The next morning arrived quietly, as though the events of yesterday had never happened. The sun filtered through the dormitory curtains, flooding the corridors with warm light. For most of the first-years, it was just another school day—routine, ordinary, nothing to be afraid of. But for Class 1-D, the day would soon turn into something unforgettable.
By the time Arata Kurosawa stepped into the classroom, his expression remained the same as always: calm, unreadable, a faint air of disinterest. He slid into his seat, leaned his chin on one hand, and allowed his sharp eyes to scan the room. The chatter of his classmates washed over him like meaningless noise.
Haruto Minami, always cheerful, waved when he spotted Arata."Morning, Arata!" he said with a smile.Arata gave a minimal nod, offering nothing more.
Naomi Takahashi sat at her desk by the window, a book open before her. Though she seemed as cold as ever, her eyes flickered toward Arata for a second before quickly returning to the pages. Nobody else noticed, but Arata did. He always noticed.
Then the classroom door slid open. The usual noise died down slightly when Saeko Shizuru, their homeroom teacher, entered. Her sharp heels clicked against the floor, and she carried a clipboard tucked under her arm. Her expression was more severe than usual, lips pressed into a tight line.
"Good morning," she said.A half-hearted chorus of greetings followed.
"There's something important I must announce," Saeko continued, voice slicing through the air. "So listen carefully."
Before she could go on, a mocking laugh rang out."What could possibly be important when it comes from you?" Hiroshi Fujimoto leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk plastered across his face. "You're just a boring teacher who thinks she controls us. Give me a break."
A ripple of discomfort moved through the class. Some students giggled nervously, others avoided looking at Hiroshi altogether. Haruto frowned, clearly annoyed, while Naomi's lips pressed into a tighter line.
Saeko's gaze hardened as she looked at Hiroshi. So this is the one… she thought. Now I understand why Kurosawa requested his removal. His arrogance, his constant belittling of others, the way he treated school as his playground—he was poison.
"I see," Saeko said coldly. "It seems your own mouth is eager to confirm what I already know."
Her eyes swept across the room before she dropped the bombshell."Hiroshi Fujimoto will be expelled from this school."
For a second, silence consumed Class 1-D. It was as if the very air had frozen. Chairs creaked as students turned in disbelief. A girl dropped her pen. Someone whispered, "Did she just say expelled…?"
Arata didn't move. He didn't even blink. His eyes remained half-lidded, his face carved from stone. For him, this was inevitable.
Hiroshi shot up from his chair, slamming his fists against the desk."WHAT?! That's ridiculous!" he shouted, his voice cracking under rage and fear. "I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! Why the hell should I be expelled?!"
"You failed your exams, and your behavior consistently disrupts this class," Saeko answered matter-of-factly. "Your arrogance, your insults toward your classmates, and your refusal to show effort leave us no choice. Accept it. This decision is final."
"No!" Hiroshi's voice shook. He was desperate now. "This isn't fair! I won't leave! I don't care what you say, I'm not going anywhere!"
The class whispered anxiously. Some were relieved—after all, Hiroshi had always been a thorn in everyone's side. Others looked nervous, wondering if such a thing could happen to them too.
Then, the sound of a chair scraping echoed.
Everyone turned as Arata Kurosawa rose slowly from his seat. His movements were calm, deliberate. His footsteps echoed across the room as he walked toward Hiroshi, toward the teacher, toward the center of attention.
Haruto's eyes widened."Arata…?"
Naomi's fingers tightened around her book, her heart beating faster.
The entire class fell silent as Arata stopped right in front of Hiroshi. Their difference in presence was suffocating—Hiroshi's loud, panicked breathing versus Arata's quiet, unshaken calm.
Hiroshi's voice broke, desperate to defend himself."Do you have a problem with me too, Kurosawa?! Huh?!" He jabbed a trembling finger at him. "Don't think you're better than me just because you sit there acting cool all the time!"
Arata tilted his head slightly, and for the first time, his cold eyes locked directly onto Hiroshi's.
