The city of Harukaze stirred awake beneath the soft pastel light of an overcast morning. Rows of tidy apartments and student housing framed the quiet main street leading toward the University of Harukaze—a large, coastal college nestled at the base of a gentle green hill. The morning air had a bite to it, one that carried the scent of sea salt and sakura trees just beginning to bud.
In a modest room on the second floor of a student dormitory, Shoya stood before the mirror, fidgeting with the zipper of his navy-blue hoodie. He wasn't in a rush, but he didn't like being late either. His eyes lingered on his reflection. A hint of sleep still clung to his soft features, and the messy wave of his hair fell too low over his eyes. He wasn't conventionally handsome, nor did he care to be. His world had become one of quiet observation and internal monologues—like a narrator in a story no one else knew was unfolding.
A steaming cup of instant coffee rested on the windowsill. The clock ticked steadily—7:18 AM. He had a lecture at 8:00, but he always left early. The walk across campus was his moment of calm before the day's noise took over.
His phone vibrated.
Ken [7:20 AM]: "Oii! Don't forget we got lunch with Taka later. I want to show you something weird i found near sculpture studio"
Shoya smiled faintly, replying with a simple thumbs-up emoji. Ken and Taka had been his closest friends since his first year.
---
The path toward the main lecture building was lined with camphor trees and faded university flags fluttering in the breeze. As always, Shoya kept his hands tucked in his pockets and his head low. Students passed by in small groups—laughing, yawning, rushing. He walked alone.
But something felt oddly different about today. He couldn't place it—maybe it was the sky or the crispness of the air. Or maybe it was that lingering feeling he had since waking, like something about his ordinary routine was going to shift.
As he reached the steps of the literature building, his gaze drifted upward, toward one of the windows on the second floor. He paused. For the briefest second, he thought he saw someone standing there. A girl. Her figure faint and half-obscured by the curtain.
He blinked. The window was now empty.
He shook the thought away and continued inside. Just his imagination again. But still, a part of him filed the moment away—not out of importance, but out of curiosity. Because Shoya had a strange habit of noticing quiet things. Things no one else paused to think about.
And little did he know—this ordinary morning was already folding into something far less ordinary.
.
The hallway was alive with morning rush: footsteps echoing on ceramic tiles, occasional yawns, the murmurs of classmates reviewing yesterday's lessons. Shoya walked through it and didn't care about his surroundings because they were loud.
His hoodie sleeves were tugged halfway down his palms, and the faint smudge of ink on his thumb reminded him he hadn't washed his hand properly after last night's sketch. Not that anyone cared. He passed people smiling, laughing, making plans for lunch — and still, he kept walking, a quiet rhythm that didn't quite match the world's tempo.
Somewhere behind him, Taka and Ken caught up.
"Oi, Shoya!" Taka called, lightly nudging his side. "C'mon wait for us outside."
Ken laughed beside him. "You really don't listen,huh?"
Shoya gave a quiet smile. "Maybe I do."
As they entered the lecture hall, Shoya chose the seat by the far-left window again. A habit by now — not because of the view, but because it was safer to face outwards. He could see people come and go without being noticed.
And today… someone new entered.
She stepped in without making a sound, her movements precise, composed — like she belonged in a painting that had been carefully retouched for balance. Shoya didn't know her name. But he had seen her before — in the courtyard, in the cafeteria line, once at the library flipping through pages she didn't seem to be reading.
She had that air — not arrogance, but distance. Not shyness, but something... quieter. Stronger. Mysterious.
She wasn't looking at anyone. Her gaze didn't drift across the room to meet his. She didn't even glance in his direction. And yet, somehow, Shoya felt like he had been caught. Like her silence was louder than the entire room's chatter.
He looked down.
And drew a line.
Then another. Then softer lines.
By the time the professor arrived, his notebook had half a face on the page. He flipped it closed quickly. He didn't even realize he'd been drawing her.
.
.
It was raining by the time the lecture ended.
Shoya lingered behind, pretending to adjust the strap of his bag while the rest of the class emptied out.
He preferred it this way — leaving last.
