Yuki stacked the papers on his desk into a pile, realizing he didn't need to keep them anymore—there wouldn't be any more revisions. He had decided to put an end to it. Taking his satchel, he put on his jacket and headed out. Today was garbage collection day, and the truck usually showed up around nine o'clock.

"Good morning."

He looked up and saw Haru standing in front of him, smiling so wide that his teeth showed—pearly white, contrasting his dark complexion. When they first met, he thought Haru was from Okinawa or another coastal city, not a highland like Yoshino. He just found out that there were also dark-skinned mountain people.

"Morning."

"Do you need help with the garbage, Fujiwara-san?"

"Just some papers." Haru's always-ready-to-help attitude reminded Yuki of someone. "I can manage – oh, okay." Haru had already helped him before he could say no. "Thanks."

They started their morning walk as usual. Yuki didn't feel like chatting or seeing Haru, this was one of those days when he woke up on the wrong side of the bed and didn't feel like doing anything. He was just tired. Being a failure was tiring. But he figured he couldn't just shake him off, at least not today, since they already met.

"Today, Nishii-san has the afternoon shift," Haru announced.

Meaning Haru would be having dinner alone again, Yuki thought. Big chance there'd be another food delivery. Something fried, he guessed.

"I have to work late today," he replied, wishing for no more food delivery.

Haru's face looked a bit disappointed. "Please do your best."

Yuki just nodded.

"Anyway, I want to ask you something, Fujiwara-san."

"Go ahead."

"Are you busy this Saturday? I'm planning a trip to Odaiba."

He remembered Haru once said that he had never seen the sea. "Sounds interesting."

"Would you like to come?"

"Is that an invite? Did Nishii-san set you up again this time?"

"No, this was all my idea. I want to see the sea."

"Having a lot of free time now, aren't you?"

"It's not good to study all the time, you know. That's why schools have breaks."

He studied Haru, looking for some signs of a phony motive but the guy looked pretty innocent. Haru had a thin, well-proportioned face, short hair with slightly childish bangs, and a straight nose. One dimple adorned his right cheek – asymmetrical, but cute. This guy reminded him of a kitten: friendly and adorable.

Yuki paused, wondering why he was thinking about Haru's face. "Are you sure you want me to come along? If you haven't noticed, I'm not the most fun travel companion."

"What are you saying? Our hanami was a success."

"Thanks to Nishii-san. She packed you half of the kitchen."

"Don't worry. I'll bring some food too."

Yuki realized that in the last two months, Haru was his only travel buddy, tagging him along to work every morning and visiting some places together. The second part was mostly his idea – it was him who took the guy everywhere, in order to keep his word to Nishii-san. He reckoned the Odaiba trip would be just like their previous outings, nothing special.

"Alright."

Haru punched the air, looking totally glad. "Thank you!"

"Do you always have to be this joyous?"

"You should try it, Fujiwara-san. It's fun."

He decided not to say anything else, worrying that his mood would kill Haru's joy, just like before. Haru tried to talk, seeking his responses, but he just gave him "hmms" or nods. 

After a few minutes, they arrived at the university gates. He prepared to take a right turn to part ways with Haru, but someone shouted behind him.

"GOOD MORNING, MY FUTURE HUSBAND!"

Haru almost choked. Yuki turned around. A young girl with short hair and big, flashy, spotlight-like eyes grinned at them. Her thunderous voice echoed across the campus grounds. She rushed to hug Haru.

"Morning, Maruyama," Haru exclaimed with a look of horror. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it normal for the future wife to greet her future husband?" replied the Maruyama girl; her Kansai accent was distinct. "And why did you call me Maruyama?"

Haru flinched. "Because that's your name!"

Suddenly, Maruyama leaned over Yuki and whispered. "He just started calling me that since he came here. He used to call me 'Chie' all the time. What a smug, huh?"

Her overfamiliarity struck Yuki. She hadn't even introduced herself! He had to step back to guard his personal space. The girl didn't seem to bother; she chuckled exuberantly.

"It's rude to call other people by their first names," Haru yelled.

Maruyama rolled her eyes. "Why do you have to be so formal all the time? Leave that ryokan education back in Yoshino, darling." She ruffled her hair and then pointed at him. "By the way, who is this?"

"You've talked to him without introducing yourself. That's shameful," Haru sneered. "This is Fujiwara-san. Fujiwara-san, this is Chie Maruyama. She's the friend I told you—"

"Ooh, the neighbor! I've heard a lot about you, Fujiwara-san!" Maruyama tiptoed closer to him and bowed. "My name is Maruyama. I'm Haru's childhood friend. Nice to meet you."

Her intrusive behavior was so otherworldly impudent that Yuki couldn't say anything until Haru cleared his throat in the noisiest way.

"I'm Fujiwara," he bowed back, trying to keep his poise. "You said Nakano-san told you about me?"

"Yeah. About the hanami stuff and the other trips!" Maruyama grinned playfully. "Can I come along next time? Seems like you two are having lots of fun."

"I was just showing Haru around," he replied politely.

