The classroom of Class 2-B was like any other public high school room: slightly worn desks, sunlight filtering through half-closed blinds, the low hum of chatter before the bell. At the very back row by the window sat Kurogane Rei — black hair falling messily over his forehead, uniform jacket slung carelessly over the chair, head resting on folded arms atop the desk. He was asleep again, as usual. No one dared sit in the empty seat right next to him, even though it was technically open.
The door slid open. The teacher walked in with a new student.
"This is our transfer student, Hoshino Aria. Please introduce yourself."
A girl with long, soft silver-brown hair stepped forward. Her uniform fit perfectly, her posture calm and graceful. She smiled politely — not too bright, not too shy — and bowed.
"I'm Hoshino Aria. I just moved here. Please take care of me."
Whispers erupted immediately. She was stunning in a quiet, effortless way: clear skin, gentle eyes, the kind of beauty that made people look twice without realizing it. Within minutes, the empty seat beside Rei was assigned to her — the only one left.
She walked down the aisle, bag in hand, and sat down without hesitation. For the first time, she saw him up close.
Rei hadn't moved. His face was half-hidden in his arms, but one eye was visible — pitch black, cold, like a winter night with no stars. It wasn't anger in that gaze; it was something deeper. Loneliness carved into ice. He didn't look at her directly, just shifted slightly and went back to sleeping.
Aria tilted her head, studying him for a moment longer than necessary. Something about that emptiness pulled at her.
By lunch break the next day, Aria had already become the center of attention. Girls wanted to eat with her, boys found excuses to pass by her desk, upperclassmen "happened" to walk through the hallway when her class ended. She smiled and nodded, friendly but never overly warm, keeping just enough distance to stay polite.
When the bell for lunch rang, a group of girls immediately surrounded her desk.
"Aria-chan, let's eat together on the rooftop! The view is great!"
"Yeah, and we can introduce you to everyone!"
She stood up gracefully, lunch bag in hand, but her eyes drifted to the back corner. Rei was still there, unmoving, head down. No one had invited him — no one ever did.
Aria smiled at her new friends. "Give me one minute, okay?"
Before anyone could stop her, she walked straight to Rei's desk and stopped in front of him.
"Hey. We're seatmates, right? I'm Aria."
Rei didn't lift his head. After a few seconds, he opened one eye — that same black, frozen stare. It wasn't hostile, exactly. It was a warning. *Stay away.*
The girls behind Aria gasped.
"Aria, don't!"
"He's creepy. Seriously, just ignore him."
"He never talks to anyone. And that glare… it's scary, right?"
One of them tugged gently at Aria's sleeve. "Come on, let's go."
Aria didn't move. She just looked at Rei quietly, not smiling, not flinching.
"You don't have to talk," she said softly, voice low enough that only he could hear. "I just wanted to say hi."
Rei closed his eye again. Dismissed.
The girls pulled her away, whispering warnings the whole way up to the rooftop.
"He's always like that."
"No one's ever seen him smile. Not once."
"People say he got into fights before transferring here. Real bad ones."
Aria listened quietly, nodding here and there, but her mind was still on those black eyes.
What the others didn't know — what no one in this school knew — was why Aria had really transferred here.
Her family was powerful. Too powerful. The kind that made enemies who smiled in public and sent killers in the dark. There had already been attempts on her life — quiet ones, subtle ones. Her parents had arranged protection: silent guardians who watched from a distance, never revealing themselves unless absolutely necessary.
This school was meant to be a safe, low-profile place. She wasn't supposed to stand out.
But she already had.
And somewhere, in the city, people were still watching. Waiting for an opening.
Rei shifted in his sleep, fingers tightening slightly on his sleeve.
He didn't know her story.
She didn't know his.
But from that day on, they shared the back row by the window — one surrounded by light and attention, the other wrapped in cold shadow.
And somehow, neither of them moved their seat.