Good Morning, Maybe

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In Kamakura, the mornings begin with the scent of the sea and sweet bread. It’s a peaceful town where the loudest things at sunrise are the cries of seagulls and the low rumble of the Enoden train sliding along its track.

At precisely 5:17 a.m., Tsubasa Amakusa cracked open one eye.

Then the other.

Then he groaned dramatically and rolled off his bed, hitting the floor with a practiced thud.

“Ugh. Why does morning exist?”

Downstairs, the familiar buzz of ovens and the clatter of mixing bowls echoed through the Amakusa Bakery. His older sister Satsuki was already in battle mode, hair tied up in a bandana, flour streaked across her cheek like war paint.

“You’ve got exactly seven minutes to wash your face and help knead dough or I’m renaming the bakery to ‘Satsuki’s House of Bread and Broken Promises,’” she called up the stairs.

Tsubasa grabbed his hoodie from the back of his chair, threw it over his school uniform shirt, and trudged downstairs with the soul of a man on his last journey.

“I was dreaming of a bread-shaped spaceship,” he mumbled.

“Dream faster next time, Nii,” her younger sister Hinako replied, handing him an apron and a bowl of filling for anpan.

As he rolled and shaped dough, Tsubasa’s mind wandered to less sticky things—like the history homework he maybe possibly didn’t finish… and the quiz Misora had warned him about.

“Ah,” he muttered. “I’m dead.”

“Again?” Satsuki raised an eyebrow. “You know, for someone who calls himself a genius, you sure forget a lot of genius-y stuff.”

“I am a genius,” he said, dramatically pressing red bean paste into the dough. “A creative one.”

“You mean lazy.”

“Semantics.”

At 6:14 a.m., like clockwork, Misora Kisaragi appeared at the side door, clutching a bamboo thermos with steam wafting from the lid. Her long black hair was tied back in a braid, and she wore the calm expression of someone who’d already polished the glass at her family’s tea shop and reorganized the spice rack alphabetically—again.

“I brought genmaicha,” she announced.

Tsubasa looked up from the oven. “My savior!”

Misora set the thermos down, poured him a small cup, then one for herself. “Your sisters said you slept through two alarms again.”

“That’s slander,” he said, sipping dramatically. “I was meditating in bed.”

She gave him a long look. “With drool on your chin?”

“…Deep meditation.”

“Sure.”

Hinako snorted peeking at the two. “See? Married.”

Both teenagers froze.

“Stop saying that,” Misora muttered.

“We’re not married,” Tsubasa added with a grin.

“Not yet,” Hinako teased.

Misora looked at the oven like she was imagining someone inside it.

They left the bakery at 7:02 a.m., lunchboxes packed, shoes squeaking slightly on the tiled floor. The streets of Kamakura were still shaking off the morning haze. Shopkeepers were setting out signs, temple bells chimed faintly in the background, and the sky was painted soft orange.

As always, they walked side by side. It wasn’t even a decision—it was just what they did.

“Did you finish the essay for modern lit?” Misora asked, flipping through her notebook.

“I wrote a haiku,” Tsubasa said confidently.

“We were supposed to write a comparative analysis.”

“My haiku compares my feelings about writing essays to the crushing weight of gravity.”

Misora stopped walking. “You’re going to fail.”

“I’ll charm my way through.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you bring me tea every morning.”

“I bring tea, not miracles.”

They were halfway to school when Ayane Fujimoto popped out from behind a vending machine like a ninja wielding a phone.

“Say cheese, #TsubaSora!”

“Eh—wait—AYANE!” Misora shouted, shielding her face.

“Got it! Perfectly candid. That angle is golden!”

Tsubasa blinked. “What just happened?”

Ayane winked, already uploading the photo to the school’s unofficial “romance radar” chat. “You’ll thank me when the fan club reaches 100 members!”

“We have a fan club?” Tsubasa asked.

Misora groaned. “No. We have Ayane. And that’s dangerous enough.”

Ayane’s phone dinged. “Ooh! Already six likes and two comments. One says, ‘They’re even matching! Married couple aesthetic, 10/10!’”

Tsubasa glanced down. He was wearing navy blue. Misora had a blue ribbon. It was completely coincidental.