"You know what," Maruyama glanced at Haru. "We should ask Fujiwara-san to join our date this Saturday to Odaiba!" She turned back to him. "What do you think, Fujiwara-san?"

...

"Takkun!"

The boy sprinted toward me, with Kuma-chan, the giant bear-sized Shikoku dog, trailing closely behind.

"Seiji-kun," I smiled at him. "Is your brother home?"

"Yes, Ryoji is inside. Do you want me to call him for you?"

"Yes, please."

Seiji nodded. "Just wait for Big Bro in the guest room, Takkun. I'll be right back." He waved his hand at the stout Shikoku breed dog. "Come on, Kuma-chan!"

I removed my shoes and made my way to the living room. Having visited several times before, I needed no guidance. I noticed some new furniture in the corridor, indicating that his family had finally settled in comfortably.

When they first showed up here two years ago, the townsfolk were curious about the Fujiwaras, a posh family of porcelain artisans from Sapporo, Hokkaido. Misawa, just a boring port town, wasn't renowned for any artisans. Fujiwara then explained that his family sold their artworks to the US, and many American ships stopped at Misawa. They already faced stiff competition in Tokyo, and port taxes in Yokohama were quite pricey, so they chose Misawa.

After their move, Fujiwara's father purchased a large, traditional-style mansion that was once owned by the former mayor of Misawa. The mid garden featured a cherry blossom garden and a fish pond. The mansion had about fifteen large rooms, all arranged in a square formation, facing the central garden. If certain doors were opened, every room could overlook the garden. This massive house provided ample space for a workshop and galleries for display.

Mori-san, the elderly lady working as a house helper, brought me a cup of tea. As she opened the door, another round of laughter echoed from the garden, this time accompanied by a woman's voice. I patiently waited for Mori-san to leave before opening the partition door that faced the garden to take a peek.

In the reading room, Mr. Fujiwara was seating with several guests, seemingly enjoying a tea session. I noticed my friend near the door, attentively listening to the conversation. Seiji, eager to approach his older brother, was halted by a warning look from his father.

A stout man in an expensive-looking suit was dominating the conversation. The woman beside him, dressed in an orange kimono that obviously too vulgar for winter, nodded solemnly to every word the stout man uttered. Across from Fujiwara, a young girl sat in a plaid skirt and turtleneck sweater, likely a high schooler like myself. She adorned long, black hair that looked like women in old Japanese paintings. Her skin gleamed, and her squinty eyes gave her a fox-like appearance. Observing her movements, I noticed a smooth and cautious body language, coupled with a certain regal aura.

I took out my cell phone and sent Fujiwara a text, letting him know that I was waiting. It was the fifth message; the previous four had been received but still unread.

"Hirose-san?" Mrs. Fujiwara entered the living room, also wearing a kimono. Her hair was elegantly styled, and she wore light makeup. I never seen her dressing this formal before.

"Good afternoon." I stood up and bowed. "Sorry to interrupt. I want to meet Fujiwara."

"Ryoji can't go out today. We're entertaining."

I was already aware of that. "But Fujiwara asked me to come."

"Are you guys heading to hockey practice?"

"Eh, no."

"Ryoji must have forgotten to inform you about the meeting. I apologize."

No, Fujiwara didn't forget. He took every possible measure to ensure I remembered; from setting an alarm on my phone and writing invitations in my homework book to leaving notes in my shoe locker. He even made me promise to come, saying that he had something important to discuss.

I wanted to insist, but Fujiwara-san was already standing in the corridor, holding out the door, inviting me to come out. "I'm terribly sorry. What about another time?"

Her apology felt so insincere that I couldn't bear to look at her face.

I bowed and excused myself.

...

https://youtu.be/aea_OBMSXS8

"Her name is Tsubaki Jin."

I stared into Fujiwara's coffee-brown eyes, attempting to spot any lies.

"The Jin family exports Japanese products," he continued. "Father wants to send our porcelains to Europe and needs a reliable partner."

"I understand. But what's that gotta do with you?"

"I'm the oldest son. I will run the business one day. Now that we're in twelfth grade, Father thinks I should've started learning about business."

"You want to be a businessman, like your father?"

"I don't know. I just want to be happy."

"And you think becoming a businessman will bring you happiness? I thought you wanted to be a pro hockey player?"

"Yes, I want that too, but..." He paused and rubbed his face in frustration. "I don't know yet, okay? I'm just following Father's request for now, that's all."

"And what about this Tsubaki girl? Is she coming because she wants to run her family business too one day?"

"I guess."

"That girl must be rich. She's pretty too."

"Yeah. Many rich families in Hachinohe want their sons to date her."

"Including your parents."

"Oh God, no!" Fujiwara laughed. "Even if my parents had that intention, I'm not interested."

"You're not interested?"

"I mean..." Fujiwara's legs jittered like being electrocuted. "I mean, we're seventeen."

"You can date at seventeen. You can marry and have a child at seventeen."

"I said I'm not interested, okay? I don't care how beautiful and rich she is."

