The first morning bell was a shock to the system, a harsh, electronic screech that tore through the fragile peace of the dorm. Boys groaned, blankets were thrown back, and the room erupted into a blur of motion. I lay frozen for a second, my heart pounding, before scrambling out of bed.
To my surprise, Ryūnosuke was already dressed, his uniform crisp. He glanced at me as I fumbled with my buttons. "The bathroom line gets long," he said, his voice not exactly warm, but devoid of yesterday's ice. It was a simple, factual statement. An observation. But it was the first time he'd spoken to me without being prompted since we arrived.
It wasn't an apology or a sudden declaration of brotherly love, but it was something. A tiny crack in the wall. I just nodded, muttering a quick "Thanks," before rushing to join the queue.
The walk to the main academic building was a silent affair, but the tension had eased. We fell into step, two tall silhouettes moving through the morning mist that clung to the school grounds. It felt less like a forced march and more like a quiet, mutual understanding to navigate this new world together, even if we weren't going to talk about it.
Our first class was History. The room was old, smelling of chalk dust and old wood. I took a seat near the middle, and Ryūnosuke slid into a desk a row ahead and to the right. As the room filled, I did a quick scan. The repeaters were easy to spot, clustered at the back with a lazy confidence. But my eyes were drawn to the front. To him.
He was the calm student I'd noticed yesterday. He sat perfectly still, his back straight, his hands folded on the desk. While everyone else fidgeted or whispered, he was a pool of utter stillness. He wasn't just quiet; he was calm. Rally calm. Like the chaos of a new school year couldn't even touch him. He gave no fckk or shiuuiii about proving himself to anyone. I fcknn wanted to be like that. To have that kind of peace inside.
The teacher, a stern-faced man with glasses, entered and the room hushed. He placed his briefcase on the desk and began calling roll from a list. The names droned on, a monotonous rhythm. "Fujita, Himari." "Ishikawa, Ren." "Kobayashi, Akira." My mind started to wander again.
Then the teacher called, "Nakamura, Kaito."
The calm student at the front raised his hand with a slight, efficient motion. "Here."
The teacher moved on, but I didn't. I stared at the back of Kaito Nakamura's head. Now I had a name to go with the calmness. Kaito. I looked at his profile as he glanced down at his notebook. Sharp jaw, clear features. A thought, clear and simple, popped into my head. Handsome.
I quickly looked down at my own desk, my cheeks warming. I couldn't believe I just thought that. But it was true.
Later, the dining hall for lunch was its usual cacophony. Ryūnosuke and I got our food—a simple bowl of udon—and were looking for a spot when we heard a familiar voice.
"Kurosawa twins! Over here!"
It was Kenji Suzuki, waving enthusiastically from a table. We walked over. As we sat down, Ryūnosuke spoke, his voice low but firm. "Don't call us that. We're not twins."
Kenji blinked, then burst out laughing, not offended in the slightest. "Okay, okay! My bad! The tall, silent Kurosawa brothers, then. Better?"
Ryūnosuke gave a single, short nod. "Better."
"Fine by me! So, Haru, Ryūnosuke, this is Arata," Kenji said, gesturing to a guy with spiky hair and a constant grin, "and the quiet one is Kiyoshi." Kiyoshi offered a small, polite smile.
Arata leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, first day. Seen anyone interesting yet? Any cute kohais you've got your eyes on?" He looked directly at me when he said it.
I felt my face instantly heat up. I shoved a too-large bite of udon into my mouth to avoid answering. "Mmmph," I managed, hoping he'd drop it.
Kenji came to my rescue, laughing. "Leave him alone, Arata. He's still figuring out where the bathrooms are." He turned to Ryūnosuke. "What about you, man? Think you'll try out for any clubs? Basketball, maybe? With your height, you'd be a natural."
Ryūnosuke considered this for a moment, chewing his food slowly. "Maybe," he said, which from him was practically a long-winded speech of interest.
Kiyoshi, the quiet one, spoke up softly. "The archery club is good. It's quiet. The captain, Ishikawa-senpai, is strict but fair." He looked at me. "You might like it, Haru. It requires... focus." There was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he'd noticed my wandering attention in class.
The conversation flowed around me, and I mostly listened, nodding along. They talked about which teachers were easy, which ones would pile on homework, and the best time to use the showers to avoid the rush. It was normal. It was exactly the kind of late-night talk my siblings had described, just happening over lunch. I even caught Ryūnosuke listening intently, his eyes following the conversation. He didn't contribute much, but he was present. He was here.
Our first prep session in the library that afternoon was a welcome quiet. I found a table and spread out my books. Ryūnosuke, after a moment's hesitation, sat at the far end. We didn't speak, but his presence was no longer a cold weight; it was just a fact. I tried to focus on my math equations, but my mind kept drifting back to the dining hall. To Arata's teasing question, to Kiyoshi's surprisingly perceptive suggestion about archery, and to the brief, firm way Ryūnosuke had spoken up for himself. It was kind of cool.
Dinner that night felt more familiar. We sat with Kenji's group again. The conversation was louder, more relaxed.
"Okay, serious question," Arata announced, pointing his chopsticks at us. "Best flavor of Pocari Sweat. Go."
"Regular," Ryūnosuke said instantly, without looking up from his rice.
"Boring!" Arata groaned. "Haru? You look like a guy with more taste."
"Uhm... grape?" I ventured.
"Acceptable!" Arata declared. "See, Ryūnosuke? Your brother has style."
This time, when a group of third-years entered, my eyes were drawn to them again. I saw the handsome one from before, and my stomach did that little flip again. But I didn't look away as quickly. I just watched for a moment, taking it in, while Kenji and Arata debated the merits of melon vs. yogurt drink.
Walking back to the dorm, the air was cool. Kenji and Arata were arm-wrestling over which building had the spookiest ghost story, and Kiyoshi was calmly listing historical facts that disproved both of their theories. For the first time, the silence between me and Ryūnosuke felt comfortable, not heavy. It was the silence of two people who had survived their first day.
Lying in bed that night, the world of Akatani Academy felt different. It was starting to have shapes and names. There was Kaito Nakamura, the calm, handsome one. There was the unknown handsome senpai. There were Kenji, the friendly foreigner; Arata, the energetic joker; and Kiyoshi, the quiet observer. And there was Ryūnosuke, who wasn't so bad after all.
The adventure was no longer just about escaping; it was about exploring this new landscape, one handsome face, one conversation, one quiet moment at a time. And I was finally ready to look.
END OF CHAP 3