8

The four of us walked in silence for a while, the sound of our shoes tapping against the pavement filling the gap where conversation should’ve been. The sun was setting now, painting the buildings in warm orange light, but I couldn’t shake the cold feeling from earlier.

Daiki was the first to break the silence. “Well… that was fun.”

“Fun?” Aoi shot him a glare.

He held up his hands. “I mean, not fun. Just… I don’t know. Exciting? Scary? Both?”

Satoshi adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. “It was unnecessary. But it happens.”

“Unnecessary or not, it happened right in front of us,” Aoi said, her voice sharper than usual. “And it could’ve gone bad.”

Daiki rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s what I’m saying. We better be careful from now on. Who knows what’s up with those guys.”

Nobody argued.

We reached the station not long after. The crowd there was comforting in a way — the chatter, the footsteps, the trains clattering in and out. Normal life, moving forward like nothing unusual had happened at all.

Aoi, Daiki, and Satoshi all headed toward the same platform, their line running in the same direction. I stood with them for a bit, waiting for their train to pull in.

“See you tomorrow,” Aoi said as the doors opened.

“Don’t get into any fights without us,” Daiki added with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Satoshi gave a small nod. “Be careful on your way home.”

I raised a hand. “Yeah. You too.”

The three of them stepped inside, the doors sliding shut behind them. I watched as the train pulled away, their faces blurring into the crowd of passengers.

My own train came a few minutes later. I boarded quietly, found a window seat, and sank into it as the city rolled past in streaks of light and shadow.

The day had started with cherry blossoms and new beginnings. It ended with threats in the street and a reminder that high school might not be as simple as I wanted it to be.

I leaned against the window, the rhythm of the train carrying me home.

The train ride ended with the usual rush of bodies pushing past me, everyone in a hurry to get somewhere. I walked the familiar streets back to my neighborhood, the sky already darkening into shades of deep blue. By the time I reached my front door, the lights were on inside.

“Welcome home,” my mom called from the kitchen as I slipped off my shoes.

“I’m back,” I answered automatically.

She poked her head out, apron still tied. “How was your first day?”

I thought for a second. About Aoi’s rice bear, Daiki’s curry obsession, Satoshi’s quiet smile, Haruka’s soft introduction. About the delinquents on the street corner and the group that had scared them off.

“…It was alright,” I said.

She smiled like she didn’t need more than that. “Good. Wash your hands, dinner’s almost ready.”

The table was already set. Just simple miso soup, grilled fish, rice, and pickles — the kind of meal that tasted like routine. I ate while she hummed softly, tidying the kitchen. My dad and older brother were still out working, their seats empty but expected. It wasn’t unusual.

When I finished, I thanked her, carried my dishes to the sink, and headed to my room.

The bed felt heavier than usual as I collapsed onto it, uniform jacket tossed over the chair.

First day of high school — done.

The classroom was quiet when I walked in, the kind of quiet that only happens before the day really starts. A faint hum from the fluorescent lights, the rustle of a curtain brushing against the window.

I slid into my seat, dropped my bag by the desk, and leaned back.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open. Yuuji rolled in, one hand lazily spinning the wheel of his chair. He caught my eye and raised a hand in greeting.

I nodded back.

That was enough.

Not long after, the seat to my left scraped quietly against the floor. Takumi sat down, posture straight, gaze locked on the window as if the world outside mattered more than the one in here. He didn’t look at me, not even for a second. His presence was like a wall — silent, solid, unmoving.

I didn’t bother trying to break it.

The room gradually filled, the noise rising with every new arrival. Laughter, greetings, chairs dragging against the floor. By the time the bell rang, the air was alive again, buzzing with the energy of thirty people pretending they weren’t still half-asleep.

Mr. Nakano strolled in like he always did — hands in his pockets, shirt half-tucked, eyes scanning the room like he was counting how many cups of coffee it would take to survive the day.

He dropped his bag on the desk with a thud and cleared his throat.

“Alright, before we dive into today’s lesson, I forgot to tell you something yesterday.”

The chatter settled down.

“The first years have a tradition. Every year, you put on an event to cheer up the third-years who are taking their university entrance exams. It’s less about impressing anyone and more about keeping them from losing their minds completely.”

A few students chuckled.

“This year’s event will be in about a month,” he continued. “You’ll have to decide what you’re going to show, who’s doing what, and how you want to present it. Song, play, comedy act, whatever — it’s your call. Just don’t set anything on fire. Administration hates that.”

The class stirred at that. People leaned toward their neighbors, already whispering ideas.

I sat back, letting the noise wash over me. Our first event as a class.

I wasn’t sure if I should be excited or nervous. Probably both.

To Be Continued