Web of light. book 1

Rinko pointed at one of the shelves:

"Look! Star Wars is here! And it's not just a book, it's a comic book. With pictures on each page."

Yuto came closer, not hurrying, as if he was afraid of scaring off the find. On the cover was Luke Skywalker with a lightsaber, and next to him were droids that were impossible not to recognize.

"Adaptation of film production in the illustrated comic book format: high visual density, low text load. It is optimal for the reader who needs a predictable structure and reliance on images.", Alex's voice sounded almost casual, as if he, too, was glad that everything was clear.

Yuuto carefully pulled the volume off the shelf. It wasn't too thick, the cover was smooth, and the inside of the pages were thick, as if on purpose so that they could be flipped many times.

"It's even about the Death Star", Rinko was already flipping through the pages, showing the spreads. "Look, here's a scene where everything explodes, and here's Han Solo smiling."

Yuuto nodded, without taking his eyes off the pictures. He didn't have to read the entire text at once: he could just look at the footage first, piece together the story like a diagram.

"Let's take it," he said softly, as if testing whether it sounded like an adult decision. "I want to see all the pages."

Rinko smiled:

"Sure. There's a whole shelf of them. You can take two at once: read one today, the other tomorrow."

And for the first time, Yuto thought that the library was not about silence and strict rules. It's about the fact that somewhere on the shelf there is a story that is already waiting for him.

* * *

The sun was already sinking towards the roofs, and long shadows lay across the sidewalks, as if someone had carefully drawn the street into even squares. They came in again after having dinner with buns and fish, cookies, and sweet stuffed Tayaks. The clerk in the shop handed the children each a cup of green tea, recently brewed in a teapot.

"Here's a bonus for you, as regular customers."

"Thank you Hiroshi-san." Rinko said.

Hiroshi deftly handed Yuto and Rinko a cup of tea, and then placed two corrugated cardboard cuffs on the counter — such thin "sleeves" that fit on a glass.

"Put this on," he nodded, indicating with a flick of his fingers how to do it. "It's hot."

Rinko immediately pulled the cuff over the glass and smiled:

"Like a mitten!"

Yuto repeated it after her, carefully, as if it were an important instruction: put it on first, then just hold it. The cuff made the glass thicker and seemed calmer: you could wrap your whole palm around it, and you could feel the warmth, but it didn't burn. If necessary, here are some more napkins," Hiroshi pushed a stack of thick paper to the edge.

"You can put thais on them while you drink tea. Just don't put the glasses on the counter, okay? I have to work here. Just don't put the glasses on the counter, okay? I have to work here."

Rinko nodded, took a napkin, and put the taiyaki on it, so you can hold it with one hand and hold the glass calmly with the other.

"Thank you, Hiroshi-san," Yuuto said softly, looking the shopkeeper straight in the eye for the first time.

Hiroshi tilted his head slightly, as if that was the most important answer in the world:

"No problem. Eat while it's warm."

Yuto and Rinko took a few steps away from the stall, to where the sidewalk was getting a little quieter and the dense crowd was spreading out. A low concrete fence stretched nearby: gray, with a slightly rough edge, but smooth on top, as if specially made for such occasions. Rinko was the first to place the cup on it, carefully, with two fingers, as if checking if it was loose.

"You can do it here," she said, already holding the taiyaki more comfortably. Now you're holding a cookie with one hand and tea with the other. Or even a cookie with both hands.

Yuto looked at the fence, then at the cup in his hand. He liked this simple logic: there is a prop, there is a rule.

"A horizontal surface with sufficient surface area and low slip coefficient. Suitable for short-term tea placement", Alex thought, sipping his tea.

He carefully placed the glass on the edge of the fence. The glass stood up straight, did not roll, did not shake. Yuuto exhaled as if he had just completed a small but important task. Now he could safely hold the taiyaki with both hands without fear of anything falling.

Rinko had already taken a bite of the cookie cutter and was now blowing on her fingers — it was too hot.

"Oh..." she giggled, looking at Yuto. "I should have waited. But it's worth it. Try."

Yuto nodded and took a bite. The adzuki pasta was warm and sweet, the dough was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. He didn't say "delicious," but the corners of his lips twitched slightly, as if a smile was trying to break through caution.

