Ren wasn't always quiet.
Back in Sapporo, he was different. Not loud—but alive. He had friends, a rhythm, a place where he belonged. His school was small, and the winters were long, but he liked that. He liked the snow, the silence it brought. It reminded him of home.
Home, before it shattered.
His father left when he was thirteen. No warning. No final fight. Just an empty apartment and a note on the kitchen table that didn't even say goodbye. His mother folded herself inward after that—still breathing, still working, but never really looking at him the same way again. Like something in her had broken too quietly to fix.
Ren tried to hold it together. He tried to be what was left.
But people change when their foundation cracks. He grew colder without meaning to. Distracted. Sharp-tongued when pushed. The friends who used to sit with him at lunch stopped inviting him out. Rumors started after a fight behind the gym—he hadn't even thrown the first punch, but no one cared about details.
By the time his mother announced they were moving—again—Ren didn't ask why. He knew she was running. From memories, from debts, from silence that screamed louder than words.
Now he's here. A new school. A new classroom. Another empty seat by the window.
He told himself this time would be different. No attachments. No versions of himself he'd have to bury later.
But then he sat down next to Kaito Sakamura.
And for the first time in a long time, something didn't feel like a mistake.