By the second period, I realized no one really knew what to make of me.

  Some stared openly. Some avoided eye contact. A few whispered behind raised hands.

  I wasn’t used to that.

  In the Katsuragi world, people spoke to your name, not your face. Here, no one knew the name. I wasn’t a Katsuragi. Just Minami. A boy with decent posture and expensive shoes.

  Still, the silence wasn’t hostile. Just… cautious.

  I opened my notebook and copied the blackboard notes word for word. Muscle memory. Years of discipline. My handwriting looked too neat next to the others’.

  During break, I stayed seated.

  Sugimura leaned back, one arm slung lazily over the backrest.

  “So, Minami. Where’d you transfer from?”

  I hesitated. “Private school.”

  “Figures. You sit like you’re in a tea ceremony.”

  A few people nearby laughed. Not mean-spirited. Just amused.

  I relaxed a little.

  “You play any sports?” he asked.

  “I used to do martial arts. And kendo.”

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  That got a small whistle.

  “Whoa, samurai vibes. Cool. We’ve got a basketball team. You should try out.”

  I nodded, noncommittally.

  Inside, something flinched at the idea. Not because I disliked sports. But because I didn’t know how to do them just for fun.

  Katsuragi training had made every activity a performance. Every move a judgment.

  Could I even pick up a ball without waiting for someone to grade me?

  ?　?　?

  Lunchtime came faster than I expected.

  I’d brought a bento—homemade by Father. Rice, sausages shaped like octopus, an egg that was still a little runny.

  It was a mess.

  But it made me smile.

  I opened the lid quietly, unsure if anyone noticed. The girl sitting diagonally in front of me did.

  She had shoulder-length hair, soft features, and a quiet presence that reminded me of the scent of spring rain.

  She glanced at my bento, then smiled.

  “Did you make that yourself?”

  “My dad did,” I said.

  She blinked, then laughed softly. “He’s brave.”

  I looked down. “Yeah.”

  “I’m Hayasaka. You?”

  “Minami.”

  “Nice to meet you, Minami-kun.”

  Her voice was gentle but not timid. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Just being real.

  That… was new.

  A few minutes later, Sugimura dragged his chair over and began rambling about the latest anime episode. Someone else joined in, and suddenly I was in a conversation I hadn’t rehearsed.

  I listened more than I spoke.

  But it felt okay.

  ?　?　?

  After school, I wandered past the gym on my way home.

  Voices echoed through the doors. The sound of sneakers on wood. Shouts. Laughter. That unmistakable rhythm of a basketball bouncing.

  I paused.

  Watched through the small window.

  Sugimura was in there, running drills with three others. He wasn’t amazing, but he moved like he enjoyed it. No pressure. Just sweat and rhythm and camaraderie.

  Then I heard someone shout his name.

  He passed the ball. A quick cut, a rebound, and then a lazy jump shot.

  Missed.

  They all laughed.

  No one scolded. No one frowned.

  They just kept playing.

  I stood there longer than I meant to.

  Something inside me wanted to open the door. Step in. Try.

  But I didn’t.

  Not yet.

  Not today.

  Instead, I walked home, the sound of their sneakers echoing in my chest like a drum I couldn’t quite march to.

  To be continued…