(Japanese Title: なぜ僕なの?)
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> "Kurose-kun… why do you always sit by the window?"
Her voice was soft. Curious, not invasive.
I paused. The sunlight fell behind her like a halo.
> "Because," I answered without looking at her, "it's the quietest place."
She laughed.
> "I like the quiet too."
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Airi Tachibana—the girl adored by everyone.
Smart, bright, effortlessly kind.
Even the teachers looked at her like she was a gift from heaven.
She could talk to anyone.
So why talk to me?
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I'd never given anyone a reason to notice me.
Long, messy hair covering half my face.
Slouched posture. Quiet voice.
Average grades. Zero club activities.
The perfect disguise.
And yet—
She saw through it.
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> "Kurose-kun," she said the next day, "I saw your math sheet. You erased a correct answer and wrote the wrong one."
I froze.
> "...You were looking at my paper?"
> "I wasn't trying to. But you erased x = 7 and changed it to x = 5, even though 7 was right."
I looked away. My hand clenched on the desk.
> "You could've gotten full marks, right?"
I didn't answer. She didn't push.
But I knew—
She understood something others never noticed.
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After school, I walked alone through the city.
My usual route took me past the old bookstore, through the side alley, then up to my apartment on the 14th floor.
Luxury. Silent. Safe.
Inside, the scent of coffee beans and mint drifted through the air.
I dropped my bag, opened the fridge, and grabbed protein water.
Then I pulled my shirt off and stood in front of the mirror.
Lean abs. Defined chest. Broad shoulders.
Not a flaw in sight.
But no one at school would know.
Because I kept it that way.
> "Why show anything… when people only chase what they can see?"
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That night, Airi messaged me.
I didn't give her my number.
But somehow—she found me on the school app.
> Airi: "Hey. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable today."
Airi: "I just… thought you were more interesting than you let on."
My heart skipped.
No one had said that before.
> Me: "I'm not interesting."
Airi: "That's what interesting people always say."
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The next day, she sat beside me during lunch.
> "You don't have to talk," she said, unwrapping her bento.
"I'll just eat here. Is that okay?"
I nodded once.
She smiled—and stayed.
And for the first time in years,
I didn't eat alone.
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