Chapter 7 — The Transfer Student

The day she transferred into our class began like any other.

Well.

Apparently, that wasn't true for everyone else.

When I entered the classroom that morning, something was already happening.

Not physically.

Nobody was fighting.

Nobody had broken anything.

Our teacher hadn't suddenly announced the cancellation of classes, which would have been the only piece of news worthy of the amount of excitement in the room.

But everyone was talking.

Especially the boys.

“She's transferring today, right?”

“That's what they said.”

“I heard she's from pretty far away.”

“Apparently she's smart too.”

“And beautiful.”

“You haven't even seen her yet.”

“My source is reliable.”

“Your source is a guy from the other section.”

“Exactly.”

I placed my bag beside my chair.

Transfer student?

I sat down.

Someone had mentioned something about that yesterday, hadn't they?

There had been an announcement before we went home.

Probably.

I had been there physically.

Mentally was another question.

I looked toward the group.

“So we're getting a transfer student?”

One of them stared at me.

“You seriously didn't know?”

“I know now.”

“It was announced yesterday.”

“Then yesterday me probably knew.”

“What happened to yesterday you?”

“He went home.”

The guy beside him laughed.

“It's a girl, by the way.”

“Oh.”

He waited.

I waited too.

Finally, he frowned.

“That's it?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

He leaned against the desk.

“She's apparently beautiful.”

“Congratulations to her.”

He stared at me.

I stared back.

“...You're boring.”

“Thank you.”

I turned toward the window.

A girl transferring from another town, huh?

Maybe her family moved.

Maybe she wanted a different school.

Maybe she was secretly fleeing from an international organization after discovering classified information.

Probably the first one.

For a moment, I tried remembering the first time I transferred into this school.

...

Nothing.

Of course there was nothing.

I'd been here all along.

I really needed more sleep.

The conversations continued around me.

Someone claimed she had excellent grades.

Someone else said she'd done well at her previous school.

Another person had somehow obtained information about where she came from, which raised several questions about our class's intelligence network that I decided not to ask.

I stopped listening.

Transfer students were interesting for approximately one week.

Then they became students.

That was usually how these things worked.

At least, that was what I assumed.

I had never actually been one.

＊ ＊ ＊

By the time our teacher entered, I'd forgotten most of the conversation.

Which was probably why I was looking out the window.

There was nothing especially interesting outside.

A tree.

A section of the courtyard.

Two students hurrying somewhere they were probably already late to.

Still, it was enough to hold my attention until the room became unusually quiet.

“Before we begin,” our teacher said, “we have a new student joining our class today.”

Chairs shifted.

Whispers started immediately.

Oh.

Right.

That.

I continued looking outside for another second.

Then I heard a girl's voice.

“Good morning.”

Something about it made me pause.

Not recognition.

Nothing that clear.

Just a strange, passing sense that I'd heard a voice like it somewhere before.

I frowned slightly.

At the front of the classroom, she continued.

“My name is—”

I slowly turned.

For one ridiculous second, the world seemed to move in slow motion.

Sunlight crossed the classroom.

My classmates faced forward.

The new girl's long, wavy brown hair shifted slightly as she bowed.

My head turned farther.

My eyes began to water.

Wait.

Why were my eyes watering?

Was it—

My nose betrayed me.

“HAA—CHOO!”

Silence.

Absolute, complete silence.

Every head in the room turned toward me.

I remained frozen with one hand over my nose.

“...Sorry.”

Our teacher stared at me.

Then he nodded solemnly.

“And that was his introduction.”

The room exploded.

I wanted the window to open and swallow me.

Someone behind me slapped his desk.

Another classmate repeated my sneeze with unnecessary accuracy.

My face became hot.

“I said sorry.”

That only made them laugh harder.

At the front, the transfer student had covered her mouth with one hand.

She was laughing too.

Not cruelly.

That somehow did not help.

Great.

She had been in our classroom for less than a minute and I had already made myself memorable.

The teacher finally restored order.

“All right, all right. Let's give our new classmate a chance to finish before our window-side performer demands an encore.”

More laughter.

I lowered my head onto my desk.

Wonderful.

By the time I recovered enough dignity to look up again, the introduction was over.

I had missed her name.

Of course I had.

The teacher pointed toward an empty seat around the middle of the room.

“You can sit there.”

“Thank you.”

She walked down the aisle.

For the first time, I actually got a proper look at her.

Long, softly wavy brown hair fell past her shoulders. Her eyes were brown too, warm enough that they seemed lighter whenever the sunlight caught them.

There was something gentle about her face.

Not fragile.

Just... approachable.

The sort of person you could probably ask for directions without mentally rehearsing the question first.

As she passed my row, she glanced toward me.

Our eyes met for barely a second.

Then her lips curved into a small smile.

Probably because of the sneeze.