The class felt it instantly—a gaze so sharp and merciless it felt like blades digging into their skin. Some students swallowed hard, others looked away entirely. Even Haruto froze, unable to call out.
Arata's voice was soft, but it cut through the air like ice."Trash will always remain trash. So leave, and take your stench with you."
The words struck Hiroshi like a physical blow. His bravado crumbled. He stumbled a step back, shaking, as if Arata's presence alone was suffocating him.
"You…" Hiroshi's voice cracked, barely a whisper. His eyes darted wildly, unable to hold Arata's gaze any longer.
That was when Saeko stepped forward, gripping Hiroshi's arm."Enough," she said firmly. "You heard the decision. You're done here."
"No! No, let me go!" Hiroshi screamed, but his words were hollow now, his earlier arrogance reduced to pathetic pleading. His classmates watched in stunned silence, their faces pale.
Arata didn't flinch. He merely turned his back on Hiroshi, walking back to his desk as though he had swatted a fly.
Haruto stared, speechless. That wasn't just cold… it was terrifying.
Naomi's heart pounded in her chest. Her lips parted as though to say something, but no words came. Instead, she found herself gripping the edge of her desk, trembling slightly.
Hiroshi's shouts grew fainter as Saeko dragged him from the classroom. The door slid shut behind them. Silence lingered for a long moment, broken only by the faint rustle of clothes and the shallow breathing of stunned students.
Finally, someone whispered:"…He's gone."
Another added, "Kurosawa… did you see his eyes? That was… scary."
Arata leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral once more. It was as though nothing had happened at all. His classmates continued whispering about him, but he didn't care.
Haruto forced a smile, trying to lighten the tension, but even he couldn't shake the chill running down his spine. Naomi, on the other hand, couldn't stop glancing at Arata. His words to Hiroshi still echoed in her mind—Trash will always remain trash.
For her, it wasn't just terrifying. It was proof that Arata Kurosawa was not an ordinary boy. He was someone far more dangerous… and far more captivating.
"The Lonely Path"
The silence that lingered after Hiroshi's forced departure was suffocating. Even as the door slid shut and his fading screams were swallowed by the hallway, the atmosphere in Class 1-D remained tense. Students whispered in uneasy tones, some throwing wary glances at Arata, others simply staring at their desks, too shaken to speak.
Arata Kurosawa, however, sat motionless at his desk. His eyes rested on the faint light streaming in through the window, unbothered, as if nothing had happened. His stillness was unnerving. To the rest of the class, he was a mystery wrapped in shadows—cold, untouchable.
Haruto Minami couldn't hold it in any longer. He stood, his chair screeching softly against the floor, and walked over to Arata. The sound of his footsteps seemed to draw the attention of everyone else.
"Arata," Haruto said carefully, his voice low but firm, "why did you say something like that to Hiroshi?"
Arata turned his head slowly, meeting Haruto's questioning gaze with eyes as calm and sharp as steel. "Because his very nature disgusted me."
The bluntness of his answer made Haruto's jaw tighten. He hadn't expected such a cruelly honest response. "You mean… you couldn't stand him?"
"Yes." Arata's reply was quick, emotionless. "People like him… loud, arrogant, constantly belittling others. I have no patience for it."
A ripple of shock passed through the class. They weren't surprised Arata disliked Hiroshi—many of them did—but the way he said it, without hesitation, without care for how others might react, unsettled them.
Haruto frowned, trying to reach him. "But… you just want to be left alone, don't you? That's why you push people away?"
Arata's gaze dropped briefly, then returned to Haruto's. His words came out cool, almost too calm. "Yes. I've always been alone. So there's no need for anyone to greet me, or talk to me. Not even you, Haruto."
The classroom went utterly silent. Even the usual giggles and whispers died. For a moment, it felt as though every sound in the world had been swallowed.
"Wha…" Haruto's voice caught in his throat. His usual cheerful demeanor faltered, the corners of his smile trembling. "You're saying you've always… been alone?"
The class exchanged stunned looks. Some were confused, others uneasy.
