first meeting

Tokyo. Spring.

Cherry blossoms drift through the air like fragments of a fading dream.

Inside a quiet classroom, a boy sat near the window, his dark hair falling over eyes that seemed to hold a thousand unsaid things.

Ren (narration):

“I’ve always liked sitting by the window. It’s quiet here… no one bothers me. I can just watch the world move while I stay still.”

Ren wasn’t the type to talk much. His classmates knew him as the quiet one — polite, distant, and always staring outside as if he belonged to another world.

He rarely smiled. Maybe because there wasn’t much to smile about.

That morning, the teacher entered with a cheerful tone.

Teacher:

“Alright, class. We have a new transfer student today. Please give her a warm welcome.”

The door slid open.

A girl with bright eyes and a shy expression stepped in. Her uniform was neatly pressed, and her hair fluttered gently with the breeze.

Teacher:

“Introduce yourself, please.”

Girl:

“I’m Aoi Fujimura… I just moved to Tokyo this week. Nice to meet you all.”

Her voice was soft — like the first sound of spring rain.

Ren didn’t look up. But something about that voice made his heart skip.

The teacher smiled and looked around.

Teacher:

“Hmm… there’s an empty seat next to Ren by the window. You can sit there, Aoi.”

She walked toward the back. Ren glanced up for a second. Their eyes met.

For a brief moment — it felt like the world stopped.

Aoi (smiling nervously):

“Hi… I guess we’ll be sitting together.”

Ren (looking away):

“Yeah… I guess so.”

The bell rang, and lessons began. But Ren couldn’t focus. The way she quietly took notes, the soft hum she made while thinking — it was strangely calming.

At lunch, while others left to the courtyard, Aoi turned to him.

Aoi:

“You don’t eat with your friends?”

Ren:

“I don’t really have any.”

Aoi (gently):

“That makes two of us then.”

They both laughed — softly, awkwardly, but genuinely.

That was the first time in years Ren had laughed with someone.

Days passed.

Aoi began talking to him every morning — about the weather, music, the view from the window. Slowly, she melted the silence around him.

Ren started noticing things again — the sound of birds, the warmth of sunlight, the color of her smile.

But even in those quiet moments, Aoi often looked tired. Pale sometimes, though she hid it behind a smile.

Ren (thinking):

“She always smiles… but sometimes, it feels like she’s hiding something.”

Still, he didn’t ask.

Because for the first time in his life, he was happy — and afraid to break it.

One afternoon, as the sky turned orange, Aoi whispered,

Aoi:

“You know, Ren… when I first saw you, you reminded me of someone I used to know.”

Ren looked surprised.

Ren:

“Someone you used to know?”

Aoi:

“Yeah. Someone who once helped me when no one else did.”

Ren stared at her — a strange familiarity blooming in his chest, like the echo of a forgotten memory.

The wind blew through the window, scattering petals across their desks.

Ren looked outside again, and thought…

Ren (narration):

“Maybe this time… I won’t be alone.”

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