Chapter 1 – The Transfer
Date: April 7 – Thursday
Time: 7:55 AM – First day of spring term
Location: Harushiro High School, Class 2-B
The first thing Haruki Minase noticed was how the wind carried the scent of blooming sakura. It swept gently across the school courtyard, brushing past blazer sleeves and dancing over polished shoes. Students moved in small clusters, chatting, laughing, comparing schedules—casual, easy.
Haruki stood at the edge of it all, alone.
He adjusted his uniform collar, stiff from being new, and looked up at the tall building before him—Harushiro High School. Three stories of pale concrete, bright glass windows, and a worn school crest above the main entrance. Not much different from his last school, but somehow it felt heavier. Or maybe it was just him.
He exhaled quietly and stepped forward.
By 8:10 AM, he stood outside Class 2-B, staring at the door.
He could already hear voices inside. Laughter, desks being dragged. Someone was asking where the chalk had gone, and someone else was already asleep judging by the soft snores.
Haruki didn't move. His hand hovered near the doorframe.
The homeroom teacher—Ms. Nakagawa—opened the door just then, nearly bumping into him.
"Oh! You must be Minase-kun," she said with a polite smile. "Come in. We're just starting."
He gave a small nod and followed her in.
Thirty-two heads turned toward him.
The classroom was brightly lit, windows open to the morning breeze. Posters from last year's festival still clung to the bulletin boards. The desks were arranged in even rows—one short, one scratched, one with a charm keychain dangling off the side. It smelled faintly of chalk and fabric softener.
Haruki stood at the front.
"This is Haruki Minase," Ms. Nakagawa introduced. "He transferred from Saitama, so let's make sure he feels welcome. You'll be sitting in the back row, next to Fujimoto-san. Raise your hand, Sora-chan."
A girl near the window lifted her hand lazily.
Haruki walked toward the seat beside her, trying not to notice the way some students whispered as he passed. Transfers always drew attention, especially when they didn't talk much. He sat down quickly and opened his bag, pretending to check something inside.
"Hey," said a soft voice.
He turned. The girl—Sora Fujimoto—looked at him with quiet eyes, her dark hair pulled back with a simple clip. She didn't smile. Just a nod.
"I'm Sora," she said. "If you get lost, follow the noise. Our class is the loudest."
Haruki gave a faint smile. "Thanks."
That was the extent of it.
But it felt warmer than anything else that morning.
By lunch, Haruki had already walked the school once—alone. He took the long route around the gymnasium, then up the back stairwell to avoid the crowds in the hallways. Most students sat in groups in the courtyard or shared bento on the benches out front.
He carried his lunch—a simple convenience store sandwich and a bottle of barley tea—and found a quiet spot behind the gym.
There was a low wall with a view of the trees that lined the field. Cherry blossoms drifted slowly from the branches, collecting in soft pink piles along the path. A breeze picked up again, brushing through his hair. Haruki leaned back and took a bite.
That's when he saw her.
Sora.
She was sitting about five meters away, knees drawn up, arms around them. Her lunch remained unopened on the ground. She stared ahead at the trees like she'd been there for a long time.
She didn't look surprised to see him. Didn't say anything either.
Haruki hesitated.
"…Do you mind?" he asked, motioning to the spot nearby.
She shook her head once.
They sat in silence, eating their lunches with a quiet distance between them. It wasn't uncomfortable. Just... still.
Haruki watched the wind scatter a few petals across the grass.
"You always eat here?" he asked.
Sora nodded. "Since last year."
He didn't ask why. Somehow, the question felt too loud.
She peeled back the lid of her onigiri. "You don't like crowds either?"
Haruki let out a dry chuckle. "Not when they're staring."
"They'll stop," she said, picking at the rice. "They always do. People forget fast."
He looked over. "Do you want them to forget you?"
She paused, then said, "Sometimes."
That was the first real thing she said.
And Haruki didn't press further. He just looked out toward the field again, the weight of her words settling somewhere beside him.
After lunch, classes resumed. Math, then English. Haruki found the rhythm of the school oddly soothing—chalk against the board, pages flipping, someone sighing when called to read aloud.
Sora didn't speak again until the end of the day, as they packed their bags.
"Minase-kun," she said, her tone matter-of-fact, "you should probably avoid the roof. Seniors smoke up there when teachers aren't watching."
He blinked. "I wasn't going to—"
She gave a small smile. "You seem like the type who would."
Haruki didn't know if that was a compliment or not. But she was already zipping up her bag, heading toward the hallway.
"See you tomorrow," she added without looking back.
He stood there for a second, then smiled to himself.
Time: 5:00 PM
Location: Train station bench, outbound platform
Haruki pulled out his small, leather-bound notebook. The pages were mostly empty, aside from a few lines he wrote over the winter. He uncapped his pen and wrote slowly:
April 7 – Met a girl who sees things without needing to ask.
Windy today. Good kind of quiet.
He looked up as the train approached, petals blowing past the tracks like snow.
Tomorrow would come, and the day after that.
For now, the silence felt a little less lonely.