Naomi Takahashi closed her book slowly. Her expression was unreadable at first, but as she rose from her seat, her eyes revealed something no one else expected. She walked toward Arata, each step deliberate, and stopped just in front of him.
"If you're always alone," Naomi said, her voice steady but softer than usual, "then… I want to be with you."
The words pierced the quiet like a spark. Gasps filled the room, and several girls whispered in disbelief. Naomi Takahashi, the icy beauty of Class 1-D—someone who rarely spoke to anyone, who rejected every boy who tried to approach her—had just declared that she wanted to be with Arata.
Haruto's mouth fell open. "Naomi…?"
Arata looked up at her, his expression unchanged, though his eyes flickered for a brief second, betraying a thought he didn't voice. She was serious. He could see it in her eyes—the vulnerability she tried to hide, the sincerity behind her words.
But Arata didn't soften. He stood slowly, his movements measured, and looked Naomi directly in the eyes.
"…I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but… it's impossible."
The final word landed heavily. Naomi's lips parted slightly, as though the air had been punched out of her chest. She tried to keep her expression composed, but her eyes wavered, a faint sadness slipping through.
Without another word, Arata turned and walked out of the classroom. His footsteps echoed until they faded down the hallway, leaving Naomi standing there, frozen, staring at the door.
A wave of murmurs swept through the class.
"Did you hear that? He rejected her…""Naomi actually confessed to someone…?""And he turned her down?!"
Haruto clenched his fists at his sides, frustration flickering across his usually warm features. "Why is he like that…? Is that really who Arata Kurosawa is? Someone who thinks he doesn't need anyone?"
Naomi slowly returned to her desk. Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her book again, but her eyes weren't on the page. They were distant, filled with unspoken determination. Arata's rejection had hurt her deeply, but it hadn't broken her. If anything, it only strengthened her resolve. If he thinks he doesn't need anyone… I'll prove him wrong.
Meanwhile, in the corridor outside, Arata walked alone, his hands in his pockets, his thoughts colder than his face let on.
All humans are the same. They mock, they betray, they laugh at weakness. Hiroshi was proof of that—but the rest of them aren't any different. They cling to each other because they fear being alone.
His footsteps echoed against the walls.
Friends? Companions? I've never had them, not once. To me, they're nothing but noise.
He paused by a window, gazing out at the clear sky. The sunlight cast long shadows across the hallway.
But still… His thoughts lingered on Haruto's words, on Naomi's voice. Is this… an opportunity? Or just another illusion waiting to crumble?
Arata's eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable once more. He pushed away the thought and continued walking, the image of a lone figure swallowed by the endless hallways of the school.
Back in Class 1-D, Haruto sat heavily in his seat, his mind clouded. "Arata… you're not just cold. You're hiding something, aren't you?"
Naomi closed her book, her heart still aching but burning with determination. Kurosawa Arata… I don't care what you say. I'll stay by your side, no matter how many times you push me away.
And so, while the rest of Class 1-D whispered about the mysterious boy who had just rejected the class beauty without hesitation, three things became clear: Haruto's confusion was growing, Naomi's heart was already bound to Arata, and Arata himself… was standing at the edge of something he wasn't ready to name.
The lonely path he had chosen was beginning to twist.
The sun was beginning to sink, its golden rays stretching long shadows across the quiet streets. Most students had already gone home, filling the sidewalks earlier in noisy groups, their laughter echoing in the distance. Now, only silence remained, broken occasionally by the sound of cicadas and the rustle of leaves swaying in the early evening breeze.
Arata Kurosawa walked alone, his bag slung over one shoulder, his steps steady and unhurried. His eyes, as always, reflected little—calm, detached, as if the world itself was nothing more than a fleeting scenery.
He had just come from the library, where he spent hours flipping through old philosophy books and volumes of history that most students wouldn't dare to touch. To him, silence and knowledge were more comforting than the meaningless chatter of classmates.
But as he turned down a narrow street lined with vending machines and utility poles, something caught his attention.
Ahead, a group of boys had gathered, their rowdy voices cutting through the still air. They surrounded a girl, blocking her path. The girl stood stiffly, her back straight but her face tight with unease.
