Tokyo International Airport, 7:14 AM.
The glass doors hissed open, releasing a rush of warm city air into the arrivals terminal. Kazuki stepped through with a wheeled suitcase in one hand and studio headphones resting around his neck — silent, but ever-present.
Outside, the city stretched toward the horizon like a living orchestra — sleek bullet trains sliding through tracks in rhythm, neon signs flickering even in daylight, and distant chatter rolling like soft cymbals in the background.
He took it all in with a quiet stare, lips pressed together, eyes hidden behind dark lenses.
New country. New name. New version of me... hopefully one I can keep to myself this time.
Beside him, his mother let out a dramatic sigh as she twirled once on her heel.
"Ohh, Japan smells like possibility and cherry blossom body spray! I love it already."
Kazuki blinked. "…You say that every country we land in."
She grinned, looping her arm through his. "Well, Japan's got style. And vending machines. So obviously, it wins."
A taxi rolled up. She waved it down with a flourish like she was hailing a limo at a red carpet event.
"Your chariot, Mister Yamada," she said with a wink.
He rolled his eyes but didn't fight the smile tugging at his mouth.
Inside the cab, she practically melted into the seat. "Ahhh. Leather. See? Classy. I told you Tokyo would be good for your aura."
Kazuki leaned his elbow against the window. "You said that about New York."
"Yeah, and look how that turned out," she muttered, then added brightly, "But THIS time, no spotlights! No label agents! Just you, me, and cherry blossoms."
He stared out the window at the shifting cityscape. "You'll get used to the air here," she said with a faux-sage tone. "It smells like… ambition and a hint of mystery."
He smirked. "Or exhaust and ramen."
She gasped. "Rude."
"Do you want to play something?" she asked gently after a beat.
"Not really," he muttered.
She glanced sideways at him. "You used to put on music the second we landed anywhere."
"Yeah… I used to do a lot of things."
The taxi pulled into traffic, Tokyo's skyline blurring past — flashes of modern towers, old shrines nestled between buildings, and pink petals clinging to sidewalk corners.
"You nervous?" she asked, tone softer now.
Kazuki shrugged. "I just want to be normal this time."
She smiled, this time with no punchline. "Then don't tell them who you were. Just show them who you are now."
He didn't answer. He simply tapped his phone, cueing a track through his headphones. The melody — his melody — played low, private.
Kazuki leaned against the window as the city shimmered outside.
No fans. No screaming.
Just rhythm and breath and a quiet start.
Sakuramine Academy — 8:03 AM
The school gates loomed tall and polished, flanked by blooming cherry trees and fluttering banners advertising every club imaginable.
Kazuki stepped inside alone, blazer straightened, headphones tucked into his blazer pocket — as invisible as he could manage.
That didn't last long.
"Hey! Transfer student! You into kendo?!"
"Drama club's looking for new talent!"
"Join cooking! We've got hot bread, baby!"
"Tall, mixed, quiet... definitely a music club type!"
Kazuki flinched as a paper cup of pudding was waved directly under his nose.
This is more intense than an airport press line...
Before he could fully retreat, a cool, amused voice rose above the chaos.
"Don't waste your flyers," said a girl seated at a folding table near the entrance. "He's not joining anything. Not yet anyway."
He looked up.
She had long, dark hair, crisp glasses, and a pen tapping rhythmically against her clipboard. Her expression was unreadable — but observant.
"You judging me from across the courtyard?" Kazuki asked.
"From the second you stepped through the gate," she replied smoothly. "You walk like someone with headphones in even when there's no music playing."
"…That's oddly specific."
She stood, brushing off her skirt. "Come on. I'll walk you inside. You look like you're one overly excited cookie club member away from snapping."
They walked toward the front doors together, the noise fading behind them. Kazuki's shoulders relaxed just a little.
"You always talk like that?" he asked.
"Only to people who make good character studies."
He glanced sideways. "So, I'm a character?"
"You're a walking mystery trope in a uniform," she said, smirking. "But I'm not complaining."
