The rain fell softly that morning—neither heavy enough to soak her uniform, nor light enough to ignore. Rin Sakura sat alone on the edge of the courtyard bench near the school gate, a black umbrella folded beside her. She preferred to let the drizzle cling to her sleeves, to let the cold settle into her bones. At least then, she could feel something.
Students bustled past in groups, shoes splashing against shallow puddles, umbrellas colliding playfully. Laughter floated in the air, unbothered by the grey sky above. But Rin didn't move. Her gaze was fixed on the cracks in the pavement. Her long black hair, wet and plastered against her face, hung like a curtain shielding her from the world.
It's strange how a crowded place can feel more empty than silence, she thought.
A bell rang faintly in the distance. Another Monday. Another performance.
She stood up, brushed the dampness from her skirt, and walked toward the entrance. No one noticed her. No one ever did.
Inside the classroom, the usual chaos reigned. Desks scraped. Paper planes flew. Someone was arm-wrestling at the back. But the noise dropped a notch when the door creaked open. A tall boy stepped in—soaked to the bone, uniform wrinkled, shoes squelching with every step.
His presence was like a cut through cloth. Sudden. Sharp. Unwelcome.
The teacher cleared her throat.
"We have a new student today," she announced with false cheer. "Please welcome Akira Kurosawa."
Akira stood silently. He didn't smile. Didn't bow. His black hair clung to his forehead. His eyes—strangely light, like wet ash—scanned the room without emotion.
"…Hi," he muttered.
No one clapped.
Someone whispered near the back, "Isn't that the guy expelled from Kurozaki High?"
Another voice followed, hushed and excited. "He doesn't blink…"
Rin blinked.
She hadn't realized she was staring. He was… off. There was something haunted in the way he moved, something weighty in the silence that followed him. She looked away just as the teacher gestured to the only vacant desk—beside her.
He walked slowly across the room. As he passed the windows, the light dimmed briefly. He sat down without a word, placed his dripping bag under the desk, and then turned his head—deliberately—to look at her.
His eyes didn't just look at her.
They searched.
And they didn't move away.
Rin tried to ignore it. She shifted in her seat, eyes on the blackboard, but his stare burned at the edge of her vision.
She whispered without turning her head, "…What?"
"You're different from this world," he said quietly.
She froze.
"…What?"
"You don't belong here either."
Her breath caught. A chill snaked down her spine that had nothing to do with the rain.
Later, after the final bell rang, she rushed out of the classroom, wanting to escape that stare, those words. Her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. But after just a few steps, she sensed it again—that presence.
He was beside her.
Walking in perfect rhythm.
She stopped and turned sharply.
"Are you… following me?" she asked.
"I only follow things I remember," he replied.
She blinked.
"What does that even mean?"
He looked at her, his gaze not quite in the present.
"We've never met before," she said.
"Not in this life."
She felt her chest tighten. Her legs moved on instinct, quickening pace. But his words followed her like shadows.
"I don't have time for crazy," she muttered, refusing to look back.
"You died in my arms once," he said flatly.
She stopped.
She turned.
He didn't look amused. Or sarcastic. Or even emotional. Just matter-of-fact.
"…You're insane."
"Maybe," he said. "But so were you. Back then."
Her heart was racing now. She didn't know why. It wasn't fear. Or was it?
She didn't see him again until lunch.
The rain hadn't stopped.
She stood on the school rooftop under the metal awning, her fingers curled around the chain-link fence. Water trickled from the edges. The clouds above were a moving sea of grey. She liked watching the rain fall from above—it made her feel less like she was drowning.
Akira appeared without a sound, standing a few feet away, leaning against the concrete wall.
Rin turned, half-annoyed.
"Why are you always near me?"
"I go where the curse leads me," he replied.
She raised an eyebrow. "You're creepy, you know that?"
He gave her a sideways glance.
"You'll hate me soon."
She huffed. "Already kind of do."
"Good," he said. "That means I might not kill you this time."
The words slipped out so smoothly, so casually, that for a moment she thought she misheard.
"…What?"
He looked away. "Nothing."
A sudden gust of wind swept across the rooftop, scattering dead leaves. The silence between them stretched like a taut string.
Later that night, Rin sat at her desk, staring at the rain streaking down her bedroom window. Her room was dim, lit only by the blue glow of her desk lamp. Her schoolbooks lay untouched. Her phone buzzed once, twice, with messages she didn't read.
She pulled back the sleeve of her shirt, just for a second.
A faded scar stared back at her.
She quickly covered it.
"That boy…" she whispered.
"…he said I died in his arms."
She closed her eyes.
Why did it feel like I've heard that before…?