Kūkyonai

Takada was still lying on his bed, both legs wrapped in bandages serving as silent witnesses to an incident he had never imagined. The mixture of shock and awkwardness had not left his mind since a girl, who wasn't even from his class, decided to visit him. It wasn't just her visit that surprised him, but also the fact that she was willing to take the time to come to a place that, for Takada, felt far removed from normal life. He never thought he could receive this much attention.

Hour after hour passed.

Since earlier, students who had crowded into his room relentlessly

bombarded him with questions. "What happened before the accident, Takada?" "How are you feeling now?" "How did this happen?" The questions came one after another, as if Takada were the sole target of a thousand cannonballs.

Takada, who was rarely the center of attention, could only chuckle awkwardly and scratch his head while giving minimal responses. "Umm, no..." "O-oh...? Yeah..." or "Hmm, not sure." That was all he could manage to say. His nervousness made every word feel like a burden.

Finally, the barrage of questions subsided. The students began to lose interest and shifted their focus to light chatter with one another, ignoring Takada, who remained lying on the hospital bed. Takada let out a sigh of relief.

He hoped he could enjoy a bit of peace. His gaze shifted to the window near his bed. He wanted to see the outside worldthe blue sky, the trees, anything that could bring him a sense of calm.

But when he turned to look outside, the relief he felt suddenly vanished, replaced by a new sense of awkwardness.

Beside his bed, a student sat quietly in a chair. This person didn't mingle with the crowd.

His gaze was sharp, though it didn't show any signs of hatred or dislike. His appearance was immaculate. His hair was perfectly combed, his glasses sat precisely on his face, and his demeanor radiated a discipline that Takada rarely encountered in someone his age.

There was something different about this student the impression of a professional who seemed too mature to be sitting in a school classroom.

The student wasn't looking at Takada. Instead, his gaze was fixed out the window, the very thing Takada had wanted to look at earlier.

Quietly, Takada observed him. His heart was filled with unease. He didn't know what to say or how to start a conversation. The silence between them was heavy, even though the laughter and chatter of the other students still echoed in the background. Time seemed to crawl, seconds passing without anyone daring to break the ice.

After what felt like forever, the student let out a quiet sigh.

His movements were calm as he adjusted the position of his glasses, which had slipped slightly. Then, without warning, he turned to face Takada. Their eyes met. Takada swallowed hard. The student's gaze was full of resolve, though it wasn't the kind of look that judged. There was something inexplicable a mix of respect and intensity that made Takada feel cornered. Takada mustered the courage to speak. His voice trembled, like a leaf blown by the wind.

"H-hi…"

he greeted hesitantly, softly and unsure.

The student didn't respond immediately. Instead, he simply looked at Takada for a moment, as if assessing something about him. After a few seconds, which felt like a test in itself, he finally spoke. His voice was calm, but every word was clear, filled with confidence and authority.

"What was your math score on the official exam in ninth grade?"

he asked, his tone like that of a mentor probing the potential of a pupil.

The question was simple, but it carried a depth that left Takada unsure how to respond. It wasn't an ordinary question, not small talk, but something that felt full of meanings

After the student in formal attire posed the question, Takada had no choice but to respond with honesty.

"M-my score… 27…"

he stammered, his voice trembling as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

The moment the formally dressed student heard Takada's dismal math score, his eyes sharpened, darkening with an intensity that seemed to cast shadows across the room. It felt as though the once-bright moon had been abruptly shrouded by storm clouds, plunging everything into an ominous gloom.

The student clenched his fists tightly, the knuckles turning white as a surge of betrayal coursed through him. He felt as if Takada had deceived him deliberately presenting a false facade.

Takada, observing the strange and unsettling behavior of his peer, froze in place, his breath hitching. His body trembled involuntarily as fear seeped into his thoughts.

"What is he going to do to me?"

The question echoed in his mind, filling him with dread. The hospital normally a place of healing suddenly seemed to morph into the stage for something far more menacing. Yet, as the tension thickened between them, an awkward silence stretched painfully long, wrapping around them like an invisible barrier.

