Arthur woke to the sound of his phone buzzing on the small nightstand. Sunlight was already spilling through the blinds, painting gold lines across the floor. Today felt heavier than yesterday, though he couldn't say why. Maybe it was the thought of another day at Forest Sunlight High School — another day where he was the quiet foreigner, drifting through conversations he barely understood.
He dressed quickly, sliding into the same uniform he wore yesterday. The jacket felt slightly stiff this morning, the collar a little tighter against his neck. He didn't bother checking his reflection; he'd learned that no mirror would change the way people looked at him.
On the walk to school, the streets seemed emptier than before. Even the cherry trees were still bare, their skeletal branches scratching at the sky. Arthur pulled his bag closer, shoulders hunched against a faint breeze. A few students passed him, laughing, joking, completely unaware he existed. And maybe that was for the best.
When he entered the school gates, whispers immediately brushed against him.
"There's that blond kid again."
"Think he even understands Japanese?"
He heard it, but he didn't react. He had learned that silence was the best shield. He slipped into his classroom and slid into the same seat by the window. From here, he could see the courtyard where other students gathered. The world went on outside, bright and alive, while he remained in his quiet bubble.
Morning classes crawled by. Arthur took notes as best he could, translating words in his head, but the teacher's voice became a distant hum after a while. His mind wandered to home — to the small apartment that smelled faintly of rain and old wood. Even if it wasn't much, it was his. And somehow, knowing he could return there made the day slightly bearable.
At lunch, the whispers returned. A group of boys glanced at him from across the room.
"You know, he looks like a baby," one muttered, smirking.
"Yeah… bet he cries if you push him."
Arthur's grip on his chopsticks tightened. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the familiar pang of anger mixed with sadness. But he didn't rise to their bait. Not yet. Silence, he reminded himself. Silence was stronger than any words.
Instead, he opened his lunchbox and focused on the food — rice, a small piece of grilled fish, and some pickled vegetables. He ate slowly, savoring each bite as if it could anchor him to this moment, make him exist in a world that seemed determined to ignore him.
The final bell rang, and Arthur packed his bag. As he stepped outside, Haruka appeared beside him, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.
"You survived the second day!" she said, grinning.
"I guess," he muttered.
She elbowed him playfully. "Come on, don't be so gloomy. You can't fight a whole school with a scowl."
Arthur smiled faintly. Haruka's presence was like sunlight cutting through the clouds — subtle, but warming.
They walked together through the quiet streets. Haruka talked about her day — a club meeting she had missed, a funny incident with a teacher, even the way the vending machine in front of the school jammed coins this morning. Arthur listened, occasionally nodding, feeling the edges of his loneliness soften just a little.
But when he returned to his apartment, the air felt different. The light through the window was dimmer than before, as if the world itself had shifted. And then, a chill ran down his spine — a feeling that didn't belong to the weather.
He sat at his desk, opening his notebook, trying to focus on homework. And that's when it happened: a brief flicker of something in the corner of his vision. A shadow, maybe, or a trick of the light. He blinked. Nothing.
Arthur rubbed his eyes, heart beating faster than normal. He couldn't explain it, but the sensation lingered — the faint pulse of awareness, like something was watching, or waiting. He shivered, even as he reminded himself it was just the imagination of a tired, lonely teenager.
Later that night, as he lay in bed, he couldn't shake the feeling. The apartment was quiet, the city outside humming softly. And deep in the back of his mind, a single thought whispered — not his own, but not entirely foreign either.
"You're ready."
Arthur turned over, staring at the ceiling. His chest tightened, and for the first time since arriving in Japan, he felt a shiver of… anticipation.
Tomorrow, he knew, nothing would be entirely the same.