The Kishimoto Mansion was unusually quiet that afternoon—quiet in the way only a massive house could be, the silence stretching from hallway to hallway. The only sounds were the distant footsteps and soft chatter of servants as they hurried through their daily tasks, their movements echoing faintly against the polished floors.

  Outside, in the wide expanse of the garden, Yumio sat cross-legged on the trimmed grass with her notebooks scattered around her like fallen petals. Her pen tapped restlessly against the page. She stared at the words she had written—half-formed sentences, scratched-out ideas, broken thoughts that refused to bloom into anything meaningful.

  “…No, this is awful,” she muttered under her breath.

  With a groan, she tore the page from her notebook and crumpled it with far more force than necessary. The paper bounced off the rim of the already overflowing trash can set beside her.

  “Great,” she sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “Another one wasted.”

  She set her notebook aside with a frustrated thump and leaned back on her hands. The crisp air brushed against her skin, carrying the scent of fresh flowers. It should have been relaxing—she had chosen the garden because it usually was—but her mind felt locked, frozen, stubbornly blank.

  “Why is it so hard for me to think of something to write?” she exclaimed, louder this time, as if the sky itself owed her an answer.

  No reply came, of course.

  Letting her body flop backward, she stretched out on the grass, arms spread as if surrendering to the heavens. The clouds drifted lazily above her, unbothered by deadlines or creativity blocks.

  “At this rate,” she murmured, staring up at the pale blue sky, “I won’t be able to write another chapter… not even a paragraph.”

  A soft meow cut through her sulking. Yumio blinked and turned her head.

  Three familiar figures padded toward her—Neira, Deia, and Gaiea. Their tails swayed like gentle brushes, and they approached with the absolute confidence of creatures who owned the entire garden.

  “Oh… girls,” Yumio said, her voice softening instantly.

  Neira, the boldest, flopped right onto her stomach. Deia curled near her arm, and Gaiea nestled against her hair as if claiming it as her nest.

  “Are you three here to comfort me?” she asked with a tired smile.

  All three meowed in harmony, as if offended she even had to ask.

  Yumio laughed—just a small one, but enough to loosen the tightness in her chest. She reached out and stroked their fur, her fingers brushing against their warmth. For a moment, the frustration melted away, replaced by something tender.

  “You girls always know when I need company…” she whispered.

  Her eyes drifted back to the sky, the same sky her siblings looked up at on their way to school. She watched a cloud slowly drift apart, splitting into two halves.

  “I wish…” she said quietly, her voice almost carried off by the breeze. “I wish I could go to school like my siblings.”

  The cats didn’t move, as if they understood the heaviness in her words.

  She imagined Touya adjusting his uniform carefully, Natsumi and Miyuki twirling with excitement, Natsu fixing his hair for the tenth time, and Ariana waving goodbye with bright eyes. She always watched them leave—standing at her window, clutching the curtains, pretending it didn’t bother her.

  But it did.

  Every single time.

  “Every morning, they all look so excited,” she murmured. “Laughing, talking, running out the door… I want that too. I want to walk through the gates, hear the school bell, complain about homework…” She let out a shaky sigh. “I want to be there with them.”

  Neira rubbed her head against Yumio’s hand, as if urging her to continue.

  “But I’m stuck here,” she whispered. “Just… stuck.”

  The breeze rustled the leaves above her, and for a moment the whole world felt quiet, as if listening—truly listening—to her heart.

  Yumio closed her eyes, the cats curled around her like tiny guardians, and let the longing inside her flow freely—because for once, she wasn’t hiding it.

  The Kishimoto dining hall was bursting with its usual morning chaos—voices overlapping, chairs scraping, hurried footsteps echoing across the polished floors. The long table was crowded with plates, scattered notebooks, half-packed bags, and twelve different kinds of morning energy.

  Emi moved between the children like a seasoned general managing a battlefield, her expression warm but firm.

  “Miyu, Fuyu—eat faster, sweetheart, sweetheart,” she said as she tried to tame the younger twins’ slow chewing. Both girls puffed their cheeks but nodded, stuffing more food into their mouths.

