Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chuuya Nakahara was a university student at Bungo High, a place where most people considered him “cold” at first glance. But those who managed to get close to him soon realized he was different from what they had imagined.

Not that getting close to him was easy. Chuuya was a man of few words when it came to personal matters, and even if you managed to break through his walls, he’d deftly avoid any question about himself.

The students at Bungo High were… odd, to say the least. Gossip was their favorite pastime, and they would spread anything that popped into their heads. Recently, rumors were swirling about a new student supposedly joining the school, but Chuuya didn’t believe it for a second.

“Who in their right mind would willingly come to this dump?” That was what he thought, at least.

Like every morning, Chuuya woke up to the familiar hum of his alarm clock, its beeping echoing in his dimly lit room. He sighed, sitting up in bed as the pale morning light filtered through the blinds. Outside, the streets were still quiet, save for the occasional sound of birds and the distant hum of a car engine.

He ran a hand through his messy ginger hair, already dreading the day ahead. The students at Bungo High could be exhausting, with their constant gossip and nonsense. Chuuya, as usual, wanted no part of it.

The smell of breakfast wafted through the small apartment he shared with his older sister, Koyo. She was already awake, probably had been for hours. Koyo was always up before him, bustling around the kitchen, preparing food. But for now, Chuuya was in no rush to get out of bed. He stretched lazily, staring at the ceiling for a few more moments, enjoying the last bit of peace before his day began.

“Chuuya!” Koyo’s voice rang out from the kitchen, startling him slightly. “Breakfast is ready!”

He groaned, kicking off the sheets and dragging himself out of bed. He stood in front of the full-length mirror hanging on his wardrobe door, his reflection staring back at him. His hair was still a mess, his eyes heavy with lingering sleep. He grabbed his brush and ran it through the tangled strands, trying to tame them into something halfway decent. Even so, a few stray pieces stuck out defiantly. Typical.

“Chuuya! Come on, you’re going to be late!” Koyo called out again, her voice louder this time.

“I’m coming,” he muttered under his breath, though not loudly enough for her to hear.

Moving toward his wardrobe, Chuuya began the familiar task of getting dressed in his school uniform. It wasn’t exactly his favorite part of the day, but at this point, it had become routine. He pulled open the door, revealing the neatly pressed Bungo High uniform hanging there, as it always was.

First, he grabbed the white shirt. The fabric was crisp and stiff from ironing, the collar sharp as he slipped his arms through the sleeves. Buttoning it up quickly, he made sure each button was perfectly aligned—something he always did out of habit. Then came the black blazer, tailored to fit him well but still a little too formal for his liking. The blazer was adorned with silver trim along the lapels, giving it a sharp, almost militaristic look. The school emblem—an elaborate crest with a strange mix of kanji and symbols—was stitched onto the breast pocket. Chuuya barely glanced at it anymore; it was just part of the uniform, something he had to wear whether he liked it or not.

The maroon tie came next. He looped it around his neck, tying it swiftly, his hands moving with practiced precision. The knot sat perfectly at his collarbone, not too tight, not too loose. Everything about his appearance was immaculate, but he felt no pride in it—just another part of the tedious routine.

He reached for his black trousers, sliding them on with the same indifference. They were always perfectly pressed, sharp creases running down the legs. Chuuya couldn’t remember the last time he cared about how they looked, but Koyo made sure they were spotless. She had a habit of ironing them every night, even when he insisted he could do it himself.

“CHUUYA!” His sister’s voice cut through his thoughts, this time with a hint of irritation. “This is the fifth time I’ve called you! Get down here!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” Chuuya snapped back, grabbing his belt and pulling it through the loops. He buckled it quickly and glanced at himself one last time in the mirror. The reflection that stared back at him was that of a well-dressed student, but behind the sharp uniform and clean-cut appearance was someone who felt detached, like he was just going through the motions.

Satisfied—or at least as satisfied as he could be—he grabbed his black satchel bag from the chair by the desk. He slung it over his shoulder and headed toward the kitchen, where the smell of miso soup and rice had been beckoning him for the past ten minutes.

As he entered the kitchen, Koyo stood by the stove, a spatula in hand, her pink-reddish hair tied back neatly. She turned when she heard his footsteps, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

“Took you long enough,” she remarked, her tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “I called you five times.”

“I heard you the first time,” Chuuya muttered, pulling out a chair at the small dining table. He sat down, glancing at the spread in front of him—miso soup, grilled fish, rice, and some pickled vegetables. Koyo had outdone herself, as usual.

Koyo raised an eyebrow, placing the last dish on the table before sitting across from him. “You’re always in your own world in the morning. If you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late.”

“I won’t be late,” Chuuya replied flatly, picking up his chopsticks and starting to eat. The warmth of the soup helped wake him up, but he still wasn’t in the mood to deal with the day ahead. Especially not with those ridiculous rumors floating around school.

Koyo watched him for a moment before taking a bite of her own food. “Heard anything new from your friends? Or are you still the mysterious loner in the corner?”

Chuuya shot her a glare, but it lacked any real bite. “I don’t have time for that gossip nonsense.”

Koyo smirked. “That’s what I thought. But you know, you could at least try to talk to people. It wouldn’t kill you.”

He didn’t bother responding. The truth was, he wasn’t interested in socializing with anyone at Bungo High. They were all just… odd. Always talking behind each other’s backs, spreading rumors like wildfire. The latest one about a new student transferring in? He didn’t believe it for a second. No one in their right mind would willingly choose to come to that place. At least, not if they knew what it was like.

Finishing the last of his rice, Chuuya pushed his plate aside and stood up. “I’m heading out.”

Koyo glanced up from her own breakfast. “You’re not even going to say thank you?”

Chuuya paused for a moment, then sighed. “Thanks. See you later.”

Grabbing his bag, he headed toward the door, slipping on his shoes before stepping outside. The morning air was cool against his skin, a brief moment of quiet before he entered the madness of the school day. He didn’t know what the day would bring, but he was certain of one thing: nothing interesting ever happened at Bungo High. At least, not to him.

_____________

as Chuuya walked down the narrow streets leading away from his apartment. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows over the pavement, but the sky was already tinged with soft hues of gold and pink. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his blazer, his satchel hanging loosely from his shoulder. The routine was the same every day: wake up, get dressed, have breakfast, and head to Bungo High, a place that felt more like a prison than a school.

The walk wasn’t particularly short either. It took him a good twenty minutes to navigate the winding streets, past small shops that were just starting to open, past the park where the trees swayed gently in the breeze. He liked the walk, though. It was one of the few moments where he could be alone with his thoughts, away from the suffocating buzz of gossiping students and annoying classmates.

As he walked, he kept his eyes straight ahead, his mind already wandering. Koyo’s words from earlier echoed in his head. You could at least try to talk to people. He snorted at the thought. What was the point? The students at Bungo High were all strange—gossiping behind each other’s backs, clinging to rumors like it was their lifeblood. And recently, they’d all been obsessing over one particular rumor: the new student supposedly transferring into their class.

Like that’s going to happen, Chuuya thought, rolling his eyes. He hadn’t even bothered to listen to most of it. A transfer student? Coming to Bungo High? Who would willingly walk into that circus?

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the tall figure approaching from the opposite direction until they were nearly face-to-face.

“Chuuya-san.”

Chuuya looked up, recognizing the voice immediately. There, standing in front of him with the same cold, sharp expression he always wore, was Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. Dressed in the same black blazer and white shirt, Akutagawa’s uniform looked slightly disheveled, as though he had thrown it on without much care. His hair, black and unruly, framed his pale face in wild strands, and his eyes, always dark and intense, were fixed on Chuuya with their usual unwavering focus.

Chuuya didn’t dislike Akutagawa. In fact, if there was anyone in this school he could tolerate, it was probably him. They weren’t exactly “friends” in the conventional sense—Chuuya wasn’t the type to form close bonds—but there was a mutual respect between them, a silent understanding that didn’t require unnecessary words.

“Akutagawa,” Chuuya greeted him with a nod, slowing his pace as they fell into step beside each other.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke, the sound of their footsteps the only noise breaking the quiet morning. Akutagawa wasn’t one for small talk, and Chuuya appreciated that. They could walk in silence without it feeling awkward, each lost in their own thoughts.

But, of course, the silence didn’t last long.

“Did you hear about the new student coming today, Chuuya-san?” Akutagawa asked abruptly, his voice as flat and serious as ever. There was no trace of curiosity or excitement in his tone, just a simple question.

Chuuya stopped in his tracks, turning slightly to face him, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “Huh?” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait… that wasn’t a rumor?”

Akutagawa’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes fixed on Chuuya with that same intense gaze. “It seems it’s true. There’s been a lot of talk about it. People are saying the new student is arriving today, joining our class.”

Chuuya frowned, trying to process the information. “You’re telling me,” he began slowly, “that someone actually chose to come to Bungo High? On purpose?”

Akutagawa gave a slight shrug, his hands tucked neatly into his blazer pockets. “It appears so. I overheard the teachers talking about it. It’s not just gossip this time.”

Chuuya let out a low, incredulous laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What kind of person would willingly walk into this dump?”

Akutagawa didn’t answer immediately, his gaze shifting ahead as they continued walking. The two of them had always been more comfortable with silence than idle chatter, but Chuuya could sense that Akutagawa, while calm on the outside, was just as curious as he was.

After a few moments, Chuuya clicked his tongue, breaking the silence. “Well, whoever this new student is, they must be out of their mind. Or clueless. They probably don’t know what they’re getting into.” He sighed, running a hand through his auburn hair. “I mean, what’s so great about this place? It’s full of weirdos and rumors, nothing else.”

Akutagawa glanced at him, his expression unreadable as usual. “You say that, but you’ve been here for a while, haven’t you, Chuuya-san?”

Chuuya shot him a sidelong look. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I had much of a choice. It’s different when you’re stuck here.” He glanced around at the familiar streets, the gray buildings rising up on either side. “But coming here on purpose? That’s a whole different level of crazy.”

