foreign girl back into light, and the sadness stung.

For Sham to have this side at all—then the blow must’ve been heavy, Mizuki thought, like a storm snapping a branch.

They entered the classroom, routine as rain. Take notes in class, chat after the bell, small waves on a normal day. Through it all, Sham never wore joy; the gap from her usual self yawned like a shadowed alley.

At lunch, Sham went alone to the rooftop. What snagged Mizuki’s gaze was her empty hands. The girl who lived for food had no bento. Unthinkable, like snow in midsummer.

“Sham, I brought two bentos. Share with me.” Mizuki’s tone was bright as lacquer, confidence smooth and easy. With her status, this problem was a leaf in the stream. Yet even this couldn’t draw Sham’s smile or her voice into the sun.

Yes—Sham’s burden was a mountain. So heavy even a closest friend couldn’t lift the lid. If anything, her air looked less struck by a single blow and more like... heartbroken.

Mizuki had met many people. She’d seen a friend after a breakup: the day seemed to collapse like a sky losing its pillars. The symptoms matched Sham’s like mirror to face.

So Sham liked someone. The thought pricked; a small sourness rose like green plums on the tongue. She felt unaccountably upset. But seeing Sham hurting, she shook off the thought like rain and searched for ways to pull her back to warmth.

“Sham, let’s get cake after school. A new place just opened.”

“Okay...”

Whatever it took, she’d lift Sham up. Lady Mizuki cheered herself like beating a drum before battle.

The bell had barely faded when Mizuki tugged Sham’s hand and whisked her from the room, then the school. She didn’t want Sham caged there; her gut said the one Sham loved walked those halls, and that was why her smile had died all day. A woman’s intuition cuts like a knife.

They headed west. With a food-lover in tow, they slipped into the cake shop like fish into a current. Mizuki ordered the priciest slice, hoping sugar could pull a star back into the sky.

Reality, of course, crossed her wish like rain on lanterns. When the cake arrived, Sham ate two small bites, then set the spoon down.

“Eh, you’re done?” On any other day, the foodie would have devoured Mizuki’s portion too. Today, she left it. Unthinkable.

“Mmm. No appetite. You have it, Mizuki.”

Sham slid her plate over. She was done. Mizuki gaped, wondering if this wasn’t the real Sham at all. Who sent the impostor? But no—up close, the air around her was unique, like a scent you’d know with eyes closed. No mistake.

Poor Mizuki stared at two slices. They went into her stomach and bruised her heart. She’d be paying for this with a diet march later.

She left the shop holding her overfull belly, wincing and laughing at herself. So this was Sham’s usual appetite—terrifying as a bottomless pit. Still, it wasn’t all loss; Sham had said a few more words. That counted as something.

The safe play would be to send Sham home to cool alone, let time sand the edges. Mizuki refused. She wanted to do something for her—anything—to bring back the girl she used to be.

It was rush hour. Students flowed along the road like a bright river. Some veered to game centers, some to sticker booths; all wore easy smiles. Against that light, Mizuki and Sham looked dim, like clouds against dusk.

“Haah...” Mizuki’s sigh scattered like leaves. She felt tired. She’d run all day and still couldn’t draw even a flicker of smile. It was soul-tiredness.

“Sorry, Mizuki.”

“Eh?”

“You’ve stuck with me all day. You must be tired. I dragged you down. I’m sorry.”

Sham’s earnest apology startled Mizuki, like a clear bell in fog.

“It’s nothing. I just... I just wanted to be with you, Sham, so I...”

“That’s enough, Mizuki. Go home. I’ll go back by myself.”

“Wait, Sham—why so sudden...”

The girl’s face held none of her usual bells and laughter. Mizuki’s unease deepened like a falling stone. This Sham didn’t feel like the Sham she knew.

The one who was carefree. The one who loved to clown. The one who wouldn’t cry. The eternal mood-lifter. If she changed—what would they do?

It was hard to imagine. If Sham Einafel wasn’t who she’d been, what would Ryubidou Mizuki do then?

She couldn’t accept it. Truly couldn’t.

“Sham, you’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?”

“...” Sham didn’t answer.

“Answer me, Sham! Aren’t we friends? Why are you bottling it up alone? You told me—whatever happens, you can tell a friend!”

“Mizuki...”

