I was getting worried there. I was already taking pictures of my work and transferring the text to the note app on my phone. I'll just work on making copies of my work when I have writer's block. Anyway read 'Waiting Inside Her Eyes Was His Tomorrow,' by SodaSodachi. The banter and reaction, it was just a chief kiss right there.

As Igawa Haruka settled into her new life at Sobu High School, one of the most fascinating aspects of Earth's education system was the library. In her original world, books were rare treasures, often limited to the wealthy and scholarly. Here, they were abundant and accessible to all, filling the shelves of the school library with a wealth of knowledge and stories.

The library became her sanctuary, a place where she could escape the chaos of her classmates. The boys at school were eager to know her better, many with the obvious motive of courtship. The girls, on the other hand, sought to use her connection to Hachiman to get closer to him. Navigating these social dynamics was exhausting, and the library offered a peaceful retreat.

0000

Walking into the library for the first time, I was struck by its sheer size and the quiet hum of activity. Students sat at tables, immersed in their studies, while others perused the shelves, searching for their next read. The scent of aged paper and ink filled the air, a comforting reminder of the worlds within the pages.

My gaze wandered over the rows of books, marveling at their variety and volume. Here, books weren't just about magic or practical skills—they spanned every conceivable subject, from science and history to literature and philosophy. Fiction, a genre barely acknowledged in my world, was given a place of honor, its stories weaving together the fabric of human experience.

In my original world, books were primarily educational tools. The kingdom's scholars wrote treatises on magic, technology, and governance, and these were the texts most valued. Commoners and peasants rarely had access to such knowledge, their education limited to practical skills taught by guilds and orphanages. The nobles, on the other hand, had the privilege of a broader curriculum, but even then, fiction was a luxury, often passed down through oral traditions rather than the written word.

Here on Earth, the concept of libraries as a communal resource fascinated me. In my world, access to books was a sign of status and privilege. The kingdom's libraries were guarded, their contents accessible only to those deemed worthy. Here, knowledge was democratized, available to anyone with the curiosity to seek it.

Browsing the shelves, I picked up a book at random, its cover depicting a fantastical landscape. The title, "The Chronicles of Narnia," intrigued me, and I flipped through its pages, captivated by the idea of a world within a wardrobe. Such creativity and imagination were celebrated here, and I felt a pang of longing for the stories I had missed growing up.

In my world, entertainment was limited. The bards and storytellers who traveled from village to village brought tales of heroism and adventure, but these were often rooted in reality, reflecting the harshness of our lives. Magic was a tool for survival, not a source of wonder. Here, magic could be anything—an escape, a dream, a possibility.

I found myself drawn to the library more often, seeking solace in its quiet corners and losing myself in the stories that filled its shelves. The worlds I discovered were vastly different from my own, yet they resonated with me, offering a sense of connection and understanding.

One afternoon, as I sat in a cozy nook of the school's library, engrossed in a novel, Hachiman found me. He raised an eyebrow at the stack of books by my side, a mixture of fiction and non-fiction, each one a testament to my growing curiosity about this world.

"You've been busy," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took a seat across from me.

I nodded, a smile playing on my lips. "There's so much to learn," I replied, my eyes shining with excitement. "The stories here... they're incredible. In my world, we didn't have anything like this."

Hachiman leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "What was it like in your world?" he asked genuine curiosity in his tone.

I hesitated for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "Books were rare and mostly practical. We had treatises on magic, technology, and governance, but fiction was almost non-existent. Stories were told orally and passed down through generations. Entertainment was limited to bards and storytellers who traveled from village to village."

He nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "So, this is all new to you."

"Yes," I admitted, my voice soft with wonder. "The idea that stories can be written down and shared so freely, that they can transport you to another world... it's amazing."

Hachiman smiled a rare warmth in his gaze. "Well, welcome to the world of literature. There's a lot to explore, and I'm sure you'll find it as fascinating as I do. And that's just the surface. There are stories involving fictional characters that are written by fans, expanding the worlds even further."

My eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Fans write their own stories? That sounds incredible! It's like the stories never really end."

He nodded, clearly enjoying my enthusiasm. "Exactly. It's called fanfiction. It's a way for readers to engage with the stories they love and imagine new scenarios and adventures for their favorite characters."

