As soon as Eadlyn settled into his last-bench seat, an unexpected excitement fluttered through him. Countless novels had started exactly like this—sunlight streaming through a window, an outsider protagonist sitting at the back, destined to become part of something bigger. He wasn't foolish enough to expect fantasy-level coincidences, but the quiet romantic in him couldn't deny it felt… right.
Someone leaned closer.
"I'm Kawasaki Manami."
Her voice was soft but carried confidence—the type that came naturally to someone admired. She was striking even in her summer uniform: sleek hair, sharp eyes, an effortless elegance that made half the class steal glances at her.
Eadlyn smiled. "Nice to meet you."
The History class began, but Naomi-sensei quickly noticed he lacked a textbook.
"Manami, share yours with him."
She slid her desk closer without hesitation. Their shoulders brushed—light, barely noticeable, yet it sparked a jolt in Eadlyn. Close contact wasn't new to him, but something about Manami's composure, her scent of citrus shampoo, made him oddly aware.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, perhaps too quickly.
Manami turned a page and whispered something in Russian—assuming he wouldn't understand. Her tone was amused, teasing.
He's so shy. Cute.
He kept his expression still, though amusement flickered behind his eyes. He understood every word—his father had taught him enough Russian to navigate simple phrases. But he let her think otherwise. Some secrets were fun to keep.
Class moved on, but Manami's glances remained—curious, assessing, just a little playful. Eadlyn noticed another detail: she kept a gentle distance from most boys around her, a quiet emotional boundary. Yet with him, she softened. He didn't know why. He didn't ask. But he felt it.
By PT period, students changed into their sports uniforms. On the basketball court, sunlight sharpened every outline. At six-foot-one, with balanced lean muscle and a natural athletic posture, Eadlyn looked almost like an exchange-program model rather than a first-year student.
Once the game started, everything shifted.
He moved with instinctive rhythm—dunks, rebounds, tight footwork honed from playing with his bigger friends back in the UK. The other boys tried to guard him, but his anticipation was razor sharp, surprising even himself.
Cheers rose from the sidelines.
"WOAH, who is he?"
"Damn—foreigner's crazy good!"
"Is he in the basketball club?"
Manami watched too—and something unexpected flickered inside her chest. Unease. Not jealousy, not possessiveness… more like unfamiliar tension. She didn't know him well enough to label it. But watching someone she had just met instantly draw admiration unsettled her in a way she didn't understand.
Eadlyn finished the game, breathing hard but smiling. He sat on the bench when a tall boy approached with confident energy.
"Hey man, that was awesome out there," the boy said.
Eadlyn blinked. "Thanks… and you are?"
The boy slapped his forehead dramatically.
"Ah! Forgot to introduce myself. Ichigo Kentaro. I sit in front of you. Call me Ken."
Eadlyn shook his hand and pulled him into a friendly half-hug. "Good to meet you, Ken. Let's get along."
And just like that, the first threads of friendship wove themselves into his new life—simple, natural, yet meaningful.
The last bench wasn't just a trope anymore.
It was where everything began.