The two walked in silence for a while longer, their footsteps echoing off the narrow alleyways as they approached the outskirts of the school grounds. The familiar path stretched out before them, winding its way up toward the school’s main gate. The walk was long, but neither of them minded. It gave them time to think, to mentally prepare for the day ahead.

As they drew closer to the school, Chuuya’s mind drifted back to what Akutagawa had said. A new student… He hadn’t expected the rumor to be true, but now that it was, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person would be joining their class. Bungo High wasn’t exactly known for attracting the best and brightest. In fact, most people avoided it if they could.

“Any idea who they are?” Chuuya asked, glancing over at Akutagawa.

“No,” Akutagawa replied, his voice calm and composed as usual. “But I doubt it matters. They’ll probably blend in with the rest of the students.”

“Or become the next target of the gossip mill,” Chuuya muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Akutagawa didn’t respond, but Chuuya could see the faintest flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. It wasn’t often that Akutagawa expressed much emotion, but Chuuya had learned to recognize the subtle signs over time. It was part of why they got along so well—they understood each other without the need for many words.

As they approached the looming gates of Bungo High, Chuuya’s smirk faded, replaced by a resigned frown. The school looked the same as always, its towering buildings casting long shadows over the courtyard, the dull gray exterior blending into the overcast sky. A few students were milling about, most of them clustered in small groups, already whispering and glancing around, no doubt eager for their first look at the new arrival.

Chuuya stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Well, looks like today’s going to be interesting, for once.”

Akutagawa nodded slightly. “Perhaps.”

Chuuya and Akutagawa walked through the school gates, their usual quiet presence barely drawing any attention from the other students milling around. Bungo High’s courtyard was already buzzing with life, small clusters of students chatting, gossiping, and trading glances. Most of them were caught up in their own world, laughing or huddled together in tight groups, their eyes occasionally flickering toward the school entrance—likely waiting to catch a glimpse of the new student.

Chuuya scoffed under his breath. Typical. He couldn’t believe they had nothing better to talk about. Even if the rumor turned out to be true, why did it matter so much? It was just another student. They’d probably blend into the sea of mediocrity like everyone else.

“See you in class,” Akutagawa said simply before breaking off from Chuuya, heading down a different hallway toward his own locker.

Chuuya nodded in acknowledgment, but said nothing, continuing down the main hallway. His footsteps echoed against the tiled floors as he weaved his way through the small crowds. The hallway was already filling up with students, their voices a low hum that bounced off the walls. He caught snippets of conversation here and there—more talk about the mysterious transfer student, some complaints about upcoming exams, and the occasional whispered insult or laugh. None of it mattered to him.

The classroom wasn’t far. Room 2-B. As he pushed open the door, the familiar sight greeted him. Desks were arranged neatly in rows, the walls lined with bland posters about proper study habits and upcoming school events. A few students were already seated, chatting lazily with one another or staring at their phones. The air had that sleepy morning haze, like no one was really ready to face the day yet.

Chuuya headed toward his usual spot, near the window, and slung his bag onto the desk with a quiet thud. The view outside was nothing special—just a glimpse of the courtyard and the distant rooftops of the surrounding buildings. But he liked sitting there. It was quiet, away from the center of attention.

As he settled into his seat, the door slid open again, and more students trickled in. Among them was Tachihara, his friend and fellow troublemaker. Tachihara had always been a bit of a wild card—loud, brash, and never one to back down from a fight, but loyal to a fault. His mop of brown hair was messy as usual, and his uniform was slightly untucked, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it after rushing out the door this morning.

“Yo, Chuuya!” Tachihara called out, striding over with a grin. He dropped into the seat next to Chuuya, slapping his bag down on the desk. “You hear the latest?”

Chuuya rolled his eyes. “You mean about the new kid?”

“Yeah!” Tachihara leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “Everyone’s talking about it. People are saying they might be some rich kid from out of town. I heard someone say they might even be from overseas.”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Overseas? You really believe that?”

Tachihara shrugged, grinning. “Hey, you never know. Could be someone interesting for once. This school could use some excitement.”

“Or more drama,” Chuuya muttered. He wasn’t buying into any of it. “It’s probably just some average kid. Nothing special.”

Just then, another voice cut through the conversation. “Talking about the new student, huh?”

Chuuya turned his head to see Gin standing nearby, her presence quiet but not unnoticed. Gin was always calm and collected, rarely getting involved in the chaos that surrounded the other students. Her silver hair was tied back neatly, and her sharp eyes observed everything with a cool detachment. Despite her quiet nature, she had a strong sense of loyalty to those she trusted, which was why Chuuya liked having her around. She wasn’t the type to spread rumors or get caught up in the nonsense.

“Figures everyone would be obsessed with it,” Gin continued, taking a seat across from Chuuya. “They act like it’s some huge deal.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Chuuya agreed, leaning back in his chair. “This school’s full of idiots with nothing better to do than gossip.”

Tachihara laughed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, but that’s what makes it fun, right? Gotta keep things interesting somehow.”

Chuuya gave him a sideways glance. “I wouldn’t call it fun.”

“Maybe not for you, but come on, Chuuya. You gotta admit, sometimes the drama is entertaining,” Tachihara said, nudging him with his elbow.

Chuuya grunted, brushing off the comment. He didn’t have time for drama, nor did he care about it. It was all just noise to him, meaningless distractions that made the school feel even more like a joke. Still, he couldn’t deny that the prospect of a new student—one that wasn’t just another face in the crowd—was at least mildly intriguing. Not that he would admit that out loud.

The classroom continued to fill up as more students arrived, taking their seats and chatting animatedly. The buzz of conversation grew louder, and Chuuya noticed more than a few glances being exchanged, no doubt about the rumored transfer. Even the usual troublemakers in the back row were leaning in, whispering excitedly like a new player had just entered some kind of game.

“Hey, where’s Akutagawa?” Tachihara asked, looking around. “Thought he’d be here by now.”

“Probably brooding somewhere,” Chuuya replied dryly. “You know how he is.”

Gin smirked slightly. “He doesn’t care about any of this, either.”

Just as Chuuya was about to respond, the door slid open again, and their homeroom teacher, Yosano-sensei, stepped in. She was dressed in her usual professional attire, her sharp eyes scanning the room as she made her way to the front. Yosano-sensei was no-nonsense and didn’t tolerate chaos in her class, which was probably why she managed to keep the students in line most of the time.

“Alright, settle down,” Yosano said, her voice cutting through the chatter as she placed her books on the desk. “I know you’re all excited about the new student, but let’s not get carried away.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed slightly. So it really wasn’t just a rumor. The new student was actually arriving today. He glanced at Tachihara, who looked practically thrilled at the prospect, and then at Gin, who simply raised an eyebrow as if to say, Told you so.

Yosano’s sharp gaze swept over the class. “I expect all of you to act appropriately when they arrive. No nonsense, no rumors, and no unnecessary attention.” She paused, looking pointedly at the group of students in the back row, who immediately fell silent. “We’ll meet the new student soon, but first, let’s get through the announcements.”

Chuuya leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. So the new kid was real, after all. He still wasn’t convinced this would be anything more than another distraction for the gossipers, but part of him—just a small part—was curious. Who was this new student? And what kind of person would they be to willingly walk into the madness of Bungo High?

As Yosano-sensei droned on about the usual morning announcements, Chuuya exchanged a glance with Tachihara, who grinned and mouthed, “Told you.”

Chuuya just sighed, staring out the window as the sun climbed higher into the sky. It looked like today was going to be more interesting than he’d originally thought.

The classroom was filled with the low hum of conversation as Yosano-sensei continued reading off the usual announcements. Chuuya was only half-paying attention, his mind still drifting to the fact that the mysterious new student was actually going to show up today. He wasn’t sure why it was bothering him so much—he didn’t usually care about these things. But something about it made him feel… uneasy. Like something was about to shift.

He was staring absentmindedly out the window when a sudden knock at the door broke through the background noise. The room went silent almost immediately, every head turning toward the door in anticipation.

Yosano-sensei looked up from her notes, her expression as calm and composed as ever. “Come in,” she called out, her voice clear.

For a moment, there was a pause. Then, slowly, the door slid open.

The new student stepped inside, and the entire room seemed to hold its breath.

He was… beautiful.

That was the only word that came to mind. The boy standing in the doorway looked almost ethereal, like he didn’t quite belong in the mundane surroundings of Bungo High. His skin was pale, and his dark brown hair framed his face in soft, tousled waves that fell just above his shoulders. His eyes were large and framed by long, thick eyelashes that cast faint shadows over his cheeks, giving him an almost delicate appearance. His lips, soft and slightly parted, were a shade too full to go unnoticed.

And he was tall. Taller than most of the boys in the class, though his posture was slightly hunched, as if trying to make himself smaller—an attempt to hide, maybe, or to avoid drawing too much attention.

But it was too late for that.

The classroom remained eerily silent, but Chuuya could practically feel the thoughts running through the other students’ minds. They weren’t paying attention to anything about this kid except for how he looked. For once, there was no whispering, no snickering, no rude comments. Just stunned, almost bewildered silence.

Yosano-sensei, to her credit, didn’t seem phased. “This is Osamu Dazai,” she said, her voice calm and professional as she gestured toward the boy. “He’s transferring here starting today. I expect all of you to make him feel welcome and show him the ropes.”

Dazai stood there, his posture slightly stiff, his eyes wide as they scanned the room. It was clear that he wasn’t comfortable with all the eyes on him, and his fingers twitched nervously at his sides. He swallowed, glancing briefly at Yosano-sensei for some kind of direction before looking back at the sea of unfamiliar faces in front of him.

Chuuya found himself watching the boy a little too closely, his brows knitting together as something strange twisted in his chest. There was something about this kid—this Dazai—that felt… off. Not in a bad way, but in a way that Chuuya couldn’t quite place. It was like a vague sense of déjà vu, like seeing someone he knew he should recognize but couldn’t remember from where. He frowned, narrowing his eyes as he tried to shake the feeling.

He looks familiar.

