...Why Are You Here?

Parallel dawns, Early October of 2027. A Day two years in the making. It is currently 6:30A.M, of a Monday morning. The two adolescents, now 15, are preparing to head to their final year of middle school.

Characters:

HASHIMURA YUTA (15): Lean, handsome, and awake instantly. His expression is serious, carrying a weight beyond his years.

KARUIZAWA RIN (15): Still small, but possessing a fierce mental strength. She looks composed, yet her eyes betray a constant, simmering intensity.

Yuta's bedroom. Minimalist, functional, and exceptionally neat. The walls are a pale grey. Sunlight streams through a large window overlooking a relatively quiet suburban street. His high school uniform—perfectly pressed—hangs ready on the back of his door.

Across, on the other side of the city. Rin's bedroom. Still tidy, but warmer, with small, carefully curated details—a few academic awards, a well-organized bookshelf. The window shows a busier, more commercial part of the city. Her uniform is equally neat, laid out on her desk chair.

(Yuta rises immediately, his motions economical and precise. Rin rises a moment later, her movements driven by routine.)

HASHIMURA YUTA (NARRATION - Calm, deep, self-aware)

The alarm is unnecessary. I wake up before it. Every day. Because every day is a test. A chance to be the person I wasn't.

KARUIZAWA RIN (NARRATION - Sharp, controlled, laced with barely contained resentment)

I choose my uniform carefully. My tie is always straight. Everything must be precise. I leave nothing to chance. Chance allows for chaos. Chaos lets bad things happen.

(Yuta quickly performs a series of stretches. Rin meticulously prepares her study materials for the day, organizing her pens.)

HASHIMURA YUTA (NARRATION)

I used to find power in making others feel small. I measured my worth by the depth of their pain. Now, I measure it by the depth of my apology. Not in words, but in actions.

KARUIZAWA RIN (NARRATION)

I was weak. I let a boy, a manipulative, selfish boy, define my worth. He saw my kindness and treated it like a flaw. He used my love as a weapon against me. That Rin is gone.

(Yuta is putting on his uniform. He pauses, looking at his reflection in the mirror—not with vanity, but with cold assessment.)

HASHIMURA YUTA (NARRATION)

They see the physical change now. The lost weight. The charisma. They don't see the psychological reconstruction. The empathy I had to build from the ashes of my own cruelty. It's not a gift; it's a debt.

KARUIZAWA RIN (NARRATION)

People call me detached, focused. Good. That focus got me into Sakura Academy. It will get me into the best university. Because my life is mine now. No one, especially not him, gets to break it again.

(Yuta is walking quickly to the train station, offering a polite bow to an elderly neighbor. Rin is riding a separate, crowded train, earphones in, studying a textbook.)

HASHIMURA YUTA (NARRATION)

Every interaction is a chance for penance. Offering help, giving genuine praise, showing respect. I search for people struggling, not to exploit them, but to serve them. I try to be the antidote to the poison I once was.

KARUIZAWA RIN (NARRATION)

The goal is distance. Physical, emotional, psychological distance. I push forward, away from that primary school playground and the stupid, tearful girl I was. I focus on logic, on facts. Emotions are inefficient.

(Yuta sees a student drop their books. He rushes to help, sorting the scattered pages with swift efficiency and a calm, reassuring smile.)

HASHIMURA YUTA (NARRATION)

Sometimes, late at night, I remember her. Karuizawa Rin. The girl who loved a phantom. Who gave up her happiness just to ease my non-existent guilt. The pain I feel when I think of her is exactly what I deserve. I hope she’s happy. I pray she's forgotten me. Because my very presence would be a reminder of her deepest hurt.

(ACTION: Rin looks out the train window at the blurred cityscape. Her hand unconsciously touches the spot on her chest where her heart is.)

KARUIZAWA RIN (NARRATION)

Do I ever think of him? Of course. I have to. He is the standard. The lowest possible bar of human decency. Every time I feel a moment of kindness, I remember his cruelty. It gives me strength. I don’t love him. I don’t even hate the boy I knew. I hate the idea of him. I hate the pain he inflicted. If I saw him again… (A slight, bitter sneer touches her lips) …I would hope he’s miserable. I would hope he knows what he did. I hate him. But that hatred keeps me sharp. It keeps me moving.

(Their dawns merge into one, a single shot down at the city, full of thousands of people, all carrying their own invisible burdens.)

