The air was thick with tension. Blood stained the corners of the room and splattered across rusted metal beams. Faint rays of the evening sun slipped through gaps in the metal roof, casting thin slashes of light across the grimy floor. But in the center—where the sunlight couldn't reach—stood a lone wooden chair. A boy was tied to it.
He looked like a high schooler. His school uniform was stained with blood, dirt, and sweat. His head hung low, dark hair falling over his face, hiding his swollen features. A thin trail of red mixed with saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.
His eyes flickered toward the light breaking in from above. Weakly, in his mind, he pleaded, "P-please… let me out."
His breath came in heavy, trembling gasps—every inhale sounding like it hurt. With what little strength he had, he tried to move his hands, tied tight behind the chair. They barely budged.
It was no use.
"H-how did this happen…? I-I don't know who they are… Why? Why are they doing this? I just want to go home… I just want to go home…"
The thoughts twisted in his head until they escaped his lips in a fragile voice, louder this time. "Please… someone… please get me out of this hell."
Footsteps approached—quick, deliberate.
But it wasn't rescue.
A man emerged from the shadows, a cigarette tucked between his lips. Without a word, he stepped forward and slammed a fist into the boy's face. The chair toppled over with a loud crack as the boy hit the ground, blood now dripping freely.
"Shut up, you little brat," the man growled, his voice harsh. "You say one more word, I'll rip your tongue out."
Turning away, he pulled out a phone and made a call.
The boy didn't move. He just lay there, broken and silent.
One day before—
The morning sun shone brightly, casting golden light through the window of a modest bedroom. Inside, a boy stood in front of a mirror—his uniform crisp and new. It was the same boy, though his expression was much calmer than it would be just a day later.
He straightened his collar, took a deep breath, and said to himself, "Well… it's all set. Time to go."
He picked up his bag, gave himself one last glance in the mirror, and left the room.
As he walked along the quiet residential road, he gripped the strap of his school bag and thought, "Today's my first day of high school… Please, let everything go well. Not like last time."
A memory flashed—his first day of middle school: stepping in a roadside drain, arriving late, forgetting a textbook.
"That was the worst. But this time will be different. There's no way I'll be late—I've got a whole hour before school starts."
With that reassuring thought, he kept walking.
A few minutes later, he arrived at the school gates. It was still early. Only a handful of students were entering the grounds.
"Well, not many people here yet. I guess I'll be one of the first in the classroom."
As he stepped through the gate, a strange feeling crept over him. He paused and glanced around.
Is someone watching me?
But the path was empty. He shook off the unease and continued inside.
He stopped at the lockers, opening his to change into his indoor shoes. As he did, a girl appeared beside him. His eyes locked onto her for a moment. She was focused on her own locker.
She noticed his stare and smiled. "Hello."
He blinked, caught off guard. "O-oh, yes… Hello."
She pointed to the space he was blocking. "Can you move a bit? I need to put my shoes in."
"Ah, sorry." He stepped aside quickly.
As she changed her shoes, he glanced at her again, wondering, "Is she a first-year too?"
She left soon after, and the boy followed behind, now facing another problem—finding his classroom.
"Class 1-B… Class 1-B… Why is it so hard to find these rooms?"
As he wandered the hallway, he spotted the same girl again and hurried up to her. "Umm, excuse me?"
She turned and smiled again. "Oh, it's you from before."
"Yeah… Do you know where Class 1-B is?"
"You're a first-year?"
He nodded. "Yeah. First day."
"No problem. Follow me," she said cheerfully.
As they walked together, he watched her from the corner of his eye and thought,
"Didn't expect to meet a girl like her on my first day. I hope she's in my class…"
As they walked, the girl glanced over her shoulder. "By the way, what's your name?"
The boy straightened up slightly. "I'm Yuto Yamato."
She smiled. "So, Yuto, you're a first-year then."
He scratched the back of his neck, a little awkward. "Yeah…"
She stopped in front of a classroom door. "Well, here we are—Class 1-B."
Yuto looked up at the sign above the door, confirming it. "Thank you, Miss…"
"Oh!" she laughed lightly. "I didn't mention my name, did I? I'm Hana Fujimoto. Second year."
Second year? Yuto felt a pang of disappointment. For some reason, he'd hoped she'd be a classmate. But there wasn't much he could do.
Han gave a small wave. "Well, I'll be going now. Maybe we'll talk during break?"
"Ah—yes," Yuto replied quickly. "That'd be great."
She smiled one more time and turned to leave.
Yuto stepped into the classroom. As he walked toward a desk by the window, his thoughts trailed back to her. "She really… was beautiful…"
He slid into his seat. One by one, students began to enter, and the room slowly filled with noise and chatter. He glanced around at the unfamiliar faces, until his eyes settled on the boy who sat beside him.
The guy looked his age, but something about him was different. His eyes were sharp and cold, his posture straight, almost stiff. He didn't say a word—just stared forward.
"Who's this guy?" Yuto thought, staring for a moment. "Should I say something? Maybe just 'hey'?"
It felt dumb, but then again, he'd already talked to a complete stranger this morning. And she was a girl. How hard could it be to say hi to a guy?
He leaned a bit toward him. "Uh… hey. I'm Yuto. And you are…?"
Silence.
The boy turned his head, slowly, and stared at Yuto with those cold eyes.
No response.
Yuto blinked. "That was… weird." He sat back in his chair, unsure what to do. "Did I say something wrong? Was it too casual?" He glanced sideways again.
"What's with this guy?"
Before he could stew on it more, the door slid open with a metallic clack and the teacher stepped in, brushing chalk dust from her hands.