As we sat together in the quiet of the library, I felt a sense of gratitude for this new world and the opportunities it offered. The stories I had discovered were not just a source of entertainment; they were a bridge between my past and my present, a way to understand and connect with the people around me.

0000

Reflecting on my first encounter with an Earth library, I remember being four years old, my mother bringing me to children's events hosted by the local library. The memory was hazy but warm, filled with laughter, colorful picture books, and the joy of discovery. That early exposure planted the seeds of my love for reading, a love that has only grown stronger over time.

As I adapted to my new life and surroundings, I carried a Kanji dictionary with me everywhere. Learning a new language was challenging, especially since I had become a child again. Japanese was intricate and beautiful, but Kanji was particularly difficult. Many characters could be read in multiple ways, their meanings shifting depending on context, pronunciation, and the kana used to spell them. Yet, I had time and determination on my side.

0000

One day, as Hachiman and I studied together in the library, he noticed the worn dictionary by my side. "Is that your dictionary?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

I nodded, holding it up with a sheepish smile. "Yes, it's a Kanji dictionary. Ever since I became a child again, learning a new language has been tough. Kanji is still hard for me. There are so many readings and meanings to memorize."

Hachiman's expression softened, and he gave a small nod of understanding. "You're doing great, Haruka. It takes time, but you'll get there."

With each new word I learned and each story I read, I felt more at home in this world. As I continued to explore the endless possibilities within the pages of Earth's books, I knew that I was not just learning a language or culture—I was discovering new parts of myself.

0000

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the school grounds, its rays filtering through the leaves of the trees behind the school. I stood nervously in the secluded area, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves and creating a soft, soothing melody. I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt, glancing around anxiously. The setting was almost romantic, with the soft light, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the faint scent of blooming flowers in the air. Yet, my heart pounded with unease, the unfamiliarity of the situation making me tense.

I had been approached by a boy from a different class, his face a blur in my memory. His request to meet me behind the school had been unexpected, and now, standing here alone, I felt a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The scene felt like something out of a romance novel, and I couldn't help but feel a small flutter of dread mixed with my nerves.

The boy finally appeared, his footsteps hesitant as he approached. He was tall with a kind face, his eyes reflecting his nervousness. For a moment, we stood in awkward silence, the only sounds being the rustling leaves and the distant chatter of students from the school.

"Igawa-san," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "I... I wanted to tell you something. I've admired you for a while now. You're always so kind and strong, and I can't stop thinking about you. I have feelings for you. Will you go out with me?"

His words hung in the air, sincere and heartfelt. My heart raced, my mind whirling with confusion and fear. I had never been in this situation before. Before middle school, boys had always stayed away from me, too embarrassed to talk to me. In middle school, they were more interested in arguing with each other than trying to get to know me. This was the first time a boy had confessed his feelings to me, and it left me feeling both flattered and terrified.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "Thank you for telling me," I said softly, my voice shaking. "But... I can't accept your feelings."

The boy's face fell, but he managed a small, understanding nod. "I understand," he replied quietly. "Thank you for listening."

As he turned to leave, I felt a pang of guilt and sadness. I had hoped that this moment might be different, that I could respond with the same warmth and affection. But the fear of being alone with a stranger, a boy I barely knew, had overwhelmed me.

It was not just the feeling of love but the feeling of being betrayed. I had once loved. I thought of the happiness I got from that person. I had worked hard to get educated to a level where I could support him as the queen. The sleepless nights, the tours to the public facilities to check on the status of running and maintaining them. The speeches to gain support for the prince. Yet, it ended. I saw my younger sister take my place. I was accused of a false crime by my own family and the nobles. My appearance of silver hair and blue eyes was feared by the nobles. The rebirth of the hero, they cried out. The fear of the change in social class again. The reason for my crime, my death.

I watched him walk away, the romantic atmosphere now tinged with a sense of regret and lost opportunity. This confession had revealed something deeper about myself—my fear of love, of being alone and vulnerable. I knew I had to confront these fears, to understand them, but for now, I simply felt the weight of this unexpected encounter.

0000

After being confessed to by a boy, I walked home, reflecting on romance. In Japan, it seemed romance was a favorable topic. For me, however, it felt foolish and unnecessary. "Maybe it's because I was engaged to the prince of my kingdom before I got betrayed and transported to Earth," I thought to myself. My lack of interest in romance seemed justified to me.