7:45A.M. A wide, busy pedestrian crossing between two large middle schools in a moderately sized city. The asphalt is worn with years of footsteps. It is rush hour for students, and the area is a loud, bustling convergence of teenagers in various uniforms. The crossing light is currently red for pedestrians.

Characters:

HASHIMURA YUTA (15): Now a tall, lean, and handsome third-year middle school student. He wears his school uniform with quiet dignity. He is focused, checking his notes while waiting for the light.

KARUIZAWA RIN (15): Also a third-year, still small but carrying herself with a practiced, determined reserve. Her hair is now longer, falling neatly past her shoulders instead of being in her primary school ponytail. She wears her academic strength like armor.

(Yuta is standing near the front of the crowd, focused on a folded sheet of paper. Rin is standing just half a meter to his left, zoned out, staring blankly at the red light. They are physically closer than they have been in years, entirely unaware of the other's identity.)

(Rin's heavy school bag, which she had carelessly propped against her legs, shifts. Her hands are in her coat pockets. A stack of three library books slides out from the bag’s side pocket and clatters onto the pavement.)

(SOUND: The sharp thwack of the books hitting the ground, followed by the scattering of pages.)

(Rin flinches, immediately embarrassed by the disruption. She quickly bends down to retrieve them, her long hair falling over her face.)

(Yuta reacts instantly. His mind is already trained to notice and assist. He drops his notes and efficiently, silently, begins collecting the books. His movements are quick, kind, and entirely without expectation.)

(Their hands brush momentarily as Yuta carefully slides the final, heavy book—a worn copy of The Great Gatsby—into her grasp.)

KARUIZAWA RIN

(Straightening up, flushed with embarrassment, but the contact has sent a sudden, inexplicable pang through her chest—a feeling of painful familiarity.) Th-thank you. I'm so sorry, I completely zoned out.

HASHIMURA YUTA

(He smiles reassuringly—a genuine, warm smile) Don't worry about it. We all do it. Especially on a Monday.

(Rin looks at his face. The smile is kind. The eyes are focused and sympathetic. The physique is utterly changed. But that painful flicker of familiarity persists.)

KARUIZAWA RIN

(Hesitantly, gripping the books tightly) H-hey… Have we… Met before?

HASHIMURA YUTA

(He tilts his head slightly, his tone curious and polite) I don't think so? This crossing is pretty popular, connecting Seinan and Sakura. Maybe I ran into you once?

KARUIZAWA RIN

(Shaking her head slowly, her eyes searching his face for a memory that doesn't fit the image) No… Like, from a long time ago.

HASHIMURA YUTA

(He chuckles softly, a sound free of the old malice) Long time ago? I don't know, but I've changed quite a lot from the last year or two. Name's Hashimura Yuta.

(The name hits Rin like a physical blow—a silent explosion in her mind. Her eyes widen fractionally. She freezes, the kindness of his actions and the name of her tormentor creating a devastating cognitive dissonance. She analyzes his face, his calm posture, his natural politeness. This is the boy she spent three years hating? She forces her face to remain neutral.)

(Yuta notices her sudden, intense stare. He frowns slightly, then looks closer at her face—the particular shape of her eyes, the set of her mouth, the subtle way her shoulders tense up when she's stressed. It bypasses his rational mind.)

HASHIMURA YUTA

(Unintentionally, the name escaping his lips as a quiet, strained murmur) Rin… Karuizawa-san?

(The sudden, accidental use of her name snaps him back to the present. His face immediately floods with regret. He can feel the wave of self-loathing wash over him.)

HASHIMURA YUTA

(Quickly, bowing his head in apology) I am so sorry. That was incredibly rude. You look… you look quite a bit like a girl I knew in primary school. It must be a mista-

(Rin is rigid. The sound of his voice, now mature but unmistakably his, coupled with the immediate, respectful apology, confuses her. Her mind, however, immediately reverts to the 2024 Yuta, seeing this kindness as a calculated, new form of manipulation.)

KARUIZAWA RIN

(Cutting him off mid-sentence, her voice flat and cold, forcing a formal, distant tone) Thank you for your help, Hashimura Yuta-kun. I am Rin.

(The confirmation is agonizing for Yuta. His eyes close briefly in a silent reaction to the sheer, crushing weight of his past sin standing right in front of him. His heart aches—a heavy, familiar beat of guilt.)