She hugged her notebook to her chest. On its open page — tilted just enough to read if he'd noticed — was a freshly written list:
Top Ten Clubs Kazuki Would Secretly Love
1. Drama Club
2. Music Club
3.Cooking Club
4. Martial Arts Club (he doesn't know it yet)
5. Literature Club
6. Broadcasting Club
7. Astronomy Club
8. Shogi Club (he probably hates it but would still win)
9. Gardening (secret zen master vibes)
10. Tea Ceremony (just a hunch)
Before Kazuki could catch it, she closed the notebook with a snap.
"I'm Ayame," she said.
"Kazuki."
She smiled. "Fits."
At the base of the stairs, she stopped. "This is where we part ways. Don't trip. That'd ruin the brooding cool-guy image."
He raised a brow. "You always like this?"
"You'll learn," she said, already walking away.
Ten minutes later, Kazuki entered 2nd Year Class B, found a window seat, and kept to himself.
The teacher entered.
"We'll begin shortly, but first — a quick announcement from the student council."
The door slid open.
Ayame stepped in with notebook in hand, glasses glinting.
Kazuki stared.
Of course it's her.
She didn't even glance his way this time.
She stepped calmly to the front of the class and spoke with clear, practiced precision.
"Good morning. I'm Ayame. I'll be acting as the liaison between Class B and the student council this semester. If you have any questions about club registration, student support, or campus policy, please come to me directly."
She paused.
"And no," she added without looking up from her notebook, "you can't form a Ramen Appreciation Club. That's already been vetoed. Twice."
The room chuckled. A couple of boys groaned dramatically in the back.
Kazuki just stared.
So she's sharp, connected, and apparently keeping a running tally of bad club ideas.
Great.
Ayame closed her notebook with a satisfying snap, turned, and walked out of the classroom — still without acknowledging him.
Was that a power move?
It felt like a power move.
The teacher returned to the board. "And now, let's meet our transfer student—"
Kazuki felt the weight of thirty heads turning his way.
"This is Kazuki Yamada, a transfer student from the United States. Please treat him kindly."
Kazuki stood slowly, gave a stiff half-bow, and said, "Nice to meet you."
It was simple. Polite. But the room didn't react politely — they reacted like teenagers.
"He's tall…"
"He's definitely not from here."
"What's with the headphones?"
"Is it just me, or is he kind of—"
"Alright, alright," the teacher said, cutting off the rising whispers. "He'll be seated at the window. Let's move on."
Kazuki sat back down, sliding into his seat like he wished he could disappear into it.
Smooth. You already stuck out without saying anything, and now half the room's probably wondering what reality show you walked out of.
He loosened his collar slightly and glanced out the window, trying to pretend no one else existed.
That's when the chair behind him scraped loudly.
"Yo, new guy. Are those headphones for blocking out the world, or just for decoration?"
Kazuki turned slightly in his seat.
A girl leaned lazily over the back of his chair, chin propped in her palm, sharp brown eyes locked onto him. Her school blazer was wrinkled at the sleeves, rolled up to the elbows. Her skirt was regulation-short, but the confidence she wore definitely wasn't.
Hana.
"They're for not talking to people," Kazuki replied, flat.
"Hmm," she nodded with mock seriousness. "So a social introvert. Or a mysterious tortured artist type. Can't tell yet."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're doing a lot of analysis for someone I just met."
"I'm a fast learner," she said, circling his desk without breaking eye contact. "And you're the transfer student. Of course I'm curious. We don't get many tall, half-American headphone models walking in here every day."
Kazuki let out a quiet breath through his nose. "I'm not a model."
"Oof. You answered like someone who has been asked that before," she grinned.
Why is she so good at this? he thought.
She dropped into the empty desk beside him — which clearly wasn't hers, judging by the quiet grumble from the girl across the room — and propped her feet on the chair bar like she owned the place.
"You got a name, new guy?"
"Kazuki."
She whistled softly. "Stylish."
"…Is that sarcasm?"
"Nah. Just unexpected. Thought it'd be something like… Ace. Or Blaze."
Kazuki blinked. "That's not even—"
She leaned in slightly. "I'm Hana, by the way. Martial arts club. Chaos specialist. Professional menace to overly serious people."
"Great."
She grinned. "You'll learn to appreciate it."
Just then, the teacher's voice cut through the murmurs. "Hana, back to your actual seat, please."
"I was just making him feel welcome!" she called back without looking.
