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MidReal Story
My Sunflower Boy
Scenario:Jackson Price some people calls him JP but h won’t let anyone call him that if he doesn’t like you. He moved around a lot as a kid since his father is in the military so he never got close to people since he’s always switching new schools and neighborhoods. Jackson is now starting his senior year of high school in Japan as a foreign exchange student and will be attending a very prestigious school where only the best go. His plans was just to get through his final year unnoticed but we all know when you a foreigner at a new school that’s never the case.
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Jackson Price
He is a foreign exchange student attending a prestigious high school in Japan. He is sarcastic,guarded,and determined. Coming from a military family,Jackson is used to moving around and keeping to himself. As a senior,he plans to stay under the radar until graduation. However,his plans change when he meets Haruka Nakahara,an outspoken and cheerful classmate who challenges his solitude and captures his attention. Their interactions evolve from bickering to budding friendship,eventually leading to romance.
Haruka Nakahara
She is a cheerful and outgoing high school senior from a wellrespected family in Japan. She is friendly,bold,and kindhearted. Haruka enjoys bringing a sunflower to school daily to brighten someone's day,especially targeting Jackson's solitude. She takes interest in him despite his initial resistance and successfully befriends him through shared study sessions and casual conversations. Her warmth gradually erodes Jackson's defenses,allowing their relationship to blossom into something more meaningful and supportive.
Mei
She is a classmate of Jackson's at the prestigious high school in Japan. She is perceptive,competitive,and supportive. Mei notices Jackson's initial reluctance to engage with others and offers friendly competition by trying to bring him out of his shell. Her presence encourages Jackson to interact more with peers and contributes slightly to his transition from isolation to a budding social circle.
JP.
That’s what some people call me, but only those I like and consider friends.
If you don’t fall into that category, then my name is Jackson Price.
I’m a senior in high school and have just moved to Japan as a foreign exchange student.
My dad’s in the military, so I’m used to moving around.
I’ve lived in several different countries and states, which has made it easy for me to not get close to people.
I mean, what’s the point?
I’ll just be moving again in a year or two.
I never had any plans to make a big splash during my senior year of high school.
I just wanted to get through it unnoticed and make it until graduation with as little trouble as possible.
That all changed the day I met her.
"Hello."
The girl beside me greets our teacher in Japanese, and I roll my eyes.
I don’t speak the language fluently yet, but I can say hello, thank you, and goodbye.
That’s about it for now.
My host brother Taro speaks Japanese fluently, as well as English.
He is also my classmate here at Ryerson High School—a very prestigious school in Japan that only the best go to.
I stare at my desk, pretending to be interested in organizing my textbooks while the girl continues to speak in rapid Japanese.
Her voice is bright and cheerful, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s saying.
When she stops talking, I risk a glance in her direction.
She’s holding a sunflower between her fingers, twirling it around as she waits for me to respond.
The yellow petals catch the morning light streaming through the classroom windows.
I notice other students staring at us with poorly concealed interest.
Taro is too busy reviewing his math homework to translate for me.
I’m left with no choice but to give her a curt nod of acknowledgment.
Hopefully, this will be enough to end the conversation.
"Do you know why she's giving you that flower?" Taro asks without looking up from his homework.
"No, should I?" I reply, trying to sound indifferent.
"It's a tradition here; she wants to be your friend," Taro explains, finally meeting my eyes with a knowing smile.
The sunflower sits on my desk, its yellow petals bright against the dark wood.
Throughout the lesson, the girl keeps glancing at me, her smile persistent despite my cold shoulder.
The teacher drones on about Japanese literature, but I find myself distracted by the flower's presence.
Other students whisper and point, clearly interested in this daily ritual I've been resisting.
When class ends, the girl stands to leave, but pauses at my desk.
Her eyes meet mine expectantly.
My fingers brush against the sunflower's stem, and after a moment's hesitation, I pick it up.
My fingers trace the yellow petals while she stands there waiting.
The classroom empties around us, but neither of us moves.
She introduces herself in slow, deliberate English, "I am Haruka Nakahara."
Her voice is soft and melodic, and I find myself listening intently.
She pronounces each word carefully, as if aware that I might not understand otherwise.
I nod, acknowledging her introduction, and she smiles again.
Her uniform is perfectly pressed, the skirt falling just above her knees.
Her long dark hair is neatly tied back in a ponytail, revealing a smattering of freckles across her cheeks.
"Your name?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.
I hesitate for a moment before answering, "Jackson."
She repeats my name slowly, struggling slightly with the pronunciation.
Despite myself, I find myself correcting her, "It's Jackson. Like this."
She nods enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
The bell rings for next period, and she hurries off to her next class.