  Across the table, the older twins were at it again.

  “I told you this isn’t yours!” Natsu grumbled, tugging at a pencil.

  “It was on my side of the table,” Natsumi argued back, pulling harder.

  “Natsu, Natsumi,” Emi warned without even looking—her tone enough to make both of them freeze.

  Near the end of the table, Touya and Akari were hunched over their worksheets, scribbling furiously.

  “Science report due today… done!” Touya announced, slapping his pen down in triumph.

  “Don’t brag, Touya, you only finished because I helped you,” Akari muttered, shoving her own papers into her bag.

  They didn’t even touch their orange juice.

  Amid all this chaos, the triplets remained the eye of the storm.

  Yurio and Yumio ate quietly, chatting softly about the books they were reading last night. Yumio giggled as Yurio animatedly retold a funny scene, waving his fork around for emphasis.

  Beside them, Yukio scrolled through his phone with serene indifference, occasionally humming in agreement whenever Yumio or Yurio said something—though it was questionable if he even heard them.

  “Yurio, Yukio,” Emi called, hands on her hips. “Finish your rice, or you will be late.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Yurio replied immediately.

  “Mhm,” Yukio murmured, still staring at his phone.

  After several more minutes of rushing, scolding, and last-minute checking of assignments, breakfast finally ended.

  The children grabbed their bags—some running, some dragging their feet—and lined up as the driver opened the van door.

  Emi guided them with practiced hands, straightening collars, dusting crumbs, fixing tangled hair.

  Yumio stood quietly beside her mother, watching the flurry of siblings with curious eyes.

  “Miyu, Fuyu, do you both have your lunches with you?” Emi asked, crouching to check the younger twins.

  Miyuki held up her bunny-print lunch box proudly. Fuyu mimicked her with a smile.

  “Good.”

  “We have ours as well, Mom,” Natsu said, pulling out his and Natsumi’s matching lunch boxes.

  “We packed them last night,” Natsumi added with a grin.

  Yurio opened his bag halfway. “I have mine—and Yukio’s too, just in case he forgot.”

  Yukio blinked. “I didn’t forget.”

  Yurio raised a brow. “You forgot.”

  “…Okay, maybe,” Yukio muttered under his breath.

  Emi laughed softly. “Alright, alright. Good. All of you, have a wonderful day at school.”

  The children chorused their goodbyes, the younger ones waving wildly as if leaving for a month-long adventure rather than a normal school day. The van door slid shut, and within seconds, the vehicle pulled out of the mansion driveway.

  Yumio and Emi stood there, side by side, watching the van disappear down the long road.

  Slowly, the noise faded, replaced by the gentle hush of the morning breeze.

  Yumio’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

  “I’ll be going to the garden, Mom,” she said softly, glancing up.

  Emi bent down and brushed a strand of hair away from her daughter’s face. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll ask the maids to prepare you some snacks. And if you need anything—just call for me, okay?”

  Yumio nodded. “I will.”

  With that, she turned and walked toward the garden—her quiet place, her little haven—leaving Emi watching her with thoughtful eyes.

  Yumio sighed and dropped her notebook over her face, blocking out the sunlight filtering through the leaves above. “What would it be like,” she murmured, voice muffled beneath the paper, “if I could go to school like the others…?”

  She lowered the notebook and stared up at the willow tree branches, their long green tendrils swaying gently as if whispering back to her. Her fingers brushed the grass beside her, the cool blades grounding her as her thoughts drifted.

  “Maybe,” she said quietly, as if testing the idea out loud, “I can go to school like my siblings. Maybe… I can try asking Mom and Dad.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The possibility made her smile without realizing it. She sat up again, determination flickering like a small flame in her chest. She pulled her notebook closer, hoping — just maybe — ideas would finally flow.

  Before she could write, soft footsteps approached.

  “Miss Yumio,” a maid called gently. “Neris sent snacks, as well as food for the cats.”