I looked away.

Excellent.

My legacy was already established.

She reached her seat.

Within minutes, the students around her were talking to her.

And somehow, she fit in almost immediately.

That was impressive.

Or terrifying.

I wasn't sure which.

＊ ＊ ＊

The rest of the morning confirmed most of the rumors.

She answered when teachers called on her.

Correctly.

She was polite.

She smiled easily.

And during breaks, people naturally gathered around her.

Not because she demanded attention.

If anything, it seemed to happen because she gave people attention.

When someone spoke, she actually listened.

When somebody made a joke, she laughed.

When another girl offered to show her around later, she thanked her like she'd been offered something genuinely important.

There was an ease to the way she talked to people.

No hesitation.

No careful pause before saying something.

No moment afterward where she seemed to wonder whether she'd said too much.

I noticed that.

Then wondered why I had noticed it.

By lunch—

she already seemed to know more people in our class than I had willingly spoken to all week.

Efficient.

I respected that.

From a safe distance.

＊ ＊ ＊

I was halfway through lunch when the conversation at the nearby desks inevitably returned to her.

“She's cute.”

There it was.

“I told you.”

“You hadn't even seen her!”

“And yet I was correct.”

“Her hair's really nice.”

“Did you see her eyes?”

I continued eating.

There are conversations in life where participation is optional.

This was one of them.

Unfortunately, someone disagreed.

“Hey, Haruki.”

I looked up.

One of the boys was staring at me.

“What?”

“You've been suspiciously quiet.”

“I'm eating.”

“About the new girl.”

“What about her?”

All three of them looked at me as though I'd failed an intelligence test.

“Your impression.”

“My impression?”

“Yes.”

I considered it.

“She transferred.”

One of them slowly put down his drink.

“Brilliant observation.”

“Thank you.”

“Come on. She's pretty, right?”

I glanced toward the middle of the classroom.

She was eating lunch with several girls.

Already.

Her wavy brown hair fell over one shoulder as she listened to the girl beside her.

Then she laughed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly when she smiled.

I hadn't noticed that before.

...

Why was I analyzing this?

I turned back to my lunch.

“Yeah.”

The boys waited.

I continued eating.

Finally, one of them leaned forward.

“Yeah... what?”

“She's pretty.”

“That's it?”

“What else do you want?”

“Anything. An opinion. A thought. Evidence that you're alive.”

“I sneezed in front of the entire class this morning. I think I've provided enough evidence.”

One of them laughed.

“Fair.”

Another shook his head.

“Seriously. Nothing else?”

I glanced toward her again.

Friendly.

Good-looking.

Apparently smart.

Popular within approximately four hours.

“She seems nice.”

Someone groaned.

“You sound like an old man.”

“What kind of answer were you expecting?”

“I don't know. Something with emotion?”

“Her hair is brown.”

“Please stop.”

“Her eyes are also brown.”

“We made a mistake asking him.”

I nodded.

“Finally, something we agree on.”

They laughed.

And that should have been the end of it.

Except one of them suddenly looked past me.

Then grinned.

“Oh.”

I didn't like that sound.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

The others followed his gaze.

Their expressions changed.

That was worse.

Against my better judgment, I looked toward the middle of the classroom.

The new girl was looking directly at me.

Our eyes met.

...

Ah.

She had caught me looking.

I immediately lowered my eyes to my lunch.

Smooth.

Very natural.

Definitely not suspicious.

“Nice,” someone whispered.

“Shut up.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were about to.”

A few seconds later, laughter came from her direction.

I didn't check whether it had anything to do with me.

I preferred living.

＊ ＊ ＊

By the end of the day, the transfer student was no longer “the transfer student” to most of the class.

People were already calling her by name.

A name I still didn't know.

That was becoming increasingly inconvenient.

I could ask someone.

That would be normal.

Simple.

Easy.

Which was exactly why I didn't.

At this point, asking would also require admitting that I had somehow survived an entire school day without learning the name of the person everyone had been talking about since morning.

I'd find out eventually.

Probably.

I packed my notebooks into my bag.

Voices filled the room around me.

Chairs scraped against the floor.

Someone called goodbye from the doorway.

Somewhere behind me, she laughed at something one of her new friends had said.

For some reason, my hands slowed.

Only for a moment.

Then I zipped my bag.

She smiled easily.

She listened when people talked.

She laughed without looking as though she was checking whether it was safe first.

Someone like her probably had no trouble becoming close to people.

Good for her.

I had already learned that I was better at keeping a little distance.

I stood and pulled my bag over one shoulder.

Her laughter mixed with the noise of the classroom behind me.

I didn't recognize it.

She didn't recognize me. 48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc44LN8K2iN

And neither of us knew that, years ago, we had once sat on two swings and begun writing a song that still had no ending.

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