[Aika Fujishiro – Internal Monologue]

  New school. New uniform. New people. Same me.

  I don’t expect much.

  They’ll stare for a bit, whisper for a while, then forget I exist. I’m fine with that. I don’t need attention. I don’t need new friends. I just want a quiet semester.

  Still, I catch him the moment I enter the classroom.

  Second row from the back. Head tilted. Pencil case on the floor. He’s blinking like someone just hit him with a pop quiz.

  He looks... normal.

  And kind of stupid.

  Please don’t let me sit next to him, I think.

  “Fujishiro-san, you can sit beside Kazama.”

  ...Of course.

  [Back to Yuuji Kazama – Disaster Human]

  She walks toward me with the calm of someone who isn’t about to ruin my entire academic existence just by being nearby.

  I try to act natural.

  Natural ends up being: sitting bolt upright, smiling too hard, and knocking over my water bottle.

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  It rolls off the desk.

  Hits the floor.

  Thuds.

  Everyone turns.

  Aika picks it up silently and hands it to me.

  “Thanks,” I mutter. “Gravity’s been real aggressive today.”

  She blinks.

  Then... smiles? Just a little.

  Oh no.

  Homeroom ends. First period begins.

  I’m trying to focus on the lesson. I really am. But every time she shifts in her seat or turns a page or breathes, my dumb lizard brain short-circuits.

  Is she bored?

  Does she hate it here already?

  Am I the reason?

  Suddenly she leans toward me.

  Close. Too close.

  “Hey,” she whispers. “Can I borrow a pen?”

  A pen. She just needs a pen. Not my soul. Not my future. Calm down.

  “Y-yeah!” I whisper too loudly, then fumble three pens out of my pencil case.

  They scatter onto the floor. Again.

  I want to scream.

  She picks one up herself, keeping a completely straight face. She even uncaps it like this is all normal.

  It’s not normal.

  I pass her another pen, as if trying to recover from being a human vending machine.

  “Thanks,” she says, softly. “You’re kind of clumsy.”

  “Ha. Yeah. I’m like... aggressively average.”

  She glances at me sideways. “Is that your superpower?”

  “Being average?”

  “No. Making a mess in new and creative ways.”

  Was that a joke?

  That was definitely a joke.

  I think.

  Lunch break.

  Daichi slams his tray next to mine in the cafeteria.

  “Bro. You’ve already talked to her?!”

  “I lent her a pen.”

  “A pen?! That’s like second base in anime logic!”

  “...No it’s not.”

  He leans in, eyes wide. “So what’s she like? What’s her vibe? Mysterious transfer girl? Secret genius? Quiet ice queen?”

  I glance across the room.

  She’s eating a simple bento. Laughing softly at something a classmate said. Calm. Composed. Totally unfazed.

  “She’s... normal,” I say.

  Daichi raises an eyebrow. “Normal?”

  “Yeah. Like, really normal. No gimmicks. No secret tragic backstory. Just... normal.”

  He whistles. “Dang. You’re doomed.”

  To be continued...