The autumn rain had been falling nonstop for three days. Fine strands of rain wove a hazy veil across the campus. On Friday afternoon, the library was quieter than usual, its silence broken only by the faint patter of raindrops against the windows and the occasional turn of a page. The damp air mingled the musty scent peculiar to old books with the smell of ink from freshly printed pages, creating a sanctuary of knowledge cut off from the outside world.
Fūki Ran folded up his black umbrella and stood at the library entrance, lightly stamping his feet to shake the raindrops from his shoes. His gaze swept slowly across the reading area before settling on a corner by the window. There, Shiina Hiyori of Class C sat alone at an oak desk, completely absorbed in the book in her hands. After observing her for two weeks, Fūki had confirmed this was her routine: every Friday afternoon, the literary girl spent three hours reading here.
Shiina wore a light gray cashmere turtleneck beneath a dark blue, collegiate-style knitted cardigan, paired with a knee-length plaid wool skirt. She sat upright, her slender fingers gently supporting the spine of her book. She turned the pages as gracefully as if playing an instrument. The gray daylight outside filtered through rain-blurred glass, casting a soft halo around her and making her look like a classical oil painting forgotten by time.
Fūki didn't hurry over to disturb her. Instead, he strolled between the shelves in the literature section, his long fingers gliding lightly over the spines as he pretended to search for a particular book. He kept Shiina in the corner of his eye, noticing her little reading habits: when she came across an engrossing passage, she would unconsciously lean forward; when she was thinking, she would lightly tap her chin with a fingertip; and sometimes, an amusing sentence would make the corners of her mouth lift.
About fifteen minutes later, Fūki took a copy of Jun'ichirō Tanizaki's The Makioka Sisters from the shelf and walked calmly over to where Shiina sat.
"Sorry to bother you," he said, his voice particularly clear in the quiet library. "Is anyone sitting here?"
Shiina looked up from her book. A trace of surprise flickered in her eyes when she saw Fūki, but she quickly regained her composure. "Please, sit down," she replied softly, her voice as clear and pleasant as distant wind chimes.
Fūki took the seat opposite her and gently set The Makioka Sisters on the desk. From this angle, he could see Shiina's features more clearly. She had a classic oval face and skin so pale it was almost translucent, like fine porcelain. Her long black hair fell to her waist like a waterfall, its ends curling slightly. Most striking were her eyes, deep pools that seemed to hold an entire starry sky—clear yet unfathomable.
"Jun'ichirō Tanizaki," Shiina said, noticing the book in his hands. Interest glimmered in her eyes. "Do you like his works, Fūki?"
"Especially his subtle depictions of women's inner lives." Fūki opened the book and lightly traced a line of text with his fingertip. "Like this passage about Sachiko's inner conflict. It's wonderful."
Shiina leaned forward slightly, making the scent of books about her more noticeable. "That's true. The women in Tanizaki's works are always caught between tradition and modernity. They long for freedom, yet can't fully escape their restraints."
"Much like many people at this school," Fūki said meaningfully. "On the surface, they pursue the goal of Class A, but inside, they may harbor completely different desires."
Shiina's eyelashes fluttered faintly. She closed Norwegian Wood, which she had been reading, and gently ran her slender fingers over its cover. "You always speak so cryptically, Fūki."
"I just thought you might understand that feeling, Shiina." Fūki's gaze moved to the books beside her. "In an environment as... special as Class C, it can't be easy to maintain a pure love of literature."
Shiina fell silent for a moment as the rain outside grew heavier. She gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that made her seem especially graceful. "Ryuen has his way of doing things, and I have my own choices. Reading is a way for me to understand the world."
"That includes understanding how your classmates act?"
"It includes understanding how everyone acts." Shiina's answer carried a wisdom beyond her years. "There's a cause behind every action, and every relationship contains complex psychological motives. The most important thing literature has taught me is not to judge anyone too quickly."
Their conversation remained at just the right volume, creating a private space for the two of them within the quiet library. Fūki found that talking with Shiina was like interpreting an understated haiku. Every sentence held several layers of meaning, and it took careful consideration to grasp its deeper significance.
"By the way," Fūki said, smoothly changing the subject, "you seem to have a particular fondness for Japanese literature, Shiina."
"Every country's literature has its own unique beauty." Shiina took two more books from her bag: Anna Karenina and One Hundred Years of Solitude. "But I do prefer the beauty of mono no aware in Japanese literature. Like the rain outside right now: in Jun'ichirō Tanizaki's writing, it might become 'In Praise of Shadows'; in Yasunari Kawabata's, it might be a prelude to Snow Country."
"That's a unique perspective," Fūki said with sincere admiration. "Then where do you think literature's value lies in a school that places such importance on ability?"
Shiina gently stroked the cover of Norwegian Wood, as if caressing a treasured secret. "Ability isn't limited to points or rankings. The capacity to understand human nature and the insight to see the essence of things—aren't those forms of ability, too? Literature teaches us to understand complexity, and that's exactly what this school lacks most."
Just then, Shiina's phone buzzed faintly inside her bag. She took it out, glanced at the screen, then began gracefully gathering the books on the desk. "Sorry, I have to get back. Class C has a class meeting at four."
"It's been a pleasure talking with you." Fūki stood to see her off. "I hope we'll have a chance to continue our discussion another time."
Shiina opened a simple white umbrella and gave a slight bow at the library entrance. "I enjoyed it, too. Your understanding of literature is much deeper than I expected, Fūki."
Watching Shiina Hiyori walk away beneath her white umbrella, Fūki fell into thought. This literary girl from Class C was far more complicated than he'd imagined. Under Ryuen Kakeru's forceful rule, she had neither chosen to fight back nor submitted completely. Instead, she had found a unique way to survive: preserving her inner independence through reading and understanding. Beneath that seemingly fragile demeanor, there might be a resilience few could see.
The rain kept falling. Fūki stood at the library entrance, watching tiny splashes rise as raindrops struck the stone steps. A girl like Shiina Hiyori was like a precious book waiting to be deciphered; it would take patience and wisdom to understand its deeper meaning. And at some crucial moment in the future, that understanding might bring an unexpected reward.
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