It's been a week since that day.
The day Nanami hurried back into the empty classroom, searching for a forgotten poem—and accidentally crossed paths with Arata for the first time.
They didn't speak afterward.No greetings. No glances. Just silence.
But for Arata, the memory lingered like a whisper that wouldn't fade.
"Why do I still remember how she held that book?""Why do I care?"
That morning was like any other.
A gray sky pressed against the city's rooftops, and sunlight hesitated at the edge of clouds. In a quiet corner of a town that never really woke up, Arata Itsuki opened his eyes at exactly 6:17 AM.
He didn't need an alarm. His body followed a rhythm it didn't ask for.
The house was too quiet.
He walked to the kitchen in silence, opened the fridge—two slices of bread, a bit of butter, leftover tea.
A four-person table now had only one seat pulled out. A photo on the wall still held the smiles of a complete family, though one smile—his father's—had been missing for three years.
His mother? She had left only a sticky note on the fridge.
"Sorry, I had to leave early for work. Don't skip breakfast. – Mom"
Arata didn't skip breakfast.He just… didn't feel hungry.
"Even the house doesn't call my name anymore. Only the clink of a spoon, the echo of a cup."
At school, everything sounded like an echo.
Laughter, footsteps, bells—they brushed past his ears without staying.
He sat by the window, second seat from the back.
There, he wasn't part of the world.Just a silent observer with a pen and a stare.
He noticed things others didn't:A boy texting under the desk while pretending to take notes.A couple secretly holding hands.A girl laughing loudly with eyes that looked tired.
He didn't know why he noticed. Maybe because no one noticed him.
"Maybe when the world forgets to look at you, you start looking at everything.""I sit here every day, on repeat. Sometimes I wonder—would anyone care if I disappeared tomorrow?"
To Arata, life wasn't a story he was in. It was something he read from far away.
It happened during the second break.
He took the back stairwell, avoiding the noise of the cafeteria.
Through the hallway window, he noticed someone standing alone in the garden.
Light brown hair. A neatly folded skirt.A small book held tightly against her chest.
Nanami Aizawa.
He had heard the name. Everyone knew her—smart, kind, admired. The kind of girl people watched, but didn't approach too easily.
But Arata didn't see what others did.
He saw someone who was too quiet in a world that was too loud.
She stood perfectly still, staring into nothing. And for a second, Arata wondered—
"Is she watching the world, too?"
"Her face… not smiling, not sad. Like a cloudy sky that hasn't decided whether to rain."
They didn't speak.They didn't look at each other.
Just two strangers, breathing the same quiet air.
But in that shared silence, something shifted inside him.
"She's like me… but better at pretending she's not."
That night, Arata opened his notebook.
He wrote slowly, carefully, as though each word might escape him.
"I didn't talk to anyone today.But for once, I didn't feel alone.I don't think she saw me.But maybe she understands."
He stared at the ceiling, letting the silence return.
"If I die tomorrow, I don't think anyone will cry.But I want to believe—Maybe she would."
"When I saw her eyes, I didn't feel invisible."
And as he closed his eyes, her name floated quietly through his thoughts:
Nanami.