I was clutching my phone like it was the last slice of pizza at a birthday party. My eyes were glued to the screen, rereading the message over and over again.
"Takashi."
She had written it like I was the last Takashi on Earth. Like all the other Takashis had gone extinct and I was some rare, emotionally unstable relic. "Takashi, Takashi," I muttered under my breath, letting the syllables roll off my tongue like a spell. That's my name. Mine.
Trying to ground myself, I ran both hands through my hair. My fingers were trembling — not because of the phone's vibration this time, but because of the tremors sent from the tectonic plate in my chest (a.k.a. my heart). Every single time Hinata messaged me, it felt like the very first time. Hinata.
We didn't talk much in class. But in the hallway, sometimes we'd make eye contact, and she'd smile a little before quickly looking away — like a shy fox or a villain hiding a plan. And on rare occasions, when the crowd thinned out, she'd walk up and talk to me. I always told myself maybe it's because I looked cool… or like a lone wolf. But, honestly? She probably just felt sorry for me. Still, whenever she did that, it felt like time paused — like someone had hit the emergency brake on the universe.
It took me forever to reply. It felt like one wrong word could ruin my life. Like, what if she thinks I'm weird? What if I use too many emojis? What if I sound like I rehearse my sentences in front of the mirror ?
Finally, I typed:
"I get on from Kamezuka Station. We can meet there if you'd like. What time do you leave home?"
I pressed send. But then… I didn't pocket my phone right away. I just stared at the screen. A part of me wanted an instant reply. The other part wanted to stay in this anxious bubble forever. I hovered over the message. Should I delete it? Did I sound too eager? Was the 'if you'd like' too weak? Was 'What time do you leave home?' too much? My brain was doing Olympic-level gymnastics.
Get a grip, I told myself. You're trying to change, remember? You're becoming someone new.
A statue — not made of soft soil but hard marble. Confident, composed, majestic. No more being buried in dirt — shake it off. Be the marble guy.
Then I realized I was smiling like a doofus. There was warmth in my cheeks — probably visible from space. I was actually happy. Like, actually actually.
As I passed through the orphanage yard, I noticed Makoto staring at me from a second-floor window. He made a heart shape with his hands and then vanished with a grin that could punch holes in the ozone layer.
"Idiot," I muttered.
Getting caught by Makoto in a 'romantic' moment was basically a death sentence. He'd be saying "Takashi's in loooove~" in every hallway until the day I died.
Then Hinata replied.
"I get on there too! Message me before you leave. We can go together ^_^"
That emoji. That little smiling face. Why did it feel more powerful than a heart-shaped box of chocolate? I felt like it slapped my soul and hugged it at the same time.
Right then, I made a decision: Today, I would comb my hair. Properly. Maybe even iron my shirt. I wasn't rich yet — that inheritance thing was still a mystery — but just being in the same train car as Hinata suddenly felt worth more than gold.
I ran back into the orphanage. Brushed my hair with the intensity of a samurai polishing his blade. Straightened my uniform. Even sprayed a tiny bit of that one good perfume I was saving for…
As I was rushing out again, I tripped over something. Stumbled, almost fell flat on my face.
A box.
A literal cardboard box had just jump-scared me. I looked down and saw my name on it:
"Takashi Akiyama – Undeliverable. Sender Unknown."
I picked it up, my brain spinning.
What the hell is this? Who left this? Is this how horror movies start?
Still, something deep inside me — some whisper from the marble guy I was trying to become — told me this box was important. Almost as important as the upcoming train ride with Hinata.
I tucked it under my arm and started walking toward the station, with a fluttering heart, freshly combed hair, and a mysterious box I didn't ask for.