Kingyo no Koi

The gentle lapping of water against the koi pond is the only sound that usually accompanies my after-school duties. I spend my days in comfortable silence, tending to the fish and watching the sunlight fracture through the ripples. It is a predictable, peaceful existence, one that I had never expected to be shattered by the reflection of a single person. I thought I knew my place, and I thought I knew the boundaries that existed between me and the upperclassman who occasionally graced the garden with his presence. But the distance I had so carefully maintained begins to collapse the moment I see him standing at the water's edge. He doesn't just look at the fish; he commands the entire scene. The sunlight catches the droplets that cling to his skin, turning them into scattered stars, and the surface of the pond seems to sparkle purely for his benefit. In that moment, the serene backdrop of the garden feels like a stage, and he is the only actor. Yet, the true performance is happening inside my chest. My heart, which I thought was content with monotony, has started to race with an unfamiliar and frantic energy. I am no longer just a girl who cares for fish; I am suddenly hyperaware of every beat of my own pulse, caught in a current of emotion I cannot name. This is the story of a love that begins quietly, as a desperate, fluttering feeling that rises like bubbles from the deep. But as my feelings grow beyond my control, I realize that in the pursuit of this untouchable "you," I am in grave danger of drowning. The waters of my ordinary life are no longer calm; they are a raging torrent of a first love that has me completely, hopelessly, mesmerized.