"Kazuki doesn't need you hovering over him like a seagull."
Hana gave him one last smirk and slid out of the desk, but not before leaning in and whispering:
"Welcome to Sakuramine, transfer boy. Hope you weren't planning to stay invisible."
She winked and sauntered back to her desk — a few seats behind him.
Kazuki stared straight ahead.
He didn't smile.
But he did think, "…What the hell was that?"
Kazuki blinked.
He didn't smile.
He didn't frown, either.
He just stared straight ahead — eyes fixed on nothing in particular — trying to replay the entire conversation like a recording he wasn't sure how to categorize.
What even was that? A threat? A welcome? A personality test?
She didn't ask about America. Didn't ask what music I liked. Just straight up psychoanalyzed me like she had a checklist.
Who the hell was that girl?
Behind him, hushed voices started again — this time female.
"She totally likes him," one whispered.
"Not even five minutes in and she's already poking at him," another giggled.
"That's her flirting voice," a third one said. "The one she used on that guy from the volleyball club."
"I give her two days before she steals his seat permanently."
Kazuki tried not to react.
So she's one of those. Great.
The loud type. The teasing type. The kind that thrives on people like me keeping quiet.
Why is that kind of person always the first to show up?
Still, he couldn't deny one thing.
She had presence.
And somehow, despite how much he hated attention…
He already had a feeling he was going to see a lot more of her.
The class had mostly settled after the teacher's opening remarks, and the period rolled on with mundane orientation sheets and campus reminders. Kazuki kept his head down, taking notes without looking at anyone.
But as soon as the bell rang for lunch, the whispers picked back up like someone had hit "unmute" on the entire classroom.
Kazuki began packing his things calmly, but he could already hear it behind him — the cluster of girls who'd sat near Hana.
One leaned toward him with a playful smile. "Hey, transfer guy."
Kazuki glanced up.
"You're kinda braver than you look. Most people don't survive Hana's opening act without sweating."
The other one giggled. "Seriously, she only bothers with people she finds fun. You must've scored some bonus points for that deadpan face."
Kazuki blinked. "I didn't do anything."
"Exactly," one said. "Mystery. Girls love that."
Another chimed in: "Oh no... he's quiet, polite, and emotionally unavailable. He's doomed."
The three of them laughed, not cruelly, but clearly enjoying themselves.
Kazuki sighed.
This is what you wanted, right? A low-profile, invisible high school life.
So naturally, you're one morning in and already have fan theories being written in real time.
Before he could retreat or dodge another comment—
"Yo."
Two boys had walked up beside his desk.
The taller one, with half-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile, gave him a nod.
Shun. Calm. Casual. Walked like he was allergic to stress.
Next to him was a shorter boy with messy hair and an energy that buzzed off him like static. He gave Kazuki a thumbs-up before even introducing himself.
Kenji. Definitely the type who says weird stuff at lunch and regrets none of it.
"You wanna eat on the roof?" Shun asked. "It's the unofficial territory for misfits and introverts. You qualify."
Kazuki blinked. "…That obvious?"
Kenji grinned. "You're literally surrounded by girls and still look like you want to jump out the window. So yeah."
Kazuki stared at them for a beat — then stood up, grabbing his bento box and slinging his bag over one shoulder.
"Lead the way," he muttered.
"Atta boy," Kenji said, patting his back like they'd known each other for years.
Sakuramine Academy Rooftop — 12:18 PM
The rooftop was quiet.
Not empty — just peaceful. A few benches lined the perimeter. A stack of old gym mats leaned in one corner. Someone had drawn a cracked smiley face on the water tank with chalk.
Kazuki followed Shun and Kenji through the door, grateful for the fresh air and distance from the classroom noise.
"Here," Shun said, dropping into a spot near the railing. "Sun's better from this angle."
Kenji flopped down dramatically beside him. "And the wind's good for maximum anime hair movement."
Kazuki raised an eyebrow but sat cross-legged across from them, opening his bento box without a word.
After a short pause, Shun finally spoke. "Name's Shun. Shun Hasegawa. I sit two rows behind you. You ignored me earlier, so I figured I'd try again now that your personal fan club took a break."
Kazuki looked up mid-bite. "…Didn't mean to ignore you."