"Alright, settle down. This is your first day as first-years, so let's start simple. Introductions. Stand up, name, anything you want to say—keep it short, yeah?"
Chairs creaked, and the room buzzed with shifting bodies and nervous energy.
One by one, students stood up and introduced themselves. Some spoke too fast, others too quietly. Yuto tried to pay attention, matching names to faces, but his mind kept flicking back to the boy beside him—still silent, still unreadable.
Then a guy near the back stood, tall with dyed brown hair and a grin like he was up to something.
"I'm Haruki. I like sleep. So if I'm snoring in class, just... try not to take it personally, yeah?"
A few laughs echoed around the room.
Yuto blinked, grinning a little despite himself. At least someone's got some personality.
But then it was his turn.
The boy who hadn't replied.
Slowly, he stood.
For a moment, he didn't speak. His gaze swept across the room—not searching, just... observing. Detached.
Then, in a voice as flat and cold as steel, he said,
"Shouma."
That was all. No last name. No hobby. No joke.
And then he sat down again, like it didn't matter.
Yuto stared at him, trying to read something—anything—on his face. But it was like trying to see through ice. Too still. Too quiet.
So he does talk… even in front of the teacher, he's the same.
Shouma, this guy's really is different.
"Well… I guess some people are just like that," Yuto thought, glancing away. But honestly, his mind had already started to drift—to someone else entirely.
Hana.
He didn't know why, but… he really wanted to see her again.
Just then, the teacher stepped back in, clipboard in hand. "Alright. Now that we all know each other a little—let's begin."
With that, class moved on—notes, voices, and scribbled chalk across the board—until it was finally break time.
Yuto stretched in his seat, stood up, and muttered, "Break time already…"
He reached into his bag—then froze.
…Wait. I forgot my lunch.
"Agh, seriously? On the first day?" he sighed, slumping a bit. "That sucks…"
Just then, a voice came from beside him.
"You forgot your lunch too?"
Yuto turned and saw Haruki, grinning like it wasn't a big deal.
"Yeah," Yuto said with a small laugh, "first day and this already happens."
Haruki waved it off. "No need to sound so depressed. I forgot mine too. Wanna go to the cafeteria? I heard the food here's actually pretty good."
Yuto blinked. The cafeteria…
If I'm lucky, maybe I'll run into Hana-san there. That wouldn't be so bad.
He nodded. "Okay."
As they were about to leave the classroom, Yuto brushed past a few desks—Haruki already a few steps ahead. That's when he passed Shouma.
Without turning, Shouma leaned slightly and muttered, just loud enough for Yuto to hear:
"Watch your surroundings."
Yuto froze for a second, blinking. He turned to look—Shouma was already back in his seat, staring straight ahead like nothing had happened.
"Watch my surroundings?"
The words echoed in his head.
What was that supposed to mean? Or is he just messing around?
Yuto started to say something, but before he could take a step toward Shouma—
"Yo, what are you looking at? Let's go!" Haruki called, waving from the door.
Yuto glanced back at Shouma one last time. Still unreadable. Still distant.
This guy really makes no sense…
He shook the thought off and followed Haruki down the hallway. They made their way to the cafeteria, but after scanning the crowd once, Yuto sighed.
No sign of Hana.
They grabbed some food and climbed the stairs up to the rooftop—less noisy, more open. The breeze felt good.
Yuto sat with his tray, poking at his curry bread without much interest.
I wasn't able to see Hana-san…
Well, just my bad luck, I guess. Maybe I should stop thinking about her so much. She's probably way out of my league anyway.
"Oi, you spacing out?" Haruki asked, halfway through his rice ball.
"Huh? Nah. It's nothing," Yuto replied, forcing a small smile.
He leaned on the railing and let his gaze wander lazily over the school grounds—until something caught his eye.
Down by the gate, a few people stood clustered together. They weren't students. And they definitely didn't look like staff either.
Dark suits. Broad shoulders. Sharp eyes.
Yuto's chest clenched. They don't look like they belong here.
He didn't move, still seated, his eyes locked on the figures by the gate. He watched them for a moment, then slowly turned away—only for a thought to suddenly hit him.
Why did Shouma say that…?
"Watch your surroundings"... Did he know something?
Yuto glanced back at the men near the gate. Their sharp suits and stillness sent quiet alarms ringing in his mind.
Was he talking about them?
But… what would they have to do with me?
As Yuto stood there, still thinking about Shouma's words, something caught his eye.
The men in suits were already suspicious enough—but now, someone else was approaching them.
A girl.
Yuto squinted, leaning slightly forward over the railing to get a better look. For a second, he couldn't quite make out who it was. The sunlight was hitting at an angle, and the wind pushed her hair just enough to blur her face.
Following Yuto's gaze, Haruki raised an eyebrow.
"Huh? What are you looking at?" he asked, chewing. "Wait… who's that girl talking to those guys?"
Then, in a moment, Yuto's heart skipped.
The girl turned just enough for her face to come into view.
"…Hana?" he muttered, barely above a whisper.
Haruki caught it. "You know her?" he asked between bites, not fully catching the tension in Yuto's voice.
"Yeah," Yuto replied slowly, eyes still locked on her. "I saw her this morning…"
Haruki simply nodded. "Oh."
But Yuto wasn't really listening anymore. His focus was locked on Hana, and his thoughts had already started to spiral.
What business could she possibly have with men like that? They didn't look like teachers, and they definitely weren't school staff. Nothing about them felt normal.
He tried to look away, to brush it off as nothing—but his eyes stayed fixed, drawn back to them no matter how hard he tried.
That strange feeling in his chest from earlier… it wasn't nerves this time. It wasn't the awkwardness of a new day.
It was something else.
Something much closer to worry.