Chapter 1: The Faces We Hide

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting soft gold across the tidy Hori household. Kyouko Hori moved quickly through the kitchen, her apron fluttering as she packed her little brother Souta’s bento box with practiced care. She placed a pair of chopsticks beside it, her expression calm but focused.

"Okay, done," she murmured to herself, slipping the lid shut. She glanced at the clock. Still got time to brush his hair.

Souta sat obediently on the couch, his small legs swinging as his sister knelt before him. With delicate hands, Hori untangled his messy hair, smoothing it down lovingly. It was a daily ritual, one she’d taken over since their parents started working long hours. No complaints, no room for slacking. At school, she was the perfect, popular girl. At home—she was the one holding everything together.

Souta grinned up at her. “Will you pick me up again today?”

“Of course,” Hori replied, tying his scarf snugly. “Be good at school, okay?”

She walked him to the door, waved goodbye, and then raced upstairs to change. Her usual school uniform was crisp, her makeup minimal but flawless. No one would guess she had just done a full round of morning chores.

---

At Katagiri High, Hori’s presence lit up the hallways. Students greeted her with smiles and casual admiration.

“Hori-san! Good morning!”

“You look great as always!”

She returned their greetings, her smile polite but distant. This version of her—composed, stylish, admired—was the one everyone knew. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Just a version. A carefully curated one.

As she took her seat in class, her gaze flickered briefly to the boy in the back corner. Izumi Miyamura sat alone, hair falling into his face, glasses perched on his nose like a mask. He kept his head down, silently sketching something in the margins of his notebook.

He was the loner—awkward, gloomy, and forgettable. The type of guy who never raised his hand, never joined conversations, and who probably didn't have a single friend in the class. Hori barely spared him a thought.

---

After school, she rushed home, barely stopping to change into her house clothes. She tidied the living room, folded laundry, and had just started chopping vegetables when her phone buzzed.

A message from the elementary school.

Your brother has been injured. Please come immediately.

Her heart skipped. She grabbed her coat and sprinted the entire way, panic fluttering in her chest like a bird in a cage.

When she arrived, Souta sat on a bench with a small scrape on his knee and red eyes. But what startled her wasn’t the injury—it was the person sitting next to him.

Long hair. Piercings. Tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves. A tall boy in a dark hoodie crouched beside Souta, holding a cartoon bandage in one hand.

“Eh... Miyamura-kun?” Hori blinked, her brain scrambling to make sense of what she was seeing.

He looked up slowly, and for the first time, Hori saw his eyes without the shield of glasses. They were warm, gentle, and real.

“Oh. Hori-san.”

Souta tugged on his sister’s hand. “This is Miyamura-oniichan! He helped me when I fell!”

She blinked. Oniichan? The scary-looking punk next to her brother was that Miyamura?

---

Back at the Hori house, she poured him a cup of tea as Souta snacked happily beside them. The silence between the teens was awkward, until she couldn’t hold it anymore.

“You… you’re Miyamura? From school?”

He nodded, sipping politely.

“But you look… so different.”

He gave a sheepish smile, brushing his hair behind his pierced ear. “Yeah. I don’t really show this side at school.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

“I dunno. People would probably treat me differently.”

She frowned. “You have nine piercings and tattoos. They will treat you differently.”

He laughed. It was the first time she heard him laugh.

“What about you, Hori-san?” he asked suddenly, glancing around the spotless home, the sibling she cared for like a parent. “You’re not exactly what you seem at school, either.”

That made her pause.

It was true.

He’d seen her without makeup, wearing old sweatpants and cooking dinner like someone’s mom. And yet, he wasn’t judging her.

Maybe, she realized, he was like her—someone hiding a whole world beneath the surface.

---

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm shadows across the living room, Hori walked Miyamura to the door.

“Thanks for helping Souta,” she said, softer now.

He nodded. “Anytime.”

And just before he left, he added, “Your secret’s safe with me… if mine is safe with you.”

She smiled.

A quiet pact was formed. Not just a truce, but something deeper. The first thread in a bond neither of them had expected.

The perfect girl and the hidden boy.

Two secrets, finally meeting in the open air.

---

Chapter 2: Unmasked Moments

The next morning at school, nothing seemed different.

The classroom buzzed with its usual energy—friends chatting, papers rustling, laughter echoing through the halls. Hori sat by the window, chin resting on her hand, staring out at the cloudless sky. From the outside, she looked as calm and composed as always.

But on the inside, her mind was spiraling.