  The maid carefully set down a tray overflowing with comfort: chips, neatly sliced fruits, a chilled glass of Yumio’s favorite orange juice, and three bowls filled with cat food. Neira, Deia, and Gaiea immediately perked up.

  Yumio’s smile grew. “Thank you so much.”

  The maid bowed with a soft smile and discreetly picked up the overflowing trash bin of crumpled papers — silent evidence of Yumio’s frustration. With one last respectful nod, she left.

  Yumio popped a grape in her mouth, savoring its sweetness, when a sudden thought brightened her face. She quickly gathered her notebook, the tray of snacks, and stood up in one swift movement.

  “I should visit Grandpa,” she whispered to herself — and perhaps ask him for inspiration.

  She walked briskly through the hallways, careful not to spill the orange juice. The mansions’ corridors were quiet, sunlight stretching in long lines across the marble floor.

  When she reached her grandfather’s door, she balanced the tray on one hand and knocked gently.

  A weak but warm voice answered, “Come in.”

  Yumio pushed the door open and immediately spotted Kenshin Kishimoto sitting up in bed, supported by several pillows. Despite his frailty, there was a light in his eyes whenever he saw his grandchildren—especially Yumio.

  “Grandfather,” she chimed softly, “Yumio is here!”

  His face brightened, wrinkles deepening with a tender smile. He patted the bed beside him with trembling fingers.

  She set the tray and notebook on the side table before settling beside him.

  “How are you doing, Grandfather?” she asked, voice filled with gentle concern.

  “I’m doing well,” Kenshin replied, adjusting his blanket. “Thanks to my grandchildren… I live each day with joy.” His eyes softened as he looked at her. “And what brings my little writer here today?”

  “I wanted to visit you,” she said, leaning closer. “And… I have something to tell you!”

  “Oh?” His brow lifted in interest.

  Yumio’s face lit up like a lantern. “You know what, Grandfather—yesterday I went outside! With my new friends! And they brought me to this wonderful street full of books. There were so many kinds—classics, poetry, fantasy—everything! It felt like stepping into another world.”

  She began to recount every detail: the narrow cobblestone paths lined with old bookstores, the warm smell of paper, the excitement of choosing new books, the laughter she shared with her new companions. Her hands moved animatedly as she spoke, her voice rising and falling with excitement.

  Kenshin listened in peaceful silence, his eyes shining with pride. It had been a long time since he’d seen Yumio this lively—glowing with the discovery of friendship and the world outside.

  When she finished, Kenshin gently patted her head.

  “It makes me happy,” he said, voice quiet but full, “to see you smiling like this, Yumio. Truly happy.”

  Yumio leaned against him, heart warm. “I hope I can see them again,” she whispered. “And… maybe someday… go to school like everyone else.”

  Kenshin’s hand paused, then rested on hers.

  “We’ll see, my dear,” he murmured. “Your world is much bigger than you think.”

  Each classroom in the academy was hushed, the kind of silence born from routine and discipline. Only the teacher’s steady voice and the soft scrape of chalk against the board filled the air, creating a slow, rhythmic lull.

  It was literature class.

  And a certain brown-haired boy was once again fighting the urge to fall asleep.

  Liam Valencia slouched deeper into his chair, eyelids heavy and mind wandering. He tapped his pencil against his notebook—once, twice, then gave up entirely. School was boring for him. Painfully boring. Being an advanced learner meant everything the teachers explained, he had already read, memorized, or analyzed weeks ahead of everyone else.

  He stared at the clock.

  It seemed frozen.

  He sighed and turned toward the window, letting his mind drift to something—or someone—far more interesting.

  A certain girl who had been quietly invading his thoughts since yesterday.

  Mio.

  That mysterious girl he kept seeing since the ball.

  He frowned slightly. She was a puzzle he couldn’t solve—and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He could usually figure people out instantly: their background, their upbringing, their status. But Mio? Every detail about her slipped through the cracks like sand.

  Her silky black hair… as smooth and dark as ink. Her blue eyes… like sapphires glowing beneath moonlight. She had an aura that felt familiar yet impossibly distant. Like a dream he once had but couldn't quite remember.

