It was morning. The sun rose, casting a soft glow over the quiet streets. Cherry blossoms still clung to the branches, their pale pink petals trembling gently in the cool spring breeze. Trees lined the sidewalks, their leaves whispering as the city slowly stirred awake.
Faint, fragmented conversations drifted through the air—audible but indistinct.
In the distance, the low rumble of a train echoed, carrying early commuters toward their destinations.
I stood alone on the platform, dressed in a black school uniform with a white shirt beneath and matching trousers. A new leather school bag rested on my left shoulder, its polished surface still stiff from lack of use.
It's been a while since I stood like this in a train station.
— Today is my first day in Kazehaya Senior High School
The train stopped across from me. I took a deep breath and stepped inside, glancing around.
It was crowded—no seats left.
Guess I'd have to stand.
Just as I reached for the handrail, a girl wearing the same school uniform stumbled beside me. She gasped, and I caught her just in time.
Her long silver hair partially hid her eyes, that shimmered icy blue.
As she steadied herself, I asked, "Are you okay?" watching her carefully.
She looked at me, her face unreadable. Not surprised, not embarrassed—just calm, like nothing happened.
"Yeah, don't mind it," she said, then walked away.
I watched her go, puzzled.
That's... an oddly indifferent response. No apology, no emotion. Just typical.
~ ~ ~
Few Minutes Later...
~ ~ ~
I arrived at Kazehaya Senior High School. The sidewalk leading up to the gate was lined with flower pots and neatly trimmed trees, adding a touch of calm to the surroundings. Just ahead stood a towering silver gate—broad and gleaming. Beyond it, several buildings stretched across the campus, their modern architecture visible even from the outside.
The girl who had tripped earlier was about to step through the gate.
I looked over at her.
Right before she went in, she stopped and asked, "Hey… what's your name?" Her voice wasn't as flat as before—it actually sounded a bit curious.
That was unexpected. After how awkward she was earlier, now she's asking me that?
"Why do you want to know?" I asked, taking a slow breath.
She shrugged. "It'd be weird not to know your name after that."
"Don't mind it," I said, mimicking her response from earlier on the train.
She paused, exhaled sharply.
"Tch. Parrot now, huh?" she said, not even glancing back before walking off.
I didn't say anything—just walked a few paces behind her, keeping my distance.
We passed through the silver gates of Kazehaya in silence.
Clusters of students filled the courtyard—some laughing, others hunched over the bulletin board near the entrance, searching for their names.
The girl and I moved toward the bulletin board without saying anything. She was looking too, her eyes scanning the list just like mine.
I followed the names down the page, feeling a little tension settle in.
Then I saw it.
Class 1-C
Hoshigami, Kazuya.
There it was.
I closed my eyes and took a slow, steadying breath.
Class C, huh.
Just as I started to turn away, she spoke again—her voice calm and flat like before.
"You didn't tell me your name. Maybe sharing your class would be enough," she said, her face unreadable.
I turned to her. "Class C," I said.
She blinked once, then let out a quiet sigh.
"Figures," she murmured. "Just my luck."
Same tone as before. Same flat delivery.
If that was supposed to be a joke, it hit the ground without a sound. No smirk, no shift in her expression—just a line dropped like any other.
Just like back on the train.
Maybe this is how she is with people she doesn't know—keeps her guard up, never too warm, never too cold. Barely reacts.
Or maybe she's the type who only shows real emotion when she's comfortable. Maybe there's a playful side in there somewhere, buried under all that stone-faced calm.
Hard to tell.
I didn't bother replying.
Honestly, I couldn't even tell if she was joking or genuinely annoyed.
It was like reading a book with half the pages glued shut—something's in there, sure, but good luck figuring it out.
I decided to tell my name.
I sighed quietly. "My name is Hoshigami, Kazuya... what's yours?" I asked.
Her expression softened just a little.
"Kazuya, Hoshigami, huh?" She repeated, her tone not as flat as before.
I nodded without saying anything.
She said her name quietly, barely reacting.
"Shirogane, Reika."
I didn't say anything.
Her name—Shirogane, Reika—clicked in my mind. I'd seen it on the Class 1-C list. So, we're classmates.
So... that was the joke. '"Just my luck. ' Of course she already knew.
I should've expected that.
~ ~ ~
Entrance Ceremony
~ ~ ~
The softbox lights cast a steady, clear glow across the auditorium. Large fans hummed softly overhead, while open windows let in a cool spring breeze. From the upper floor, the distant river shimmered quietly under the morning sun.
First-year students stood in neat, silent rows, the air thick with anticipation. At the entrance, third-year representatives kept watch, their eyes sharp and alert, maintaining order.
Onstage, the principal stood tall and steady at the podium, flanked behind by the student council—uniformed and expressionless.
Next to me, Reika blended into the group of girls from Class 1-C, her usual unreadable face calm and composed.
The Principal stood tall at the podium—broad-shouldered in a crisp black suit, slicked-back gray hair, and a sharp beard that framed a composed, unreadable face.
He cleared his throat, and the room fell silent.
"Good morning, everyone. I am Takayanagi Gendo, Principal of Kazehaya Senior High School."
His voice was warm but firm—measured, with a quiet strength that filled the space.
"Today marks the beginning of a new chapter. One filled with challenges, growth, and opportunity."
He paused, letting the weight of those words sink in.
"We're glad you're here—ready to learn, ready to grow, ready to become part of something greater than yourselves."
"This school isn't just about lessons and grades. It's a community. And in this place, every one of you matters."
"Take this time to find out who you are. What you want to become."
"We'll be here to support you—every step of the way."
A quiet breath seemed to pass through the crowd.
"Let's make this year one to remember. Welcome to Kazehaya."
He stepped back with a slight nod and gestured toward the row of students behind him.
A boy around my age stood and approached the podium.
Gray hair. Gray eyes. Modest height. Sharp features. A face that gave nothing away—but eyes that saw everything.
He walked with quiet certainty. Back straight. Movements measured. No hesitation.
His expression stayed neutral. Calm. But even from the crowd, it felt like he was the one observing us.
The kind of presence that didn't ask for attention.
It just had it.
He reached the podium and paused, his hands resting lightly on either side. The room stilled again, waiting.
"My name is Minazuki Arata," he began, voice clear and steady. "Student Council President."
He glanced briefly across the hall—calm, composed.
"I stood where you are not too long ago. A new student, unsure of what to expect. This school can be overwhelming at first—strict, competitive, unpredictable."
A pause. His gaze sharpened.
"But you'll survive. Just like I did. You'll struggle, yes—but you'll also grow. You'll learn to think on your feet. To adapt. To stand on your own."
"This place isn't just about grades or rules. It's about discovering who you are when things get tough."
He let those words settle before continuing.
"You're not alone in this. Every upperclassman, every council member—every one of us started the same way. We made it. You can too."
His voice softened just slightly.
"So take that first step. Hold your ground. And don't be afraid to fail."
He gave a small nod, stepping back from the podium.
Silence. Then, slowly, the sound of applause filled the hall.
As the applause faded, the principal returned to the podium briefly.
"That concludes the entrance ceremony. First-year students, follow your class representatives to your assigned rooms. From this point forward—your choices matter."
With that, the auditorium stirred back to life. Lines reformed, shoes shuffled against the polished floor, quiet murmurs returned.
Reika glanced at me once—just a flick of her eyes—then followed the others without a word.
I stepped into line behind her, my thoughts still echoing with Arata's words.
You'll survive. Just like I did.
If that was a promise or a warning, I wasn't sure yet.
But I had a feeling I'd find out soon.