That was Miyamura.

She glanced toward the back corner of the room. There he sat again—glasses on, hair down, sleeves long and buttoned up. The gloomy loner. As if last evening had been a dream.

How is this even the same person?

Hori narrowed her eyes, watching him doodle in his notebook, isolated as always. No one talked to him. No one even glanced his way. And yet, he had tattoos, piercings, and the kindest smile she’d seen in a while.

It made her uncomfortable… no, curious. Curious in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

At lunch, she cornered him by the shoe lockers.

“Miyamura-kun,” she said, arms folded.

He flinched, almost dropping his shoes. “Y-Yes?”

“Come with me.”

He looked alarmed, but obeyed.

They ended up in a quiet hallway on the second floor, far from the chattering crowds.

Hori turned to him. “Why do you hide all of that?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “You mean my piercings?”

“All of it. The tattoos. The long hair. The… the different personality.”

He gave a lopsided smile. “Well, you hide things too, Hori-san.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” he said gently. “You’re popular, pretty, always smiling. But at home, you’re like a mini-mom.”

Her eyes widened.

“You’re not fake,” he continued, “but you're not just what people see.”

She looked away. “Still… you surprised me. You were... nice. With Souta.”

Miyamura gave a small chuckle. “He’s a good kid. I didn’t think you’d talk to me again, honestly.”

“Well, now you’re stuck with me.”

“Huh?”

“I mean…” She paused, biting her lip. “You know my secret, I know yours. That makes us even, right?”

He looked at her for a moment, as if trying to read between the lines. Then he smiled again, a little brighter this time. “I guess it does.”

Over the next few days, things slowly shifted.

It started with small conversations in class—nothing loud enough to draw attention. A glance here, a whispered joke there. Hori found herself laughing at his dry humor. Miyamura, though still quiet, seemed to relax a little more around her.

And then there were the home visits.

Miyamura started dropping by after school, usually under the excuse of “checking on Souta” or “returning something.” But it quickly became more than that. He’d sit at the kitchen table, chatting with Hori while she chopped vegetables or folded laundry.

Souta adored him, always tugging on his sleeves and begging for stories.

And Hori… she found herself looking forward to those moments.

One afternoon, as they shared a plate of sliced apples, she asked casually, “So… why all the piercings? You don’t really seem the type.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m not. But I wanted to feel like I had some control. Something that was mine.”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“When I was younger, I didn’t really fit in. People called me creepy. Or weird. So I thought... if I was going to be judged anyway, I might as well choose how.”

Hori went quiet.

It made sense—painfully so.

She realized then how little she actually knew about the people around her. Especially Miyamura.

“Do they hurt?” she asked, eyeing the tiny studs hidden under his hair.

He smirked. “Not anymore. Want to try?”

She nearly dropped her chopsticks. “What?! No way!”

He laughed—an honest, surprised laugh that lit up his face.

She found herself laughing too.

Later that evening, after he left, Hori stood by the window, watching the streetlights flicker on.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Miyamura.

> Thanks for dinner. And for not judging me.

She smiled, typing back quickly.

> You’re weird. But I think I’m starting to like it.

The next day at school, something happened that neither of them had planned.

Yuki Yoshikawa, Hori’s cheerful friend, leaned over during lunch and whispered, “Hey, Hori-san... I saw you walking with Miyamura the other day. What’s that about?”

Hori froze mid-bite. “W-What? Nothing. Just coincidence.”

“Hmm…” Yuki gave her a teasing look. “Is gloomy Miyamura your secret boyfriend?”

“No! He’s not—wait, secret boyfriend?!”

Yuki giggled. “You got flustered. That’s suspicious.”

From across the room, Miyamura looked up.

Their eyes met.

Hori blushed furiously.

This is getting complicated, she thought.

But deep inside, a little spark warmed her chest.

She didn’t mind the complication.

...----------------...

Chapter 3: The Distance Between Us

The wind rustled through the trees as the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the school courtyard. It was late autumn—one of those in-between seasons where the air was neither warm nor cold, just crisp enough to make you wish you’d worn another layer.

Miyamura sat on a bench near the back wall of the school, a small carton of strawberry milk in hand. The noise of other students had faded into the background—a white noise of laughter, footsteps, and distant whistles from gym class. He preferred it this way. Quiet. Detached.

Or at least, he used to.

“Found you,” came a familiar voice.

He looked up and squinted against the sunlight. Hori stood there, hands in her blazer pockets, her ponytail swaying slightly in the breeze.

