The school gates of Minatogawa High loomed ahead, shining beneath the golden morning sun. Students in crisp uniforms streamed in, chatting, laughing, already forming groups.
I stood still for a moment, adjusting the straps of my bag and brushing back my jet-black hair. My ponytail swayed behind me, brushing against the tattoo on my wrist. The weight of the piercings on my ears served as a quiet reminder: this year was going to be different.
No more distractions.
No more illusions.
Just me, my goals, and my new beginning.
"Bro! Hurry up!" shouted Ichimiya, waddling over with a mouth full of steamed buns.
"I told you not to call me that in public," I muttered.
"Yeah, yeah," he grinned, his belly jiggling as he jogged to my side. "But come on, we're high schoolers now! I even ironed my uniform!"
"You wrinkled it five minutes after wearing it," I pointed out.
He laughed, unbothered. That's Ichimiya for you—stupid, loud, but real.
Together with our two other close friends—Takeshi, the stoic gamer, and Keita, the wannabe ladies' man—we made our way to the main building, up the stairs, and into Class 1-B.
I took the window seat in the back row. Always go for the window seat. It's quiet, no one bothers you, and you can pretend to stare at the sky while avoiding annoying conversations.
The class buzzed with energy. Students introduced themselves, cliques started forming, and the classroom was already a storm of personalities. I tuned them out.
The homeroom teacher walked in and clapped her hands.
"Alright, settle down, everyone. Let's begin roll call. But before that—" she paused with a smile, "we have a transfer student joining us today."
Transfer student? On day one?
The classroom door slid open.
I looked up—and time slowed.
A girl walked in, wearing the same uniform as the rest of us, but somehow… it looked better on her. Her long brown hair shimmered as the morning sun caught the golden strands braided neatly down her back. Her eyes—green like spring leaves—sparkled with life.
She looked nothing like Ayaka. That, in itself, was a relief.
She stood before the class with a confident yet warm smile.
"Good morning! I'm Yuzuki Shouzui. I'm really excited to be here, and I hope we can all be friends!"
Somewhere in the back of my chest, something twitched. I ignored it.
"Take the seat next to Tatsumiya-kun," the teacher said.
Of course. Of all people.
She strolled toward the back, plopped into the empty seat beside me, and turned with that same glowing smile.
"Hi there. You're Ryuto Tatsumiya, right?"
"…Yeah," I replied dryly.
"You've got a mysterious vibe going on," she said, leaning closer, inspecting me like I was a puzzle. "Are those earrings real? You look like a character from a manga."
I didn't reply.
"I bet people are scared of you," she continued cheerfully, "but you probably like cats and quiet places."
"Do you always talk this much to strangers?"
"Nope! Just the interesting ones," she grinned.
At lunch, I expected her to go off with the girls flocking around her. Instead, she showed up at our table.
"Mind if I join you guys?" she asked, already pulling out a chair.
My friends froze.
"Y-You're welcome anytime!" Ichimiya said, his face turning red.
Keita slicked his hair back. "It's fate, isn't it? The goddess of Class 1-B has descended!"
She laughed. "You guys are funny."
I didn't say anything. But… I didn't tell her to leave either.
It was two weeks into the new semester.
Lunch break had just ended, and most students were either napping or hanging out in the hallway. I had forgotten my music sheets in the music room, so I quietly slipped out of the classroom to retrieve them.
As I turned the corner toward the music block, I heard voices inside—soft, casual, but familiar.
I paused, my foot hovering mid-step.
"…He's kinda scary at first, right?" a girl giggled.
"Yeah, but he's not mean," Yuzuki's voice chimed in. "He just feels… like someone who's been through a lot."
I froze.
"He walks like he's carrying the weight of something, you know?" she continued. "But I think he's stronger than he knows. There's this quiet part of him that wants to be seen—but he's scared of being hurt again."
I thought I was healed and that I had changed. How did she notice? Even my friends and family hadn't. How did someone who's only known me for two weeks… know?
The other girl didn't respond right away, but I didn't need her to.
Yuzuki kept going.
"I don't know what he went through before high school… but sometimes, when he thinks no one's looking, he looks really lonely. I hope… someone tells him someday that it's okay to let go of the past."
My chest tightened.
She wasn't even talking to me. I was sure she didn't know I was there.
But the weight of her words hit harder than any confession ever could.
Later that night, I found myself staring at the mirror.
I brushed back my hair and looked into my own eyes—sharp, ocean-blue, with a stare that once frightened me.
And for the first time in a long while…
I didn't hate what I saw.
"He walks like he's carrying the weight of something…"
"It's okay to let go of the past…"
Some words stay.
Even if they weren't meant for you.