Ai's POV
"Are you a mop now?" Emi asks, standing in the hallway with a towel and a stare that could stop a heart mid-beat.
I drop my soaked tote bag onto the floor with a splat. "No. Just auditioning for a tragic documentary: 'Drenched Teen and Her Poor Life Decisions.'"
She doesn't laugh.
Of course, she's shocked by my weird appearance. Dirty shoes, wet clothes, books who became papier mache now.
Figures.
Emi's already poking at the wet strands of hair sticking to my forehead, her lips pressing into that medically-concerned line she always wears when she's not impressed — which is always. "Did you go swimming in your clothes, or did the weather just hate you specifically today?"
I grunt and shuffle past her. "The sky has personal issues."
"Why didn't you wait for my call?"
"Books were calling louder."
I don't see her roll her eyes, but I feel it in my soul.
"Shower. Now. Before the floor becomes a biohazard. And then the things you do every night before sleeping."
I nod, mumble something about existential rain trauma, and disappear before she can go full white-coat mode.
Next morning, I arrive at school with my usual routine: avoid people, pretend I'm invisible, sit somewhere silence lives.
But today, silence is missing. Probably transferred schools.
Yah, I'm a new student in new school. 3s
I stand at the classroom gate, clutching my bag like a shield.
It's loud inside. Students buzzing around in packs like caffeine-fed bees. I scan for a spot.
Everything's occupied.
Wait.
One seat. Back corner. No one beside. No one in front. Like a tiny island of social safety.
I slide into it without a second thought, dropping my things and keeping my eyes down. I don't even take out a book — just breathe. The desk feels cold under my arms. Familiar. Grounding.
And then… fate takes a seat beside me.
Literally.
Someone slides into the chair next to mine like he owns air and doesn't believe in knocking.
I freeze. Not because of him. But because this doesn't happen. I don't get people sitting next to me. I sit alone, like a punctuation mark between paragraphs.
I glance sideways.
Haru.
Rainstorm boy.
Same hoodie, slightly less drowned rat vibe today. His hair is dry but still does that messy fall-across-his-eyes thing like he woke up charming on accident.
He doesn't say anything right away. Just stares at the board. Calm. Like this is normal.
It's not.
Not for me.
Then, without turning, he says, "You always freeze like this when people sit next to you? Or am I just special?"
I don't reply.
He turns to look at me fully now. "Didn't expect to see you here."
I blink. "You go to school. Shocking."
He smirks. "So do you. Shocking-er."
I roll my eyes and try not to let him crawl under my skin.
"Let me guess," he continues, tapping his pen against his desk. "You're the mysterious transfer student with a tragic backstory, and I'm the poor soul who sat in the wrong seat and now has to survive your sarcasm."
"You sat here on purpose," I mutter.
"Maybe," he shrugs. "It was either this or next to a guy who eats glue sticks."
I crack a reluctant smile.
He leans in slightly, eyes narrowing like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "You're Ai. Just Ai."
"I didn't forget my last name. I just prefer short versions."
"Still think you're plotting something."
I look straight ahead. "Still think you talk too much."
I don't know how but somehow I handled all the stress of study.
And then, The bell rang.
Haru's gone before I can blink — disappeared like fog under sunlight.
I exhale. Quiet returns.
Until it doesn't.
"Yo," someone says, loud and clear.
I look up and nearly choke on my surprise.
Kiko.
Kiko is not surprising. Kiko on my seat, however? Surprise-level: national emergency.
I mean really!?! I didn't expect him here! Oh... Maybe Emi knows this from before.
He plops down in Haru's now-empty chair with a grin like he owns the building.
"I didn't notice him yet," he says, unwrapping his sandwich.
"Who?" I ask, still confused and also mildly betrayed.
"The guy who sat beside you."
"Haru?"
He shrugs. "Haru. Hm. Anyway—" he tosses a small packet of seaweed snacks onto my desk "—eat. You didn't eat anything yesterday either."
