I didn’t sleep much the night before my first day.

  Not because I was anxious—though I was—but because of how quiet everything had become.

  Our new apartment was nothing like the old house. No echo of footsteps in the hallway, no sliding of shoji screens at 6 a.m., no morning ritual of maids entering with pressed uniforms and perfectly prepared meals.

  Here, the silence wasn’t structured. It felt… unfinished.

  Cardboard boxes still lined the hallway. The walls were bare, except for the cheap calendar Father had hung above the dining table. March. A photo of sakura trees that looked too bright, too filtered.

  The only sound was the hum of the old refrigerator and Father rustling around the kitchen.

  “Toast or toast?” he called.

  I blinked, sitting up on the futon.

  “That’s not a choice,” I said.

  “It is when I burn one side and undercook the other. Variety.”

  I dragged myself up and moved to the kitchen. Father stood in his office slacks and a wrinkled white shirt, tie still hanging loose around his neck, grinning as if he were hosting a cooking show.

  There was no table, just a folding chair and the top of a moving box. Two plates with toast. One had a burnt corner. The other was pale and floppy.

  I took the burnt one.

  He noticed but said nothing.

  ?　?　?

  The school uniform felt stiff. Mass-produced fabric, not tailored. The collar itched slightly.

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  I adjusted it four times before giving up.

  Father drove me to the station, not speaking much. I think he was more nervous than I was. His fingers tapped the wheel the entire ride. When we arrived, he parked and looked at me like he wanted to say something profound—but settled for a hand on my shoulder.

  “You don’t need to be anyone today,” he said quietly. “Just be.”

  The train ride was short.

  I stood near the door, clutching the strap as the scenery blurred past. Rows of houses, vending machines, a group of elementary kids laughing too loud.

  For the first time in my life, I was going somewhere without anyone expecting anything of me.

  And somehow, that scared me more than all the ceremonies I’d ever stood through.

  ?　?　?

  Hoshigahara Unified School didn’t look like much.

  The entrance gate was chipped. The courtyard had patches of overgrown grass and a few broken benches. A group of students huddled near the vending machines, some laughing, some glued to their phones.

  I stood at the gate for a full minute.

  Not because I was lost—just… unsure how to step into this world.

  Eventually, a teacher spotted me. Middle-aged, short hair, slightly stained shirt collar.

  “You must be the transfer student. Minami, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Hirano-sensei. Come with me.”

  He led me through the hallways, which smelled faintly of disinfectant and pencil shavings. The walls were lined with faded posters—club notices, cultural festival photos, a faded “No Running” sign with scribbles all over it.

  I was led to Class 6-2.

  Hirano-sensei opened the door and stepped inside first.

  “Alright, settle down. We’ve got a new student joining us starting today. Come on, eyes front.”

  I heard the scraping of chairs. A few murmurs.

  Then he waved me in.

  I walked to the front, my footsteps unusually loud against the tile floor.

  “This is Minami Souta-kun,” Hirano-sensei said. “He’ll be with us from now on. Be nice.”

  The class was silent.

  Twenty-something pairs of eyes scanned me. I caught a few raised brows, a whisper exchanged between two girls in the back. One guy leaned forward, squinting like I was a puzzle to solve.

  I bowed.

  “I’m Minami Souta. Nice to meet you.”

  Polite. Short. Safe.

  “Alright, Minami, take the open seat next to Sugimura.”

  He pointed.

  Third row, by the window.

  I walked over and sat down. Sugimura, a tall guy with messy hair gave a nod.

  “Yo.”

  I nodded back.

  He immediately went back to scribbling in his notebook.

  I exhaled quietly.

  So this was it.

  My new life.

  No Katsuragi name.

  No expectations.

  Just a boy in a blue blazer, sitting in an average chair in an average classroom, trying to feel like any of this made sense.

  To be continued…