The only sound piercing through the uneasy stillness was the grinding of the formally dressed student's teeth, a grating noise that sent shivers down Takada's spine. Then, unexpectedly, the student lowered his head, his face shadowed as he avoided Takada's gaze.

His body language spoke volumes there was no mistaking it. He was furious, his frustration hidden beneath the downward tilt of his head. He refused to look at Takada, his posture rigid, his jaw clenched in silent indignation.

Minutes passed, each one dragging by with agonizing slowness, until the bustling noises of the hospital behind them seemed to fade into the background. Then, without warning, the formally dressed student lifted his head and reached out to grab Takada by both shoulders. His grip was firm, almost painful, and his movements carried the intensity of someone blinded by overwhelming disappointment. His voice, loud and tinged with exasperation, echoed sharply in the small space between them.

"How is this even possible?!"

he exclaimed, his tone teetering on the edge of disbelief and anger.

"You look like one of those bookworms—the kind of person who spends every single day buried in textbooks, reading, studying, and doing nothing else! How dare you mislead me with such a fake, polished appearance?! It's outrageous!"

Takada felt the weight of those words slam into him like a physical blow. His chest tightened as the emotions swirled within him fear, shame, and helplessness, all intermingling. His eyes glistened as tears began to form, and his trembling worsened under the harsh grip of the other student. Seeing Takada's fragile expression, the student froze.

Slowly, realization dawned on him. He noticed how Takada's entire demeanor seemed to crumble under his outburst, and the weight of his actions hit him like a hard stab.

The student released his hold on Takada's shoulders, his hands falling to his sides in defeat.

He turned away and stepped back, putting some distance between them. His movements were awkward, almost hesitant, as though he didn't know how to atone for what he had just done. Lowering himself into a chair, he slumped down and pressed his clenched fists against his lap, his head tilted downward in shame.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of them said a word. The student sat still, his eyes tightly shut as he struggled to gather his thoughts. The air was thick with unspoken emotions regret, guilt, and lingering tension. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the formally dressed student broke the silence. His voice, though quieter than before, carried a weight of sincerity and remorse that filled the room.

"I'm sorry,"

he began, his words faltering as he forced himself to continue.

"I… I completely lost control of myself. I let my emotions get the better of me, and I lashed out at you without thinking. It's just… I felt so disappointed. I don't know how to explain it properly, but seeing your score—hearing you say it—it shattered something inside me. I built up this image of you in my mind, an ideal that I thought you represented. I thought you were someone who was disciplined and driven, someone who didn't waste time and always prioritized academics. But when I learned the truth... it felt like the ground beneath my feet had crumbled. I know it's unfair of me to project my expectations onto you, but I couldn't stop myself from feeling betrayed."

He exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping further as he gripped his knees.

"And the worst part is... I know I've hurt you. I can see it in your eyes. I can see how my words and actions have shaken you, and that makes me feel even worse. You didn't deserve any of that, Takada. You didn't deserve to be treated like that, especially not by someone who barely understands your struggles. I'm sorry. I'm really, truly sorry. I wish I could take back everything I said, but I know that's impossible."

The student finally looked up, his expression weary yet earnest.

"I hope… I hope you can forgive me. I'll try to be better—to control my temper and not let my emotions dictate how I treat others. If you're willing… I'd like to start over, to build a better understanding between us. But if you need time, I'll understand. I just wanted you to know how deeply I regret everything that happened here."

And with that, he fell silent, the weight of his apology lingering in the air like an unresolved melody, waiting for Takada's response.

"Um… y-yeah, I forgive you,"

Takada stammered softly, responding to the formal student's heartfelt apology. After speaking, the student extended his hand toward Takada, inviting him for a handshake that carried a sense of sincerity and reconciliation.