Shun shrugged. "Didn't say it bothered me. You just looked like you needed a reset."
Kenji leaned in. "I'm Kenji Ito! Vice-captain of the anime club, undefeated in school-wide snack trades, and part-time weirdo."
Kazuki gave him a look.
Kenji smiled wider. "You'll see."
Shun chuckled. "He's harmless. Loud, but harmless."
Kazuki nodded slightly. "Kazuki Yamada."
"We know," Kenji said. "Kind of hard not to know. You've had more attention in three hours than most of us get in a semester."
Shun added, "To be fair, you do give off 'main character transfer student' energy."
Kazuki sighed. "I've been told."
There was a comfortable pause. The breeze swept through, carrying cherry blossom petals and faint sounds from below — laughter, club music, someone yelling about mochi.
Kenji shoved a rice ball in his mouth and said through it, "So what's the deal, Kazuki? You just wanted to vibe in Japan for your last two years or something?"
Kazuki didn't answer right away.
"Something like that."
Shun watched him for a second, not pushing. "You don't have to explain it. We're not nosy. Just bored."
Kenji nodded. "Yeah. You seem cool. Quiet's fine. We've already got a loud one."
"Thanks."
"For the record," Kenji added, grinning, "if you were a secret pop star or something… you'd tell us eventually, right?"
Kazuki almost choked on his rice.
Shun smacked Kenji on the back of the head. "Dumbass."
Kazuki gave a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. "No promises."
The door to the rooftop clicked open behind them.
Kazuki didn't turn. He was mid-bite and only half-listening to Kenji ramble about some ranking system for fictional swordfights.
"Ugh. You guys took my spot again," came a familiar voice.
Kazuki froze, chopsticks paused in midair.
The girl stepped forward, squinting into the sun. Her black bob cut fluttered slightly in the breeze, and she had a bento box tucked under one arm. Clean lines. Calm energy. Serious eyes.
Naomi.
His voice came out before he could stop it.
"…Naomi?"
She blinked, then did a double take. "Wait. Kazuki?"
Shun raised a brow. "You two know each other?"
Naomi's face cracked into a surprised smile. "You go to Sakuramine now?"
"Yeah," Kazuki said slowly, still processing. "Since this morning."
She walked over, smooth as ever, and dropped down onto the bench beside Shun. Her lunch clicked softly open as she glanced between the three of them.
"I haven't seen you in… what? A couple years?" she said, her tone somewhere between casual and genuinely curious.
"Since you moved," Kazuki replied. "Didn't think I'd run into anyone from… back then."
Kenji's eyes bounced between them like he was watching a soap opera. "Wait, wait, wait — is this an ex thing?"
Naomi rolled her eyes. "No, idiot. We used to go to the same music school."
Kazuki added, "Back in the States. She was the only one there not trying to turn every rehearsal into a competition."
"Still isn't," Naomi said simply, taking a bite of her onigiri.
There was a pause — not awkward, but dense with something unspoken. Recognition. Memory. A little surprise. And the faintest flicker of relief from Kazuki.
Shun watched the exchange, then nodded slowly. "So… not strangers."
"Nope," Naomi said. "But I'm still claiming this spot. You guys are lucky I'm feeling generous."
Kenji leaned over to Shun. "Dude. She knows the transfer student and has a territorial rooftop claim. That's power."
Kazuki didn't say much else.
But for the second time that day…
He didn't feel alone.
Sakuramine Academy – After School, Main Courtyard
The bell had rung, the halls were thinning out, and Kazuki had almost — almost — made it out the front gates.
Then he heard his name.
"Kazuki Yamada!"
He stopped. Turned.
A student council assistant stood there, panting slightly, holding a clipboard and a neatly folded paper.
"…You've been summoned," the boy said with exhausted formality, handing him a slip of paper like it was a jury duty letter.
Kazuki sighed and looked down at it.
Top 10 Clubs Kazuki Would Secretly Love – Revised List (Compiled by: Ayame)
You are encouraged (read: gently required) to check out at least one today. Don't make me send Hana again.
At the bottom was a doodle of him with a big sad face. It had devil horns.
She's not even trying to be subtle anymore.