The thought struck him like a sudden gust of wind, but he couldn’t pin down why. It made no sense. Chuuya was certain he had never seen this kid before. But there was something about the way Dazai stood, the way his eyes flickered nervously around the room, the slight downturn of his lips. It nagged at Chuuya’s brain, like a forgotten memory trying to resurface but falling just short of recognition.

Before he could dwell on it any further, Yosano-sensei spoke again. “Dazai, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Dazai hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering toward the teacher. He looked painfully shy, like the idea of speaking in front of all these people was his worst nightmare. After a second or two of awkward silence, he finally spoke, his voice soft and hesitant, barely loud enough to be heard from the back of the room.

“Um… My name is Osamu Dazai,” he said, his eyes darting nervously around the classroom. His voice had a certain smoothness to it, though the quiet shyness made it tremble. “I just moved here…“

There was a soft murmur that rippled through the classroom, but most of the students were still fixated on how he looked, rather than anything he had said. Chuuya could hear the whispers starting up again, quiet and harmless for now, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way. The students at Bungo High could be ruthless when they wanted to be, especially with someone like Dazai, who seemed too delicate for this kind of environment. He could already imagine the kinds of things people would say behind his back.

Yosano-sensei gestured toward the back of the room. “You can take the empty seat in the back, Dazai.”

Dazai nodded quickly, still avoiding eye contact with anyone. As he walked past the rows of desks, the other students leaned in, whispering behind their hands or giving him long, lingering looks. Most of the boys were sizing him up, while the girls exchanged glances that Chuuya could only describe as fascinated curiosity.

Chuuya remained silent, his gaze still fixed on Dazai as he walked down the aisle. He could feel that strange, gnawing feeling in his gut again, like something was just out of reach. Why do I feel like I’ve seen him before?

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place it. There was no logical reason for it. He had never met this kid before in his life. And yet…

“Man, did you see him?” Tachihara whispered from beside him, clearly impressed. “That guy looks like he walked out of some magazine or something.”

Chuuya shot him a look. “Don’t get carried away.”

Tachihara just grinned. “What? I’m just saying. You can’t deny the guy’s got looks.”

Gin, sitting across from them, raised an eyebrow but remained silent, clearly more focused on observing the situation than joining in on Tachihara’s excitement.

Dazai finally reached the back of the classroom and slipped into his seat, his shoulders visibly relaxing now that he was no longer the center of attention. He kept his eyes downcast, his hands resting awkwardly on the desk in front of him as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them.

Chuuya leaned back in his chair, still feeling that odd sense of familiarity gnawing at him. He’d have to keep an eye on this kid. Not because of how he looked—Chuuya didn’t care about that—but because there was something else. Something about Dazai that felt unsettling in a way that made Chuuya’s skin prickle. And if there was one thing Chuuya trusted, it was his instincts.

As Yosano-sensei moved on with the lesson, the buzz of excitement slowly died down, and the students turned their attention back to their usual routines. But Chuuya couldn’t shake that lingering thought.

He looks familiar.

But why?

He had no idea that the answer to that question would come sooner than he expected.

The rest of the class passed by in a blur. Yosano-sensei went through the usual routine—some dull lecture about historical events that Chuuya barely listened to. He wasn’t the only one zoning out; most of the students were either whispering under their breath or scribbling meaningless doodles in their notebooks.

Chuuya’s eyes occasionally flicked toward the back of the room, where Dazai sat as still as a statue. The new kid hadn’t moved much since sitting down. His posture was rigid, his eyes glued to his desk like he was trying to make himself invisible. It was strange, seeing someone like him—someone who looked like they’d walk through life with everything handed to them—acting so small, so fragile. The thought was a little unsettling.

But more than anything, it annoyed Chuuya. He couldn’t stand this weird feeling gnawing at him, the sensation that Dazai wasn’t just another new kid. It didn’t make sense, but it wouldn’t leave him alone.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, and the noise in the room quickly swelled as students gathered their belongings. The class had moved on from Dazai’s awkward entrance, but Chuuya couldn’t quite shake the feeling of unease he felt every time his eyes drifted toward the new kid.

His gaze landed on Dazai again, still seated at the back of the room, hunched over, almost as if trying to blend into the shadows. The kid hadn’t moved much since the lesson began—he still had his arms tightly wrapped around himself, and now Chuuya could clearly see the bandages around his neck, visible beneath the slightly disheveled collar of his uniform.

But it wasn’t just his neck.

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed, drawn to the bandages on Dazai’s wrists, which peeked out from the sleeves of his uniform. The white wraps were thick, almost too pristine, and they seemed to cover most of his forearms. Something about the way the bandages were wrapped gave off the impression that they were hiding something—maybe injuries, or worse. Chuuya’s heart skipped a beat.

What the hell happened to him?

His stomach churned, and the uneasy feeling inside him grew stronger. It wasn’t just the bandages themselves that bothered him—it was the fact that Dazai was so quiet, so contained, like he was trying to keep something inside. He couldn’t figure out why, but something about the kid didn’t sit right with him.

Chuuya glanced around the classroom. The other students were too busy chatting about the day’s lessons to pay much attention to Dazai’s condition, but Chuuya was fixated. His gaze kept returning to Dazai, who was still sitting as if he were trying to disappear from the room. His eyes, dark and distant, stared blankly ahead.

Tch, the guy’s just too weird, Chuuya thought, but he couldn’t help the growing knot of worry in his stomach.

He pushed his chair back and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The room was beginning to empty out, and the noise level was rising. As he walked toward the door, his footsteps faltered when he noticed Tachihara making his way toward Dazai’s desk.

“Oi, Chuuya,” Tachihara said, catching up to him with a grin. “I’m gonna go talk to him. You coming?”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “What? Talk to him?”

“Yeah. Why not?” Tachihara shrugged, not taking Chuuya’s growing unease seriously. “The guy’s kinda strange, but it’ll be interesting to see what he’s like.”

Chuuya scowled. “Not my problem,” he muttered, more to himself than to Tachihara. The last thing he needed was to waste his time on a guy who clearly didn’t want anything to do with anyone.

Tachihara laughed and started to head toward Dazai. “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t try.”

As Tachihara approached Dazai’s desk, Chuuya glanced back at the kid one more time. Dazai hadn’t moved, and his posture was still hunched, his head lowered, as if he was trying to disappear from everyone’s view. His hands rested on his lap, and Chuuya couldn’t help but notice how tightly his fingers were curled, almost like he was gripping something tightly beneath the bandages.

Dazai shifted slightly, his eyes flicking up just for a moment as Tachihara approached him, and in that split second, Chuuya caught a glimpse of something—an expression, maybe, something that was both distant and… haunted. But it was gone before he could fully process it.

Tch. Whatever, Chuuya thought, turning away and walking toward the door. He wasn’t going to get involved with this.

But as he passed by Dazai’s desk, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the kid was still watching him. It was an unsettling thought.

He couldn’t help but glance back one last time.

Dazai’s head was still down, but there was something about the way his hands were fidgeting that made Chuuya pause. Those bandages seemed almost too deliberate, as if they were concealing something—something more than just an injury.

Chuuya gritted his teeth and turned away quickly, cursing under his breath. This whole thing was a headache.

_____________

Chuuya stepped into the physics room with the rest of the class, groaning as he took his usual seat at the front row. He cast a glance around the room, noting the familiar layout of the desks, the old chalkboard at the front, and the scientific equipment neatly arranged along the walls.

Same old boring place…

His mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Dazai. The new kid had been acting weird, staying quiet, and honestly, it felt like Chuuya had caught him in some kind of trap of silence. His constant stare, that distant look in his eyes—it was enough to make anyone curious, but Chuuya wasn’t the type to get involved in other people’s problems. Still, there was something about Dazai that made it hard to ignore him. Something… off.

Chuuya sat down at his desk, crossing his arms, and kept an eye on the back of the room. Sure enough, Dazai took his usual spot near the corner, slumping into his chair like he was trying to avoid being noticed. The bandages on his neck and wrists were still visible, wrapped so neatly it almost seemed deliberate.

But no one else seemed to care.

How does a guy like that even end up here anyway? Chuuya thought, casting a glance at the other students as they shuffled in and found their places. The class was bustling with energy, everyone whispering and moving around, but not a single person seemed to take notice of the new kid’s unusual appearance.

Chuuya rubbed his temples and sighed as Fukuzawa-sensei, the stern but surprisingly kind physics teacher, walked into the room. The tall man adjusted his glasses and looked around at the students.

“Settle down,” Fukuzawa said in his usual deep, calm voice. “Today we’ll be working on a group project. You’ll be splitting into teams, and each team will conduct an experiment on the laws of motion. I’ll assign you a task, and you’ll need to complete it by the end of the class.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes. Great. Group project. Just what I need.

Fukuzawa began calling out names, and quickly, the class split into pairs. Tachihara and Gin were quickly paired together—no surprise there, since the two of them often worked together. Chuuya watched as the other students found their partners, leaving him with an increasing sense of unease.

“Akutagawa,” Fukuzawa called, glancing up from the list in his hand, “pair up with Higuchi.”

Akutagawa didn’t say a word, his usual cold expression unchanging as he silently nodded in agreement, moving to sit next to Higuchi.

The pairs started to form naturally—students finding their friends, chatting as they settled down.

Then, Fukuzawa’s gaze shifted, and Chuuya’s stomach dropped.

“The new kid,I think Dazai it was” Fukuzawa said, glancing down at his list, “you’ll be working with…”

His voice trailed off, and for a moment there was a heavy pause in the room. Every pair had already formed, except for Dazai and Chuuya.

Chuuya stared at the teacher, his expression unchanging, but his heart raced as the awkward silence dragged on.

“…Chuuya,” Fukuzawa finished, almost in resignation. “You’ll work with Dazai.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

Dazai’s head snapped up from his desk, those dark eyes widening slightly at hearing his name called. He glanced at Chuuya, who was already staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

Chuuya sighed, his mind instantly filled with annoyance. Tch, this is just great…

He didn’t say anything, just shifted in his seat, his arms crossed tightly as he glared down at his desk.