As I walked, the evening sun cast a warm glow over the streets, and a gentle breeze rustled through the trees lining my path. The encounter with the boy behind the school left me with mixed feelings—relief that I had managed to decline his confession, yet a lingering discomfort at the idea of falling in love again.

"Earth's customs are so perplexing," I murmured, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "In my kingdom, such encounters were strictly formal and always supervised."

Lost in my thoughts, I continued my walk home, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the sidewalk. I arrived home and immediately noticed something unusual. My father was on all fours, kneeling in front of the closed restroom door, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Concern washed over me as I approached him cautiously.

"Dad?" I called softly, unsure of what I would find. I had never seen my father like this before—usually so composed and stoic.

My father looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with tears. He struggled to compose himself as he glanced at me, his expression a mix of sorrow and helplessness.

"Oh, Haruka," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "It's Marnie. She's inside, but..."

"But what happened?" My worry deepened as I knelt beside him, placing a hand on his trembling shoulder.

"She was walking home with some boys and her friends from middle school," my father explained, his voice breaking slightly. "One of the boys confessed his feelings to her, and when I tried to talk to her about it, she... she locked herself in the bathroom."

My heart sank. Marnie, her stoic and timid younger sister, was struggling with something as intimate and confusing as feelings of affection from a boy. The complexities of human relationships on Earth sometimes baffled me, but I understood enough to know that adolescence could be tumultuous.

"I'll talk to her," I said firmly, squeezing my father's shoulder gently to reassure him.

My father nodded gratefully, his expression a mixture of gratitude and concern. "Thank you, Haruka. I don't know what's gotten into her lately. She's been so distant."

Together, we approached the closed restroom door where faint sniffles could be heard from inside. I took a deep breath before knocking gently. "Marnie, it's me, Haruka. Can we talk?"

"Marnie, your father and I are worried about you," I began gently, stepping into the restroom and closing the door behind me. "What happened today?"

After a while, Marnie suddenly muttered, "You and Dad are so annoying."

I was taken aback by Marnie's unexpected remark. It was rare for her to express such frustration openly, and it stung.

Marnie sighed heavily, sinking onto the edge of the bathtub. "It's stupid. Just some boys from school being dumb," she muttered, her voice tinged with irritation.

Before I could respond, the restroom door creaked open, and our mother entered with a determined expression. She glanced at her husband outside and me, silently signaling for us to leave.

"Let me handle this," our mother said firmly, her voice gentle yet authoritative.

I exchanged a brief, relieved look with my father before quietly exiting the restroom. I understood that sometimes, our mother's presence and understanding were exactly what Marnie needed.

Outside the restroom, I leaned against the wall, my mind still troubled by Marnie's words. I felt a pang of hurt and confusion at being called "annoying," even though I knew Marnie didn't mean it. I wanted to help my sister, to protect her from the complexities of growing up in this world.

My father placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, silently offering his support. "She'll be okay," he murmured, his voice tinged with concern.

I nodded slightly, my thoughts lingering on Marnie and the challenges we faced together on Earth. I knew our journey was far from over, and there would be many more moments like this where we would have to navigate the unfamiliar terrain of human emotions and relationships.

0000

In the kitchen, our mother stood beside Marnie at the counter, teaching her how to prepare a new recipe. Marnie's expression softened as she focused on the cooking instructions, a welcome distraction from the earlier tension. Our mother's patient guidance and the comforting aroma of food filled the air, creating a sense of calm within the room.

Meanwhile, from the doorway, I watched silently as my father attempted to apologize to our mother, who gave him a stern look in response. I felt a pang of guilt, knowing I had unintentionally added to the family's strife with my insensitivity.

As I reflected on the events of the evening, I couldn't help but dwell on my feelings towards love. The concept seemed foreign and complicated, a source of confusion and pain rather than joy. I had witnessed its complexities firsthand, both in my world and on Earth, and found myself detesting its unpredictable nature.

Lost in my thoughts, I remained rooted to the spot, unsure of how to navigate the emotions swirling within me. I wanted to protect my new family, especially Marnie, from the pitfalls of love and relationships, yet I feared my lack of understanding would only hinder my efforts.

With a heavy sigh, I turned away from the kitchen, retreating to my room where I could ponder in solitude. Despite my reservations, I couldn't ignore the impact love had on those around me, even if I struggled to comprehend it myself.