[Makuyo Yuki (MC) POV]
The morning sun peeked through the sheer curtains, casting bright streaks of light across my room. I sat up in bed, stretching my arms until my shoulders gave a satisfying pop, and stared at the neatly hung Yasogami High uniform on my closet door.
Every fiber of my being wanted to roll right back under the blankets, grab a controller, and skip the entire day. But as tempting as playing truant was, sitting at home wasn't going to help me get ahead of the timeline.
'If I actually want to change how things play out in this town, I need to be where the people are.'
Sighing in mild defeat, I threw on the uniform, left the jacket open to show off the casual white shirt underneath, and gave the silver hoop in my left ear a quick adjust in the mirror. After grabbing a quick piece of toast, I stepped out into the fresh morning air and began the walk up the hill toward the school.
As I neared the entrance of the school grounds, a lone figure standing by a telephone pole caught my eye.
Hunched over with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, the boy was staring intently at the students passing through the gate. He had sunken, shadowy eyes, a messy bowl cut, and a creepy, alienated expression that practically screamed social outcast. It was impossible to mistake him: Mitsuo Kubo.
I didn't hesitate. Putting on a bright, relaxed grin, I veered off the main path and walked straight up to him.
"Morning! Nice weather today, isn't it?"
Mitsuo flinched violently, his shoulders jerking up to his ears as he snapped his head toward me. He looked left, then right, completely stunned that someone was actually speaking directly to him.
"H-Huh? Are you... talking to me?" he muttered, his voice raspy and defensive.
"Of course I am," I laughed, extending a hand. "I'm Makuyo Yuki. First-year. Don't think I've seen you around much."
Mitsuo stared at my outstretched hand for several seconds before awkwardly giving it a limp, hesitant shake. "Mitsuo. Mitsuo Kubo."
"Nice to meet you, Mitsuo. You looked a little bored standing out here. What kind of games are you into? You seem like the type who plays a ton of RPGs or retro stuff."
Mitsuo's dull eyes flickered with genuine surprise, a faint spark of life cutting through his creepy exterior. "I... yeah. I play a lot of online games. Mostly hardcore stuff. Nobody around here really gets it."
"Hey, I play plenty myself," I replied with an easy smile, chatting with him for a few minutes about recent console releases and online lobbies.
Watching him stumble through his awkward sentences, I felt a quiet resolve settle in my chest.
'Right now, he's just a lonely, bitter kid desperate for someone to acknowledge him. Even if King Moron is an absolute asshole of a teacher down the line, nobody deserves to get murdered, and Mitsuo doesn't deserve to throw his entire life away for recognition.'
"Tell you what, Mitsuo," I said, offering a wide grin. "Let's trade contact info and play some co-op games later tonight. I've got a part-time job at the gas station until six, so how about we hop on around seven?"
Mitsuo blinked, his jaw dropping slightly as a strange, relieved expression crossed his face.
"R-Really? Around seven? Yeah... yeah, alright. I'll be on."
"Awesome. Catch you later, Mitsuo!"
I waved goodbye and turned toward the school gates. As I walked, I couldn't help a wry chuckle. Scheduling our game session for seven o'clock meant my meetup with Ken and Koromaru at six would have to be fairly short, but an hour was plenty of time to catch up and talk.
Just as I stepped onto the main plaza toward the school building, a frantic, high-pitched scream ripped through the morning air.
"WHOAAAAAA! BRAKES ARE DEAD! OUT OF THE WAAAAAY!"
A bicycle came barreling down the gentle slope at terrifying speed. Yosuke Hanamura was desperately gripping the handlebars, his eyes wide with sheer panic as he careened off-course and slammed straight into a metal trash receptacle.
CLANG!
The collision sent Yosuke tumbling over the handlebars into the dirt. With a loud pop, the front tire snapped clean off the fork and went rolling merrily down the path.
"Ow, ow, ow..." Yosuke groaned from the pavement, sitting up with grass stuck in his hair before spotting his detached wheel bouncing into the distance.
"NOOOO! MY BIKE! ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?! WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?!"
I couldn't help a quiet chuckle as I jogged over across the plaza toward the crumpled bicycle and the overturned trash bin.
"Hey, you alright there, man? That looked like a pretty rough landing."
Yosuke groaned, dusting gravel off his knees as he scrambled up to inspect the damage. He rubbed the back of his neck, his face burning with embarrassment under the curious stares of a few passing students.
"Ow... yeah, I'm alive. Just my pride and my wallet taking massive critical damage," he muttered, waving a hand dismissively before pausing to blink at me. "Wait, who're you? Don't think I've seen you around the halls before."
"I'm Makuyo Yuki. Just started as a first-year," I said with an easy, cheerful grin, bending down to grab his stray backpack from the dirt and handing it over.
"Ah, a freshman. I'm Yosuke. Yosuke Hanamura, second-year," he replied, taking the bag with a grateful nod before sighing at the sight of his detached front wheel. "Man, my dad's gonna kill me for wrecking another bike..."
"Well, it's good to meet you, Hanamura-senpai," I said smoothly. "Need a hand carrying that frame to the bike racks before the bell rings?"
Yosuke's eyes lit up slightly at the polite 'senpai' title, a proud, goofy smirk briefly replacing his miserable expression. "Oh, hey! Respectful, I like it! Nah, I can just lean it against the rack for now. Let's head inside before Morooka catches me standing around out here."
We walked side by side through the main entrance, swapping our outdoor shoes for indoor slippers at the getabako lockers. Yosuke kept up a steady stream of chatter, venting about how rural Inaba was compared to the city and how busy his family's store, Junes, had been lately.