(SOUND: The pedestrian crossing signal emits a loud, insistent beeping sound as the light turns green.)

(Rin does not wait. The sight of his pain is both vindicating and upsetting. She needs to escape the confusion and the overwhelming presence of her past. She strides off, fast and determined, her figure quickly dissolving into the stream of students. Yuta remains frozen.)

HASHIMURA YUTA

(Calling out, the words ripped from his throat instinctively) Rin!

(He raises his hand, an unconscious move to reach out, to stop her, to apologize, to explain. But his hand stops mid-air, trembling. He forces it back down, crushing his notes in his fist. He remembers his penance. He has no right.)

(Rin hears her name, but she does not turn her whole body. She shouts the words over her shoulder, her voice clear and powerful, broadcasting her bitter final word.)

KARUIZAWA RIN

(Shouting, her face momentarily turning back, eyes flashing with hatred) I already told you, Yuta-kun! I never loved you!

(She disappears into the crowd, her words hanging in the crisp morning air—a lie born of self-protection, yet carrying the full force of her nurtured hatred. Yuta stands alone, surrounded by the rush of passing students, the new man crucified by the sins of the old one.)

(Yuta watches her go, the pain in his expression now a mixture of profound regret and acceptance. He knows he deserved that blow.)

12:45P.M. The cafeteria of Seinan Middle School. It's a large, brightly lit, and overwhelmingly noisy space. Hundreds of third-year students are crammed around rectangular tables, the air thick with the smell of curry, steam, and adolescent energy. The general atmosphere is chaotic but animated.

Characters:

HASHIMURA YUTA (15): Now sitting alone at a four-person table, picking disinterestedly at a tray of rice and tonkatsu.

SATŌ KENTA (15): A loud, friendly classmate. Slightly clumsy, but genuinely well-meaning.

ICHINOSE NAO (15): A smart, perceptive girl who is generally wary of Yuta's popularity.

(Yuta's face. The despair that had seized him at the crossing is gone. It's replaced by an intense, cold boredom. His eyes are half-lidded as he pushes a piece of pork around his plate. His posture is relaxed, yet entirely withdrawn.)

[MONOLOGUE - HASHIMURA YUTA]

Rin. She hates me. And she should. That hatred is clean, pure, and deserved. My kindness, my change—it means nothing to her. Because it doesn't erase the past. It only makes the past a more painful memory for her. But she's moving on. She's strong. She’s focused. I saw it in her eyes. That is the only good thing that came from that disaster.

(Two classmates—Satō Kenta and Ichinose Nao—approach his table. Yuta barely registers their presence, his focus entirely internal.)

SATŌ KENTA

Yo, Hashimura! Mind if we crash here? Every other table is packed tighter than a commuter train.

(Yuta looks up slowly. He forces the polite, open-yet-distant smile that has become his social currency.)

HASHIMURA YUTA

(Calm, mature voice) Not at all, Satō-kun. Go ahead.

(Kenta dumps his bag and his tray down with a clatter. Nao sits down more cautiously, watching Yuta with a slight frown.)

SATŌ KENTA

Thanks, man. You okay? You look like you just remembered you forgot your homework.

HASHIMURA YUTA

(Shaking his head, managing a light, self-deprecating tone) No, nothing like that. Just realizing how much reading I have to do before the mock exams. Stressful.

ICHINOSE NAO

(Eyes narrowing slightly, observing his perfect appearance and calm demeanor) I find that hard to believe, Hashimura-kun. You top every list without breaking a sweat. You're always helping people with their notes. You've changed, you know.

(The word 'changed' hits Yuta like a tiny pinprick—nothing compared to Rin's verbal blow, but enough to briefly tighten his jaw.)

HASHIMURA YUTA

(He leans back, adopting a posture of casual reflection) People change, Ichinose-san. I realized that being the best isn't about being the smartest. It’s about being reliable. It's about being decent. I was… frankly, I was quite an arrogant kid a few years ago.

SATŌ KENTA

(Laughing loudly, oblivious) Ha! You? No way! You're like the school's unofficial sensei!

ICHINOSE NAO

(She doesn't join the laugh. Her perceptive eyes are focused on him, trying to find the crack in the facade.) But what made you change? It was so sudden. You went from being… well, different, to being the guy everyone trusts. You even lost all that weight in less than a year. Was there some kind of moment? A turning point?

