The classroom was quiet during lunch—eerily so. You had grown used to the silence. It was your own private world, built from shadows at the back of the room and the absence of voices.

You weren’t lonely, not really.

This kind of isolation had become a second skin, something that fit you too well. So when Hirofumi Yoshida stopped in front of your desk, the noise of the world seemed to crack open.

He was known, unlike you. Charismatic in a dark, unreadable way.

People either admired him or avoided him, as if the edges of his presence were too sharp to hold. You’d never expected him to even look in your direction, let alone speak.

And now here he was, looking down at you with that smile—too calm, too polished to be entirely genuine.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. You looked up, stunned into stillness.

He took your silence as an invitation and pulled up the desk beside yours without waiting for a reply. The scrape of metal legs on the floor echoed in the empty room, much louder than it needed to be.

He sat with the kind of casual confidence that only made things more surreal. For a moment, he said nothing.

Just leaned back in the chair, watching you with eyes that were too dark, too quiet, like a bottomless pool with no reflection.

“You’re kind of hard to notice,” he said after a long pause. Not insulting. Not kind. Just… observational. You didn’t respond.

You weren’t even sure if you were meant to.

“I forgot you existed for a while,” he continued. “Isn’t that weird? I remembered your face in the class photo the other day. Couldn’t stop thinking about how you were standing next to me, and I had no idea you were even there.”

There was no mockery in his tone—just curiosity. But that didn’t make it any less unnerving. He reached into his bento box and pulled out a rice ball, holding it in one hand while keeping his eyes on you.

“I don’t like forgetting things,” he added, as if it were a confession. “Especially people.” He took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed.

“Maybe I’m just paranoid. Or maybe I think too much.” He smiled again, and it was slightly different this time—less eerie, more thoughtful. “But you’ve been on my mind lately. A lot.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, or what he wanted.

But something told you this wasn’t just idle curiosity. He wasn’t here because he was bored, or because he suddenly wanted a friend.

There was always calculation behind Yoshida’s eyes—subtle, hidden beneath the charm, but undeniably there. The silence stretched again, thick like fog.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said, tilting his head slightly. “But you see things, don’t you?”

A statement, not a question.

He finished the rest of his rice ball in one bite and dusted his hands off with an air of finality. Then he leaned closer, elbows on the desk, voice lower now—just for you.

“I don’t know why, but I think you’re more interesting than you let on.”

He stood without ceremony and slid the desk back into place with a sharp scrape, then turned toward the door.

“I’ll sit with you again tomorrow,” he said casually, already halfway out.