“You always hide during break,” she said, sitting beside him.

“It’s not hiding. I just like the quiet.”

She raised a brow. “And yet you still let me interrupt you.”

He smiled faintly. “Maybe I’m getting used to the noise.”

Hori laughed, a short, bright sound that made something flutter in his chest. She didn’t realize it, but moments like these—sitting side by side, sharing silence and conversation—were beginning to feel like the safest place in his world.

As the school day ended, they walked out together without discussing it. It had become a silent routine. While other students watched with mild curiosity, no one said anything. No one quite knew what to make of the unexpected pairing.

“I’m stopping by the bakery on the way home,” Hori said as they walked. “Mom said she wants something sweet tonight. Want to come?”

“Free food?” Miyamura teased. “I’m in.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re so easily bribed.”

They stopped at a cozy little shop tucked between an old bookstore and a florist. The scent of warm bread and sugar wafted out as the bell above the door jingled.

Inside, Hori picked out cream puffs, while Miyamura wandered to the corner where seasonal cookies were displayed in neat rows. The shop owner, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, looked between the two of them and beamed.

“You two make a cute couple,” she said cheerfully.

Hori choked.

Miyamura nearly dropped the cookie he was holding.

“W-We’re not—” Hori started, her cheeks burning.

The woman waved it off with a knowing grin. “Ah, young love.”

As they stepped outside, paper bags in hand, Hori groaned. “Why does everyone assume that?!”

Miyamura glanced at her, expression unreadable. “Would it be that bad?”

She stopped in her tracks, startled. “Huh?”

He met her gaze. “If people thought we were a couple.”

Her voice caught in her throat.

“I mean,” he added quickly, “I know we’re not. But... I don’t mind being seen with you.”

She stared at him for a long moment.

And then, softer than she meant to speak: “I don’t mind it either.”

That evening, Miyamura visited again. Souta greeted him with his usual enthusiasm, dragging him to the living room to show off a drawing of a superhero with six arms.

As the younger boy babbled happily, Hori stood in the doorway, watching them.

He’s good with kids, she thought. Gentle. Patient. Nothing like the gloomy guy from school.

She stepped inside, holding two mugs of tea.

“You know,” she said, handing one to Miyamura, “Souta talks about you more than he talks about me now.”

Miyamura chuckled. “I’ll try not to steal your little brother.”

“Too late.”

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping tea as Souta hummed to himself.

Then, unexpectedly, Miyamura spoke. “Do you ever get tired?”

She glanced at him. “Tired?”

“Of doing everything. School. Home. Taking care of Souta. Being... the perfect Hori-san.”

Her eyes widened.

He wasn’t accusing. He wasn’t judging. He just saw her.

And the weight of that recognition hit her harder than she expected.

“Sometimes,” she whispered. “But if I stop, there’s no one else who will take over.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re strong.”

“I don’t want to be strong all the time.”

The words left her lips before she could pull them back.

Miyamura didn’t reply. Instead, he reached out and gently poked her forehead.

“You don’t have to be,” he said softly. “At least... not when I’m here.”

She blinked. Her breath caught.

It wasn’t a grand gesture. It wasn’t romantic in the usual sense. But it pierced through her defenses in a way no sweet words ever could.

He wasn’t just seeing the version of her that everyone else saw.

He was looking at all of her—and staying anyway.

The next day at school, the whispers began.

“I saw Hori and Miyamura walking together yesterday.”

“They were at the bakery. Like, together together.”

“No way. Isn’t Miyamura that gloomy guy?”

“Maybe he has blackmail on her or something.”

Hori heard them all.

She didn’t say anything at first. But when the snickering reached her desk, she stood up so suddenly the entire class fell quiet.

“Got something to say?” she asked, voice dangerously calm.

The students shrank back, murmuring apologies.

And from the back corner, Miyamura watched her—eyes wide.

Later that day, he caught up to her by the lockers.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” she said firmly.

He looked away. “People won’t stop talking.”

“Let them talk.”

He turned back to her, surprise on his face.

She stepped closer, voice softer now. “I don’t care what they think. You’re... important to me, okay?”

His eyes widened.

And for once, he couldn’t hide the small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

That night, lying in bed, Hori stared at the ceiling.

Important to me...

The words echoed in her head.

She hadn’t meant to say it. Not like that.

But now that it was out there... she didn’t want to take it back.

Maybe something really was changing between them.

Something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

But it was real.

And it was growing.