Arata slowed his steps, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Tch. Just another pathetic scene.
But then his gaze landed on the girl's face, and for the first time that day, his thoughts wavered.
Wait… I've seen her before.
Her long dark hair shimmered in the evening light, and her eyes—though wide with discomfort—held a quiet strength. Recognition clicked in Arata's mind.
Sayaka Fujimoto… from Class 1-B. Haruto mentioned her once. So why is she here, cornered by idiots like them?
The boys leaned closer, their laughter crude.
"C'mon, don't be shy. We're just trying to talk.""Yeah, don't be so cold. A pretty girl like you should smile more."
Sayaka's voice was calm but firm. "I told you, I'm not interested. Please, move aside."
But her words only made them grin wider. One of them, taller than the rest, reached out a hand toward her shoulder.
Arata's eyes hardened instantly. He recognized the boy.
…Haruto's so-called "friends."
That alone was enough. Arata's steps carried him forward without hesitation.
Before the boy's hand could touch Sayaka, another hand gripped his wrist—cold, firm, unyielding.
The boy froze.
"What the hell—" he began, but the words died in his throat when he looked up.
Arata Kurosawa's eyes bored into his with a chilling intensity. They were sharp, almost predatory, and yet utterly calm, as though he were staring into the depths of the boy's soul.
"What," Arata said flatly, his voice like a blade, "do you think you're doing?"
The boy's breath caught. For a second, it felt as if the air had thickened, suffocating him. The other boys shifted uncomfortably, their bravado faltering under that gaze.
"I—I was just—"
Arata tightened his grip ever so slightly, enough to make the boy flinch. "Leave."
It wasn't a request. It was an order.
The boy yanked his wrist back, stumbling slightly. Without another word, he turned and bolted, his friends scrambling after him. Their hurried footsteps echoed down the street until silence reclaimed the air.
Arata released a slow breath and turned his gaze toward the girl.
Sayaka Fujimoto was watching him with wide eyes, her posture tense but her expression softening.
"…Are you alright?" Arata asked, his tone calm, almost detached.
Sayaka blinked, then nodded slowly. "Yes… I'm fine. Thanks to you." She paused, her voice quieter now. "But… I feel like I've seen you before."
Arata studied her for a moment before replying. "We have met. I'm Haruto's friend."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Haruto's… friend? Oh, I see."
Arata gave a small nod, already shifting his gaze away. "That's all. But why are you here? Most students already went home."
Sayaka tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice still calm but carrying a hint of unease. "I had some errands to run. I didn't expect something like this to happen…" She hesitated, then looked at him curiously. "But why are you here? You don't seem the type to wander around after school."
Arata adjusted the strap of his bag, his voice cool and simple. "Library. I stayed longer than usual."
"I see…" Sayaka's eyes softened. "And you just happened to see me being bothered."
"Exactly." Arata's gaze sharpened again, but only for a moment. "And since you're Haruto's friend, I couldn't just ignore it."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Arata gave a small nod, as if closing the conversation.
"Anyway. That's all. See you."
With that, he turned and began walking away, his back already fading into the evening light.
Sayaka stood still, watching his retreating figure. She pressed a hand lightly against her chest, surprised at the rhythm she felt.
Why… is my heart beating so fast?
She bit her lip slightly, her eyes following him until he disappeared around the corner. She didn't understand it. She had faced unwanted attention before, and yet this time felt different. The boy who had stepped in for her… the way he looked at those guys, the way his presence silenced them instantly…
It wasn't kindness. It wasn't even anger. It was something colder, something that shouldn't have made her feel this way.
And yet—her heart refused to calm down.
Meanwhile, Arata walked in silence, his expression as calm as ever, though his thoughts drifted briefly to the encounter.
Sayaka Fujimoto. Haruto's friend. Someone like her will only cause trouble if I get too close. Better to leave it at this.
His steps carried him deeper into the dusk, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the quiet street.
Behind him, though he didn't know it yet, Sayaka's heart had begun to stir.
And with that, another thread quietly tied itself into the tangled web of Kurosawa Arata's solitary life.