I kept my eyes low. That was the trick—don't look up, don't speak unless spoken to, and never, ever let them see you think.
The classroom smelled like paper and floor polish. That sterile scent that clung to clean places pretending they had nothing to hide.
I stood beside the homeroom teacher as she scribbled something in the roll book. My name, maybe. Or a warning.
"This is Kisaragi Mina," she said without looking up. "She's transferred here from Nishitani High. Please treat her with kindness."
Lies. Even the adults lied with their voices.
A murmur rippled across the room—just loud enough to count as polite acknowledgment. I gave the shallowest bow I could manage, then straightened. The room blurred in my peripheral vision. Thirty strangers. Thirty possible threats.
"You can take the seat by the window. Next to Asano."
Of course. Always the window seat. I moved without thinking, tracing a path between chairs and backpacks and glances. I didn't make eye contact. I didn't breathe.
My chair scraped softly as I sat.
Then came the voice.
"Yo."
I glanced sideways.
The boy beside me leaned back in his chair with casual grace, a pencil twirling between his fingers. He looked like someone painted into the seat. His hair was black, but not dark—more like polished graphite. His eyes were warm brown, but flat, like polished wood. Pretty, but unreadable.
He was smiling. Not kindly.
"I'm Asano Ren," he said. "You're quiet. That's rare. I like rare things."
I looked away. "Please don't talk to me."
He chuckled under his breath. "You're direct. I like that too."
I didn't answer. He didn't deserve my voice. But he wasn't the kind to take silence as rejection.
Class began. I stared out the window. I didn't hear the lecture. I barely saw the trees outside. But I felt him glance at me three times in the first ten minutes.
People like that always stare when they think you can't see.
Lunch came, and with it, the quiet exodus of students pairing off into groups. Laughter echoed in the halls. I stayed in my seat for a while, waiting until the class emptied.
Then I left—textbook in hand, rice box hidden in my blazer sleeve.
The rooftop was unlocked. I liked that. I liked being higher than everyone else. I liked that there was no one to perform for.
The wind tugged gently at my hair as I sat with my back to the door.
I had just taken my second bite of rice when the door creaked open.
Footsteps.
Of course.
Ren Asano stepped into the sunlight like he belonged in it.
"You skipped the cafeteria," he said.
I didn't answer.
He walked over, set down his tray with two soft clicks, and sat across from me without invitation. He wore the same casual smirk, like he was acting out a scene he'd practiced.
"I like the rooftop too," he said. "Feels like no one can touch you up here."
"You followed me."
"I was curious." He plucked a cherry tomato from his tray. "People usually don't avoid me. It's new."
"You sound disappointed."
"Not really. It's refreshing."
I kept eating. I didn't look at him. That was the trick.
He leaned forward. "I heard Nishitani had... incidents. But I don't listen to rumors."
I froze for half a second. He noticed.
"Sorry," he added, his voice softer. "Too soon?"
"Don't talk about things you don't understand."
"Fair." He nodded, then smiled again—just a twitch of the lips. "You don't like people poking around your past."
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know more than you think."
That got my attention. I met his eyes.
"I notice things," he said. "Like how you sat facing the door. Like how you hold your chopsticks too tightly when someone asks a personal question. Like how you wait until everyone's gone to move."
He leaned back, satisfied.
"You're hiding something," he said. "But you don't want to disappear. Otherwise, you wouldn't have picked the window seat."
I didn't respond. My throat was dry. My pulse ticked behind my ears.
"You're observant," I said quietly.
"I collect people," he replied. "It's a hobby."
"What happens when you're done collecting?"
"I put them back where I found them."
He stood, tray in hand. "See you around, Kisaragi."
That night, I stared at the ceiling in the dark.The shadows looked like fingers reaching down the walls.Ren's voice echoed in my mind.
"You're hiding something. But you don't want to disappear."
He was right. That's what scared me.
Because if someone could see me that clearly, they could break me just as easily.
And the last time someone got close—
I didn't finish the thought.
I just pulled the blanket over my head and prayed not to dream.