Dazai, meanwhile, looked extremely nervous. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his eyes darting around the room. He seemed uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t used to being the center of attention—especially with the entire class watching as Fukuzawa made the announcement.

“Uh… o-okay,” Dazai finally said, almost too quietly to be heard, as he slowly stood up and moved toward Chuuya’s desk. His shoulders were hunched, and he looked even smaller than usual.

Chuuya didn’t even bother looking at him, the corner of his mouth twitching in a mix of irritation and resignation. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

When Dazai reached the desk, he hesitated for a second before sitting down awkwardly next to Chuuya, his posture uncomfortable, like he was trying not to take up too much space. His gaze was still low, barely making eye contact with Chuuya.

For a long moment, Chuuya just sat there, silent and grumbling inwardly.

Great. Just great. He sighed.

Fukuzawa moved on, calling out the next pair as the classroom resumed its chatter, and Chuuya was left staring at the papers in front of him. The task—something about calculating the velocity of an object in free fall—didn’t seem difficult, but the thought of working with Dazai was irritating.

It didn’t take long for Chuuya to realize how awkward this was going to be.

He looked over at Dazai.

The new kid still hadn’t said anything. He seemed content to let the silence hang between them, his attention focused on the desk in front of him, fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the paper.

Chuuya finally broke the silence, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Oi,” he snapped. “You gonna help or what?”

Dazai flinched, clearly startled by Chuuya’s sharp tone. He looked up at Chuuya, his eyes wide and nervous.

“Uh… right, sorry,” he stammered. “What… what do you need me to do?”

Chuuya sighed. Great, this kid is seriously useless. But he tried to calm down, grabbing his pen and flipping through his notebook to the right page.

“We need to figure out the final velocity of this object,” Chuuya explained, pointing to the problem on the board. “You remember how to do this, right?”

Dazai nodded, his hands clumsily fumbling with the edge of his sleeve again. He hesitated, then whispered, “I… I’ll try.”

Chuuya watched him for a moment, unsure of what to make of the kid’s behavior. He was so quiet, so withdrawn.

What the hell is his deal anyway? Chuuya thought, but then… Wait, what if he’s just shy?

Dazai barely seemed to be paying attention as he fumbled through the math, his handwriting awkward and unsteady. The two of them were a mess. Chuuya didn’t have the patience for this, but something about Dazai’s constant uncertainty made him pause for a second.

As the lesson wore on, Chuuya found himself growing more and more impatient with the whole situation. He glanced around the room, noting that everyone else was already deep into their projects—Tachihara and Gin were laughing as they set up their experiment, Akutagawa and Izumi were quietly working through the calculations, and everyone else seemed to be functioning just fine.

But he was stuck with the awkward kid at the back of the room.

Damn it, why does this feel so wrong?

He glanced over at Dazai, who still hadn’t said much. His hands were shaking slightly, and he seemed like he was barely keeping himself together. Something is definitely off.

The silence between them was thick, but Chuuya knew they had to finish this experiment eventually. He tapped his pen impatiently on the desk, and without looking at Dazai, muttered, “Let’s just finish this, alright?”

Dazai looked up, his eyes wide with surprise, but he nodded slowly, clearly more willing to cooperate now. He cleared his throat and mumbled, “Right. Let’s do it.”

As the two began to work together more smoothly, Chuuya’s mind couldn’t help but drift back to the bandages on Dazai’s arms. What the hell is he hiding?

Chuuya was starting to feel even more frustrated. They’d been working on the experiment for the past few minutes, and Dazai still hadn’t said a word. His fingers fumbled with the calculator in his hand, his head bent low, and his eyes rarely lifted from the sheet in front of him.

Chuuya, meanwhile, was trying to focus on the task at hand, but his patience was wearing thin. He had expected Dazai to ask questions, or maybe even express some confusion like most other students would. Instead, there was this awkward, uncomfortable silence that Chuuya couldn’t quite figure out.

The other students around them were already deep into their own projects. Tachihara and Gin were bouncing ideas back and forth, laughing as they set up their experiment. Akutagawa and Izumi were quietly discussing a problem on the board, while everyone else seemed to be moving at a decent pace.

But here they were—Chuuya, with his head tilted in frustration, and Dazai, still hunched over his desk, not saying a word.

He’s not even trying, Chuuya thought, clenching his pen. How is this guy even in this class?

After a few more minutes of staring at the numbers on the page, Chuuya glanced over at Dazai, who was still working quietly, but now he seemed to be adjusting his calculations.

Chuuya sighed, annoyed. “Oi, Dazai, don’t just sit there. You gotta do something.”

Dazai, as usual, looked up at Chuuya with those wide, nervous eyes. But this time, there was something different. Instead of the usual blank stare or a mumbled response, Dazai’s expression was focused. Calm, even.

He finally opened his mouth, his voice softer than before, but steady. “You’re missing a factor in the equation.”

Chuuya blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected that at all.

“Huh?” Chuuya glanced at the sheet. “No way. I did the math right. This is just basic velocity calculations.”

Dazai, without hesitation, pointed to one of the numbers on the sheet and spoke quietly but confidently. “You forgot to account for air resistance. The object’s velocity will change slightly based on the air pressure in the room.”

Chuuya’s brow furrowed as he glanced back at the problem. He hadn’t even considered air resistance—physics had always been one of his stronger subjects, but now he was starting to feel a bit… off.

“I… I didn’t think we had to include that.” Chuuya scowled.

Dazai’s eyes remained on the paper, and there was no trace of hesitation in his voice. “It’s part of the full equation, isn’t it? If you don’t include air resistance, the velocity won’t be accurate.”

Chuuya stared at him, still trying to process what he had just heard. Dazai was right. That little detail that Chuuya had brushed off, thinking it wasn’t important, was actually crucial to the accuracy of the experiment.

But what was even more shocking was how easily Dazai had picked up on it, like it was second nature to him. He hadn’t even looked up from the sheet when he mentioned it. It was almost as if he had been calculating the problem in his head this whole time.

After that, Chuuya started paying attention.

For the next few minutes, they worked in silence—except now, Chuuya was watching Dazai more closely. The new kid was completely immersed in the task, scribbling down calculations with ease, his hands moving quickly and confidently. His expression was calm, focused—completely different from the shy, withdrawn kid Chuuya had assumed he was.

How does he even know this much?

Chuuya glanced down at his own notes, trying to catch up with the speed Dazai was working at. It wasn’t long before Dazai’s quiet voice broke through his thoughts again.

“The final velocity should be calculated as 22.5 meters per second. Since we’re on a flat surface, the additional force of air resistance won’t affect the calculation much. But if we were to conduct this experiment outdoors, the wind would have an effect.”

Chuuya blinked again, staring at Dazai. He had already worked out the entire problem—along with a few extra variables Chuuya hadn’t even considered. The new kid was… smart.

Wait a second…

Chuuya glanced up at Dazai, his irritation starting to fade, replaced by a strange curiosity. Dazai was still typing on his calculator, focused on the numbers, but there was no nervous stuttering or awkwardness now. He was completely in his element, and it was impressive.

So why does he act so… weird in class?

Chuuya couldn’t help but feel a little stunned. This guy is a genius.

But Chuuya wasn’t the only one who noticed.

A few moments later, Tachihara, who was working with Gin just behind them, turned his head and called out, “Hey, Chuuya, you finally got your act together?”

Chuuya turned around, giving Tachihara a glare, but before he could respond, Tachihara raised his hand with a grin. “Man, I thought you were just slacking off. Didn’t know the new kid was gonna pull your weight like that.”

Chuuya scowled, but he didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still on Dazai, who seemed oblivious to the conversation. The new kid was writing down the final figures, totally focused on his work.

“Dazai,” Chuuya said, after a long pause. “You… actually know this stuff, huh?”

Dazai paused for a moment, his pen hovering in the air, before he glanced up at Chuuya with those soft, nervous eyes. His shoulders stiffened slightly, and for a second, he looked almost self-conscious.

“I… I guess,” Dazai muttered, his gaze falling back to the paper in front of him. “It’s not that hard, once you understand the equations.”

Chuuya stared at him. Not that hard?

Chuuya’s mind was spinning as he processed the new information. Dazai wasn’t just shy. He wasn’t just some withdrawn kid who didn’t care about anything.

No, Dazai was smarter than anyone Chuuya had expected. And for some reason, Chuuya couldn’t help but feel a bit… intrigued by him now.

As the lesson continued, Chuuya found himself less annoyed with Dazai. Sure, the kid still had his quirks, and he still wasn’t the most social, but something about the way Dazai handled himself when it came to academics had caught Chuuya’s attention.

And now, as they worked together on the experiment, Chuuya found himself thinking about how he could make use of Dazai’s quiet brilliance in the future.

Heh… maybe he’s not so bad after all.

But Chuuya wasn’t about to admit that out loud. He settled back into his seat, still slightly grumpy, but his thoughts were already shifting away from the irritation that had originally filled him. Instead, he found himself feeling more… curious.

The room was buzzing with activity as Fukuzawa-sensei announced it was time for the group presentations.

One by one, students began standing up, ready to explain their experiments to the class. Tachihara and Gin were the first, confidently walking to the front of the room with their final calculations. Tachihara spoke with enthusiasm as he explained their results, and the class gave them a round of applause when they finished.

Chuuya was already feeling the weight of the task ahead. His group—well, his and Dazai’s group—had been quiet, almost too quiet. Chuuya wasn’t exactly the best when it came to talking in front of a class, and he doubted Dazai would do any better. He glanced over at the new kid, who was still staring at his notebook, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as if he was trying to hold himself together.

The next groups presented, and Chuuya felt his anxiety grow with each one. He knew they had done the calculations right, but somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Dazai’s quiet demeanor was going to mess everything up.

Finally, Fukuzawa looked at Chuuya and Dazai. “Your turn, Chuuya,” he said calmly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Chuuya’s heart sank. He quickly stood up, straightening his uniform, and gave Dazai a quick glance.

“C’mon,” Chuuya muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

Dazai blinked, but didn’t respond. His eyes were still downcast as he stood beside Chuuya, walking to the front of the room as Chuuya fidgeted with his notes.