"This is both an apology and a gesture of respect, which, I admit, was briefly shaken earlier,"

the student said with unwavering confidence, his tone firm yet genuine. Takada's gaze fell on the student's outstretched hand, his movements deliberate and poised.

The scene stirred a strange familiarity within him, as if plucked directly from a Korean drama he'd watched—a scene where a mentor guided a subordinate with a mix of authority and warmth. Something about the student, with his composed demeanor and sharp presence, seemed to perfectly fit that role.

Nervously, Takada accepted the handshake, their palms meeting in a moment that felt surprisingly significant. The firm grip of the formal student's hand sent a wave of realization through Takada this wasn't just a handshake : it was an unspoken promise, a shared acknowledgment.

Their eyes met briefly, locking in a silent exchange that carried an inexplicable depth.

After a few heartbeats of this charged moment, the student broke the silence, his voice cutting through the air with clarity and decisiveness.

"My name is Nam Gyeol,"

he introduced himself with authority, as if his name alone carried weight and purpose.

Takada's heart leapt. Excited at the prospect of gaining a new acquaintance, he hurried to respond, eager to share his own name without wasting another second.

"Ah, I-I'm A—"

But before Takada could finish, Nam Gyeol interrupted him with precision, as if severing his words with the sharpness of a blade slicing through fish.

"You don't need to say your name. I already know it. You're Utsu Takada,"

Nam Gyeol declared, leaving no room for doubt or response.

For a moment, Takada froze, caught off guard by how effortlessly Nam Gyeol had taken control of the situation.

After talking for quite a while, Takada felt a bit overwhelmed. Nam Gyeol's questions were incredibly personal, and at times, he even inquired about all of Takada's academic grades. Once their conversation came to an end, Nam Gyeol stood up from his seat, excusing himself with a composed and firm demeanor, as was typical of him.

"It seems like you need some extra tutoring. Your grades are too low, and that could jeopardize your chances of graduating,"

he stated bluntly before making his way out of the room. Takada watched as Nam Gyeol passed by his bed, heading toward the exit. On his way, he walked past groups of students who were still engaged in their own conversations. Finally, Takada exhaled deeply, relieved to be alone again. However, his thoughts lingered on Nam Gyeol, the formal and eloquent student whose intelligence was evident in every word he spoke.

"Nam Gyeol... Is he Korean? I always thought all Koreans were cheerful and lively, like the characters in the K-dramas I watch. Guess I was wrong."

After Nam Gyeol left the room where Takada was staying, hours passed, and the crowd of students gradually thinned out, leaving the hospital where Takada was admitted. Takada, who had been silently watching the students leave one by one, was suddenly struck by a memory something about one of the remaining students still in his hospital room.

Confused and rushed, he glanced frantically from side to side, trying to piece together what he might have missed. Eventually, his gaze unintentionally landed on Erin Schuwald, who was now engaged in a conversation with Takada's mother.

In that instant, it hit him this woman had been in his hospital room all along. Panic, nervousness, and a trembling anxiety overtook him. His mind was flooded with regret for failing to realize something so obvious.

"Damn it! How could I not notice that she was still here?"

The thought raced through his mind as he took in the sight of the woman, who was now smiling warmly. Takada couldn't help but watch her longer as she continued chatting with his mother.

"Why does Mother look so happy? What could they possibly be talking about?.."

He muttered quietly, observing the two of them talking like old friends reunited after years apart. What puzzled him even more was the expression on his mother's face something he hadn't seen in a long time. There was genuine curiosity and joy in her eyes as she interacted with Erin Schuwald.

"Mother... she... she looks so..."

Takada's thoughts trailed off as he studied his mother's face once again.

It was completely different from her usual expressions of annoyance or frustration, which he had grown accustomed to seeing. For a brief moment, relief washed over him at the sight of his mother like this—a side of her that radiated warmth and happiness. But that relief was short-lived.

Suddenly, his mother stood up and prepared to leave the room. She waved her hand gently, smiling warmly at Erin Schuwald before walking away entirely, leaving Takada alone with Erin and the few students who still lingered, chatting among themselves.