But before she leaves, she points to the sunflower and says something in Japanese.
Taro translates for me, "Tomorrow too, Jackson-san."
"Why does she want to be my friend so badly?" I ask Taro, genuinely puzzled.
"You're different, and that's intriguing here," Taro replies, packing his bag.
"Plus, she probably thinks you're interesting because you don't know the customs yet," he adds with a smirk.
After the final bell rings, I linger by my locker, watching Haruka walk down the hallway with her school bag.
She stops to chat with a few students, her laughter echoing through the corridor.
When she turns toward the school garden, I quietly follow, keeping my distance behind a group of first-years.
She doesn't notice me as she enters the garden, heading straight for a patch of sunflowers.
I duck behind a stone bench, watching as she kneels beside the flowers.
She pulls out a small notebook and writes something while humming softly.
Then, she carefully selects and cuts a fresh sunflower.
My foot scrapes against the gravel, making her turn suddenly.
Frozen in place, I watch as her eyes widen in recognition.
Her mouth forms a small 'o' of surprise as she stands up, brushing dirt from her uniform skirt.
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the garden, and I realize how exposed I must look.
My heart pounds as I step out from behind the bench.
"I didn't mean to spy," I say, my voice rough with embarrassment.
Haruka tilts her head, waiting for me to continue.
Taking another step closer, I gesture at her notebook and the flowers.
"Do you want help? With the gardening, I mean."
The words feel clumsy on my tongue, but Haruka's face brightens.
"Yes, please," she replies, her smile genuine and warm.
I kneel beside her, feeling the earth beneath my fingers as I ask, "Why sunflowers?"
"They remind me of home," she says softly, her eyes distant for a moment.
I help her dig small holes in the soil, and she explains that sunflower seeds should be planted about an inch deep.
My hands get dirty as I work, but I don't mind.
She shows me how to space them apart, about six inches between each seed.
Then, she hands me a small packet of seeds.
We plant them one by one, and she tells me about growing up in Hokkaido, where her grandmother's house was surrounded by fields of sunflowers.
I listen intently, the sound of her voice weaving a peaceful spell around us.
After a while, she looks at me with curious eyes and asks, "Where is your home?"
I hesitate for a moment before answering, "I grew up moving around. My dad's in the military."
She nods thoughtfully and asks again, "But where do you feel at home?"
I close my eyes for a moment, letting memories wash over me.
"I remember planting a garden with my mom once," I say quietly.
"We were at our base in Germany. She taught me how to plant flowers and vegetables. It was one of the last times we spent together before she passed away."
The words feel heavy on my tongue, but Haruka listens intently.
"I'm sorry," she says softly, her eyes full of understanding.
"It's okay," I reply, managing a small smile. "Talking about it helps."
She nods, then adds, "Maybe we can make this garden feel like home for both of us."
As we pat down the soil around the last sunflower seedling, Haruka tells me about catching beetles with her brother in their backyard when she was six.
She demonstrates how she used to cup her hands around them, making sure not to hurt them.
Her gestures are animated, and dirt scatters onto her uniform, but she doesn't seem to mind.
I find myself telling her about how I used to collect rocks from each new base we moved to.
I kept them in a shoebox under my bed, and I still have them all.
She giggles at that, and I can't help but smile too.
The afternoon sun warms our backs as we clean the gardening tools and wash our hands in a nearby basin.
Our fingers are dirty, but our hearts feel lighter.
When Haruka starts doing a little dance to show me how her brother used to catch beetles, I can't help but laugh along.
She freezes mid-movement, looking at me with wide eyes.
"What's so funny?" she asks, her voice teasing but curious.
"Nothing," I chuckle, shaking my head. "It's just nice to see you like this."
Her expression softens, and she replies, "I guess I feel comfortable around you."
As the first drops hit my shoulders, I glance up at the darkening sky.
The clouds have gathered quickly, and now they're releasing a steady rain.
Haruka looks up too, her eyes widening in surprise.
She quickly grabs her school jacket and spreads it over the freshly planted seeds.
I help her cover them, and we use some nearby stones to hold down the corners of the jacket.
The rain starts coming down harder, soaking through our uniforms.
Instead of running for shelter, Haruka stays put, crouching beside the covered seeds.
She looks up at me and says something in Japanese that I don't understand.
Then she switches to broken English, "Rain good for seeds. Make them strong."
She demonstrates with her hands, mimicking a sprouting plant growing towards the sun.
I nod, understanding what she means.
The rain will help our seeds grow strong and healthy.
As the rain intensifies, Haruka shivers slightly.
I move closer to her, sharing the minimal shelter of the garden wall.
We sit together in silence, feeling the rain wash away the day's uncertainties.
