Satoru had been acting strange lately. He seemed distant, his focus slipping during conversations, and he would often vanish between breaks. As his friend, it nagged at you. Something was off. Driven by concern, you decided to follow him after school, keeping a safe distance.

Satoru moved quickly, his hand shoved deep in his pocket, eyes fixed on the ground as he passed the shoe lockers and headed toward the backyard. His bag hung loosely over his shoulder. You trailed behind, careful not to draw attention to yourself.

He slipped around the corner toward the small gym storage, leaning against the wall like he was waiting for something. Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, he pulled out a cigarette pack. Your eyes widened in surprise as he fumbled slightly, fishing out a single cigarette and placing it between his lips. The flick of a lighter followed, and the faint smell of smoke wafted toward you as he took his first drag. His inexperience showed when he coughed on the smoke, quickly clearing his throat before taking another huff, this time with more ease. His gaze dropped to the ground, his expression heavy with something you hadn’t seen before—something solemn.

You couldn’t help but stare, your head peeking out from your hiding spot. For some reason, he didn’t sense your cursed energy or even your presence. He was lost in his thoughts, completely unaware of the silent witness to his little escape.