Somewhere behind the stall, Hiroshi san was setting up tongs and wiping the edge of the counter. He saw how the children had gone to the fence, how they had set down their cups, and how they were now eating without haste. And that was enough for him: they found their own quiet corner, their own little "table", and now they could just be children.

Little Rinko whispered that her friend was not himself because of the recent death of his parents.

The concrete fence was cool, rough, and so secure-you could easily put cups on it to hold hot taiyaki with both hands. Yuto had just carefully placed his glass on an even edge, exhaled as if he had completed a difficult task, and was about to take a bite when a gray cat with a black stripe silently emerged from behind a low curb.

She jumped gently right onto the fence, sat down two steps away from the cups, turned her head and stared at the children with round eyes, as if checking: "Can I stay here?"

Rinko reacted instantly. She leaned forward a little, not abruptly, so as not to frighten the cat, but firmly waved her hand:

"Shoo! Go where you don't get in the way. There are pills in the right pocket of the backpack with a yellow sticker!"

The cat lazily twitched its ear, jumped down onto the sidewalk, and sauntered away, as if it had been waiting for a polite invitation to leave all this time.

Yuto sniffed, blinked, trying to clear his eyes, and suddenly froze — a simple, familiar rule clicked in his head: if you have allergies, get the medicine.

He hurriedly reached for his backpack, unzipped it, and found a small plastic case inside. His fingers were shaking a little, but he immediately felt that bright yellow sticker, and it made him feel a little calmer: even when everything was swimming in his eyes, it was impossible not to notice it.

Rinko leaned a little closer, but she didn't touch him, just stood there like a quiet support. And suddenly she saw this sticker — and something jumped in her chest from recognition. She put it on herself. On the day when the medic at school gave Yuto a standard pharmacy pencil case — the same as everyone else's, unremarkable, gray-white, merging with everything else in the backpack. Rinko then thought: if it suddenly gets bad, he should find it right away. And in the evening, sitting at her desk, she cut out the brightest yellow piece from a sheet of stickers and stuck it on the case so that it glowed like a beacon.

"Can you... handle it on your own?" She asked softly, nodding at the pill.

Rinko ran to Hiroshi-san and asked for a glass of cold water to take a pill. Then, after getting a cup, she ran back to Yuto.

Yuto nodded, put the pill on his tongue, took a long sip of water, and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if he were swallowing panic itself along with the water.

Hiroshi san came up with a pack of clean napkins in his hand.

"Here," he handed them to Yuto. "Blot your eyes, it'll make you feel better. And step aside a little more: there's a breeze, it blows everything away quickly."

Yuto took the napkins and gently dabbed at the corners of his eyes-not rubbing, but as he was taught, he did. His breathing gradually steadied.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking not directly into the shopkeeper's eyes, but slightly to the side, at the edge of the counter. Hiroshi san tilted his head slightly, as if he understood this little caution.

"Medicine is good. But the main thing now is just to stand still. Let it start working. Ten minutes, no more, and you'll be as good as new again."

Rinko wanted to say something to completely banish this awkwardness, but suddenly she found herself staring at the yellow sticker. And she smiled, softly, almost to herself.

"It's good that I put it on." She mumbled, as if apologizing for even mentioning it.

Yuto followed her gaze, looked at that bright square, then back at Rinko — and for the first time in those minutes, there was something other than tension in his gaze.

"Yeah," he said softly. "good. I found the pencil case quickly."

And the "good thing" was not even about the sticker, but about the fact that someone thought in advance, someone made a small but very necessary beacon so that in the dark or in tears you could just reach out and find it.

Hiroshi san chuckled, as if he understood everything without words, and returned behind the counter, but remained standing at the very edge so that he could see the children and come out again at any moment if necessary.

The wind was stirring their hair, the concrete fence was still smooth and secure, and the tea cups were still standing on its edge. Yuto put the case back into his backpack, carefully zipped it up so that nothing would move, so that the yellow square would always be visible. Then he took the new taiyaki that Hiroshi-san had brought and took a bite. The azuki paste was warm, slightly sweet, and the simple taste brought the world back to its place. Rinko took a sip of tea from a closed cup through a straw. Then she took a bite of a fish cookie. The evening was no longer spoiled.

