First day of school

The Weight of Small Things

Episode One: First Day of School

Scene: Monday Morning – Kiyosato High School

The first bell rings like it’s trying too hard to be important. The air is still clinging to summer, thick and warm, but inside the halls, the cold buzz of fluorescent lights and new schedules takes over.

Rin Sakamoto walks through the school gates with her headphones in — not because she’s listening to music, but because it gives her an excuse not to talk. Her uniform's a little wrinkled, her shoes slightly scuffed. A glittery sticker is stuck on her binder — not for decoration, but because she liked how the gold shimmered in the sun when she found it on the sidewalk last week.

She doesn’t talk to anyone.

Doesn’t need to.

She likes the silence between things — between the bell and class, between one footstep and the next.

And most of all, she likes the corners.

Corners are safe.

Corners don’t ask questions.

Rin always sits in the back corner of the classroom, third seat from the window. She likes the way the light hits that spot in the morning, soft and slanted. That’s her place. At least it was — until today.

When she opens the door to the Class 2-B, someone’s already there.

A girl with neatly tied hair and a pristine uniform sits quietly in Rin’s spot. She’s staring at her notebook like it holds the meaning of life. Her name tag reads:

Naomi Kuroda.

New student.

Rin freezes for half a second, then quietly takes the seat next to her without saying a word. She tells herself it doesn’t matter. It’s just a chair.

But still... her fingers drum lightly on the desk, tapping a soft rhythm only she hears.

[Later – Lunchtime]

The cafeteria is chaos Rin wants no part of. Instead, she heads behind the gym, where she usually eats. A cracked bento box in her lap, her chopsticks chipped at the edge but still usable. She lines up three rubber bands on the bench next to her and arranges them by color.

To anyone else, it’s just trash.

To Rin, it’s order. A small ritual. A reason to keep going.

Footsteps crunch the gravel nearby.

She looks up, startled. It’s Naomi.

Naomi holds a bread roll in one hand, her eyes unreadable.

“I couldn’t find a quiet spot,” she says flatly. “Can I sit here?”

Rin nods slowly.

Silence stretches between them.

Then Naomi looks at the rubber bands. “You’re organizing them?”

Rin shrugs. “Sort of. They’re from the classroom floor. Some of them are different textures.”

Naomi blinks. “You collect… these?”

Rin expects the usual response: a raised brow, a muttered ‘weirdo’, maybe laughter.