POV Rem Souji
The morning train never changes.
Same time, same noise, same people scattered across the seats.
I always get on the same car, sit in almost the same spot, put on my headphones, and shut out the rest of the world.
I like that strange silence that exists here. It's not real silence you can still hear people talking, coughing, tapping on their phones. But it's a kind of silence that works for me. No one calls my name, no one expects anything from me. Just the sound of the train moving forward.
The window shows the same scenery as always. Small houses, utility poles, a few bicycles parked by the gates. I don't even pay attention anymore I just recognize it without really looking.
I open my math notebook. Solving exercises early helps clear my head. Numbers don't change their mood, don't ask questions, don't force conversation. They're just there. If you follow the rules, the answer comes out in the end. Simple.
I look up and see two guys from the soccer club further down the car. They're laughing loudly at some video on a phone. I recognize the voice. One of them even tried to talk to me the other day, but I answered quickly and went on my way. Not because I hate people it's just… I don't know how to handle it. It's like everyone got a social manual I never received.
I go back to my notebook.
This is my routine. Train, school, practice, home. Nothing beyond that. It might sound boring to a lot of people, but for me, it's enough. The fewer surprises, the better.
And that's how I want it to stay.
At least, that's what I believe.
Looking around without being noticed always calms me down.
People are there, each in their own world, and no one notices me. It's like I'm part of the seat just another random student.
I like that.
If no one sees me, no one calls me.
If no one calls me, I don't have to answer.
It's simple.
My eyes stop on a group that just got on. Big backpacks, strong accents, clothes that are too colorful. Foreigners probably tourists.
They talk loudly, laugh even louder. One points at the map above the door as if it's something new, another cracks a joke, and the rest burst out laughing.
Some passengers look away, annoyed. Others pretend not to notice.
"How can they be so loud this early in the morning…?"
I think to myself and return to my notebook, but I can't concentrate. Their voices keep going, filling the entire car.
It's always like this. When foreigners show up, it's like the space becomes theirs. As if the environment has to adjust to them, and not the other way around.
And I've never understood why.
Why don't they try to blend in? Speak more softly? Act like everyone else?
I close my notebook without realizing it. I hold my pencil, but I don't write anything.
I prefer my corner. I prefer being invisible. It's easier. It's safer.
While they draw attention, I go unnoticed.
And that's how I want it to stay.
"Next station, Matsuyama Minami."
The speaker's voice echoed through the car, and my fingers tightened around my notebook. Matsuyama. A small, quiet, always the same town. The train slowed down, creaking lightly on the tracks.
I stood up, adjusted my backpack, and pushed the door open. The morning air hit my face cool, but not cold. I walked across the empty platform, avoiding a few people who still looked half asleep.
As I walked, my thoughts returned to the group of foreigners I'd seen on the train.
I muttered under my breath, just to myself:
"How can they be so… over the top?"
I've always found it strange the way they stand out, talk loudly, laugh without caring about anyone else. Some are probably here to study, others just want to spend some time in Japan. But either way… they always seem to take up too much space.
The walk to school was short. I went down the still quiet streets, though the distant sound of traffic was already audible. Some shops were starting to open, and bicycles hurried through narrow alleys.
The start of the school year always brings a kind of quiet anxiety. But in my case, it's not social anxiety. It's more… logical. Everything has to start right. Every subject, every teacher, every step I take has to follow some kind of pattern.
The school stood at the top of a small hill. I could already see the building in the distance large, modern, with iron gates and students in impeccable uniforms entering the hallways.
Matsuyama Gakuen. A prestigious school.
Irony or coincidence I never really understood. Matsuyama Gakuen was known for accepting foreign students. Many came from abroad to study, to try a new life, or just to experience Japan. And me, who was always bothered by foreigners, was surrounded by them every day.
I sighed.
"I don't know how they stand so much noise," I mumbled, just to myself.
But at the same time, I couldn't deny that this kind of thing was… inevitable here.
I kept walking up the hill, looking toward the school gate, while my thoughts drifted between math formulas, etiquette rules, and that same quiet discomfort that always came whenever I saw someone who stood out too much.
I was ready for another year my first year of high school.
At least, that's what I told myself.
I climbed the last few steps and passed through the school gate.
The courtyard was full of students. Some were talking, others laughing, a few greeting friends they hadn't seen since last year.
I kept my backpack on and my head down, avoiding eye contact. The less attention I drew, the better.
I walked through the wide hallways. Some groups were talking about summer break, others were getting their materials ready for the first class. The floor creaked under footsteps, sunlight reflected off the lockers.
I walked along the edge, in no hurry, not looking at anyone.
I entered the classroom slowly. Seats were already being taken. My classmates, all in uniform, chatted among themselves, laughing and organizing their notebooks.
I looked toward the last desk by the window and went straight there. I always choose the same spot. Always the most isolated corner possible.
I sat down, placed my backpack between me and the aisle, and looked out the window. The noise of the classroom blended with the morning sun streaming through the glass. I stayed quiet, observing, not needing to do anything.
The teacher walked in a few minutes later, greeting everyone calmly. The noise died down. She adjusted her glasses and began handing out class materials.
Once everyone was settled, she raised her hand.
"Good morning, everyone. Before we begin, I have an important announcement."
I looked forward, curious, but kept the neutral expression I always wear.
"This year, we will have a transfer student coming directly from South America more specifically, from Brazil."
A murmur spread through the room. Some students exchanged looks, others whispered questions to each other.
She continued:
"I hope everyone will be understanding and help her get to know our country and school better."
My gaze drifted from the teacher and fixed on the desk in front of me, wondering who she might be.