As the semester progressed, my friendships with Ren and Mika deepened. We were spending more time together outside of classes – grabbing meals at the cafeteria, studying in the library, exploring the city on weekends. They were becoming my close friends, my support system in this new environment.
Ren, with his quiet wisdom and shared love for literature, became a reliable confidante. We could talk for hours about books, about our aspirations, even about the challenges of university life. He listened patiently when I talked about Sakura, about the difficulties of long distance, offering thoughtful, non-judgmental perspectives.
"Sounds like it requires a lot of effort," Ren commented one afternoon, as I was telling him about a missed call and a subsequent misunderstanding with Sakura.
"It does," I sighed. "Sometimes... it's tiring."
"All meaningful relationships require effort," he said calmly. "Distance just... highlights it. Makes the effort more visible."
His perspective was grounding. It wasn't just our relationship that was hard; all relationships required work. Distance just made our work more apparent.
Mika's energy and outgoing personality were a different kind of support. She pulled me into social events, introduced me to her friends, and made sure I wasn't just buried in books and long-distance anxieties. She was loud, funny, and fiercely loyal to her friends.
She was still curious about Sakura. "So, did the Todai goddess conquer the history paper yet?" she'd ask with a grin.
"She's working on it," I'd reply, smiling.
Mika was supportive of my relationship, but she also didn't shy away from commenting on the difficulties she saw. "Seems tough, though, Hiroshi. All that scheduling and missing each other. Wouldn't it be easier to... you know?" She'd trail off, not explicitly suggesting breaking up, but acknowledging the obvious alternative.
"Maybe easier," I'd say. "But not better."
She'd nod, accepting my answer, even if she didn't fully understand it. Her perspective, while sometimes highlighting the practical difficulties, also reminded me that not everyone valued long-term commitment or the kind of effort our relationship required.
Sharing parts of my life with Ren and Mika, integrating them into my routine, felt important for my own well-being. They were my present, my reality in this new city. But maintaining the connection with Sakura, ensuring she remained the most important part of my life, required conscious effort. Finding balance between building new friendships and nurturing the long-distance relationship was a delicate dance. My new friendships were valuable, enriching my life, but they were also a constant reminder of the miles separating me from the person who held my heart, a challenge to ensure these new connections didn't inadvertently pull me away from the one that mattered most.