The sliding door of the classroom rattled open, and the usual wave of noise followed Anita as she walked in.
I kept my head down, staring intensely at a smudge on my desk. I could feel her presence moving through the aisles—the "Main Character" energy that usually made me feel invisible. But as she passed my row, she didn't laugh at a joke or shout to a friend.
The air felt still for a split second.
From the corner of my eye, I saw her slow down. She didn't stop. She didn't say my name. She just glanced at the back corner—at me—with a look that wasn't "popular girl" at all. It was quiet. Curious. Like she was looking at a hidden quest marker she hadn't noticed in three years of playing the same game. Then, she moved on to her seat in the front, leaving me in the shadows.
The rest of the day was a blur of gray text and low-resolution lectures. By the time the final bell rang, the sky had completely given up.
Patter. Patter. Crash.
A heavy downpour turned the school courtyard into a swamp. I stood at the shoe lockers, looking out at the wall of water. I checked my bag. No umbrella. Typical. I'd spent all my "Luck" stats on rare drops last night; I had zero left for the weather.
I sat down on the concrete step by the school entrance, resigned to waiting out the storm. I felt a pair of eyes on me from across the lobby—Anita was standing with her friends, holding a stylish translucent umbrella. She looked like she wanted to walk over, her hand gripping the handle tight, her face mirroring that same nervous blush from the morning.
"Yo! Shiro-bro! You look like a drowned cat!"
A heavy arm slammed onto my shoulder, nearly knocking me off the step. I didn't even have to look up to know the "Player 2" had arrived.
Kudo.
He was the only person in this entire building who could break through my 'Vanish Mode.' With his messy hair, unbuttoned collar, and a grin that was way too bright for a rainy Monday, Kudo was the definition of high-energy.
"Forgot the umbrella again? Man, your IQ is 200 in-game but like 4 in real life," Kudo laughed, popping open a massive, sturdy umbrella that looked like it could shield a small car. "Come on, I'm giving you a ride. My mom's making katsudon, so I gotta get home fast."
"Thanks, Kudo," I muttered, standing up.
As we walked out into the rain, huddled under the same umbrella, Kudo started rambling about some new patch notes, his voice a comforting shield against the noise of the world.
He had been there since middle school. Back then, when I was getting shoved into lockers by guys like Kenta for being "the weird quiet kid," Kudo was the only one who didn't just watch. He'd stepped in, taken a few hits for me, and then asked if I wanted to go to the internet cafe. He was the reason I hadn't completely deleted my social existence.
As we walked past the gate, I glanced back one last time. Anita was still standing there, watching us leave. She wasn't looking at Kudo. She was looking at the way I walked—head down, shoulders slumped—like she wanted to reach out and pull me out of the rain herself.