# Chapter 6
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Max arrived at the classroom early. The hallway had been empty, most students still at lunch or scattered across campus.
He took the same seat. Corner by the window. Set his bag down, pulled out his textbook and notebook. Arranged them on the desk the way he always did.
Other students filtered in gradually. Conversations in Japanese he couldn't quite follow. Laughter. The scrape of chairs.
She walked in about five minutes before class started.
Aiko. He'd learned her name yesterday from the attendance sheet Hirata had passed around.
She wore the same style as yesterday—simple, practical. Jeans and a sweater. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She carried a worn leather bag over one shoulder.
She sat down to his left without looking at him. Started unpacking her things. Notebook, pencil case, a textbook with sticky notes jutting from the pages.
Max kept his eyes on his own desk. Pretended to read the syllabus Hirata had given them.
"Excuse me."
He looked up.
She was facing him now. Polite expression. Professional.
"You're Max, right? The new student?"
"Yes."
"I'm Aiko Yamamoto. Class president." She had a small clipboard in her hands. "I need to update the class roster. Can I get your full name and contact information?"
"Oh. Sure." Max gave her his full name, spelled it out. Then his phone number, his student ID number.
She wrote it down carefully. Her handwriting was neat. Precise.
"And emergency contact? In case something happens."
Max hesitated. His parents' number was the only one he had. He gave it to her anyway.
"Thank you." She reviewed what she'd written. "Your Japanese is pretty good."
"Not really."
"Better than some students here." She smiled slightly. Not flirtatious. Just polite. "How long have you been studying?"
"About a year. Before I came here."
She nodded. Set the clipboard aside.
Max tried to think of something else to say. Failed. Looked back down at his syllabus.
"Are you finding everything okay?" she asked. "The campus, the classes?"
"Yeah. Mostly."
"If you need help with anything, you can ask me. That's part of my job."
"Thanks."
She was pretty. He'd noticed yesterday, but up close it was more obvious. Clear skin. Dark eyes. The kind of face that didn't need makeup but probably looked better with it anyway.
He felt aware of himself suddenly. His posture. Whether his shirt was wrinkled. If he smelled okay.
Stop it.
"What are you studying?" she asked. "Besides Japanese."
"Culture and society. General program."
"Interesting. I'm business."
"Oh."
"Not very interesting, I know." She smiled again. "But practical."
Max nodded. Didn't know what to say to that.
"Your English must be perfect," she said. "Since you're from England."
"I guess. Native speaker."
She looked at him for a moment. Then—"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"I'm studying English. For the TOEIC exam. But I'm struggling with speaking practice." She picked up her pencil, turned it in her fingers. "Would you be willing to help? Maybe we could practice conversation sometimes."
Max blinked. "Me?"
"If you have time. I know you're adjusting to being here, so if you're too busy—"
"No, I can help."
The words came out too quickly. Too eager.
She didn't seem to notice. "Really? That would be helpful. Thank you."
"Yeah. No problem."
"Maybe we could meet at the library? Or a café?"
"Either is fine."
"I'll message you." She gestured to the roster. "I have your number now."
"Right."
Aiko turned back to her desk. Started organizing her notes for class.
Max stared at his textbook without reading it.
She'd asked him for help. That was normal. Practical. She was class president—probably asked lots of people for things.
But still.
He tried to focus on the page in front of him. The kanji characters blurred slightly.
His pencil rolled off the desk. Clattered to the floor.
Before he could reach for it, Aiko bent down and picked it up. Handed it to him.
"Thanks," he said.
Their fingers didn't touch. She pulled her hand back immediately.
"No problem."
She went back to her notes.
Max set the pencil down carefully. Noticed for the first time that she was left-handed. The way she angled her notebook to write.
The classroom was almost full now. Hirata walked in, set his bag on the desk at the front.
"Good afternoon, everyone."
Students settled into their seats. Conversation died down.
Max opened his notebook. Found a blank page.
Aiko's bag was open on the floor beside her desk. He could see the corner of what looked like an English textbook. Well-used. The cover bent at the corners.
Hirata started talking about grammar patterns. Max tried to focus.
But he was aware—peripherally, constantly—of Aiko sitting to his left. The way she wrote. The small pauses she took to think. Once, when Hirata asked a question, she raised her hand and answered in clear, careful Japanese.
Max wondered if her English was as careful. As precise.
He'd find out soon.
The thought made something shift in his chest. Not excitement, exactly. Just... anticipation.
Class continued. Max took notes. Half-listened to Hirata's explanations.
When the lesson ended, students started packing up. Conversations resumed.
Aiko stood, gathered her things efficiently.
"See you tomorrow," she said to Max.
"Yeah. See you."
She left with a small group of other students. He heard her laughing at something someone said as they walked down the hall.
Max packed his bag slowly.
The classroom emptied. He was one of the last to leave.
Outside, the campus was busy. Students everywhere. Moving between buildings, sitting on benches, clustered in groups.
Max walked toward the station alone.
But tomorrow—tomorrow she'd be there. In the seat to his left.
And soon, maybe, the library. Or a café.
Somewhere else.
He tried not to think about it too much.
Tried not to notice the way his pace had gotten lighter.
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