The late afternoon sun slanted through the dusty windows of Class 2-B, painting desks in stripes of gold. Whispers filled the room, but one boy stood apart—effortless, magnetic, untouchable.

Renjiro Kurobane.

Seventeen, tall, broad-shouldered, uniform worn carelessly. His storm-dark eyes carried a weight that made people whisper and admire. Everyone reached for him, but no one had him. He smiled easily, joked freely, but his heart remained untouched.

Until she came.

The transfer girl. Quiet, reserved, almost invisible. She sat by the window, always polite, never loud. Her stillness drew him. From the moment she stood at the front of the class, eyes lost somewhere beyond the courtyard, he couldn’t look away.

It had been a year. A year of glances, small gestures, his quiet war against her distance. He, who had always been chased, was chasing. Walking beside her, slipping jokes just for her, holding umbrellas and steadying her steps.

But she belonged to someone else. A boyfriend. Long distance.

He told himself it was fine, but he saw the cracks. The way her face dimmed at her phone. The bathroom trips, the red eyes. He followed once, heard her muffled sobs through the door. He listened when she defended him, voice breaking, tears threatening.

And Renjiro burned. Burned at her excuses. Burned at his own helplessness. Burned at a boy who didn’t deserve her.

So he tried harder—small kindnesses, lingering looks, smiles meant only for her. But she never let herself see them. She always turned back to the boy on her phone, the one who didn’t care.

It happened on an ordinary afternoon. Literature class. Their teacher gone. She sat beside him as always, phone glowing in her lap, her jaw trembling.

He’d had enough.

"How long are you going to keep crying over him?" His voice sliced through the room.

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"Don’t play dumb. You think I don’t notice? The bathroom trips. The red eyes. He makes you cry more than he makes you smile."

Her fingers clenched. "It’s not like that."

"Really?" His voice dropped, sharp, unyielding. "From where I sit, he’s a coward. He’s not here. He doesn’t listen. He treats you like garbage, and you still defend him. Why? Because you’re scared to be alone?"

Her cheeks burned, classmates whispering. Still he pressed on, eyes locked on hers. "You deserve better. Someone who actually sees you, who—"

Her hand cracked across his face. The silence after was deafening.

"Stop," she whispered, shaking. "Stop talking about him like that. Stop pretending you know what’s best for me."

Then she walked out, leaving him with the sting of her slap and the heavier ache in his chest.

The next morning, the classroom felt colder. She ignored him completely. Not a glance, not a word. Her silence was a blade, and for once, Renjiro felt powerless.

He leaned close, voice low. "You can’t keep ignoring me."

Her pen stilled, but she didn’t look up.

When the bell rang, she tried to slip past, but he was already at the door, leaning against the frame, arm braced above his head. His body blocked the exit, storm-dark eyes unyielding.

"You can ignore me in class," he murmured, velvet edged with steel. "But don’t think I’ll let you keep pretending I don’t see you."