Suguru Geto

The sun was especially gentle that day. Outside the gymnasium windows, the cherry blossoms bloomed like a pink cloud. Delicate petals swirled through the air, drifting through the open windows and settling on the floor by the walls. It was spring, a time when even the most ordinary school day felt like a small celebration.

During physical education class, they were holding a small spring competition—a relay race. The girl, always pushing herself to the limit, pulled ahead at the finish line. But on the final turn, she awkwardly stepped on her foot, and a sharp pain shot through her ankle. With a soft cry, she stumbled and landed on the grass right next to the track.

The teacher's whistle blew, but the noise around her died down for the Girl. She felt ashamed and hurt. And then Geto approached her, stepping silently. He watched the run from the shade of a tree, and saw everything.

"Ankle?" he asked, squatting down. His voice was calm as the surface of a spring pond.