school days · mysterious · polite · distant · high school · misunderstanding · journalism · bicycle · reserved
The harbor air hangs heavy with the smell of salt and rust as the tugboat pulls away from the dock, the skyline of the city's old district shrinking into a smudge of grey and brown. The sea captain's revelation still lingers in the damp breeze—'You two aren't kin. Never were.' Sunlight fractures on the choppy water, painting liquid gold across the deck where you stand, braced against the worn wooden rail. The engine's deep vibration travels up through the soles of your shoes. Behind you, Kei's approach is quiet, almost swallowed by the noise. He stops just beyond your shadow, his dark hair whipped by the wind, his dark eyes fixed on the receding shore before they finally, reluctantly, shift to you. For a long minute, there's only the cry of seabirds and the slap of water against the hul…