The classroom buzzed with voices, laughter bouncing between desks. Chairs scraped, pens tapped, groups clustered together in easy circles of conversation.
Kadokawa Kato sat by the window, alone. His tall frame slouched slightly, his knees awkwardly tucked under the desk as if the furniture had been built for smaller bodies. He hunched forward, trying to take up less space.
He wasn't broad, not exactly muscular—just tall, with long arms that dangled too much when he didn't know what to do with them. Which was often.
He fiddled with his pen, tapping it against his notebook.
"Man, he's so quiet," a boy whispered nearby.
"Yeah, he never joins in."
"Does he even have friends?"
Kadokawa heard them. He always heard.
He wasn't hated. He wasn't feared. He was just… avoided. Because whenever someone tried to talk to him, he froze, stumbled over his words, or gave some awkward, flat response that killed the conversation instantly.
It was easier for everyone not to try.
The Teacher's Call
"Kato-kun, come solve this problem on the board."
His stomach dropped. He stood too quickly, his knee bumping the desk, making a loud, clumsy noise. Someone snorted.
Kadokawa's face warmed as he shuffled to the front. He felt the stares—some curious, some bored. He wrote the solution on the blackboard, neat enough, but his hand shook just a little.
When he turned back, he caught the teacher's approving nod.
But from the class? Silence.
Kadokawa awkwardly dipped his head and walked back to his seat, shoulders hunched, avoiding every pair of eyes.
Why does it feel like I just embarrassed myself…? he thought, even though he'd solved the problem correctly.
Lunch Break
He unwrapped his bento at his desk—rice, egg, a couple of sausages—eating slowly, quietly. Around him, groups formed, voices rising in chatter.
He didn't hate it. He just didn't know how to join.
Once, a classmate passing by glanced at him and laughed lightly. "You eat so slow, Kato. Like, really slow."
Kadokawa froze, chopsticks midair. "…I'm… chewing properly."
It came out flat. Mechanical.
The boy gave a weak laugh and left.
Kadokawa sighed, stabbing a piece of sausage. Every time. Why do I always sound like I'm being interrogated?
After Class
When the bell rang, groups left together, planning karaoke or clubs. Kadokawa stayed behind, carefully packing his bag. He always waited until the room was nearly empty before leaving.
He didn't dislike people. He just never knew what to say. The words formed too slow, always a beat behind, always awkward.
He walked home alone, schoolbag slung over one shoulder, his long strides carrying him down narrow streets. His reflection in the shop windows made him frown—tall, lanky, with a face that always seemed too serious, even when he wasn't.
No wonder they don't know what to do with me.
And yet, beneath the self-deprecation, a small, absurd thought made him chuckle bitterly.
If I keep avoiding people like this, maybe I'll turn invisible one day. That wouldn't be so bad.
The chuckle died quickly, swallowed by the sound of his footsteps.
End of Episode One.