The next morning began like any other: students slowly trudging through the school gates, yawning into sleeves, clutching convenience store toast between their teeth. Leo walked into the classroom early, sunlight brushing across the floorboards as he slid open the windows to let the morning breeze in.
But something felt... off.
Rin wasn't in her seat.
She was always early. Always.
Leo frowned and checked the hallway. No sign of her.
Kai entered seconds later, holding two rice balls and humming to himself. "Yo. Where's the ice queen?"
Leo shook his head. "Haven't seen her."
As if summoned by the question, Rin appeared at the classroom door—but something about her posture was wrong. Her usually crisp uniform looked a little rumpled, and her steps lacked the usual calm precision. Her eyes were shadowed.
She didn't greet anyone. She just sat down and stared out the window.
Leo and Kai exchanged glances.
---
It wasn't until lunch that Leo had the chance to talk to her. He approached the quiet courtyard behind the library, where he often found her when she wanted to be alone.
She was sitting under the ginkgo tree, lunch unopened on her lap, staring at a letter in her hand.
"Hey," Leo said gently.
Rin startled slightly, but didn't tell him to leave. That was something.
"Bad news?" he asked, nodding to the letter.
She folded it carefully and tucked it into her bag. "Just... home stuff."
Leo sat beside her. "You don't have to talk about it. But I'll listen if you want."
For a long moment, Rin was silent.
Then she said, softly, "My mother wants me to transfer back to Kyoto."
Leo blinked. "Wait, what?"
"She thinks the private academy there is better for preparing me for university. She says this school is... too distracted."
Leo bit his lip. "Are you going to go?"
"I don't know." Rin wrapped her arms around her knees. "It's not just up to me. She's already spoken to the principal."
There was a weight in her voice Leo wasn't used to hearing. A quiet vulnerability.
"I like it here," she said suddenly. "I like the noise. The chaos. The friends I didn't expect to make. I like... the way things feel more alive here."
Leo said nothing. He just watched her, the way the wind toyed with strands of her hair, the way she held herself together with invisible threads.
"Is it selfish to want to stay?" Rin whispered.
"No," Leo said firmly. "It's brave."
---
News of Rin's possible transfer spread fast. By the next day, even Hana had heard.
"She's what?!" Hana nearly dropped her sandwich. "Who the heck thinks yanking someone mid-year is a good idea?"
Yuki frowned, clutching her drink tighter. "Did she say why?"
"Family pressure," Leo said.
The group grew quiet.
Kai broke the silence. "We should do something."
"Like what?" Yuki asked.
"Remind her why she belongs here. Make staying feel like more than just a rebellion."
Leo considered that. "We could throw something. Not a party, but... maybe something simple. Personal."
Hana's eyes lit up. "A picnic. After school. Just us. Our own little rebellion."
---
That Friday, the group met under the old cherry tree, the same one Leo and Rin had shared lunch under weeks ago. A blanket spread out, boxes of snacks, drinks, and a small Bluetooth speaker playing soft music completed the setup.
Rin arrived last. She paused at the edge of the grass, eyes flicking from one friend to the next.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Our protest," Kai said solemnly.
Hana waved a rice cracker. "A delicious protest."
Yuki patted the spot beside her. "Come sit. No strings. Just... us."
Rin hesitated—then slowly stepped forward, sat down, and exhaled.
They talked. About everything and nothing. Classes. Teachers. Embarrassing moments from the camp. Future dreams. Yuki made everyone laugh with her impressions of the math teacher. Kai and Hana arm-wrestled over the last chocolate donut. Leo simply watched as Rin laughed—a real, unguarded laugh that reached her eyes.
As the sun began to set, casting golden light through the branches, Rin turned to Leo.
"Thank you."
He blinked. "For what?"
"For not asking me to stay," she said softly. "Just... reminding me why I'd want to."