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Graduation was only a week away. The student committee had decided that every graduating class needed a special performance before the ceremony ended. Since Shinobu had always earned the highest grades in literature and music, everyone agreed that she should be the one writing the song.
They wanted something sincere, memorable, and—most importantly—romantic enough to leave everyone crying and wiping and all teary-eyed.
However, Shinobu had hated romantic songs with a burning passion since birth; that was why she was still sitting at her desk long after sunset, her pencil tapping against the edge of her notebook, an almost completely blank page staring back at her. Every lyric she attempted sounded stupid and artificial, like it belonged in a snack advertisement.
After another failed attempt, she dropped her forehead onto the desk and let out a groan. What exactly were people supposed to write about when they were in love, anyway?
The answer arrived almost immediately, which only made everything worse. Tomioka-sensei.
Without even realizing it, she had already written his name over and over in the margins of her notebook. Tomioka-sensei was only three years older than her, yet that felt like an impossible distance whenever she saw him walking through the school grounds. He never talked much, rarely smiled in public, and somehow managed to look controlled even when everyone around him freaked out.
Remembering his almost unchanging face made something calm and serene settle deep in her chest, so Shinobu picked up the pencil again.
She wrote about finding comfort in someone's presence after a difficult day.
About looking for a familiar figure in a crowded place, not even noticing she was doing it out of habit and longing.
About wanting time to slow down because certain conversations always ended too quickly for her.
Halfway through the second verse, Shinobu stopped writing and stared at the page, almost cursing herself. The song was supposed to be about young love in general, about what the future held for them beyond the school gates once they graduated! Instead, it had somehow become entirely about this one clueless P.E. teacher of hers. She considered tearing the pages apart and starting over, but as expected, every replacement lyric sounded even worse than the original.
There was not much time left until rehearsal day. Out of sheer reluctance, Shinobu accepted her fate and finished the song.
Graduation day arrived both too slowly and too quickly for Shinobu’s liking.
Standing backstage, she regretted every decision that had led her to this moment. The auditorium was packed with students, parents, and teachers; somewhere among them sat the one person she desperately hoped would not recognize himself in the lyrics.
Then it was her turn, and the music started. Once she began singing, however, the nervousness slowly faded away. The melody carried her forward, and the audience listened attentively from beginning to end.
When the final note disappeared into the applause, Shinobu felt both relieved and horrified that the performance was finally over. The applause and cheers from the crowd made the last shred of worry vanish, though.
The ceremony ended several hours later beneath clear afternoon skies. While graduates exchanged photographs and promises to stay in touch, Shinobu slipped away toward the school gate. She almost made it out before hearing someone call her name from behind.
Turning around, she found Tomioka-sensei standing there. He looked uncharacteristically hesitant, which surprised her far more than being stopped by him in the first place.
After a five-second pause, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.
“I liked your song, Kochou,” he admitted. Then, with much more awkwardness, “Would it be alright if we stayed in touch after today?”
Shinobu blinked. The bright smile that appeared on her face must have looked stupid to him, but she could not find it in herself to stop.
“Of course, Tomioka-san.” No more sensei. “I’m glad you asked.”
Several months later, she would remember many things about graduation day: the ceremony, the applause, the smiles and tears, everything. Yet somehow, what remained clearest in her mind was the awkward way her man had asked for her number.
The moment when one ending became the beginning of something much, much more important to her.