A Boy Who Pretends to Have No Sound

**Chapter 1: A Boy Who Pretends to Have No Sound**

Spring arrived quietly in Aozora City, the air filled with drifting petals. Students returned to the familiar rhythm of school life, laughter and greetings bouncing through the corridors of Seiran High.

Takumi Kageyama sat by the window in Class 2-B, watching the blossoms fall outside. He had the kind of presence that blended in too easily—neither popular nor disliked, just another face in the room.

And that was exactly how he preferred it.

Because silence, after all, never betrayed anyone.

“Takumi!”

A hand clapped his shoulder, jolting him out of thought.

Haruki Minase stood there, tall and composed, his uniform slightly messy but his smile as bright as ever. He was the kind of person who made everything seem effortless.

And when he sat at a piano, he wasn’t just Haruki Minase anymore. He was a prodigy—someone who could make even the coldest judges lean forward and listen.

“You spacing out already? It’s only the first week back,” Haruki teased.

Takumi forced a small smile. “Guess I’m just tired.”

“Well, wake up. We’re going to the café later. Miyuki’s coming too.”

As if summoned by her name, Miyuki Hoshino entered the classroom, violin case in hand. Her black hair, tied neatly into a ponytail, swayed as she moved gracefully to her desk.

“Good morning,” she said softly, and the room seemed just a little brighter.

Miyuki wasn’t just admired for her looks. Her violin had won her trophies, invitations, and whispers that she might be Seiran High’s shining star. But what made people love her wasn’t her skill—it was the quiet sincerity behind every note she played.

Takumi’s chest tightened as she smiled at Haruki.

“Did you practice that Chopin piece we talked about?” she asked.

“Of course,” Haruki replied confidently. “But it’ll sound better when you add your violin.”

The two of them shared an easy laugh, the kind Takumi could never join.

*She shines… but never for me.*

Homeroom began, and soon their teacher announced the news that sent a buzz through the class:

“The cultural festival is coming up in four weeks. Start planning what your class will present.”

Voices rose immediately.

“Let’s do a café!”

“No, a play would be fun!”

“Hey, why not a concert? We’ve got Miyuki and Haruki!”

Excitement rippled as eyes turned toward them.

Miyuki flushed, lifting her hands modestly. “I don’t mind. If that’s what everyone wants.”

Haruki leaned back in his chair, grinning. “If Miyuki’s in, I’ll play piano. That gives us a strong start.”

“Yeah! We just need a guitarist and maybe a singer!”

The suggestion sent Takumi’s pulse racing. His hands gripped his desk. But no one looked at him. Why would they? He’d never given anyone a reason to.

Takumi lowered his gaze, scribbling random notes into his notebook. To everyone else, he was just “average Takumi.” No one knew about the guitar hidden in his room. No one knew about *Blue Star.*

And he intended to keep it that way.

When the final bell rang, Haruki stretched, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Miyuki, practice tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she replied. “We’ll need to be ready if we’re performing.”

Their conversation flowed so naturally, so beautifully in sync, that Takumi couldn’t bring himself to interrupt. He slipped out of the room, unnoticed, swallowed by the noise of classmates making weekend plans.

That night, Takumi sat in his dimly lit room, the curtains drawn. On his lap rested the only place where his voice existed: his guitar.

He strummed gently, and a melody filled the air—soft, aching, alive.

On his desk, the screen of his laptop glowed with a music-sharing site. Under the name **Blue Star**, Takumi uploaded songs that traveled farther than he ever could. To strangers online, his music was beautiful, moving, even inspiring.

His phone buzzed.

**Kanae Shirosaki:** *Finished the track? Send me the file.*

Takumi typed back: *It’s rough. I messed up halfway.*

**Kanae:** *That’s fine. People don’t want perfection—they want to feel something. I’ll handle the rest.*

He smirked faintly. Kanae was blunt as always, but never wrong. She was older, already working at a small indie label, and somehow, she’d become his manager. She took care of everything—the uploads, the mixing, even the royalties he barely touched.

He attached the file and hit send.

Almost immediately, another message came:

**Kanae:** *This one’s good, Takumi. The chorus… it lingers. Don’t underestimate yourself.*

Takumi set the guitar down carefully, as though it might shatter if anyone else touched it.

At school, he was just the quiet boy by the window. Haruki didn’t know. Miyuki didn’t know. No one knew.

And that was how it had to be.

He leaned back on his bed, eyes on the ceiling.

“As long as it’s only Kanae-san who knows… I’ll be fine.”

Outside his window, faint and distant, a violin floated on the wind—gentle, almost sorrowful.

Takumi closed his eyes.

He didn’t know it yet, but the walls around his music were already starting to crack.

✨ *End of Chapter 1*

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