The deafening buzz of cicadas filled the air as the school bell rang, signaling the start of another humid summer day. Voices stirred through the classroom like ripples over still water, chatter bouncing from desk to desk as students settled in with lazy familiarity.
"Okay, good morning everyone," Uehara-sensei called out over the noise, his tone sharp but practiced.
"Good morning," the class echoed, their voices scattered and disinterested.
"We have a transfer student joining us today."
"A transfer? This late in the year? That's unusual," someone whispered.
"Yeah… for a third-year, too. Something must have happened at their old school," another murmured.
"I hope it's a pretty girl," a third voice added, earning a few chuckles from nearby students.
"Shut up, all of you," Uehara-sensei barked, his patience thinning. He turned toward the door. "Kenji, you can come in now."
With steady steps, Kenji entered the room. His uniform was crisp, but his dark hair was slightly ruffled from the morning rush. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, but he managed a polite bow.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Kenji Kawamura. I came from a village called Koishiki. The schools there were quite excellent, but I wanted to further my education elsewhere." His voice was steady, but his stomach twisted with nerves. "Nice to meet all of you."
"And I thought we lucked out… it's just a dude," one of the boys muttered, shaking his head.
"Are girls all you think about? No wonder your grades are so low," a girl snapped, rolling her eyes.
Uehara-sensei gave a small nod. "Alright, now that we've heard from you, go sit at the back. The empty seat is yours."
"Understood." Kenji made his way through the maze of desks, his shoes clicking softly against the polished floor.
Heads turned, eyes following him as he passed. Whispers floated across the room.
"You know… when you get a good look behind his glasses, he's actually kinda cute," a girl leaned over her desk, whispering to her friend in front of her.
Kenji sighed as he approached the back of the classroom, feeling dozens of eyes on him. Sliding into the seat next to a girl with shoulder-length blue hair, he offered a tentative smile.
"Hello. Looks like we'll be sitting next to each other from now on," he said, his voice careful, hoping not to seem awkward.
She glanced at him, her expression distant but not cold. "Yeah."
Before he could ask her name, Uehara-sensei snapped the class to attention. "Alright, open your books to page fifty-seven. We'll begin from there."
Kenji's stomach sank. He rummaged through his bag frantically. Oh no. I don't have my textbooks yet. What do I do? His hand trembled slightly as it grazed the empty space where his book should've been.
Without a word, the girl beside him slid her desk closer and opened her book wide enough to share. A faint, pleasant scent drifted from her hair—subtle, like fresh jasmine.
"Um… thank you," Kenji mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh… what's your name?"
"Madoka Nakano."
"I see. Thank you, Nakano."
"Don't mention it," she replied softly, her eyes briefly meeting his before returning to her book.
Kenji glanced at the shared page, but the words blurred together. Every so often, he risked a glance at Madoka, wondering if she always sat so still.
The lesson pressed on, but Kenji barely absorbed any of it. His focus wavered as he scanned the enormous classroom—the sunlight spilling across polished desks, the chatter layered over the faint smell of chalk dust. Back in Koishiki, the classrooms had cracked ceilings and mismatched chairs, but somehow they felt warmer. Here, everything was bigger, cleaner… yet colder, like he'd stepped into a place where his old life didn't matter.
When the bell finally rang for lunch, Kenji stepped into the hall, his stomach groaning in protest. This school is massive. Back in Koishiki, our schools were like pawn shops compared to this. I don't even know where the cafeteria is. Am I going to starve today?
"Hey, new kid. You look like you're completely lost."
Kenji turned to see a boy with a relaxed grin, hands stuffed in his pockets.
For just a second, Kenji thought he saw the boy's eyes flick toward the window — toward the sports field — like he was measuring something invisible before snapping back with a grin.
"Yeah, you could say that" kenji responded.
"If you want, I can show you around. I've been here since my first year, actually," he said with an easy grin.
Relief softened Kenji's stiff shoulders. "Thanks, I'd appreciate it."
"Name's Yuya Arisawa, but just call me Yuya. Everyone does."
"Alright, Yuya, could you show me to the cafeteria?"
"Sure, follow me."
As they walked, the hall buzzed with life—squeaking shoes, laughter bouncing off the walls, the faint scent of fried chicken and bread wafting through the air.
"This school's huge, huh?" Yuya said, glancing back with a smirk.
"It's huge… I don't even know where to start."
"Say, you said you're from a village named Koishiki, right? If you spent most of your life studying there, why did you move when it's your last year of high school? Did something dramatic happen?" Yuya asked, curiosity lacing his tone.
Kenji hesitated as a memory surfaced—a warm, sunlit afternoon in the village, two children sitting beneath a sakura tree.
"Kenji… promise me something," a small voice said.
He turned to find her pouting beneath the spreading arms of the old sakura tree, the spring sunlight painting her cheeks pink. Stray petals clung to her hair, and her hands were sticky with melted candy from the festival.
"What is it?"
"Promise me we'll get married one day… no matter what happens."
Her small fingers squeezed his like they were trying to anchor themselves in the moment.