…Wasn’t it?

By the time they reached Minamisawa High, whispers followed them like leaves in the wind.

“There they are!”

“#TsubaSora, back at it again.”

“Did you see this morning’s photo? She brought him tea!”

“That’s basically a love confession.”

“They’re obviously together.”

Tsubasa waved good-naturedly. “Morning, everyone!”

Misora walked faster. “Why are you encouraging them?”

“I’m not! I’m just being friendly!”

“They think we’re dating!”

“People think a lot of things. Some people think cats are aliens.”

“That doesn’t even make—! Ugh!”

Their classroom was already buzzing when they entered. Nao Tachibana waved them over. “Sit, sit! Tsubasa-kun, you’re trending again.”

He slid a tablet toward them. On screen was Ayane’s photo, with the now-infamous hashtag #TsubaSora plastered in bold text across the top.

Misora’s expression twisted into a deadpan scowl.

“Look, someone even made a poll,” Nao said. “Will they confess this semester? A) Yes, B) Definitely yes, C) Just kiss already.”

Tsubasa tilted his head. “Where’s the ‘We’re just friends’ option?”

Everyone stared.

“…What?” he asked.

Nao laughed. “Oh, you’re really in it, huh?”

Misora pinched the bridge of her nose. “We are not dating. We’re just neighbors. We walk together. That’s it.”

“Right,” Nao said, still smirking. “And you didn’t personally customize his thermos with his name last month?”

“That was so he wouldn’t mix it up with yours!”

“Sure it was.”

Homeroom started with Mr. Kaido dramatically adjusting his glasses like an anime villain.

“I see our favorite duo has graced us with their presence once again,” he said, arms wide. “Misora-san, are you ready to lead us into another day of scholastic excellence?”

“Yes, sensei,” Misora said without missing a beat.

“And Tsubasa-kun, have you finished the report I asked for last week?”

Tsubasa blinked. “There was a report?”

Laughter erupted again.

Mr. Kaido sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Give me a passing grade and a bakery sponsorship?”

“Tempting.”

Lunch break came, and the #TsubaSora movement only grew stronger.

By then, the school chat was flooded with memes, doodles, and one surprisingly well-done anime-style illustration of Tsubasa and Misora holding hands under falling sakura petals.

“Who draws this fast?” Misora muttered, stabbing her rice.

Tsubasa peeked over her shoulder. “Hey, that kind of looks like us.”

“It is us.”

“Ohhh.”

“You’re useless.”

They sat under their usual tree behind the school building, away from the crowd and the fandom. For now.

A breeze rustled the leaves. The warmth of the sun filtered through the branches.

“…Do you think they’ll ever stop?” Misora asked quietly.

“The school?”

“The shipping.”

Tsubasa took a thoughtful bite of his melonpan. “Probably not.”

Misora sighed. “It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?”

“Most likely.”

They sat in silence for a while, birds chirping in the distance.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “you’re not actually mad, right?”

She looked at him, then away. “No. It’s just… annoying. Like a joke that won’t die.”

He nodded. “You know they only think that because we’re always together, right?”

“…I guess.”

“Maybe we should hang out less?”

Misora’s gaze snapped to him, surprised.

“…Do you want to hang out less?”

Tsubasa looked confused. “What? No! That’d be super boring.”

“…Idiot.”

He grinned. “So we keep walking together?”

“Obviously.”

“And morning tea?”

“I’m not letting you start your day uncaffeinated.”

Tsubasa stretched his legs and leaned back on the grass. “Then let them ship whatever they want. We know the truth.”

Misora rolled her eyes.

They did know the truth.

Right?

Right.

From behind the bushes, Ayane watched through her camera lens.

“…It’s happening,” she whispered.

Nao nodded. “Slow burn in real-time.”

A third-year behind them clutched her chest. “They even argue like a married couple.”

Ayane grinned. “This is going to be the greatest school year ever.”

And so, in Kamakura—the town of waves, wind, and wandering hearts—two oblivious teenagers carried on as always, unaware that the entire school had unofficially declared them soulmates.

And somewhere, deep down, where friendship turns soft and shapeless and maybe a little bit magical… something had already begun.

Something more than just maybe.

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...AerixielDaiminse...

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