(Yuta carefully cuts his tonkatsu, his hand movements deliberate. He knows this is the point where he has to lie—the truth would be too ugly, too self-serving.)

HASHIMURA YUTA

(Slightly lowering his voice, giving the impression of intimate honesty) Life has a way of hitting you when you least expect it. I realized I was focusing on the wrong things. When you're depressed, when you're suffering, you see the world's pain clearer. And you realize you don't want to contribute to it anymore. I just… got a massive wakeup call.

[MONOLOGUE - HASHIMURA YUTA]

The truth: the wakeup call was the pain I caused her. The suffering was my own guilt, and the depression was the realization of what a manipulative pig I was. But I can't say that. The only way to repay my sins is to use this new self to help others. This is my burden. This is my penance.

ICHINOSE NAO

(After a long moment, she nods slowly, a sliver of respect replacing her suspicion) I see. Well, your change certainly benefited everyone else. You're a good person, Hashimura-kun.

(That word—good—is the final, bitter stroke. It tastes like ash to Yuta, who knows the monstrous truth beneath the surface.)

HASHIMURA YUTA

(Managing a small, weary smile) Thank you, Ichinose-san. I try my best.

(He picks up his chopsticks and takes a large, purposeful bite of his lunch, effectively ending the conversation and locking away his internal turmoil. The facade is complete—the kind, mature, and charismatic student is back in place.)

1:30P.M. A large, spotless classroom at Sakura Girls' Academy, a high school known for its intense academic atmosphere. The students wear distinct, elegant uniforms. The air is quiet and serious, scented faintly with old paper and polished wood.

Rin is sitting rigidly at her desk, staring intently at her notebook, but not actually registering the words. Her posture is stiff, and her brow is slightly furrowed—a mask of stressed annoyance.

(The History teacher is lecturing about the Meiji Restoration, but the sound is a dull buzz to Rin. Her inner world is a storm of conflicting emotions centered on the morning's encounter.)

[MONOLOGUE - KARUIZAWA RIN]

It wasn't him. It couldn't have been. That boy… the one at the crossing… he was kind. He was quick. He was handsome. He was decent. Hashimura Yuta was none of those things. Hashimura Yuta was soft, slow, and poisoned by self-importance. He was defined by his cruelty. That boy this morning was a stranger. A helpful, polite stranger.

(She slams her pen down onto her notebook, a tiny, sharp sound that makes Mizuki Ayaka, Rin's closest friend and seat partner glance at her with concern.)

KARUIZAWA RIN

(Whispering to herself, fiercely) No. I felt the scar. I heard the name. But it's a trick. He's always been a trick.

MIZUKI AYAKA

(Leaning in softly during a pause in the lecture) Rin-chan? Are you alright? You look like you want to punch that textbook.

KARUIZAWA RIN

(Forces a small, tense smile that doesn't reach her eyes) I'm fine, Ayaka. Just annoyed. I lost my focus this morning and dropped all my books at the crossing. Embarrassing.

MIZUKI AYAKA

Oh, no! Did anyone help you?

KARUIZAWA RIN

(Shrugging, dismissing the event) Some boy did. But I should have been more careful. It was annoying. Just… an annoying disruption.

[MONOLOGUE - KARUIZAWA RIN]

That boy said his name was Hashimura Yuta. But that's impossible. He's trying to fool people. He heard the hatred in my voice when I shouted. He must have recognized me first, and this is his new game. His new 'test.' He's physically remade himself to be more popular, more charming, so he can manipulate on a grander scale. He’s evolved the disguise. He thought I’d be impressed. He thought I'd forget.

(Rin takes a deep, controlled breath. She picks up her pen, forcing her gaze down onto her notes. She mentally locks the memory of the helpful, handsome stranger away, gluing the image of the cruel, heavy-set primary school bully over it.)

KARUIZAWA RIN

(Thinking, the words a hammer driving a nail into her resolution) I will not be fooled. The outside may be different, but the core is rot. The Hashimura Yuta I knew, the one I hate, is still there, just hidden under a new, deceptive surface. His kindness is a lie. His apology is a new trap. I won’t fall for it. Ever again.

(Her expression settles back into its familiar mask of intense concentration. She writes her notes with furious, clean efficiency, determined to erase the morning's contact with the one thing that threatened her carefully constructed fortress of logic and academics: her past.)