I raise an eyebrow. "And you noticed that because…?"
"Because I have eyes? And a brain? Shocking, I know. I was there."
We eat quietly after that. Comfortable.
Kiko isn't loud unless he needs to be. He's the kind of guy who would build a shelf in silence and hand you a snack mid-hammering without a word.
And honestly? Sometimes I forget how steady that is.
"I'll visit you today. So just text me where are you going to stay after school." He instructed.
"Okay." And I agreed.
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a few sheets. "You missed these notes before you joined. Thought you'd want them."
I take them, blinking. "You actually printed these?"
"Handwritten. Your lucky day."
I flip through the pages. Neat. Color-coded. My jaw drops a little.
"You're a nerd," I say.
"Better than being a soggy raccoon," he says, not looking up.
I chuckle.
Eventually, the bell rings, and Kiko stretches before getting up.
"See you after class, raccoon."
"Bring more snacks," I say, half-serious.
He shoots me a mock salute and heads back to his seat across the room.
A few seconds later, Haru returns like some kind of plot twist, sliding into the seat beside me as if it had his name carved on it all along.
"Back already?" I murmur.
He leans back lazily, voice low. "Didn't want glue-stick guy breathing near me."
I almost smile.
Class resumes.
whiteboard markers squeaking, bored pens tapping, brains checking out like they've got better places to be.
And teacher is teaching something about.... mitochondria maybe....
Leave this, boring.
Suddenly, The air feels thick. My vision's smudging at the corners. My lips might be moving but I don't remember giving permission.
And then I hear it.
"Kiko—what happened?" the teacher says.
Wait, why is she—?
Suddenly, there's a hand on my shoulder, warm and steady. My chair squeaks as Kiko slides into the space beside me like he was born for emergencies.
"Don't move," he says low.
Which is funny, because I'm not sure I even can.
He pulls a tissue from somewhere — seriously, where do boys keep these things? — and gently tilts my head down.
That's when I see the red dripping onto my shirt and textbook.
Oh. Blood.
Again?
Cool.
I didn't even notice. Figures.
"Lower your head," Kiko murmurs, already pressing the tissue against my nose.
I blink up at him. "It's not a big deal."
"You're bleeding."
"People do that. Super trendy this season."
He doesn't laugh. He also doesn't move away.
"Kiko, take ai to medical room." Teacher commanded.
The teacher waves us off toward the medical room like we're late to an appointment with doom. Kiko grabs my bag and walks beside me like I'm suddenly made of... sugar glass or something.
Btw, he doesn't need to take bag also... I'm not that much sick!
I mutter, "You walk like I'm going to fall apart."
"You are falling apart."
"I am not."
"You bled on your textbook."
"Textbook was ugly anyway."
We arrive at the medical room. The nurse takes one look at my face and sighs like she's seen this scene before — which, let's be honest, she probably has.
I hop up on the cot obediently while she gets to work. Cold wipes. Gauze. Questions I don't answer.
Meanwhile, Kiko explains everything like he's my personal injury lawyer. Calm. Clinical. Zero panic.
I sit there swinging my legs like a child who just dropped her ice cream and refuses to admit she's sad.
"Lie down for a bit," the nurse says.
I obey.
Mostly because sitting upright is overrated.
Kiko settles into the chair beside me without asking, arms folded like he's planning to wait until I fall asleep or explode.
The room's quiet.
I stare at the ceiling tiles, wondering how many bacteria live up there.
Then I say it. Because it's been stuck in my throat like a popcorn kernel all day.
And i don't know why but suddenly I realised kiko cares for me too much. We both are good friends, sorry— best friends. He's like my own elder brother, like Emi.
"Kiko."
"Hmm... Do you want something?"
"no, I just want to say..." I continued "stop treating me like a glass."
Kiko looks at me. Really looks.
His voice is quiet when he says,
"Glass doesn't saves lives of people like you do."