As they stood in front of the class, Chuuya could feel the eyes of every student boring into them, and his pulse quickened. He cleared his throat, trying to look confident, despite the rising anxiety in his chest.

He glanced over at Dazai one more time before reading off the result of their experiment from the paper. “Uh, so, we did the experiment to calculate the final velocity of an object in free fall. We included the air resistance, and—uh… as you can see, the velocity came out to be 22.5 meters per second.”

He paused, expecting a reaction from the class. The students looked at him blankly, some yawning, others doodling in their notebooks. It wasn’t like anyone cared much about the specifics of his explanation—they just wanted it to be over.

Chuuya sighed, feeling the pressure of the situation. He glanced over at Dazai again, expecting him to say something or make a comment. But Dazai wasn’t looking at him. He was still staring down at the paper, his hands gripping the edge of the desk.

And then, just as Chuuya was about to turn back to the class, he heard Dazai’s quiet voice, barely above a whisper, say:

“That’s wrong.”

Chuuya’s heart skipped a beat.

“W-What?” he stammered, looking at Dazai. “What the hell do you mean, it’s wrong?”

Dazai blinked, his voice barely audible as he spoke again. “The air resistance factor you included is too small. It should be higher than you calculated. The result is off by about 0.4 meters per second.”

Chuuya stared at him for a second, processing what Dazai had said. He had done the math on his own, but he had clearly missed something—something small but important. His face flushed with embarrassment.

“Fine,” Chuuya grumbled, trying to push down his frustration. “Then you can read yours. Go ahead.”

Dazai glanced up at him for the first time, a small nod of agreement, before taking a step forward.

The class watched in silence as Dazai took a deep breath, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he cleared his throat.

“The final velocity, when including a corrected air resistance factor,” Dazai said in a soft but surprisingly clear voice, “should be approximately 22.1 meters per second. This calculation considers a higher coefficient of drag, which is necessary to account for the small air resistance present in this environment.”

The room remained silent. Chuuya stood there, watching Dazai as he finished, and he immediately realized the mistake he had made.

Damn it… He’s right.

The velocity Dazai had calculated was just a little lower than Chuuya’s own estimate. The air resistance factor was indeed higher than Chuuya had accounted for. His cheeks burned with embarrassment.

But that wasn’t the only thing that struck Chuuya.

As Dazai finished reading, Chuuya’s eyes drifted down to the new kid’s legs. Dazai’s knees were shaking. Not just a little bit—his entire legs were trembling, like he was struggling to stay upright.

Chuuya’s heart skipped in surprise. What the hell?

No one else seemed to notice. The class had gone back to their own business, and Fukuzawa-sensei was scribbling something on the chalkboard, not paying attention to the new kid’s obvious discomfort.

But Chuuya couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dazai.

His legs… They were shaking uncontrollably, and Dazai’s hands were clenching tightly at the sides of his trousers. He was clearly trying to stand still, trying to keep his composure, but it was obvious that he was struggling. His face was pale, and his breathing seemed a little too quick.

Chuuya could see how hard he was trying to keep himself together, but there was something… fragile about Dazai at that moment. He was barely holding it together.

Is he sick? Or is this… is this normal for him?

For the briefest second, Chuuya considered asking if Dazai was okay. But the moment passed as quickly as it came. He quickly shoved the thought aside, the embarrassment from earlier still gnawing at him.

Instead, he scowled and muttered under his breath, “You could have said something sooner, you know.”

Dazai looked up at him, blinking as though he hadn’t expected Chuuya to speak to him. His eyes flickered for a moment, but the trembling in his legs didn’t stop.

“I—I’m sorry,” Dazai mumbled, his voice still quiet. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Chuuya stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Something about Dazai’s soft tone seemed to make the atmosphere even more awkward than it already was.

“Well, whatever,” Chuuya muttered, not wanting to make a bigger deal of it. “At least you’re smarter than I thought.”

Dazai’s eyes widened ever so slightly, but he didn’t say anything in response. His legs continued to shake, though it seemed like he was trying to hold himself up with every ounce of willpower.

Fukuzawa-sensei stepped in, breaking the awkward silence with a sharp nod. “Thank you, Chuuya, Dazai. Well done.”

As the class continued, Chuuya couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of unease. The mistake had stung, but it wasn’t the only thing on his mind anymore. Dazai’s trembling legs… they had left an impression on him. He couldn’t shake the image of how vulnerable Dazai had looked at the front of the class.

What’s going on with him? Chuuya thought, staring at his notebook in front of him, pretending to focus on the rest of the lesson.

I don’t get it…

The bell rang, signaling the end of the physics lesson.

The class let out a collective sigh of relief, and students began shuffling around, gathering their things and preparing for lunch. Chuuya, still feeling a bit off after the presentation, grabbed his bag and quickly stuffed his notebook inside. He glanced at Dazai, who was already picking up his stuff, seemingly in no rush to leave. His legs still looked unsteady, but at least now he was standing up straight.

As the class poured out of the room, Tachihara and Gin came up to Chuuya, clearly in high spirits.

“Yo, Chuuya,” Tachihara said, slapping him on the back. “You good after that? Didn’t know you were gonna mess up like that.”

“Shut up,” Chuuya growled, swatting his hand away, but he couldn’t completely suppress the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. “It was a small mistake. Just… don’t mention it.”

Gin, meanwhile, was eyeing Dazai, who was packing his bag at a slower pace, seemingly lost in thought. The girl smirked, nudging Tachihara playfully. “Hey, what do you think of the new kid? I mean, he’s… kinda cute, right?”

Tachihara raised an eyebrow, following her gaze toward Dazai. “Huh? Really?”

“Oh, come on,” Gin said, rolling her eyes. “He’s got that whole ‘I’m shy but mysterious’ thing going on. Plus, he’s got that perfect face. Long eyelashes, plump lips… the whole package.” She grinned, clearly amused by the idea. “It’s kind of weird how someone like him ended up here, though. He’s way too pretty for this place.”

Chuuya stared at them, confused. They’re seriously talking about Dazai?

He glanced back at Dazai, who was still fiddling with his bag. His expression was unreadable, but Chuuya could tell he wasn’t exactly the most comfortable person to be around right now.

Seriously? You guys are gonna make him eat with us just because he’s pretty?

Gin ignored Chuuya’s grumbling, stepping forward toward Dazai. She was grinning like a cat that had just caught a mouse. “Hey, new kid! You wanna eat with us? It’s lunch break, and we’re headed to the cafeteria. You should come with.”

Dazai looked up, startled. His cheeks flushed lightly, and his eyes darted toward Chuuya for a split second. He seemed caught off guard by the invitation.

“I—I’m not really sure if…” Dazai hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down at his bag again, fidgeting with the zipper.

Chuuya rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. Typical Dazai, always being so awkward.

Tachihara sighed, nudging him. “Dude, just let the guy come. We don’t bite. And besides, Gin’s right, he’s way too pretty to be alone.”

Gin grinned mischievously. “Yeah, we can all be friends, right? Plus, it’ll be fun. I’m curious about you, Dazai. We should get to know you better.”

Dazai blinked, still hesitant, but then he finally mumbled, “I—I guess it’s okay…”

Chuuya scowled as the three of them started walking down the hallway. He didn’t know what it was about Dazai, but there was something about the way he acted that made Chuuya feel… strange. He didn’t like how the new kid was being treated like some sort of object of curiosity. He wasn’t just a pretty face, after all.

Whatever, Chuuya thought, grumbling to himself. It’s not like I care what they do with him.

The cafeteria was bustling with students, the usual lunch break chaos in full swing.

The four of them found a small table in the corner, and after a few minutes of deciding who was going to sit where, they finally settled down. Chuuya pulled out his bento, quietly poking at the rice with his chopsticks. Tachihara and Gin were chatting, clearly comfortable in their own element, while Dazai sat across from them, his bento untouched.

Gin gave Dazai a playful nudge. “C’mon, Dazai. You gotta eat. We’re all having a good time here.”

Dazai blinked, glancing at his food. He smiled faintly, but there was an underlying unease in his expression. “Ah, yeah, I’ll eat soon…”

Chuuya glanced up at him, noticing how Dazai’s hands were still trembling slightly, even as he lifted his chopsticks to take a bite. He couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the guy, even though he wasn’t exactly sure why.

He’s not even really part of the conversation, Chuuya thought, looking away. He’s just kinda… here.

“By the way, new kid,” Tachihara said, breaking into the silence, “What’s your deal, huh? You don’t talk much. You seem kind of… distant.”

Dazai froze for a second, his chopsticks hovering above his food. He blinked a few times, as though unsure how to respond. “Oh, uh… I guess I’m just quiet.”

Chuuya narrowed his eyes. This kid is weird.

Gin grinned and leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Well, I mean, it’s kinda mysterious. Like, are you one of those guys who just doesn’t like talking, or are you shy, or…?”

Dazai hesitated, glancing up at her with a faint blush on his cheeks. “I… I’m just… not used to talking to people.”

The admission was so soft, so quiet, that it almost felt like Dazai was apologizing for it. It was a rare moment—one where the calm, collected façade he usually wore slipped for just a second.

Chuuya, however, had no time to process that moment. He was too busy noticing something else. He watched as Dazai’s hand shook slightly as he lifted a piece of food to his mouth, and his body seemed to stiffen every time someone tried to make small talk with him.

He really is fragile, Chuuya thought, his expression softening ever so slightly. He can’t even sit still without looking like he’s about to break.

Gin and Tachihara didn’t seem to notice the subtle shaking or the way Dazai was practically forcing himself to eat and engage in conversation. But Chuuya did.

He sighed, looking down at his bento. Whatever. It’s not my problem.

Still, something nagged at him. He couldn’t get rid of the thought that Dazai wasn’t just shy or quiet. There was something more going on here.

As the lunch break wore on, Chuuya found himself watching Dazai more than he expected.

