He hated her. It was a languid afternoon, where the tiredness of the day was palpable. The sun cast long shadows on the narrow hallways, painting everything in a deep hue of orange. The air was thick with the fragrance of old books and floor polish, applied countless times over the years, giving the impression of an aged library. It was quiet, with only the faint, muffled voices of lecturing teachers reaching her ears. Somewhere, a bird gave a muffled cry. It was a normal school day with no foreign threats to worry about. The students and teachers maintained their small but harmonious community. Except for Aomame Nara. No one knew it yet, but she was an anomaly in this carefully balanced ecosystem. Despite the tranquility that hung around the school like a cloud, Aomame Nara felt a constant undercurrent of disquiet. The harmony of the school was like a delicate glass sculpture—beautiful but fragile—and she felt like a stray pebble kicked too close to its base. She didn't belong, and she knew it.

Only he noticed her.

She had met him while doing odd jobs to save for her college tuition. He was the only son of one of the housewives she used to care for, and they quickly hit it off. “Are you Aomame Nara? I think I've seen you before,” he asked. Aomame, surprised at being recognized, nodded. “Yes, that's right,” she said. “You're so pretty.” She said nothing but nodded. What else could she have said? “I want to sleep with you,” the boy named Tsukuru Watanabe said. And so they slept together. It was a complex relationship, built on a foundation of convenience rather than love. He was kind to her in the beginning, showering her with compliments and small gifts. But as time went on, cracks appeared in their relationship. He began to ask her on fewer dates, then they fought more often, and eventually, she caught him with another woman. That night, after she had stormed out of his house upon learning of his infidelity, she felt agitated. Random, senseless thoughts floated around her head. She remained awake until 4 a.m.