  His chest tightened unexpectedly.

  What the hell am I thinking?!

  He shook his head so hard that Luca, sitting two seats away, looked over.

  Liam rubbed his forehead in frustration and looked around the classroom, trying to anchor himself back to reality.

  “Mister Valencia,” the teacher called, her brows raised.

  Liam blinked. “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “Have you been listening?”

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he replied respectfully. “I… kind of dozed off.”

  A few students chuckled quietly.

  The teacher sighed. “Open your textbook to page 82 and read the passage aloud, please.”

  Liam pulled out his textbook without complaint. He read clearly, voice steady—if a bit bored—finishing the assigned paragraph with practiced ease. Once he sat down, the whispers began immediately.

  Luca leaned toward him, whispering, “Are you alright? You look like you spaced out.”

  Liam shrugged. “I’m fine. Just… thinking about something.”

  Nachi scooted forward in his chair. “Are you sure?” he whispered with genuine concern. “You don’t usually zone out like that.”

  “I’m sure,” Liam repeated, though he avoided their eyes. He wasn’t about to tell them his mind was stuck on a girl he’d met for barely a day.

  Blake, who sat at the very end of the row, didn’t even turn around as he muttered, “You guys, quit whispering unless you want Ma’am to—”

  “Boys at the back!” the teacher snapped suddenly, chalk pausing mid-air. “If I hear one more whisper, you four will stay after class. Understood?”

  Liam, Luca, Nachi, and Blake immediately straightened like soldiers.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” they chorused stiffly.

  The teacher nodded and went back to discussing the chapter, but Liam’s thoughts remained far from the lesson.

  His gaze drifted back to the window… and to the memory of a girl with sapphire eyes.

  Who are you, Mio? he wondered.

  And why was he so desperate to see her again?

  “What’s up with you, bro?” Blake asked as he plopped his tray onto the table, his fork immediately stabbing into a pile of fries. “You’ve been acting… off.”

  The school cafeteria buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the clatter of utensils. Their usual table near the window was filled with the familiar chaos of teenage boys: opened lunch boxes, half-eaten snacks, and bottles of energy drinks scattered everywhere. But today, the loudest noise around their group wasn’t their voice—it was their concern.

  “Yeah,” Brent added, chewing loudly on his sandwich. “You were zoning out for almost all our morning classes. Even in literature. That’s not like you.”

  Liam poked at his food with a blank expression. He knew this was coming, but it didn’t make it easier. “I’m just… thinking about something.”

  The boys all exchanged looks. That vague of an answer? Absolutely suspicious.

  “Oh?~” Nachi leaned over the table, eyes narrowing with exaggerated curiosity. “Who’s the girl?”

  Liam paused mid-bite, staring at Nachi like he’d grown two heads. “Why does everyone assume it’s about a girl?”

  “Because whenever a guy suddenly starts staring out the window and smiling like a lovesick poet, it’s always about a girl,” Nachi declared dramatically.

  Liam nearly choked. “I wasn’t smiling.”

  “Yes, you were,” Luca chimed in. “Like—” he tilted his head and made a dreamy expression. “—this.”

  The boys snickered.

  Liam rolled his eyes. “Just because I was thinking about something doesn’t automatically mean I’m thinking of a girl.”

  But it is about a girl… he admitted silently, annoyance bubbling inside him at the irony.

  “Alright, alright,” Nachi said, raising both hands in surrender. “If it’s not about a girl, then what’s going on with you?”

  Liam exhaled, shoulders sagging as he set down his spoon. “Family problems.”

  The table grew quiet for a moment—rare for their group.

  “Oh?” Luca asked gently. “Did your dad bother you again about joining the family business?”

  Liam nodded, jaw tightening. “Yeah. He keeps reminding me. Even brought it up during dinner last night. He still wants me to join even though he already has Nathan as his successor.”

  “Man…” Brent muttered, shaking his head. “He really gives you no break, huh?”

  “And,” Liam added with a bitter chuckle, “he’s pressuring me about college choices. Wants me to pick something useful for the company.”