“I’m right here. What can’t you say to me?”

“You won’t understand. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“It’s just heartbreak, right? You think I don’t know anything?”

—!

Sham froze, thunderstruck. She hadn’t expected Mizuki to guess her secret, much less say it so plainly.

Then the light in Sham’s eyes dimmed again, like a lamp cupped by wind.

Cars slid past them, wind lifting their hair like reeds by a river. The breeze veiled Mizuki’s expression and left Sham’s bleakness exposed.

“So you already knew...”

“We’ve known each other long enough. I can read a little of what you’re thinking.”

“Is that so.”

Sham turned and drifted toward the roadside. Mizuki followed. Silence spooled between them like a long, thin thread. Mizuki matched her steps. Sham walked until the street narrowed into a small alley.

The alley was usually empty as a dry well. Few ever passed through, except those cutting corners. Now Sham stood there, gaze soft with memory, staring at the stones.

“This is where I first ran into her.”

After a long stillness, Sham let her heart speak.

The single sentence stabbed Mizuki’s chest like a needle. She felt a breathless pain, as if a hand had pressed her ribs. So Sham truly liked someone—and that truth hurt.

“You’re right, Mizuki. I’m heartbroken. But I don’t even know if I am.”

“What... does that mean?”

Sham dropped her hand from the wall and turned to face her.

“Because she doesn’t even know what love is. She doesn’t know what it feels like to like someone. So I’m lost. If the one she likes isn’t me, will I fall apart? I don’t know.”

“And so?”

Mizuki didn’t notice her own palm curling tight, nails nearly cutting her skin.

“I don’t know. So I wander. I don’t know if I’m allowed to have this feeling.”

Sham’s expression showed her helplessness, a bird beating against glass.

She poured her heart out, every tributary of feeling. She truly didn’t know what to do. All she could do was spill it in a rush to Mizuki. She knew Mizuki couldn’t solve it, but she needed to speak.

“Sham, that person... is it Yun Shi?”

Sham kept silent. The more she said nothing, the more Mizuki felt that silence was assent.

“I’d heard there was something between you two. So it’s true...”

She had hoped it was a joke, a rumor that would never grow fruit. She was wrong. The most fatal thing is what you never watch—the person beside you. That was the real rival.

Sham still didn’t answer. Mizuki let out a small, self-mocking laugh.

“In that case, go after him boldly, won’t you? Why give up on yourself here? That’s not you.”

The words were against her heart. She dropped her head; tears wobbled on the brim like glass beads.

“It’s impossible. Because you don’t understand.”

Sham couldn’t see Mizuki’s face. She kept speaking to the wall of air between them.

Yun Shi is a girl. The one Sham likes is a girl. To say that aloud... was too hard.

Unlike ordinary love, Sham’s path twisted like a mountain road in fog.

“What don’t I understand? What is there to not understand? If you like someone, chase them! It’s better than... better than letting it rot in your chest!”

“Mizuki, what’s wrong...”

“I don’t understand, Sham. I don’t understand why the more you reach, the further it slips away!”

When she finally raised her head, tears had drawn their tracks. Drops fell and darkened the ground, then faded like rain into earth.

Sham stared, startled. The dullness in her gaze gathered light again, but it wasn’t hope’s light.

Mizuki’s tears splashed, then she gave a wan smile.

“Pretend I never said any of that. Sorry.”

At last, she understood. With feelings—often, the more you cherish, the less you can hold.

Sham can’t have it. She can’t either. It’s that simple.

Mizuki covered her face and fled. She slipped from Sham’s sight and into the current of people, and was gone.

“Mizuki!”

She didn’t know why, but it felt like something important was slipping out of her hands, like sand through fingers.

She felt it with wintry clarity—the thing she cherished was slipping away, like a kite string sliding from her fingers, like a tide pulling back into the dark.

Sham’s legs jolted like startled deer; she plunged into the swarm, a river of bodies, shouting a name that dissolved like smoke. That face never surfaced in her sight.

Yes, she liked Yun Shi; the truth rang cold. And yet a stubborn thread tugged toward Mizuki, a quiet ember she couldn’t stamp out, glowing under the ash.

Her heart mimicked the crowd—a restless storm with no compass, a thousand footfalls scattering her direction, chaos beating against her ribs like rain on eaves.