Takada's chest tightened with panic. Erin was now standing across from him, and the nervous energy that had been simmering earlier now intensified.

To his horror, Erin turned around and began walking toward him. Each step she took seemed to echo louder in his ears, amplifying his unease.

In a reflexive act of avoidance, Takada shifted his gaze toward the window behind him, trying to escape the magnetic pull of her charismatic presence. But even as he fixed his eyes on the scenery outside, he could hear her footsteps drawing closer, each one sending a fresh wave of tension through his body.

His fists clenched tightly, trembling as he stared at the view beyond the hospital window. A nervous sweat broke out on his brow as he waited, paralyzed by the growing sense of proximity. Then, abruptly, the sound of her footsteps stopped. He strained his senses, but he couldn't feel her presence anymore.

"Haah... maybe she just walked past me. I hope that's all..."

He exhaled slowly, attempting to calm himself down as relief started to seep in. Assuming she had moved on, he hesitated but finally decided to glance behind him.Just as he was about to turn his head, his body froze in place. He felt it—a warm breath against the back of his neck.

"The View is quite beautiful, isn't it~?"

Her voice, gentle yet laced with a captivating charm, sent a shiver down his spine.

Takada's heart skipped a beat. Her voice was soft, yet it carried a weight that seemed to pierce straight through his chest. Slowly, his hands unclenched, but his entire body remained stiff. He didn't dare move; every nerve in his body was screaming at him to stay perfectly still.

Erin's presence was overpowering, a mix of elegance and command that left him completely disarmed. He could feel the warmth of her breath lingering just behind him, her nearness sending an involuntary shudder down his spine.

"You've been quiet this whole time,"

Erin continued, her tone playful yet carrying a faint edge of intrigue.

"I Wonder... are you avoiding me?"

Takada's mind raced. What was he supposed to say? What could he say? Every possible answer felt like it would betray how flustered he truly was.

"I... I'm not.."

he finally managed to stammer, his voice barely above a whisper. But the unsteady rhythm of his breathing betrayed him, Erin chuckled softly, the sound melodious yet teasing, as if she could see through every layer of his defenses. Slowly, she walked around the side of his hospital bed, her footsteps measured and deliberate, until she stood in front of him.

Takada had no choice but to meet her gaze now. His attempt to avoid her had failed. Reluctantly, he turned his eyes away from the window and looked up.

There she was. Her strikingly sharp reddish ruby eyes locked onto his, pulling him into their depths. Her lips curved into a smile not just warm but captivating, as though she knew the power she held over him in that moment.

"You're not very good at lying, are you?"

she said, tilting her head slightly as if studying him.

Takada swallowed hard. His throat felt dry, and the thudding of his heart seemed loud enough to fill the entire room.

"I-I'm not lying,"

he protested, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Hmm..."

Erin leaned forward slightly, her face now mere inches from his.

"If that's true, then why are you shaking?"

Takada's breath hitched. He hadn't realized how visibly his body was trembling until she pointed it out. Her proximity, her gaze, her voice it was all too much. He wanted to look away again, but something in her eyes held him captive.

"I-i-i.. i-m just cold..,"

he blurted out, trying to mask his nervousness with a weak excuse.

Erin's smile widened, and a light laugh escaped her lips.

"Cold, huh? In a room this warm?"

Her teasing tone made his face flush even more. He couldn't tell if she was toying with him or if there was something deeper in her gaze something that felt almost tender.Then, unexpectedly, she reached out. Takada's breath caught as her hand lightly touched his. Her fingers were soft, her touch gentle but deliberate.

"You're trembling so much.."

she said, her voice quieter now, more intimate.

"What's making you so nervous, Nerd Guy..?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His mind was a chaotic whirlwind, yet all he could focus on was the sensation of her hand on his. The warmth of her touch seemed to seep through his skin, grounding him yet overwhelming him at the same time.