"I promise," he said, grinning as another breeze sent petals spiraling around them, some landing on their shoulders like blessings. The pink blossoms swirled lazily in the warm air, fluttering down to stick in their hair and cling to their clothes.
For a heartbeat, it felt as though the world had slowed just for them, the rustle of branches and the faint scent of spring wrapping the moment in something unshakable.
But even the gentlest wind passes, and so did this memory—fading as quickly as it had bloomed, leaving only a hollow ache in his chest.
He took a deep breath. "Well… it's just like I said. I wanted to further my education."
"Oh, I see. Sorry if I pressed your buttons too hard," Yuya said, giving him a small, apologetic shrug.
Soon, they reached the cafeteria—a cavernous room filled with clattering trays, echoing voices, and the mingling smells of curry, grilled meat, and freshly baked bread.
"It's always this crowded," Yuya sighed, surveying the packed space. "I usually eat on the roof."
Kenji's gaze drifted and caught on a girl sitting alone by the window—the same one from earlier that morning. Her long, silky black hair shimmered faintly under the sterile fluorescent lights, but it was her piercing crimson eyes that made him recognize her instantly. She sat in silence, methodically eating, seemingly untouched by the chaotic storm of students around her.
"I don't know about you, but I'm not a fan of waiting in line," Yuya muttered with a grin. "Either I starve… or I snag someone's lunch."
Yuya followed his gaze and laughed. "You've got good taste. That's Sayuri Tanaka. Class 2-A, sixteen years old. Top of her class. She doesn't really talk to anyone outside the teachers. Total mystery, but man, she's beautiful."
"Sayuri Tanaka…" Kenji whispered, letting the name linger in his mind.
His stomach growled violently, loud enough to draw attention from nearby tables.
"You were so mesmerized you forgot you were starving, huh?" Yuya grinned, clapping him on the back.
"N-No! I… I was just… curious, that's all!" Kenji stammered, scratching the back of his neck, his cheeks warming. "Anyway, I should get something to eat."
"That's the line over there," Yuya said, pointing toward the serpentine queue of students with a grin.
Kenji's jaw dropped. The line snaked through the entire cafeteria like a living beast.
"How can the line be this long?" he groaned.
"Yeah, it's always like this. You either get used to it… or bring your own lunch," Yuya added casually.
We didn't have time to make anything this morning, Kenji thought bitterly, clutching his grumbling stomach. I'm going to die… hang in there, Shiori…
By the time lunch ended, his stomach still felt hollow and his energy drained.
Classes blurred together after that. As the final bell rang, the classroom buzzed with students making after-school plans, while Kenji stayed behind, cleaning the board by himself.
That bastard… he really left me to clean everything alone. I thought he was a decent guy.
His thoughts drifted to just a few minutes earlier, when class had ended.
Uehara-sensei dismissed the class. "We're done for today. Bring your thoughts tomorrow."
"Yes, Sensei," the students echoed.
"Stand! Bow!" the class rep called out.
"Thank you for the lesson," everyone chorused before filing out.
Kenji was about to pack up when Uehara-sensei halted Yuya near the door. "Where do you think you're going, Mr. Arisawa?"
"Um, Sensei, I've got soccer practice. I'm the captain, so I really can't miss it. Please?"
"That's the same excuse you give me every time," Uehara-sensei growled. "No more excuses. Clean the classroom or else."
"Yes, Sensei…" Yuya muttered, deflating.
His eyes darted to Kenji, who was packing his stuff. "Oh, Kenji! My guy! Do me a favor, will ya? Can you clean the class for me? I've got practice—I'll owe you one, please."
Kenji hesitated but sighed. "Fine. It's the least I can do since you helped me earlier."
"You're the best! Catch you later!" Yuya bolted out the door without another word.
Just a few minutes later, just past the school gate, I saw Yuya strolling casually, not a hint of urgency in his step. Skipping practice altogether… he tricked me. My chest tightened. I have responsibilities too, you know… we haven't even finished unpacking our things in the house yet…
He let out a long, tired sigh and continued wiping the glass of the windows, the rag moving in slow, methodical circles as his frustration mingled with exhaustion.
Kenji wrung the rag into the bucket, the cloudy water swirling like it had absorbed his whole day. From the corner of his eye, movement flickered near the door. Shiori leaned casually against the frame, watching him with that small, knowing smile she'd inherited from their mother.
"Hey, big brother. You seem busy."
Kenji turned, smiling as his little sister Shiori approached, her dark brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail.
"Oh, Shiori. Yeah, I got stuck with cleaning today."
"But it's your first day."
"I know, but…"
"I'll help." She picked up a rag without waiting for permission.
"No, it's fine. You can just—"
"Don't forget, we still have a whole house to clean. Four hands are faster than two."
Kenji smiled warmly. She's grown so much. I remember when she clung to me and cried over scraped knees. Now she's more responsible than I am.
They finished quickly, their teamwork effortless.
"Well, that's the last of it," Shiori said cheerfully. "Let's go home."
"Yeah."