The classroom was alive with noise.
Chairs scraped the floor. Someone laughed too loud. A group in the back argued over whether curry bread or melon pan was superior. The buzzing energy of high school filled every inch of the room.
Naizaka hated it.
He stood at the front, hands tucked in his pockets, expression unreadable. The teacher beside him beamed.
"This is Naizaka. He's transferred here starting today, so let's all welcome him warmly!"
Murmurs rippled through the class. A few curious glances, a couple of half-hearted claps.
Naizaka gave a short, stiff bow.
"…I prefer to be left alone."
That was all he said before heading straight to the empty seat by the window in the back corner. Classic.
The teacher blinked, then chuckled awkwardly. "Ah… Well, let's be kind anyway."
As the lecture resumed, Naizaka rested his chin on one hand and gazed out the window. A breeze stirred the sakura petals outside. They danced silently in the sunlight, as if mocking the noise around him.
When the bell rang for break, students instantly surrounded his desk.
"Hey! You're the transfer student, right? Where'd you come from?"
"Do you play any sports?"
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
Naizaka stood up, eyes half-lidded.
"I'm getting juice."
He left before anyone could stop him.
He made his way through the hallway, past chattering students and the distant thud of a basketball in the gym. The vending machine stood near the edge of the courtyard, beside a small patch of ivy-covered fence. A peaceful corner most students ignored.
Click. A can of orange juice clunked into the tray.
Naizaka picked it up, walked over to the fence, and sat down. Legs stretched out, back against the wall, eyes half-closed. Peace, finally.
Pshhh — the can hissed open.
He took a sip.
People always try to reach out… even when you clearly don't want them to. Why? What's the point of dragging others into your life?
He tilted his head back, watching a cloud drift by.
"…Someone will show up in three seconds," he murmured to no one.
3...
2...
1—
"Wow, someone's already here?"
He didn't turn. But he knew.
Footsteps. Light. Playful.
"I thought this was my secret spot," the voice continued, closer now. "But I guess it's yours too."
A girl stepped into his line of sight.
Short black hair. A frog keychain dangling from her bag. Her uniform slightly wrinkled, like she'd been rushing all morning. Her eyes—bright and far too curious.
She smiled. "Hi. I'm Aihara Yuki. Class 1-B. You?"
Naizaka took another sip of juice.
"…Naizaka."
Yuki plopped down next to him without waiting for permission.
"You don't talk much, huh?"
Naizaka glanced sideways. "You talk too much."
She laughed. "I get that a lot."
For a few seconds, silence returned. Naizaka thought she might get bored and leave. Instead, she pulled out a small notebook and started scribbling.
He raised an eyebrow. "…What's that?"
"A haiku."
He blinked.
She tapped the pen on her chin. "I like writing poems during lunch. Helps me breathe."
He didn't know what to say to that. So he said nothing.
But Yuki didn't seem to mind.
After a while, she looked at him and asked, "So, why'd you really transfer?"
Naizaka stared ahead.
"Too many people," he said simply.
"...But aren't there people here too?"
"I'm hoping they'll give up faster this time."
She giggled. "You're funny."
"I wasn't trying to be."
That only made her laugh harder.
When the bell rang again, Yuki stood up, dusted her skirt, and stretched.
"Well, grumpy transfer student, I'll see you around."
She walked a few steps, then turned back.
"Oh—and next time, bring your own secret spot. This one's mine again tomorrow."
And with a wink, she left.
Naizaka stared at the spot she had just been sitting in.
She'll be back tomorrow. No point pretending otherwise.
He sighed.
"…Noisy."
But for some reason, the juice tasted a little better now.
To be continued...