It wasn’t that he was intrigued by how pretty the guy was, like Gin said. It was the way he held himself together, the way he forced his body to sit straight and act like he wasn’t feeling anything, even though everything about him seemed to be screaming that he was struggling.

Chuuya sighed, rubbing his forehead. God, why do I care so much about this?

But there was no denying it—something about Dazai’s quiet, fragile nature was starting to get under Chuuya’s skin.

The cafeteria was still buzzing with activity, students laughing, eating, and chatting. But at their table, the conversation between Gin, Tachihara, and Chuuya was slowly dying down as everyone’s attention shifted.

Dazai had barely touched his food since they’d sat down. The bento box in front of him remained untouched, except for a few pieces of rice that he had absentmindedly pushed around with his chopsticks.

Chuuya noticed it almost immediately. Dazai had been fidgeting the entire time, constantly shifting his weight in his seat, as if he couldn’t get comfortable. His eyes were downcast, his focus entirely on the food in front of him, but he wasn’t eating. It was more like he was staring at it, almost… frozen in place.

Tch, that’s weird, Chuuya thought, frowning. He hasn’t even taken a single bite.

Normally, Chuuya wouldn’t give a damn about what someone else was eating, but for some reason, Dazai’s behavior started to bug him. It wasn’t just the fact that Dazai wasn’t eating—it was the way he was avoiding it, like he was scared of it, or worse, disgusted by it.

The conversation at the table moved on, and Gin, oblivious to Dazai’s behavior, started asking Tachihara about his plans for after school. But Chuuya couldn’t shake off the strange feeling. He glanced at Dazai again and saw his hand trembling as he moved his chopsticks. His fingers gripped them too tightly, knuckles turning white.

“Oi,” Chuuya muttered, glancing sideways at him. “You gonna eat that or what?”

Dazai blinked, startled by the sudden attention. His mouth opened and closed as though he was about to say something, but then he hesitated. His lips twisted into a faint, strained smile. “I’m not… really hungry,” he said quietly, almost too softly for Chuuya to hear.

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, looking more closely at him. The new kid was practically staring at his food like it was some sort of enemy. It was clear now that he hadn’t eaten anything at all—his bento was still mostly full, with only a few grains of rice missing.

“You sure about that?” Chuuya asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re gonna just let it go to waste?”

Dazai’s gaze shifted to the side. “I just… I’m not in the mood,” he said, his voice trailing off as if he didn’t want to explain himself any further.

But Chuuya wasn’t buying it. There was something off about this. It wasn’t just that Dazai wasn’t eating—it was the way his fingers were shaking, how his expression was distant and tight, and the subtle way his chest seemed to rise and fall a little too fast. He was trying to act calm, trying to pretend he was fine, but it was obvious he wasn’t.

He’s avoiding food like it’s poison…

Chuuya felt an uncomfortable tug in his chest as he watched Dazai’s frail, nervous movements. Is he sick or something? Or is this—

Before Chuuya could finish the thought, a familiar voice cut through the cafeteria noise.

“Chuuya” Akutagawa called as he and Atsushi approached their table, their trays of food in hand.

Dazai’s head immediately snapped up at the sound of Akutagawa’s voice. His expression tightened, like he was trying to shrink into himself, but he forced a smile when he saw them walking up.

“Ah, so this is the new kid,” Akutagawa muttered, looking him over with his usual deadpan expression. He didn’t seem to care about Dazai’s discomfort, or if he was even eating.

Atsushi, on the other hand, was a bit more curious. He blinked and gave Dazai a small, hesitant wave. “Hey, um… nice to meet you. I’m Atsushi.”

Dazai gave a soft, shy smile, but there was an awkward tension in the air. His hands fidgeted under the table, and his legs seemed to twitch under the surface.

“Dazai,” he murmured, not meeting their eyes. “It’s… nice to meet you too.”

Chuuya didn’t miss the way Dazai’s gaze kept darting down to his untouched food as if it was something he was trying to avoid.

Tch, Chuuya thought, feeling a bit irritated. What’s with this guy? He can’t even eat with people around?

The awkward silence lingered for a moment before Tachihara decided to break it, his sharp eyes narrowing at Dazai. “You’re not eating, huh? You should at least try the food,” he said, his voice like a low growl. “It’s not bad. You’ll need to eat if you plan on sticking around.”

Dazai’s shoulders tensed slightly, and his fingers moved shakily over his chopsticks again, but he didn’t respond.

Atsushi, sensing the tension, glanced at Chuuya, then at Dazai. “Um… maybe he’s just not hungry? That’s okay, right?” He looked between Chuuya and Dazai, as if looking for reassurance.

Chuuya gave him an exasperated look. “I don’t think that’s the issue,” he muttered under his breath.

But before Atsushi could say anything, Gin cut in, grinning. “C’mon, Dazai! You have to eat something. It’s no fun just staring at food. If you’re not hungry, we can get you something else! You can have dessert first if you want.”

Dazai shifted uncomfortably in his seat, visibly growing more tense with every comment. His fingers, which had been shaking slightly before, now trembled almost uncontrollably.

Chuuya frowned, his irritation slowly giving way to something else—a growing concern. He was about to ask Dazai what was really going on, but before he could open his mouth, Akutagawa’s voice cut through again, sharper this time.

“Why don’t you just leave the guy alone?” he snapped, his eyes narrowing at Gin. “He clearly doesn’t want to eat right now, so let it be.”

Gin blinked, taken aback by Akutagawa’s sudden hostility, but before anyone could respond, Dazai’s hands clenched into fists on the table, his whole body trembling as he tried to suppress something. His head lowered, and his breath quickened.

Chuuya’s heart skipped a beat. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong—something more than just being shy or quiet. Dazai’s body was shaking in a way that was too intense to be normal.

Is he… sick? Or—

Before he could make sense of it, Dazai suddenly stood up, his face pale. His movements were jerky and unsteady, as if he were about to collapse any second.

“I-im going to the toilet” Dazai mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Atsushi immediately stood up, worried. “Dazai, are you okay?”

Dazai didn’t respond, quickly grabbing his bag and walking out of the cafeteria with hurried steps, his shoulders tense and trembling.

Chuuya’s eyes followed him out the door, his heart tightening in his chest.

What the hell just happened?

Later that afternoon, Chuuya found himself pacing back and forth in the hallway, wondering where Dazai had gone.

He couldn’t get the image of Dazai’s shaking hands out of his mind, nor the way his legs had seemed so unsteady, like they could give out at any moment.

No way that’s normal…

Just then, Akutagawa and Atsushi appeared behind him, their expressions solemn.

“Did you see that?” Chuuya asked, his voice low, but full of frustration. “He looked like he was about to collapse in there.”

Akutagawa frowned. “I noticed it too. He’s strange, that one.”

Atsushi, who had seemed more concerned than anyone else, hesitated. “Do you think… it’s something serious? I mean, maybe we should check on him.”

Chuuya sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, maybe. But I don’t get it… he’s so quiet and weird, and then he just—he looked like he was about to fall apart. What the hell is wrong with him?”

Akutagawa shrugged, his cold demeanor unchanged. “You’d be better off staying out of it. It’s none of our business.”

Chuuya didn’t like that answer, but he didn’t have time to argue. Something in him wouldn’t let this go. He needed to know what was really going on with Dazai—if only to get the guy to stop acting like a ticking time bomb.

____________

The next few lessons were boring, to say the least. But this new kid, Dazai—he was weird. Yeah, that’s what Chuuya thought.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, glancing over at Dazai.

Dazai, on the other hand, couldn’t figure out why everyone was staring at him so strangely. Was it because of the bandages? Or… was it something else? He didn’t know what to make of it.

Everyone seemed kind. Everyone, except for him—or at least, that’s what Dazai thought. He knew he had to open up, to speak more. But it wasn’t that easy.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the last lesson, Chuuya stretched in his seat, relieved that the day was finally over. He glanced around the classroom, students already packing up their bags, eager to leave.

He let out a small sigh of relief. Finally.

His eyes flickered over to Dazai, who remained seated, quietly gathering his things without much urgency. The kid hadn’t said a word all day, even when they’d been forced to pair up earlier. He was still weird, Chuuya thought. Silent, distant, and wrapped up in those damn bandages. But there was something more to it—something about Dazai’s withdrawn nature that Chuuya couldn’t shake off.

The classroom slowly emptied out, students chattering as they left for the day. Chuuya tossed his bag over his shoulder, watching as Dazai stood up at last. He moved slowly, almost cautiously, like he was trying not to draw any attention.

For a moment, Chuuya considered just heading out like usual, but something held him back. Maybe this kid’s just awkward, he thought. Or maybe there’s more going on with him.

“I don’t get it” Chuuya muttered to himself again, shaking his head. Why did he care anyway?

As Dazai finally made his way to the door, Chuuya caught sight of him one last time before they both stepped out into the hallway, the school day finally over.

Dazai walked quietly through the school gates, his head slightly bowed, avoiding the curious stares of passing students. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, as if he was reluctant to leave. But once he reached the curb, something unusual caught Chuuya’s eye.

A sleek, black luxury car was parked outside the school, its polished surface gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Dazai headed straight for it, barely glancing at anyone around him. The driver, dressed in a formal suit, stepped out, opening the back door for Dazai without a word.

Chuuya frowned as he watched. That wasn’t the kind of car you usually saw picking up students from Bungo High.

“Whoa, check that out,” Tachihara said, nudging Chuuya’s shoulder. “Didn’t think the new kid was the type to get picked up in a car like that.”

Gin, standing beside them, narrowed her eyes, watching as Dazai slid into the backseat, the door shutting behind him. “Looks like he’s got some money, huh?” she commented, her voice flat.

Akutagawa, who had been quietly observing as usual, crossed his arms. “Doesn’t mean anything,” he muttered. “Weird kid, though.”

Chuuya glanced between his friends and the now-disappearing car, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

“Yeah, well, he’s still odd,” Chuuya said, his tone gruff. “Doesn’t talk, barely eats, and now he’s got some fancy car picking him up? Something about him’s off.”

Tachihara grinned, nudging Chuuya again. “Maybe he’s some rich kid who doesn’t know how to socialize. Or maybe there’s more to him than we think.”

