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Komi Shouko looked down at her now-buckled shoe. Then she looked up at me. The mask didn't crack. It didn't shatter. It simply… softened. At the corners of her eyes, in the slight curve of her lips, was something I had never seen on her face before.
My feet moved before my brain could stop them.
"There," I said, looking up.
Her hands were trembling.
"Komi-san?"
"Yeah," I said. "Let's go home."
All that perfection. All that distance. It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't godhood. It was terror. A prison of her own making, with bars of social anxiety so thick she couldn't even ask for help with her own shoe.
She stared at me, frozen.
I panicked. "Oh no—I'm sorry! Did I hurt you? Was that weird? I'm so sorry, I'll just—"
I didn't reach for her shoe. That would be too much. Too forward. Instead, I reached into my school bag and pulled out a small, battered tin. I opened it, revealing a tiny block of beeswax I used for the slide of my trombone.
© 2026 — True Pillar
Komi Shouko looked down at her now-buckled shoe. Then she looked up at me. The mask didn't crack. It didn't shatter. It simply… softened. At the corners of her eyes, in the slight curve of her lips, was something I had never seen on her face before.
My feet moved before my brain could stop them.
"There," I said, looking up.
Her hands were trembling.
"Komi-san?"
"Yeah," I said. "Let's go home."
All that perfection. All that distance. It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't godhood. It was terror. A prison of her own making, with bars of social anxiety so thick she couldn't even ask for help with her own shoe. Meeting Komi After School
She stared at me, frozen.
I panicked. "Oh no—I'm sorry! Did I hurt you? Was that weird? I'm so sorry, I'll just—" Komi Shouko looked down at her now-buckled shoe
I didn't reach for her shoe. That would be too much. Too forward. Instead, I reached into my school bag and pulled out a small, battered tin. I opened it, revealing a tiny block of beeswax I used for the slide of my trombone.