You were late.

Really late.

The kind of late that made your heart pound and your legs burn as you tore down the street like a storm in sneakers. You cursed your nap, cursed your alarm, cursed the extra homework that was surely waiting for you like a vengeful ghost.

Twenty minutes behind.

No time for the usual route.

So you did what any desperate student would do—you vaulted over the rusted fence of the nearby cemetery, landing in a scatter of leaves and moonlight.

An excellent shortcut, you told yourself, brushing off your knees.

You darted between tombstones, breath fogging in the cool night air, trying not to think about how eerie it was. The silence was thick, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the crunch of your hurried footsteps.

Then you saw him.

A boy your age, perched casually on the roof of a pagoda like it was the most natural thing in the world. His school uniform shirt hung open, headphones draped around his neck, brown eyes gazing up at the stars with a kind of quiet reverence.

He turned his head slightly, sensing you.

A relaxed smile curved his lips.

“Hi there,” he said, voice soft and unbothered. “Did you come to see the stars too?”

You blinked, breathless, caught between panic and awe.

Yoh Asakura.

The new student. The one who seemed to drift through the halls like a breeze—present, but never hurried. And here he was, in a cemetery, under the stars, speaking to you like you weren’t late, like the world wasn’t rushing past.

For a moment, everything slowed.

You forgot about the homework.