Erin's smile softened as she looked at him, her teasing demeanor giving way to something more sincere.

"You don't have to be so tense around me, you know. I'm not here to scare you."

Her words were gentle, but they carried an undeniable weight. It wasn't just what she said it was how she said it, with a softness that made Takada's chest tighten.

For a moment, the world outside the hospital room seemed to fade away. The chatter of the remaining students, the distant hum of hospital machinery it all dissolved into the background. All that remained was Erin, her presence enveloping him like a gentle storm.

"I... I didn't expect you to stay.."

Takada finally admitted, his voice shaky but earnest. Erin tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving his.

"Why wouldn't I? You intrigue me, Nerd Guy."

Her words struck him like a bolt of lightning. Intrigue? What could she possibly mean by that? Before he could process it, she added,

"You have a way of hiding yourself, but I can see there's so much more beneath the surface. It makes me curious... and curiosity keeps me here."

Takada's heart raced even faster. Her honesty, her boldness it was unlike anything he'd ever encountered. He wanted to respond, to say something that could answer her question but all he could do was stare into her eyes, tremblingly.

The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable. It felt charged, like the calm before a storm. Then Erin broke it, her voice softer than ever.

"Hey Nerd Guy,"

she whispered, leaning in just enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath again.

"Why don't you tell me what's really on your mind?"

Takada's lips parted, his breath shallow. He knew this was a moment he couldn't avoid, a moment that would change something between them forever. He just didn't know if he was ready for it or if he ever would be. 

Takada's heart thudded so loudly in his chest that he was certain she could hear it. The air between them felt electric, charged with an intensity he couldn't name but couldn't escape. Erin's words lingered in his mind, echoing with a weight that felt both challenging and intimate.

Her presence was overwhelming more than just physical. It was in her gaze, sharp yet inviting, and her voice, soft yet commanding. Takada had never felt so exposed in his life. It was as though she could see straight into his soul, peeling back the layers he had spent years building up to protect himself

"I..."

he started, his voice barely audible. His throat was dry, and his lips felt heavy, as if even forming words required more strength than he could muster.

"I -..I don't know what to say."

Erin tilted her head slightly, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

"You don't have to overthink it, you Nerd.."

she said gently, her tone warm yet insistent.

"Just speak. I'm here to listen."

Her words were simple, yet they carried an unexpected power that made his chest tighten. He wanted to look away, to break free from her gaze, but he couldn't. There was something magnetic in the way she looked at him, like she was unearthing parts of him even he wasn't aware of.

He exhaled shakily, trying to steady his thoughts, but her hand was still resting on his. The warmth of her touch was both grounding and disarming, sending conflicting sensations through his body calmness and chaos, all at once.

"W-w-why do you care so- so much?!"

he finally asked, his voice cracking slightly. The vulnerability in his tone surprised even himself. He had meant to sound deflective, maybe even sarcastic, but the question came out raw, naked.

Erin's smile softened, and her fingers shifted slightly against his hand, a subtle but deliberate movement that sent a jolt through him.

"Because,"

she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper,

"I see something in you that I don't think you see in yourself."

Takada blinked, stunned by the sincerity in her words. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He couldn't tell if it was the honesty in her voice or the look in her eyes that made his chest ache. He felt seen in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating, as if all the walls he had built around himself were crumbling under the weight of her presence.

"I'm not... worth that kind of attention,"

he muttered, finally managing to force the words out. He averted his gaze, looking down at the edge of his blanket. His fists clenched tightly again, this time more out of frustration than fear.

"Y-you're w-wasting your time..!"

Erin didn't move for a moment, and the silence that followed was heavy but not oppressive. Then, slowly, she crouched down slightly, bringing herself to his eye level. Her free hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from his face. The gesture was so intimate, so unexpected, that it sent a shiver through him.

"Do you really believe that?"

she asked, her voice firm yet tender.

"Or is that just what you tell yourself because it's easier than letting people in?"