  “Dude,” Brent said, leaning back in disbelief, “when are you ever gonna have freedom?”

  Liam shrugged helplessly. “I also don’t know.”

  Gumi, who had been quietly peeling his orange, finally spoke. “You’re gonna have to stand up for yourself someday, man. You can’t keep letting your dad decide your whole life.”

  “I know.” Liam rested his elbows on the table, rubbing his temples. “I’m trying. Even Nathan is pushing me to follow my dreams.”

  Nachi whistled softly. “At least you have a brother who doesn’t see you as competition. That’s rare in rich families.”

  “Yeah,” Liam said, smiling faintly. “Nathan’s always looked out for me. He just wants me to be happy.”

  “Then you better figure out what you want,” Luca said. “Not what your dad wants. Not what we want. Just you.”

  Liam nodded, grateful. “I will.”

  For now, though… he picked up his spoon again, pushing away the swirl of pressure and responsibilities.

  He could think about all that later.

  Right now, lunch—and maybe thoughts of a certain mysterious girl—was all he was focusing on.

  “You’re going home early?” Gumi asked, one eyebrow raised as he and the boys spotted Liam unlocking his bicycle near the school gates. Students were pouring out of the building in noisy clusters, but the boys stood together in the warm late-afternoon light, lingering.

  Liam slung his bag over his shoulder and gave them an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry, boys. I promised I’d head home early today.” He pulled his bike out of the rack, the tires scraping lightly against the metal.

  “No problem, man,” Blake said, clapping him on the back. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget we still have to finish that project.”

  “I won’t,” Liam chuckled. “See you guys tomorrow!”

  His friends waved as he pedaled out of the school grounds, weaving smoothly through the crowd. Once he passed the main road, the noise faded, replaced by the quiet hum of his wheels spinning.

  Let’s go to a convenience store first, he thought, feeling the slight ache in his shoulders relax as the wind brushed past him.

  He biked through town, passing the marketplace where vendors were starting to close up, and stopped at a small convenience store with faded blue signage. He parked his bike, grabbed a cart, and bought a few things—canned coffee, a couple of onigiri, and a bag of chips. Nothing fancy, just enough to fuel a quiet afternoon.

  Once he was back on his bike, he continued through town, cycling beside slow-moving cars, their engines rumbling lazily. When he reached Storylight Street—the place that always smelled faintly of old books and warm bread—he turned right into a narrow alleyway.

  He knew every twist and turn. He’d ridden this path since he was small.

  After several more turns, the alley opened into a gentle slope—a small hill that overlooked the entire town. At the top stood a big tree, ancient and comforting, its branches swaying softly in the breeze.

  Liam’s shoulders loosened further, and a genuine smile appeared on his face.

  This was his safe place. His escape. His breath of peace after long days.

  It was also his meeting place with someone very important—his childhood friend, Yuu.

  They had met when he was four. She had long, silky-black hair and bright emerald-green eyes that always sparkled with mischief. The memory of her laugh echoed in his mind. Soft. Warm. Familiar.

  He parked his bike halfway up the hill and climbed the rest on foot, closing his eyes as he breathed in deeply.

  But then…

  A gentle sound drifted through the air.

  A guitar.

  Someone was playing their lullaby.

  His heart skipped.

  …Yuu?

  He walked faster, almost jogging as he made his way up the last stretch.

  But when he reached the top, what he saw made him freeze mid-step.

  A girl was sitting under the tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves and falling over her like a soft blessing. Her silky-black hair fluttered in the wind—and though her eyes were not the emerald green he remembered, they were sapphire blue, deep and bright like gemstones reflecting midday sky.

  Yumio.

  She stopped playing when she heard his footsteps and slowly turned toward him. Her fingers hovered above the guitar strings, and her eyes widened the moment they met his.

  “Liam…?”

  He breathed out—half surprise, half disbelief.

  “Mio…?”

  For a moment, the hill was quiet again, holding its breath as the two of them stared at each other—both startled, both unsure, and yet… both pulled in by the same invisible thread.