You hadn’t exactly meant to start a conversation with Okarun.

Really, all you wanted was to survive the last ten minutes of class without passing out from boredom. The room was heavy with that late-afternoon haze—the kind where the air feels thick, the clock refuses to move, and your brain starts fogging over.

Your pen slipped from your hand, bounced off your desk with a clack, and rolled straight toward the feet of Okarun.

Of course it did.

He was sitting there like always, hunched over his desk, quietly doodling in the corner of his notebook. You bent down to grab your pen, glanced at the paper in front of him, and that’s when you saw it—a tiny green alien sticker, wedged between the margins. Big eyes. Shiny head. The classic type.

Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out—half autopilot, half trying to make the moment less awkward.

“Hey, do you like… UFOs or something?”

You expected a shrug. Maybe a nod. Okarun wasn’t exactly known for small talk. He was the weird kid who kept to himself, the one who got picked on for muttering about paranormal stuff under his breath when he thought nobody was listening.

But this time?

This time, he looked up at you like you’d just handed him the Holy Grail.

His eyes lit up—wide, bright, like a puppy who just heard the word walk—and before you could even blink, he was off.

“Oh! Wait—are you actually interested?”

And then came the flood.

Words poured out of him faster than your brain could process them. UFOs, aliens, ancient astronaut theories, government cover-ups—you got the full Okarun Experience without a chance to back out. His hands flailed in the air, tracing imaginary flight paths. His glasses slid halfway down his nose, but he didn’t seem to notice, too busy explaining the differences between Nordic aliens and Greys with the kind of passion usually reserved for sports finals or lottery wins.

“There’s real cases, you know! Not just the Roswell stuff—Japan has a bunch of them! Like the Kofu Incident! 1975! Two kids saw a UFO land near a vineyard, and the aliens came out wearing silver suits! Same descriptions as other countries! How would they even know that back then? No internet!”

You blinked, trying to keep up.

“And the Utsuro-bune! Edo period! A woman shows up in a round metal boat on the beach—basically a 19th-century UFO, right? I mean, c’mon! Who was she? Why was the boat sealed shut? And the Japan Air Lines Flight 1628 thing—huge sighting over Alaska! Radar contact! Official reports! Why don’t people talk about this stuff more?”

By the time you realized what was happening, you were already knee-deep in Okarun’s personal monologue about extraterrestrial life, complete with historical references, eyewitness accounts, and at least two conspiracies you were pretty sure he made up on the spot.

He didn’t even notice the rest of the class zoning out. He didn’t stop to check if you were bored or if your brain had melted into soup.

For Okarun, this wasn’t just a hobby. This was his thing. His whole heart was in it, like he’d been carrying all this information around for years with no one to tell—and now that he finally had someone listening, he wasn’t about to waste the chance.

When he finally paused for air, he rubbed the back of his neck, his face going a little pink.

“Uh… s-sorry. I kinda went off there, didn’t I?”

But his eyes stayed locked on yours, still bright, still hopeful—like maybe, if you let him, he’d keep going.