The wind blew hard, tossing away dry branches. The sky changed from light blue to a reddish-orange, like orange juice mixed with blood. Rainwater had frozen on the sides of the road, making a thin, slippery layer of ice. A group of red-headed cranes flew above us, calling softly and forming a neat arrow-shaped pattern, as if they had been practicing marching.

Fujiwara moved closer to me, his elbow pressing against mine.

"You're angry with me, aren't you, Hirose?"

"No, I'm not."

"You are. You've become quieter."

The feeling that filled my chest wasn't anger or disappointment. It was a mix of both, and I had no idea what to call it.

"Will Tsubaki-san stop by again next time?"

"Yes. But just for business."

"Good. You can see her more often."

He looked at me, but I couldn't face him. I was scared that Fujiwara would see what I was feeling. We were just friends after all. I shouldn't be angry about what happened.

"Look, I understand that you're angry. I asked you to come, but I couldn't see you. I tried to go, but Father wouldn't let me. It's not like I missed it on purpose. I'm sorry."

I got up from the park bench and pulled my jacket closer. "Gotta go. It'll be dark soon."

"Wait!" Fujiwara grabbed my hand. "Are you really angry?"

"I told you, I am not," I lied. "It's just getting colder. The roads will be covered in ice soon. You'd better go home too."

"Listen, I don't want to see Tsubaki—"

"Be careful. It's slippery."

"No, please wait. I—"

"See you on Monday at school!"

"LISTEN!"

I stopped. My chest tightened as Fujiwara grabbed my other hand and turned my body to face him. Despite wanting to hide my face, my feelings were becoming more obvious.

"I haven't said what I wanted to say the other day," he squeezed my hand. "I—"

"I don't think it matters anymore."

"Of course it does! Would you please stop cutting me?"

I stood in silence, my heart throbbing like crazy. As much as I wanted to know what Fujiwara was about to say, I couldn't bear to hear it. I'd be ruined.

"Listen..." He squeezed my hand, and I could feel his fingers trembling. "I like you."

Ah.

There it was.

"I've been thinking about it for a while," he continued, his words becoming shaky too. "At first, I thought there must be something wrong because it shouldn't be like that, but I can't let go of that thought... of you... I've been thinking about you constantly since we met."

His voice sounded muffled, as if he was talking underwater.

"I know what I'm feeling," Fujiwara put his right hand on his chest. "I know this sounds strange to many people and to you... but I really like you, Hirose."

I was left speechless. Time seemed to be frozen.

"Please say something, Hirose."

I couldn't. My brain couldn't function. I tried to compose some words but ended up stuttering. I had to bite my tongue so I could finally speak properly. "I should go home."

"Go home?" He sounded confused. "So, that's all?"

"It's really late now, Fujiwara. My Dad's gonna kill me."

Without my permisison, he took my palm, tucked it into his jacket, and placed it over his left chest. I couldn't resist. His heartbeats were crazy, like mine.

"I'm dead serious, Hirose. I care so much about you; my heart hurts every time I see you being bullied by Coach, Tachibana, and the others."

"We're both men, Fujiwara."

"I know. But, what's wrong with loving someone?"

My tears started to fall. He knew. "Sorry. I only consider you as a friend."

"You're avoiding my eyes. Look at me, Hirose. I beg you."

He sighed. I tried to pull my hand away, but he held it. He reached out to touch my chin, but I dodged. "Sorry, Fujiwara. I really need to go home now."

"Look me in the eye and say you only think of me as a friend!"

I couldn't. I wouldn't be able to because I liked him too. The feeling was mutual. At first, I didn't realize it, but his persistence in pursuing me had broken through the thick ice wall I had set up to secure my own, fragile feelings. Despite the bullies, I kept showing up at practice because I knew he'd be there, waiting for me, always ready to lend a hand. Although everyone saw me as nothing more than a fly on the wall, I continued going to school because I knew he'd greet me at the shoe lockers, sit next to me in the cafeteria, be my sparring partner in PE class while everyone else avoided me, and wait for me at the end of the school day so we could walk home together, even though our homes were in different directions.

His care for me became more apparent with each passing day, and I found solace in him. In the past year, Fujiwara had done everything to show me that he noticed me as a human being, not just an object of bullying. When everyone else was pretending like I was invisible at school, Fujiwara saw me. Even though, at first, I tried to push him away, I realized that he was indeed kind, not just a show-off snob. That's what made me fall for him. I was hoping that we could remain as best friends, so I could love him in secret.

But now that he'd actually confessed, things had taken a wrong turn. This feeling was dangerous. If anybody found out, our lives would be over for sure.

I pulled myself together and looked at him. I knew right away that he was telling the truth. He had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. I tried to walk away from him, but it was too late. My vision blurred with tears.

Fujiwara's face came closer. His breath caressed my cheek, soft and warm, like a breeze in spring.

In that moment, I realized that it didn't matter even if the world and everyone else opposed what we felt. I liked him, and he liked me too.

Nothing else mattered.

...

Snow stopped falling in the entire Misawa thatevening. It was a rare phenomenon, so strange that the local news station called it "The Warm Winter Night."