The picnic was meant to be simple.
A short drive away from the city, the waterfall provided a constant backdrop of rushing water and cool mist. It was a familiar place, chosen more for convenience than sentiment — somewhere the parents could talk freely while the children occupied themselves.
The Kitahara and Sasaki parents settled into easy conversation almost immediately. Years of separation dissolved into shared laughter and overlapping memories, their voices blending with the sound of the water.
The younger generation found their places just as naturally.
Taiyou became fast friends with Arisa and Kotarou, their voices carrying as they moved about without restraint. Haruma gravitated towards Raito, their shared interests aligning so quickly that they might as well have planned it. Before long, the two were deep in discussion, debating topics with enough enthusiasm that someone joked about bringing out a whiteboard to keep track.
Yuma stayed where he was.
He had volunteered to handle the grilling — not because he enjoyed it, but because it gave him a reason to remain slightly apart. The task required attention, movement, and most importantly, offered him a purpose that didn’t involve conversation.
The heat from the grill was steady. Predictable. He focused on turning the skewers at the right time, watching the meat brown evenly.
He didn’t notice her approach at first.
“Do you need help?”
Yuma stiffened slightly before turning. Himari stood a short distance away, hands loosely folded in front of her. Her expression was neutral, her tone polite — not insistent, not hesitant.
“It’s fine,” he replied after a brief pause. “I can do it on my own.”
It wasn’t unkind. Just firm enough to end the interaction.
Most people would have taken that as a cue to leave.
Himari didn’t.
Instead, she stepped closer, eyes flicking briefly to the grill before returning to him. “Then I’ll just stand here.”
Yuma didn’t know how to respond to that.
The silence that followed was awkward, stretched thin by the crackle of the grill and the distant voices of the others. He kept his focus on the food, resisting the urge to glance at her again.
She spoke first.
“You’re Yuma, right?”
He nodded.
“I’m Himari.”
“I know.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. She smiled — not brightly, not teasingly — just a small acknowledgement, as if she’d expected that answer.
They exchanged the bare minimum after that. Names, university backgrounds, trivial details. It wasn’t a conversation so much as an attempt at one, fragmented and uneven. Still, it was more than Yuma usually allowed.
When the food was ready, everyone gathered to eat.
Everyone, except Yuma.
He took his plate and moved a little away from the group, settling where the noise softened and the space felt less crowded. It wasn’t intentional — he always ended up like this. On the edge. Close enough to belong, far enough to remain unseen.
He was halfway through his meal when a shadow fell beside him.
“May I?”
Himari gestured to the empty spot next to him.
Yuma cleared his throat, then nodded.
They ate quietly at first, the waterfall filling the space between them. It was Himari who broke the silence, a soft laugh escaping her.
Yuma looked at her, confusion evident.
“You don’t eat carrots?”
He followed her gaze to his plate. Only then did he realise — the carrots remained untouched, pushed to the side without conscious thought.
He nodded.
“Then next time, don’t take one with carrots on it.” She reached over casually, moving the carrots from his plate to hers.
“Oh.”
The sound left him before he could think. He hadn’t noticed his own habit — accepting whatever was given, never questioning it.
“Is there anything you dislike?” he asked, surprising himself.
“Tomatoes.”
“Tomatoes?”
“Tomatoes,” she repeated, nodding solemnly.
The conversation continued like that. Small things. Preferences. Dislikes. Nothing important, and yet everything felt oddly significant.
Yuma felt it — the faint, unfamiliar sensation of being focused on. Not compared. Not overlooked. Just… noticed.
Across the picnic area, the groups remained unchanged. Parents with parents. Siblings clustered together. Haruma laughing with Raito.
Yuma sat slightly apart.
But for once, he wasn’t alone.
And Himari didn’t treat that as something that needed fixing — only something worth acknowledging.
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