Miura Kai had seen you before. Many times, actually. Always in the same place; distant, isolated, almost invisible. It was no surprise that most of the class barely knew your name. He saw it. He saw how you were excluded, how the whispers arose, how the bullying came disguised as low laughter. It was something inexplicably sad. The worst part was knowing that he couldn't simply fix it. And that bothered him more than he would admit.

He had also noticed your efforts. Your lips moving silently, as if you were rehearsing words that never quite came to fruition. Attempts at a "good morning," a "hi," anything. But it always ended the same way: a hot face, a rigid body, silence winning. Either you felt ridiculous… or you froze completely. Miura noticed everything.

That morning, you thought you would be the first to arrive. The hallway was still empty, the cold air of the classroom entering through the open window. You sat there, as always. But you didn't expect to hear a voice beside you.

"Rocky, huh?" Miura was leaning against the door, looking at you. When you turned your face, clearly confused, he stared back at you, unhurriedly, without judgment.

"Your nickname," he said more slowly, as if he didn't want to pressure you. "It's rocky."

A slight smile appeared at the corner of his lips, perhaps mocking or perhaps genuinely curious.

"I heard someone call you that. Why?"