"Alright, this is where I head up. Catch you around, Yuki-kun," Yosuke said with a wave, heading toward the central staircase leading to the second-year classrooms.
"See you later, Hanamura-senpai."
Watching him walk up the stairs, I turned down the first-year hallway and found my assigned classroom.
The moment I slid open the door, the ambient chatter inside suddenly dipped. A few students near the front turned around, hushed whispers breaking out among the desks.
"...wait, is that Yuki?"
"...the guy who's been skipping since the opening ceremony?"
"...he actually came to class today?"
I just gave a relaxed smile, completely unbothered by the stares, and made my way toward the back of the room to find my seat. As I scanned the desks near the window, my eyes landed on a very familiar, imposing figure slouched in the far back corner.
Bleached-blond hair, an intimidating scowl, and his school uniform jacket completely unbuttoned to reveal his skull-patterned undershirt. Kanji Tatsumi was sitting right there with his arms crossed, staring out the window with an intense aura that kept every other student at least two desks away from him.
'Wait... Kanji is in my class?!'
I checked the seating chart taped to the podium and realized my assigned seat was just two desks directly ahead of him.
Walking over, I pulled out my chair and dropped my bag onto the hook. Instead of walking past him with averted eyes like the rest of our classmates, I leaned slightly over the back of my chair and gave him a casual wave.
"Hey, Kanji. Didn't expect to see you in here today."
Kanji snapped his head toward me, looking startled before his sharp scowl softened into mild surprise. He rubbed the back of his head, looking a little awkward beneath his tough-guy front.
"Oh... Makuyo. Didn't think you ever showed up to this place either."
"Just taking it easy, honestly," I replied with a light chuckle, leaning back in my chair. "Had some stuff to handle, but I figured I might as well see what high school classes actually feel like."
Kanji stared at me for a second, scratching his cheek in mild confusion before letting out a gruff grunt. "Hmph. Ain't missing much."
"Fair enough, but at least the chairs aren't terrible," I grinned.
Before Kanji could reply, the morning chime echoed through the intercom, and the classroom door slid open with a harsh rattle. Our homeroom teacher walked in, slamming a stack of printouts onto the podium. Everyone straightened up, and I turned around to face forward.
When the midday chime finally rang out, the room instantly erupted into lively chatter. Desks were shoved together, bento boxes were unstacked, and groups formed in every corner.
I grabbed the convenience store lunch I'd picked up earlier, stood up, and casually walked two desks back, pulling out the empty chair across from Kanji and sitting down with a thud.
Kanji froze mid-bite, his chopsticks hovering in the air as he glared at me with wide, bewildered eyes.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low, defensive rumble. "Why are you sitting here?"
"What do you mean?" I popped open the lid of my chicken katsu bowl. "We're friends now, obviously. Where else am I gonna eat?"
Kanji choked slightly on his rice, his face turning a little red as he looked away, clearly not used to someone being this blunt with him. "...Tch. Whatever, do what you want."
As I chewed, my eyes caught a small, intricate patch sewn onto the side seam of Kanji's school bag sitting by his feet. The embroidery was tight, precise, and completely seamless—way too neat to be factory-made or a quick fix.
"Hey, did you sew that patch yourself?" I asked casually, nodding toward the bag.
Kanji's entire body went rigid. The color instantly drained from his face before rushing back in a furious, crimson wave. His grip on his chopsticks tightened so hard the wood groaned.
"H-HUH?! What the hell kinda question is that?!" he snapped, leaning forward with his most menacing glare, practically bristling with hostility. "You trying to pick a fight with me?! Who said I do sissy crap like sewing?!"
I didn't flinch at the scowl, casually swallowing my food before looking him right in the eye.
"Nobody's picking a fight, man. I was just asking because the stitching looked really good," I said calmly, leaning an elbow on the desk. "You're obviously good at it."
Kanji's aggressive posture completely stalled. His jaw slackened, his eyes darting across my face to see if there was any hidden sarcasm or ridicule.
"Look, there's nothing feminine or masculine about making things with your hands or doing what you like," I continued with an easy, honest shrug. "It simply matters whether you enjoy it or not. As long as it makes you happy and isn't hurting anyone else, who gives a damn what other people label it?"
Kanji sat completely motionless.
The tense, defensive hunch in his broad shoulders slowly melted away. He looked down at his desk, his fingers loosening their death grip on his chopsticks as the words sank in. It was obvious nobody had ever spoken to him about his hobbies with basic, straightforward respect.
"...You're a weird guy, Makuyo," he muttered after a long silence, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward, genuine faint smirk. "Most people just run their mouths."
"People talk too much about things they don't understand anyway," I smiled, digging back into my lunch.
We spent the rest of the break just shooting the breeze about normal stuff—local food spots, how dull the town felt sometimes, and our favorite snacks. He was rough around the edges, but behind the tough facade, he was remarkably easy to get along with.
DING-DONG-DANG-DONG.
The afternoon chime rang through the speakers, signaling the end of lunch.
The remaining class periods dragged on through a blur of geography maps, English vocabulary drills, and endless note-taking. By the time the final bell finally echoed across the campus, my legs were practically itching to move from sitting behind a desk for hours.
I didn't waste a single second. I shoved my notebooks into my bag, zipped it shut, and bolted straight down the hallway. Swapping into my outdoor shoes at the lockers in record time, I kicked open the heavy glass exit doors and sprinted out into the courtyard under the wide-open sky.
"FREEDOM!!!"