But today, she was still there.
She stood near the back row, slipping a paper into a pale folder. Her movements were so calm, it made Shoya feel clumsy just watching her.
He didn't even mean to look at her this long.
He told himself he was just curious. That's all. That maybe he could sketch her more accurately if he memorized the way her hand brushed her scarf — or how her eyes stayed on the folder even when a group of students passed right by her, loud and oblivious.
She was untouched by noise.
Like she lived in a frequency no one else could hear.
And then—
She turned.
Just slightly.
Not at him.
Not for him.
But in that one moment, her profile met the gray windowlight — and for a second, time faltered. The air in Shoya's lungs felt thick, like he forgot how to breathe.
He looked down again.
Stupid, he thought. You're being ridiculous. You don't even know her name.
But the name came anyway.
He didn't even know where it came from.
"Naomi…" he whispered.
As if the universe had whispered it to him first.
And just like that, he decided. That would be her name — at least, in his world. In the world he kept tucked inside his sketchbook. She could be Naomi.
He left the room a few minutes later, head low, hoodie up. The rain had softened the campus into something blurry and unreal.
But in his chest —
A sharp, bright soundless thing was starting to pulse.The courtyard cafeteria was quieter than usual—maybe because it was a Thursday, maybe because the sky looked like it might rain. Shoya slid open the door of the open-air diner, spotted Taka and Ken by the far corner, and made his way over.
The air was thick with the smell of fried food and black coffee. A stray cat prowled near the benches. Students scattered around were lost in books.
Ken waved him down, already halfway through his chicken wrap.
"Yo, Shoya-kun," he greeted. "We were just talking about how Taka has never broken a single rule his entire life."
Taka narrowed his eyes. "Maybe because I plan not to be expelled before graduation."
Shoya chuckled and sat down with a soda and a cheap sandwich from the vending machine. "So what did you want to show me?"
Ken leaned in, lowering his voice like he always did when trying to sound serious.
"You guys remember the back of the design building? The one they closed off last semester?"
"The one near the sculpture studio?" Taka asked.
"Yeah, exactly. I went back there yesterday," Ken said. "There's a staircase. Kinda hidden behind the old lockers near the storage shed. I followed it down."
Shoya raised an eyebrow. "Alone?"
Ken smirked. "Of course. Who else is dumb enough?"
Taka sipped his coffee, unimpressed.
"It's pitch dark down there, like no lights at all," Ken went on. "But there were signs that people had been there. Papers on the floor. Scratches on the wall. Like… someone tried to erase something. Or maybe hide it."
Shoya felt a chill crawl up his neck—not from fear, but from how serious Ken suddenly sounded.
"What kind of papers?" he asked.
"Couldn't see clearly," Ken replied. "Some were handwritten. One had what looked like a sketch of the campus map. But not like ours. Older. Different. I'm going back after class."
"You want us to come?" Shoya asked.
Ken nodded. "Thought it could be fun. Or creepy. Or both."
Before either could answer, Taka raised his head a little, eyes shifting past Shoya's shoulder. "Hey… isn't that the girl from the other day?"
Shoya didn't need to turn. His skin already knew.
Naomi.She stood near the vending machine across the courtyard, trying to press the buttons. Her long black hair was tied loosely behind her, strands falling over one shoulder. She wore a pale cardigan today.
She wasn't looking at them.
But Shoya felt it—her presence was sharp, almost magnetic, even from a distance.
He looked away quickly, hoping the others didn't notice the way his fingers had tensed.
Taka kept his voice casual. "She's always alone, isn't she?"
"Maybe she prefers it that way," Ken said. "Or maybe she's just surrounded by idiots."
Shoya smiled a little at that.
Ken stood and stretched. "Alright. Meet me after the 4PM lecture. We'll take a flashlight and explore a bit. Could be nothing. Could be something."
Taka looked skeptical. "We'll probably get caught."
"That's what makes it fun," Ken grinned.
Shoya stayed behind a moment as the others left.
He looked over again.
Naomi had already walked away.
And he sat there, wondering why a girl he didn't even know had already started to echo in his thoughts.