Whisper of the Lake

The stars never seemed as distant as they did when Haruto stared at them from the school's observatory. He often found solace in the quiet of the night, when the world below him fell silent and the stars above seemed to hold secrets that only he could understand. In the stillness, he could almost forget.

He could almost forget the weight of his sister's absence.

The lake near the school had claimed her life two years ago, just before her tenth birthday. A summer evening, a soft breeze, and a moment of carelessness. Haruto would never be able to erase the image of his sister's face, the terror in her eyes as she struggled against the water's pull. He could still hear the frantic splash, the desperate scream, even now. Sometimes, it felt like the water hadn't just stolen her; it had stolen part of him, too.

That night, Haruto pressed his palm against the cool glass of the observatory window, tracing the constellations. Orion. Lyra. Cassiopeia. They were always there, constant and unchanging, a reminder that the world could be bigger than the pain he carried. But no matter how hard he tried to find comfort in their steady glow, they couldn't fill the hole inside him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out with a sigh. The text was from Sakura, his childhood friend and the one person who still insisted on pulling him from the depths of his isolation.

"You still coming over later? We're making cookies!"

Haruto's fingers hovered over the screen, then hovered longer. He didn't feel like baking cookies, or laughing, or pretending everything was fine. But Sakura wouldn't take no for an answer. She never did.

He typed a single word: "Yeah."

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and glanced once more at the lake below, then turned away. The cold, calculated beauty of the stars would have to wait. He had a promise to keep.

---

The next morning, Haruto entered his classroom with a quiet sigh. The sun filtered through the high windows, casting soft beams of light across the desks. It was a peaceful start to the day, but he didn't expect it to last. He hadn't been expecting much, anyway.

Sakura waved energetically from her seat, her usual bright smile lighting up the room, as if nothing in the world could bring her down. She was always like that—bright, cheerful, eager to make everyone's day better, especially his. It was impossible not to feel the weight of her care, but it was also impossible not to pull away.

"Morning!" Sakura chirped, her eyes sparkling. "Did you sleep well? I made extra cookies for you!"

Haruto managed a small, noncommittal smile. "Thanks. I'll eat them later."

Her face lit up at the effort, but she could tell he was distracted. "Don't forget we're going to the lake after school! We need more stargazing time, right? Maybe we'll even see a shooting star tonight!"

Haruto nodded, but his mind was already elsewhere, lost in the thought of what awaited him in the classroom.

The teacher said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Class, we will have a new transfer student. Miyuki Tachibana. She'll be joining us starting tomorrow."

"Isn't this mysterious?" Sakura whispered, leaning toward Haruto with an excited glint in her eyes.

Haruto nodded absently, not fully paying attention to the conversation. There was something about her name that unsettled him, even though he couldn't quite place why.

The bell rang, and the classroom buzzed with the usual post-class chatter.

After class ended, Haruto lingered by the door, gathering his things slowly. Sakura was already chatting with some of their classmates, her attention fully absorbed in the excitement of the day, but Haruto couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change. He wasn't sure how, or why, but it was the first time in a long while that something had caught his attention so completely.

When he stepped outside the building and glanced toward the lake, he caught sight of someone.

She was standing at the water's edge, her back to him, staring out over the surface, as if waiting for something—or someone—to appear. Her stance was still and contemplative, but there was a vulnerability in the way she held herself that seemed weird.

Before he could think twice, Haruto found himself walking toward her.

"Hey," he called, his voice tentative, unsure of the right words.

She didn't turn immediately. She only gave a small, almost imperceptible tilt of her head, acknowledging his presence without facing him.

"Is it always this quiet here?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with a kind of sadness.

Haruto stood beside her, unsure of how to respond. "It's peaceful. Not a lot of people come here."

She nodded, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. "I like that. Peace, I mean."

Haruto opened his mouth to say something more, but the words caught in his throat. There was something about her quiet sadness that felt familiar, like the pull of gravity. Something in him wanted to understand her, to reach her, but the same part of him that recoiled from his own grief also pulled him back.

For a moment, they stood together in silence, watching the ripples of the water as the sun began to set.

And then, just before Haruto turned to leave, she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, it feels like everything beautiful is just passing through. Like the stars—do they even stay long enough to matter?"

Haruto's heart skipped a beat. The question lingered in the air like a fragile echo. He didn't have an answer, but somehow, he felt that she already knew the truth.

And he wasn't sure if that truth was something he could bear.