Chuuya shrugged, brushing it off. “Whatever. He’s not my problem.”

But despite his words, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that there was a lot more to Dazai than he let on.

As the group lingered outside the school, their conversation naturally shifted back to the new kid. Chuuya hadn’t thought much of Dazai beyond him being weird and quiet, but something about that luxury car, the way Dazai moved, and his withdrawn demeanor made him hard to ignore.

“He’s a weird one,” Tachihara said, folding his arms. “I mean, who gets picked up in a car like that? What’s his deal?”

Gin, always the quiet observer, chimed in, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not just the car. Did you notice how he barely eats? In the cafeteria, he didn’t touch anything. Not a bite.”

Chuuya grunted, annoyed at how much attention this was all getting. “So what? He’s a rich kid. Maybe he’s just picky.”

But Akutagawa, usually silent unless he had something important to say, wasn’t letting it drop. His eyes were serious as he spoke, his voice more direct than usual. “No, it’s more than that. He’s not just ‘picky.’ Look at him, Chuuya.” He gestured toward the now-empty space where Dazai had stood. “He’s way too thin.”

Chuuya’s brows furrowed as he remembered the details from earlier. Dazai really was thin—alarmingly thin, even though Chuuya had brushed it off at the time. The guy was tall, around 1.80 meters, but his uniform hung on him like it didn’t quite fit right, too loose around the shoulders, too baggy around his waist. His collarbones jutted out starkly from under his shirt, and his wrists looked fragile, barely thicker than the bandages wrapped around them.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” Akutagawa continued, his voice taking on a strange intensity. “His collarbones, his neck… they’re way too defined. His arms are so thin they don’t look like they could hold any weight, and when he walks, it’s like he’s trying not to fall over.”

Gin nodded in agreement, her quiet voice barely louder than a whisper. “Even through his uniform, you could see it. His body’s too slender for his height—it doesn’t look right. He was shaking when we were presenting in class, and I don’t think it was just nerves.”

Tachihara, who had been half-joking earlier, now frowned. “Yeah, I noticed that too. His legs were trembling when he stood up. He looked like he was about to pass out or something. I thought he was just nervous, but…”

Chuuya clenched his jaw. It wasn’t just Dazai’s behavior they were talking about anymore—it was the real, physical signs that something was wrong. Now that he thought about it, Dazai’s whole body language had been off. He walked like he didn’t have the strength to carry himself properly, like his bones were doing all the work without the muscle to support them. His pale skin didn’t help either; he had this sickly look, and those bandages only made it worse, like he was hiding something even more troubling.

“Yeah,” Chuuya muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s… thin. Too thin.” He remembered the way Dazai’s uniform sleeves hung loosely around his wrists, the sharp angles of his collarbones. “It’s like… he’s just skin and bones. You can see it in his face too. His cheeks are kind of sunken.”

Akutagawa nodded grimly, crossing his arms. “He probably has an eating disorder or something. I mean, you don’t get that skinny by accident.”

Chuuya blinked, the words hitting him harder than he expected. An eating disorder? He hadn’t even considered that possibility, but now it seemed obvious. Dazai was way too thin for someone his height. He barely ate during lunch, didn’t have the energy to stand properly, and looked like he hadn’t been taking care of himself at all. It wasn’t just shyness, wasn’t just him being weird—there was something seriously wrong.

Tachihara looked between them, his usual carefree attitude fading as he realized the gravity of the situation. “You think that’s it? Like, he’s starving himself or something?”

“It’s possible,” Akutagawa said quietly, his eyes focused on the ground. “You don’t get that thin without something being wrong. And those bandages… who knows what he’s hiding under those.”

Gin glanced at Chuuya, her eyes filled with concern. “It makes sense, though. He didn’t eat anything during lunch. Not even a sip of water. He just sat there, staring at his food like it wasn’t even there.”

Chuuya stayed silent for a moment, processing everything. He hated to admit it, but Akutagawa had a point. Dazai wasn’t just awkward or quiet—there was a real problem here, and now that he thought about it, the signs were glaringly obvious. Dazai was skinnier than anyone Chuuya had ever seen at their age, his movements slow and careful, like he was trying not to break.

“Tch,” Chuuya muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He hated getting wrapped up in other people’s problems, but something about Dazai was sticking with him. The image of the new kid’s trembling legs, the sharp outline of his collarbones, and the haunted look in his eyes wouldn’t leave his mind. He couldn’t shake it.

“Whatever it is,” Chuuya finally said, “he’s got issues. But he’s not my problem.” His voice was gruff, but the unease in his chest said otherwise.

Tachihara shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe he’s just some weird rich kid who doesn’t know how to handle himself.”

Gin shook her head. “I don’t think it’s that simple. There’s more going on with him. You can see it in the way he acts… it’s like he’s holding back all the time.”

Chuuya shot her a look, annoyed at how much they were dwelling on it, but deep down, he knew she was right. There was something off about Dazai, something that went beyond just being the weird new kid. But for now, all he could do was watch from a distance.

As the conversation wound down, the group naturally began to split up, each heading in their own direction. The air was thick with unspoken thoughts about Dazai, but none of them were really sure what to make of it. Chuuya shrugged it off, trying to push the whole thing out of his mind.

“Tachihara, you going this way?” Gin asked, adjusting her bag as she prepared to leave.

“Nah, I’ve got practice,” Tachihara replied, waving lazily. “Catch you tomorrow.”

Akutagawa gave a silent nod to Chuuya before turning on his heel, heading off toward his own route, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Gin followed shortly after, her quiet demeanor back in place as she trailed behind Akutagawa.

Chuuya watched them for a moment before adjusting his bag and turning down the familiar path that led home. The cool breeze brushed against his skin, and he exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the weird day. But no matter how hard he tried, Dazai’s image kept creeping back into his thoughts—those trembling legs, the sharp angles of his collarbones, the way he hadn’t touched a single bite of food.

“Tch,” Chuuya muttered to himself, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Why do I even care?”

The streets were relatively quiet as he walked, the sun slowly setting behind the buildings. His pace was steady, his footsteps echoing softly against the pavement. Bungo High wasn’t far from his house, but the walk always gave him time to think. Usually, he’d be focused on his own stuff—classes, friends, whatever—but today, his mind was stuck on that weird new kid.

He hated getting wrapped up in other people’s issues, especially someone like Dazai, who barely spoke and seemed like he was hiding a whole mess of things. Still, something about the guy nagged at him. Maybe it was because he recognized the way Dazai carried himself—closed off, like he was carrying some burden he couldn’t talk about. Chuuya wasn’t exactly the open type either, but Dazai’s silence had a different weight to it.

The walk home felt longer than usual, every step accompanied by flashes of Dazai’s gaunt face, his bandaged arms, the way his legs had shaken when they’d stood in class. Chuuya clicked his tongue in frustration, wishing he could just drop the whole thing. But Dazai wasn’t the kind of person you could easily forget, no matter how much you wanted to.

By the time Chuuya finally reached his house, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the street. He paused at the front door, hesitating for a moment. For all the weirdness of the day, there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind—an uneasiness that came from knowing something wasn’t quite right with Dazai.

But with a sharp shake of his head, he shoved the thought away and stepped inside.

As Chuuya stepped into the house, the familiar scent of dinner being prepared hit him, and the faint sound of pots and pans clinking in the kitchen told him his sister, Koyo, was already busy with something. He tossed his bag near the doorway, feeling the weight of the school day finally lift off his shoulders. The house was quiet and warm, a comforting contrast to the strange thoughts that had been buzzing in his head all afternoon.

“Chuuya, you’re home,” Koyo’s voice called out from the kitchen. “Wash up. Dinner will be ready soon.”

He kicked off his shoes and headed toward the kitchen, drawn by the smell of food. Koyo was at the stove, her long, auburn hair tied back as she worked, the sharp sound of vegetables being chopped filling the room. Chuuya admired how calm and composed she always looked, no matter what. Despite being a full-time student herself, Koyo took care of the house like she had everything under control.

“Yeah, I’m back,” Chuuya replied, leaning against the doorway for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. His mind was still swirling with the events of the day, especially that strange encounter with Dazai. The whole thing felt weird, and the fact that his friends had been talking about it too made it harder to just forget.

Koyo glanced up from her cooking, noticing his distracted look. “You seem lost in thought. Something happen at school today?”

Chuuya shrugged, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. “Not really. Just… a new student joined our class today.” He paused, drying his hands with a towel. “Dazai. Dazai Osamu.”

At the mention of the name, Koyo suddenly stopped chopping, her hands stilling for just a brief second before she resumed. There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, though she tried to mask it with a calm expression.

“Dazai… Osamu, you say?” she repeated, her voice carefully neutral.

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, that’s what he said. Tall guy, skinny, looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. You know him or something?”

Koyo set down the knife and turned to face him, crossing her arms. “I don’t know him personally,” she began, her tone measured, “but I know of his family.”

Chuuya blinked in surprise, not expecting that. “His family?”

Koyo nodded, her expression growing more thoughtful. “The Dazai family is well-known. Wealthy. His father owns several businesses, including a major hospital in the city. I’ve heard about them through some of the people I know.”

Chuuya frowned, the pieces of the puzzle not quite fitting together in his head. Dazai didn’t seem like the typical rich kid. Sure, that luxury car made sense now, but nothing else about him screamed ‘wealthy heir.’ If anything, the guy looked like he was barely holding himself together.

“His dad owns a hospital?” Chuuya repeated, trying to wrap his head around it. “He sure doesn’t act like someone with that kind of money.”

Koyo raised an eyebrow at that. “Not all wealthy families show it off, Chuuya. The Dazais have always been a bit… private, from what I’ve heard. But still, it’s strange. You’d think someone from that background wouldn’t end up at a place like Bungo High.”

Chuuya couldn’t argue with that. Bungo High wasn’t exactly prestigious, and if Dazai came from that kind of family, it didn’t make much sense for him to be there. Still, something about the whole situation felt off. “Yeah… he doesn’t really fit in,” Chuuya muttered. “He’s quiet, keeps to himself. Honestly, he’s kinda weird.”

