Silence returned as Miss Aizawa finished her introduction. She walked to the desk at the front of the room, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. The air felt charged, like the seconds after lightning—bright, still, and heavy with something new.

  Haruto leaned over to me, whispering, "Bro. If she teaches math, I might actually pay attention this year."

  I didn't respond. My mind was stuck on the way her eyes had met mine. It was probably nothing. Maybe she was just scanning the room. But something about that moment had lingered in my chest longer than it should have.

  "Alright," Miss Aizawa said, pcing her folders neatly on the desk. "Let's do introductions. Stand, say your name, and something short about yourself."

  Groans spread across the room like a wave.

  She smiled. "Yes, I know. But I'd like to remember your names properly—and maybe learn something interesting about you."

  The first few students stood and gave their names. Hobbies, favorite foods, clubs. I wasn't listening too closely. I was too busy rehearsing what I'd say. Or maybe trying to convince myself I wouldn't completely embarrass myself.

  Haruto went before me, of course.

  "Haruto Takeda," he said, fshing his trademark grin. "I py soccer, I'm the css energy source, and I have perfect attendance at the convenience store."

  Laughter. Even Miss Aizawa chuckled.

  "Thank you, Haruto," she said, writing something quickly in her notebook. "I'll expect recommendations for good snacks, then."

  Then it was my turn.

  I stood up slowly. My chair scraped the floor a bit too loudly.

  "Uh... Neo Kurosawa," I said. "I don't really... have anything special. I guess I like music?"

  Miss Aizawa looked up. "Any particur kind?"

  I hesitated. "Old anime openings, mostly."

  A small ripple of ughter again—softer this time. Miss Aizawa smiled, and I could've sworn it was just for me.

  "Cssic," she said, nodding. "Thank you, Neo."

  I sat down before I said anything else stupid.

  ?

  After introductions, she handed out schedules and general rules for the year. Club participation, cleaning duties, exam dates. My brain only half-absorbed the words. I was too focused on the way she moved when she spoke. Confident. Calm. Like she owned the room without even trying.

  At one point, I caught myself staring. She turned in that exact moment and looked right at me again.

  I blinked and quickly looked down.

  Haruto elbowed me. "Bro. That's the second time she's looked at you like that."

  "Like what?"

  "Like you're the only kid in the room who speaks her secret nguage."

  I rolled my eyes. "You've been watching too many dramas."

  ?

  We were finally dismissed to roam the school during break. I grabbed my bag and followed Haruto toward the vending machines on the first floor.

  "Alright," he said as we cracked open some canned coffees. "Let's talk about priorities. Club activities. Social ranking. And girls."

  "I thought you said you were focusing on soccer this year?"

  "I can multi-task," he said proudly. "But you—you're the wild card."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You're mysterious, bro. You got the 'quiet guy' vibe. Girls eat that up—especially when you don't try too hard."

  "I'm not trying at all," I said ftly.

  "Exactly," he said with a wink.

  ?

  Back in the cssroom, I found someone had already taken my seat.

  A girl with short auburn hair and headphones around her neck was leaned over my desk, drawing in a sketchbook. She looked up as I approached.

  "Oh," she said, not moving. "Is this your seat?"

  "Uh... yeah."

  She didn't move immediately. "Sorry. I just like the lighting by the window. Good for sketching."

  I looked over at the seat beside mine. It was empty.

  "You can stay," I offered. "I'll just sit next to you."

  That got her attention. She looked at me properly this time—light brown eyes, slightly freckled cheeks. Not the type who tried to be noticed, but somehow impossible to miss once you did.

  "I'm Saki," she said finally. "Saki Yamada."

  "Neo."

  "I know," she said, smirking. "You like anime openings."

  I ughed quietly and sat beside her. For some reason, my heart was beating faster than it should.

  ?

  Later, during homeroom, Miss Aizawa expined the seating chart. Turns out, Saki was my permanent neighbor. Haruto was in the row behind us, and immediately compined.

  "This is favoritism," he whispered. "You get the window and the mysterious art girl?"

  I shrugged, but inside... it felt nice. Like the universe had shuffled the deck in my favor for once.

  ?

  The final css of the day was literature. Miss Aizawa passed out slim poetry books and asked us to read a short passage silently.

  The room was quiet—pages turning, pens tapping, chairs creaking.

  Then: "Neo."

  My eyes snapped up. She was standing by my desk, book in hand.

  "Would you mind reading the next stanza aloud?"

  I swallowed hard. My voice always felt weird in quiet rooms.

  But I nodded.

  My fingers found the paragraph, and I read:

  "Like petals drawn toward sunlit skies,

  A quiet soul learns how to rise.

  Beneath the hush of yesterday,

  It finds the words it could not say."

  When I looked up, Miss Aizawa was watching me—really watching.

  "Thank you," she said softly. "Beautifully read."

  My ears burned. Haruto gave me a knowing look. Even Saki smiled a little.

  ?

  After css, I was the st to pack up. My pen had rolled under my desk, and I reached down to grab it. When I looked up, Miss Aizawa was at the window, erasing the board slowly.

  "Neo," she said, not turning. "You speak softly... but when you read, your voice carries weight."

  I blinked. "I... thank you."

  She turned, smiled lightly. "I hope you'll speak up more this year. You have something worth saying."

  And with that, she walked out.

  Leaving me sitting there, pen in hand, and a storm quietly starting in my chest.

  ?

  [To Be Continued...]