Cut to: Hallway – Club Recruitment Redux
Kazuki walked past a line of open club rooms. Drama kids shouting into paper megaphones. Science club blowing smoke into the hallway. Tea ceremony club calmly sipping like they weren't hunting for new members.
Then someone stepped into his path.
Hana.
Again.
"Hey there, broody."
Kazuki flinched slightly. "Do you have a hobby other than stalking me?"
Hana grinned. "Nope. But watching you dodge every club like it's a plague is starting to become mine."
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You're not gonna look at any of them?"
"Not today."
"Scared you'll accidentally enjoy something?"
"I just want a quiet semester."
"You picked the wrong school."
A door burst open nearby. A guy from the martial arts club ran out and offered Kazuki a headband.
"Join us! You'll learn to break boards with your soul!"
Hana snatched the headband before Kazuki could respond and tossed it back inside.
"He's busy," she said flatly.
Kazuki stared at her.
"…Thanks?"
"Don't thank me. I'm still trying to figure you out," Hana said, stepping closer with a lopsided grin. "If I keep you off the club radar, you'll owe me one. Then I can cash it in later when I find something you actually like."
"And what if I never do?"
"Oh," she smirked, turning away, "you will. You just haven't met it yet."
Meanwhile: From Afar…
Ayame stood on the second-floor balcony, notebook in hand, watching the scene unfold.
She made a new note.
Club Resistance Level: Stubborn.
Hana's involvement: Increasing. Need to monitor. Possibly weaponize.
Also, check if he's allergic to fun.
She closed the notebook with a pleased snap.
Kazuki Walks Out
Finally free of flyers, recruiters, and sneaky club presidents, Kazuki made it down the school steps.
Shun waved at him from the school gate but didn't follow. Kenji shouted something about curry bread. Naomi had already disappeared somewhere between the library and the club hallway.
Kazuki adjusted his headphones, slid them over one ear, and hit play.
He didn't know what the track was. Something calm. Strings and vocals. Something that let the noise fade.
But as he walked toward the station, he couldn't stop thinking about her grin.
The way she blocked the headband like she knew him.
And that stupid, ridiculous list.
Early Evening — Walking Home
The sun dipped behind the skyline, casting the city in streaks of pink and gold. Shadows stretched across the pavement. Sakuramine Academy was already a silhouette in the distance, fading into the sprawl of suburban rooftops.
Kazuki walked slowly, his school bag slung lazily over one shoulder. His blazer was unbuttoned now. His tie, loose.
In his ears, the soft swell of strings filled the silence — something instrumental, unfamiliar, but oddly fitting.
A good song doesn't need lyrics to say something, he thought.
He turned the corner past a convenience store, the familiar ding of its door opening sounding behind someone else as they entered. The air smelled like warm bread and asphalt.
Japan's quieter, he thought. But maybe not in the way I expected.
His mind kept drifting — back to the club crowd, to Ayame's smirk, to the Top Ten List, to Shun's easy grin, and to the girl with the rolled-up sleeves who tossed a headband across a hallway like it was nothing.
Hana.
He should've been annoyed. She was nosy. Loud. Pushy.
But…
She saw through me in seconds.
And didn't seem to care.
Didn't ask for an autograph. Didn't ask if I used to be "Kaz."
That name still echoed, sometimes. In his chest. On headlines he tried not to read.
Kazuki Yamada — former viral sensation. Runaway voice. Hidden talent.
Now he was just a high school student with a tangled past, a borrowed uniform, and a pair of headphones he rarely played aloud.
They're not for music, he thought. They're for staying invisible.
But today, people had looked right through them anyway.
He passed a music store — old, wooden-framed, with a wall of vinyl records in the window.
His feet slowed.
There was a guitar inside. Nothing flashy — just a regular six-string, leaning against a dusty amp.
For a second, just one, he wondered what it would sound like in his hands.
He turned before he could walk in.
Not yet, he told himself.
Not again.
...Maybe.
But not yet.
As the sky faded into evening and the city lit itself up one neon sign at a time, Kazuki slipped his headphones back into place and kept walking — no destination, no noise, no answers.
But maybe, just maybe…
Today didn't feel like silence.
It felt like the first note.
END OF CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2: "UNWANTED SPOTLIGHT"