1

 If I had to rate my excitement for high school on a scale of one to ten, I’d probably give it a solid six.

Not that I hate school or anything. It’s just... new building, new people, same awkward uniform. The blazer’s a little stiff around the shoulders, and the necktie keeps pulling to the left no matter how many times I straighten it. But maybe that’s fitting. This school doesn’t exactly scream "elite institution" either.

The hallways are a little too narrow, the paint near the staircases is already peeling, and there’s this strange smell that’s somewhere between floor polish and aging textbooks. The main entrance had a decent cherry blossom tree out front though. Still blooming, still showing off. That was a nice touch.

I walked in earlier than most. My mom thought it was polite to be early. I thought it was just awkward.

Despite the fresh start, it didn’t feel all that different. Same chipped tiles, same noisy shoe lockers, same general air of people trying too hard not to look nervous. I found my name on the printed class list taped beside the staffroom window — "Sakamura, Kaito – Class 1-B." Just one of many.

A voice called out from behind me, casual and familiar.

"Yo, Kaito. You really showed up early, huh? Trying to act like a serious student all of a sudden?"

I turned around to see Daiki, slouching against the wall like he hadn’t just sprinted up the stairs. His hair was even messier than mine, somehow. Behind him, Aoi waved cheerfully, still half-breathless from the climb. I didn’t even realize I’d been holding a bit of tension until I saw them. People I actually knew.

"Figured I’d show up before all the good lockers got taken," I said.

Daiki snorted. "They’re all bad, man."

He wasn't wrong. The locker I got squeaked like a rat when I opened it, and the inside had someone's old sticker still half-stuck to the back wall. Aoi peeked over my shoulder and tilted her head.

"A penguin? That's kind of cute."

I left it there. Not for the charm, but because I didn’t want to bother peeling it off.

We walked up together, trading shallow gossip about who else might’ve landed in Class 1-B. Mostly guesses. None of us knew more than a handful of names from middle school, and even fewer faces.

The classroom was on the third floor. Room 3-2-1-B, with its tired fluorescent lights and windows that hadn't been cleaned properly. The chairs were arranged in tight rows, desks already scratched with years of initials and pen grooves. The sunlight filtering in made everything look softer though, and it wasn’t awful. Just lived-in.

I chose a desk in the middle row, a little off-center. Safe zone. Not too close to the front, not hidden in the back. Aoi took the seat behind me. Daiki grabbed the one next to her and stretched like it was a hammock.

People started trickling in. Some alone, some in pairs. Most of them looked just as uncertain as I felt, eyes darting around, backpacks too full, shoes too clean. One guy had a bandage on his cheek already. Some girl dropped her pencil case and scrambled to pick it up before anyone noticed. Everyone pretending not to stare at anyone else.

There was a quiet kind of energy — like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for someone else to make the first move.

I tapped my pen on the desk absentmindedly and stared out the window. The courtyard was half-empty now. A few latecomers jogging in, jackets flapping behind them. The sakura tree was losing petals in slow, careful bursts. One stuck to the window glass and just stayed there.

"Hey, you think we’ll all get along this year?" Aoi asked from behind me.

"Nope," I said without thinking.

Daiki laughed. "Bet we’ll be at each other's throats by summer break."

Aoi pouted, but her eyes were smiling. "You guys are such downers."

Then the door slid open.

Our teacher walked in, hands stuffed in his pockets like he’d rather be anywhere else. He had shaggy hair, a half-tucked dress shirt, and a face that looked like it had fought with sleep and lost. He blinked at us for a second like he wasn’t sure if he was in the right room.

Then he cleared his throat and dropped his bag on the desk with a heavy thud.

"Alright. Welcome to Class 1-B."

His voice was low, slightly rough, and unhurried. But not cold. Just... tired.

He paused for a beat, glancing around the room with the eyes of someone who'd seen way too many awkward first days.

"My name’s Nakano. I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the year. Please don’t make me regret that."

A few chuckles slipped out around the room. Someone near the back whispered something that earned a quiet giggle. The tension broke a little.

"Take a minute. Look around. These are the faces you’re stuck with. Try to remember a few. No rush — we’ve got all year."

I did what he said, partly because it gave me something to do, partly because I was curious. The desk to my right was still empty. Whoever was assigned to sit there hadn’t shown up yet. No bag, no name tag, nothing but the faint impression of a wiped-down surface.

To my left, though, was someone who definitely had arrived.

He sat with his arms folded, eyes half-lidded like he was watching the room through a fog. Lean build, buzzed hair, school blazer worn sharp and clean. There was something about him that felt still, like even if a fire broke out, he wouldn’t flinch unless it reached his feet. A quiet kind of presence that made you instinctively lower your voice near him.

We didn’t speak. Not even a nod. Just two strangers sharing the same row.

I scanned the rest of the classroom.

Aoi and Daiki were still behind me. Aoi was already whispering something to him, probably trying to guess everyone’s personalities from hairstyles alone. Daiki looked like he was trying not to fall asleep.

A girl near the windows was scribbling something into a journal like she was already on chapter five of her autobiography. Another kid near the back had earbuds in and his hood halfway up — which probably broke at least two rules already. A guy near the front dropped his pencil, picked it up, then dropped it again. Nerves, maybe.

Eleven students, including me.

Which meant a few hadn’t arrived yet.

I wondered if they were late or just lost. Probably lost. This building’s layout felt like it had been designed by someone who hated logic.

To Be Continued....