Chapter 1

Ichikawa gave a reason. His hair, black and glossy, fell past his shoulders to his waist, tied back in a neat ponytail that swayed with each step. The uniform was standard—white shirt, dark trousers—but on him, it seemed to belong to someone else. He was tall, taller than most boys his age, with narrow shoulders and a quiet, contemplative face. As he walked toward the main building, a group of girls near the entrance stopped talking. Their eyes followed him.

“Is that a girl?” one whispered, not quite low enough.

“Look at the hair. Must be a girl.”

“But the uniform… trousers.”

The whispers faded into giggles. Ichikawa kept walking, his expression unchanged. He had grown used to this. Every new school brought the same confusion. He did not correct them. Let them wonder. He had come here to study, not to explain himself.

The classroom was bright with fluorescent light. The teacher introduced him as Ichikawa, a transfer student. A few students glanced up, then returned to their conversations. A boy near the window—Adachi, as Ichikawa would later learn—elbowed his friend Sato. They murmured something, and Kanda, sitting behind them, leaned forward to listen.

Ichikawa took his assigned seat at the back, near the window. From there, he could see the whole room: the row of girls to his left, the cluster of boys in front, and the empty seat beside him that would remain empty all day. He opened his notebook and waited for the lesson to begin.

During the first break, he stayed in his seat. A few students passed his desk, but no one spoke to him. He watched the girls gather around a tall girl with short, styled hair—Yamada, he heard someone call her. She laughed easily, her voice light and warm. Her friends, Moako, Chihiro, and Kanna, flanked her like satellites. They seemed to have their own language of shared glances and inside jokes.

Yamada’s eyes drifted toward the back of the room. They met Ichikawa’s for a moment. She tilted her head, a question flickering across her face, then she looked away.

The day unfolded in a rhythm of classes and breaks. During lunch, Ichikawa ate alone on a bench in the corner of the courtyard. The boys’ group—Adachi, Sato, Kanda—stood near the water fountain, pretending not to look at him.

“He’s definitely a guy,” Sato said, squinting. “Look at the hands.”

“But the hair,” Kanda countered. “No guy keeps it that long unless he’s trying something.”

“Or he’s just…” Adachi trailed off, shrugging. “I don’t know. We should find out.”

“How?”

“Not by staring.”

They didn’t approach. They stayed where they were, observers from a safe distance.

Ichikawa felt their attention but did not react. He finished his rice ball and watched clouds drift across the sky. The school felt large, and he felt small inside it. He had expected this. Loneliness was a familiar coat he wore without fuss.

In the afternoon, the gym class involved a relay race. The teacher divided students randomly. Ichikawa found himself on a team with Yamada. They stood side by side on the starting line, shoulder to shoulder. For the first time, Yamada looked at him directly—and up. She had to tilt her head back just a little. Their eyes were level.

“You’re tall,” she said, surprised.

He glanced at her. “You are too.”

It was true. She matched him exactly. He had never stood beside a girl his own height before.

She laughed, a soft, genuine sound. “I guess we’re twins.”

Before he could answer, the whistle blew, and they were off. The race ended quickly. Ichikawa’s team came second. Afterward, Yamada’s friends pulled her aside, whispering. Ichikawa returned to his spot at the back of the gym, alone.

Later, as he gathered his things at his desk, Yamada appeared near the door. Her friends were a few steps behind, pretending to talk among themselves but clearly watching. She hesitated, then walked toward him.

“Hey,” she said. “I didn’t catch your first name.”

“Ichikawa.”

“No, your given name.”

He paused. “Kyo.”

She smiled. “Nice to meet you properly, Kyo. I’m Anna. If you need anything, just ask. This school can be… hard.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

She lingered for a second, as if about to say something more, then her friends called her. She waved and left.

Ichikawa sat alone in the empty classroom. The silence pressed around him. He thought about her height, her smile, the way she had said “twins” like it meant something. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t. He didn’t know.

The first day ended under a orange sky. Ichikawa walked home, the ponytail bouncing behind him. The boys’ group watched him leave from the window of the second floor.

“He talked to Yamada,” Sato said.

“So?” Adachi replied.

“So… she never talks to new kids.”

Kanda leaned against the windowsill. “Something about him is weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know yet. But I want to find out.”

In the falling dusk, Ichikawa turned onto the quiet street that led to his apartment. He hadn't made any friends. But he had spoken to her. And for the first time all day, he felt a thread—thin, fragile, but there—connecting him to this place. He didn't know where it would lead. He only knew that tomorrow, he would see her again.

And maybe that was enough.