Takada froze. Her question cut deeper than he had anticipated, striking a nerve he hadn't even realized was exposed. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, and his vision blurred slightly as emotions he had buried for so long threatened to surface.

"I don't know,"

he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Maybe... maybe it's both."

Erin's expression softened even further, and for a moment, she said nothing. Instead, she leaned in closer, her face now mere inches from his. Her presence was overwhelming, her warmth enveloping him like a cocoon, and yet there was nothing suffocating about it.

"Hey Nerd little guy,"

she murmured, her tone carrying a weight that made his heart ache.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now. But don't push me away, either. I'm here because I want to be. Because you matter to me."

Her words hit him like a tidal wave. The vulnerability in her voice, the unwavering sincerity in her eyes it was too much. He felt the sting of tears forming, but he blinked them away, unwilling to let himself break down in front of her.

"Y-You don't even know me.."

he said, his voice shaky.

"N-not really.."

Erin tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, enigmatic smile.

"Maybe not everything,"

she admitted.

"But I know enough to see that you're worth knowing. And I'm willing to wait until you believe that too."

Her words left him speechless. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The room felt impossibly still, the only sounds the faint hum of the hospital machines and the unsteady rhythm of his breathing.

Then, slowly, Erin leaned in closer, her hand still resting on his. Her gaze flickered to his lips for the briefest of moments, and Takada felt his breath catch. The proximity, the intensity it was almost too much to bear.

But instead of pulling away, he let himself get lost in her presence. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to hope, to feel, to believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as alone as he thought.

Erin's voice broke the silence, soft and steady.

"You don't have to say anything," she whispered. "Just... let me be here with you."

Takada nodded, unable to trust his voice. He didn't know what the future held or where this connection would lead, but in that moment, with Erin's hand in his and her gaze locked onto his, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: a fragile, flickering sense of peace.

Takada remained frozen, his heart pounding like a relentless drumbeat.

Erin's words echoed in his mind, louder than the hum of the hospital machines, louder than his own doubts. Her unwavering gaze, the warmth of her hand, and the sincerity in her voice felt like they had shifted something deep within him a crack in the walls he had built for so long.

He wanted to say something, to express the torrent of emotions swirling inside him, but words failed him. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, his grip on the edge of the blanket loosening slightly. Erin smiled, as if sensing that his silence was not rejection, but an unspoken acknowledgment of everything she had said.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the weight of unspoken feelings. Erin didn't press him further, and Takada didn't pull away. The space between them was small, yet it felt infinite, charged with a mix of anticipation, vulnerability, and something else neither of them dared to name.

Erin's smile softened as she leaned back slightly, giving him just enough space to breathe but not enough to feel distant.

"I'll leave you with that for now,"

she said gently, her tone light but still carrying that undercurrent of sincerity.

Takada looked at her, unsure of how to respond. Before he could muster anything, Erin straightened up, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer, as if committing his expression to memory. She then turned toward the window, her silhouette framed by the soft light filtering through the glass.

"You don't have to rush,"

she said, her back still to him.

"Take your time, Nerd Guy."

With that, she began walking toward the door, her footsteps light but deliberate. As her hand touched the door handle, she paused and glanced back at him, her reddish ruby eyes still filled with that enigmatic warmth.

"Rest well,"

she said with a smile that held a promise.

"We'll talk again soon."

Takada stared after her, his chest tight as a thousand unspoken thoughts swirled in his mind. The door closed softly behind her, leaving him in the room. Yet, despite the emptiness, it didn't feel as suffocating as before. Erin's presence lingered, like a quiet flame warming the coldest corners of his heart.

He turned his gaze back to the window, his reflection faintly visible in the glass. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't see a stranger staring back at him. Instead, he saw someone someone who might just be worth the effort Erin seemed so willing to give.

As the light from the setting sun bathed the room in soft gold, Takada let out a deep breath. His hand, still warm from Erin's touch, rested on his lap as a faint but genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I Forgot To Give her My Name.. again.."

-To be Continued..