Koyo turned back to the stove, stirring the pot with a thoughtful look on her face. “Maybe there’s more to the story,” she said softly. “People like that… they don’t always have the easiest lives, despite appearances.”

Chuuya scoffed, though there was no real bite in it. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t make it easy for anyone to figure him out. He barely talks. And the guy’s practically skin and bones—he didn’t even touch his food during lunch. Akutagawa thinks he’s got some sort of eating disorder.”

Koyo glanced over her shoulder, concern flickering in her eyes. “That’s… troubling. It’s possible. The pressure of being in a family like that can do strange things to a person. But you don’t know for sure, do you?”

Chuuya shook his head, crossing his arms. “Nah, I don’t. I don’t know much about him at all. He’s just… strange. Silent, keeps to himself. But today, when we were working on that project in physics, I noticed something was off. His legs were shaking when he stood up, like he didn’t have the energy to stay on his feet.”

Koyo sighed softly, her brow furrowing with concern. “It sounds like he might be struggling with more than just adjusting to a new school.”

Chuuya didn’t reply immediately, his thoughts drifting back to the sight of Dazai standing there in class, his thin frame barely holding up, his face as pale as those bandages wrapped around him. He didn’t know why, but the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. There was something about Dazai that felt off, like he was hiding a lot more than just his quiet demeanor.

“Well, whatever it is,” Chuuya finally muttered, “it’s not really my problem. He can figure his own stuff out. I’ve got enough to deal with.”

Koyo smiled gently, though her eyes were still filled with quiet concern. “You don’t have to make it your problem, Chuuya, but it’s good that you’re noticing. Sometimes people need help, even if they don’t ask for it.”

Chuuya shrugged again, not wanting to dwell too much on it. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, what’s for dinner?”

Koyo laughed softly, turning back to the stove with a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You’ll see. But don’t think you’re getting out of setting the table.”

Chuuya groaned in mock protest, but the banter with his sister was enough to pull him out of his thoughts, if only for a moment. Even as he started setting the plates, though, the image of Dazai’s pale, shaking figure wouldn’t quite leave his mind.

Something was off with that kid—he was sure of it now. But figuring out what? That was a problem for another day.

After helping Koyo set the table, Chuuya sat down with her to eat. The aroma of the meal filled the small kitchen, and as he took his first bite, the warmth of the food spread through him, momentarily pushing away the lingering thoughts of the day. Koyo had made one of his favorite dishes—something simple but hearty, and as always, it was perfectly cooked.

“Good as always,” he muttered between bites, trying to focus on the meal instead of the weird stuff swimming in his head. Koyo just smiled in response, taking a small, graceful bite of her own.

They ate mostly in silence, the quiet of their home wrapping around them like a blanket. It was a familiar silence, one that Chuuya found comfort in. But still, in the back of his mind, the image of Dazai lingered, pale and withdrawn, sitting in the lunchroom without touching his food. The more Chuuya thought about it, the more it nagged at him. There was something unsettling about how Dazai carried himself, how he seemed almost fragile despite the tall, lanky frame.

Chuuya stabbed at a piece of food on his plate, trying to shove the thoughts aside, but they kept creeping back. He glanced over at Koyo, who was quietly sipping her tea, her eyes fixed on something in the distance. She hadn’t brought up Dazai again, but Chuuya could tell she was thinking about it too.

Eventually, dinner wrapped up, and Chuuya pushed his chair back, feeling the weight of the day settle back onto his shoulders. “Thanks for dinner,” he said, grabbing his plate and heading to the sink. Koyo smiled warmly, nodding as she began to clear the rest of the table.

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget to finish your homework,” she reminded him gently, as always.

Chuuya rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

He rinsed his plate and set it aside before heading upstairs to his room. His footsteps were slow, his body feeling heavier than usual. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion of the day or the strange, lingering thoughts of Dazai that made him feel so drained. Either way, he was ready to call it a night.

His room was small but comfortable, a cluttered space that reflected his personality—posters on the walls, books and papers strewn across his desk, and his guitar leaning in the corner. Chuuya flopped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, letting the quietness of the house settle over him.

But no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept drifting back to Dazai—to the way his legs had trembled in physics, to the bandages that wrapped around his arms and neck, and to the hollow look in his eyes. The more Chuuya thought about it, the more unsettling it became.

He groaned, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Why am I even thinking about this guy?” he muttered to himself, kicking off his shoes and lying back against the pillows.

Maybe it was because Dazai didn’t fit the mold. He wasn’t like the other students at Bungo High—he wasn’t loud or trying to fit in. Instead, he moved through the day like a ghost, as if he didn’t belong, and yet, he was hard to ignore.

Chuuya turned on his side, staring at the window where the moonlight crept through the curtains. He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to get involved. But there was something about Dazai that bothered him, something that felt unfinished.

With a heavy sigh, Chuuya pulled the covers over himself and closed his eyes, hoping that by the time he woke up, the thoughts would fade. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Chuuya was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling as the familiar sounds of the house settled around him. Koyo was probably downstairs cleaning up, humming softly to herself like she always did when she was in a good mood. Normally, the quiet rhythm of home would be enough to calm him down after a long day, but today, his mind just wouldn’t shut off.

He shifted on his bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. The room felt colder than usual, or maybe that was just him. His thoughts drifted back, again and again, to Dazai. That strange, skinny guy who had transferred into their class and somehow managed to make everything feel… different. Dazai was nothing like the other students—he didn’t seem to care about blending in or getting to know people. It was almost like he didn’t want to be there at all.

Chuuya scowled, rolling onto his side. “Why am I even thinking about him?” he muttered under his breath, annoyed with himself. He didn’t usually care about new students, or anyone, for that matter. But something about Dazai had stuck with him, like a splinter he couldn’t quite shake out. It wasn’t just how weirdly quiet the guy was; it was the way he carried himself, like he was already worn out by life.

And then there were the bandages. Chuuya had seen them peek out from under Dazai’s shirt during class—the ones on his arms and neck, like some kind of invisible weight wrapped around him. Most people probably thought it was just some eccentric style choice, but Chuuya wasn’t buying it. He could tell when someone was hiding something.

But it wasn’t just the bandages. Dazai’s whole appearance was strange. He was tall—taller than Chuuya, for sure—probably around 1.80 meters, but so thin that his clothes seemed to hang off him. Even his uniform, which should’ve fit snugly, looked like it was made for someone with a bigger frame. Chuuya remembered how sharp Dazai’s collarbones had looked, jutting out in a way that made it clear he wasn’t eating enough.

Akutagawa’s words from earlier that day echoed in Chuuya’s mind: “He probably has an eating disorder… you can see his collarbones. He’s really skinny.” Akutagawa wasn’t the type to make such observations lightly, and the more Chuuya thought about it, the more it made sense. Dazai was thin—too thin. His skin had that pale, sickly look that came with someone who wasn’t taking care of themselves. His legs had been shaking when he stood in class, and now that Chuuya thought about it, Dazai hadn’t touched his lunch either.

Chuuya turned over again, staring out the window where the moonlight cast a pale glow across the room. He hated how much his brain kept circling back to Dazai, like there was something he was missing. It wasn’t just the guy’s appearance that bothered him—it was the way Dazai seemed to shrink into himself, like he was trying to be invisible, even when people were clearly staring at him. The way he didn’t eat, the way he trembled—it was like he was… fragile.

And Chuuya hated that it got under his skin. He didn’t want to care about some random new kid. He had enough going on with school, friends, and his own life to worry about. But every time he thought about Dazai, he couldn’t shake the image of those trembling legs, the way Dazai had corrected his physics answer in class without even raising his voice, how smart he clearly was despite the fact that he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

Chuuya clicked his tongue in frustration, punching his pillow lightly as he lay back down. “ it’s not like it’s my problem,” he muttered, trying to convince himself. “He can deal with whatever’s going on with him.”

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. There was something about Dazai that felt… wrong. Like there was more going on beneath the surface than anyone could see. And the fact that his sister Koyo had recognized his name so quickly—that Dazai came from a rich, powerful family—only made it more confusing. If he had everything, why did he look so miserable?

Chuuya let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and trying to push the thoughts away. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back to that moment in physics class, when Dazai had corrected him in that quiet, almost apologetic voice.

“That’s wrong.”

It wasn’t the words that had stuck with Chuuya; it was the way Dazai had said them. Like he didn’t even want to speak up but couldn’t help it. Like he was too smart to let a mistake slide but too tired to care about how it made him seem. And then there was the shaking—Dazai’s legs had been trembling so badly that Chuuya was surprised no one else had noticed. How had he even managed to stand?

And why did Chuuya care? That was the real question. Why was he lying here, replaying the day’s events in his head over and over when he should’ve just let it go? It wasn’t like he and Dazai were friends. Hell, they’d barely spoken more than a few words to each other.

But there was something there—something Chuuya couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was because Dazai reminded him of someone trying to keep it together while everything else was falling apart. Maybe it was because Chuuya had seen that look before—the one that said, “I don’t need anyone,” when deep down, they probably did.

He let out another frustrated sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to get any sleep at this rate. Sitting up, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and scrolled through his messages, hoping for a distraction. His friends hadn’t messaged since earlier, and there wasn’t anything else worth looking at.

Setting the phone back down, Chuuya glanced out the window again. The moon was high now, casting long shadows across the room. The night was quiet, and yet his mind was louder than ever. He didn’t want to think about Dazai anymore. Didn’t want to puzzle over why the new kid looked so out of place and yet so familiar at the same time.

But despite himself, Chuuya couldn’t stop thinking about it—about him.

With a resigned grunt, he flopped back onto the bed, closing his eyes again. Maybe, by tomorrow, the thoughts would fade. Maybe Dazai would just be another face in the crowd, and Chuuya could go back to not caring about other people’s problems.

But as he lay there in the dark, sleep evading him, Chuuya couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t going to be that simple. Not with Dazai.

Something about that guy was different, and Chuuya wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.