* * *

They turned into a familiar alley, where the lanterns had not yet been lit, but were already standing ready like silent sentries. Rinko slowed her pace and glanced at Yuto:

"Haruno-san's mom promised to bake apple and cinnamon pies. And then I'll show you one of the moves from the new manga release— just for show, no punches. In case the bullies get attached to you again and I'm not around."

Yuto froze for a second, as if weighing every word. He wanted to go home, to his corner, where he could spread magazines on the floor and look at diagrams until dark. But there was no "need" in Rinko's voice, no pressure — just "if you want". And I didn't want to eat noodles.

"Okay," he finally nodded. "But first I'll show you a page. It's about how astronauts sleep in zero gravity. It's... weird. It's like the world has turned upside down."

Rinko chuckled, but there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes:

"In zero gravity? That is, without a pillow at all?"

"Without a pillow. Without a floor. Without the "bottom". Everything just hangs."

And they went on, a little faster, because now their goal was not just to get there, but to open at least one page before dark. The stacks of magazines gently tapped against the sides, and this quiet rhythm was almost like a promise: there would be nothing scary today anymore. Only space, martial arts, which Rinko has collected manga for teenage boys and cinnamon pies.

* * *

Yuto went to Rinko's house and stayed for dinner, after Haruno-san's permission.

"I love oyakodon, (this is a classic Japanese dish: a bowl of rice topped with a delicate mixture of chicken and egg stewed in a sweetly salty sauce.)" Rinko said softly, as if apologizing for even having a favorite dish. "He's like... a blanket. Only from food."

Yuuto nodded without looking up from his plate. There really was something of a blanket in it: warm rice, soft pieces of chicken, an egg that enveloped everything around.

"Food as a support system: predictable texture, understandable layers, absence of irritants. It's not just dinner, it's a way to say "you're safe" without words.", Alex thought, and this time his inner voice didn't sound like an instruction, but almost like relief.

And Yuto was just eating. And with each bite, it became a little easier for him to breathe. After dinner, Yuto and Rinko looked at a manga about space, when they were leafing through Revenge of the Sith in the library. Then Yuto went to do his homework, asking Rinko for Monday's schedule, after which he received a photocopy made by the girl at school.

"Yuto, I noticed that you've lost your schedule. Will you explain the math to me again, as you did in class?"

"Yes, of course. Let's go to your room."

And on Monday, there was another math class.

Rinko bent over her notebook so low that her bangs fell over her eyes. She read the task condition quietly, almost in a whisper:

"There were eight taka in the tray... we bought three... then we reported four more..." and she bent the fingers on her left hand again, then on her right, then straightened them out and started over. Her fingers were moving fast, as if they were trying to catch elusive numbers.

"Again," she muttered to herself. "I'm going to count it right now. Eight minus three... that's five... and then plus four... five and four... six, seven, eight, nine? Or have I already lost my way?"

Yuto wasn't looking at the problem, but at those flashing fingers, and suddenly realized that it wasn't the numbers she couldn't figure out, she was afraid of making mistakes, and her fingers seemed to hold the answer until it slipped out.

He quietly pushed a blank piece of paper towards her:

"Let's not use our fingers. Let's draw a tray. Look."

And he began to carefully shade eight cells in a row — exactly, as if he were putting hot melts on a tray. Rinko stopped moving her fingers for a second and stared at those cages.

"It's... like it's real," she whispered.

"Almost," Yuto nodded. "These eight are all that happened. And now the customers have bought three."

He took a red pencil and crossed out three squares. Rinko involuntarily reached out as if she wanted to stop him, but then she exhaled and just stared.

"How much is left?" Yuto asked quietly.

"Five," Rinko said more confidently, without counting. "You can see it right away. No need to bend your fingers."

"Yeah. And now we're drawing five squares from below again, and the seller has baked four more. Let's add it."

On the right, he added four new cells in green, like a fresh batch from the oven. Rinko ran her finger along the row, without bending her fingers, without moving her lips, just drawing a line through the cells: Rinko ran her finger along the row, without bending her fingers, without moving her lips, just drawing a line through the cells: