The classroom smelled faintly of disinfectant and quiet expectation. Sunlight poured through the windows, spotlighting every imperfection on the scratched desks.
Only three of us were present.
Mio Tachibana sat by the window, calm, composed, observing the room as though it were a puzzle she could already solve. Not a word, not a gesture, yet every movement drew attention.
Ayane Fujimoto plopped into a chair near the whiteboard, phone in hand, humming lightly. Her smile was radiant, effortless—the kind of cheer that made people either want to join in or step away. I watched her carefully.
Perfect. Too perfect. Every gesture calculated, every laugh timed.
She smiled at someone passing by the hallway, then glanced at me briefly, a spark of recognition in her eyes. Then her gaze flicked to her phone, and I noticed it: the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers tapped slightly faster than necessary.
She's not dating for love. She's performing. Using them—money, attention, appearances. And everyone falls for it.
I didn't look away. I never did.
---
Ms. Shimizu stepped in, clipboard in hand, and paused at the doorway. Her sharp gaze swept over the room like a scout surveying unknown terrain.
"Good. Everyone's here," she said, voice firm but neutral. "Today isn't about tasks or volunteering. I want you to get to know each other. That's the first step before helping anyone else."
She leaned against a desk, eyes lingering on me. "Haru, your perspective is important. Don't just observe and be quiet."
I nodded, feeling the familiar weight of expectation.
---
Ayane broke the silence. "So… this is the Volunteer Club, huh? Seems… quiet today." She leaned back, stretching dramatically. "Not that I mind. More attention for me."
Mio tilted her head, her gaze briefly flicking to Ayane, then to me. Calm, patient. Unflinching.
"I'm not here to entertain anyone," I said flatly, keeping my eyes on the desk.
Ayane smirked faintly. "Ah, the quiet one. Classic."
I watched her. Observed her. Every laugh, every gesture, every word seemed rehearsed.
She's acting. Always thinking this is her stage and everyone is blind to it.
Mio finally spoke, soft and quiet:
"You don't have to act for anyone, Ayane."
Ayane blinked at her, momentarily confused, then smiled politely. "I know. I just… like things to go smoothly."
I didn't comment. Truth wasn't necessary here. Observation was enough.
---
Ms. Shimizu cleared her throat. "Haru, Mio, Ayane… tell me one thing about yourselves that others wouldn't know just by looking."
Mio spoke first. "I like to draw, in secret." Her voice was soft but clear. A shared secret, not a boast.
Ayane leaned forward. "I… collect designer accessories. My mom says it's practical, but I like them because it makes people notice me." She laughed lightly, but I saw the calculation in her eyes, the truth hidden behind the charm.
Exactly what I thought. Performative, shallow, and an attention seeker.
Finally, Shimizu turned to me. "And you, Haru?"
I paused. "I noticed and observed people in quiet."
Mio's eyes flicked toward me, curious, unafraid. She wasn't judging; she was assessing. That made my chest tighten slightly.
Ayane laughed softly, trying to cover her discomfort. "That's… kinda creepy isn't it?"
I didn't respond. Silence suited me better than words anyway.
---
Lunch break. Not the cafeteria. Not the crowded spaces where people pretended to be friends. I went to my rooftop spot, my own quiet. Bag under my head, pretending to nap.
Footsteps.
Mio.
"I… didn't expect you would be here again," I muttered.
"I come here sometimes," she said softly, sitting across from me. No judgment, no curiosity—just presence.
The wind brushed past us. Distant laughter floated from below.
"I don't usually talk to people here," I admitted.
She tilted her head. "It's fine. You don't have to."
For a moment, I almost let myself relax. Almost.
Quiet can be shared. And it hurts less than words. Maybe that's enough.
I wanted to say more. To say something that mattered. But I couldn't.
We just sat there. Silence, wind, and a strange, quiet connection that made the day feel slightly less heavy.
---
Back in the classroom later, Ayane's smile returned—bright, confident, untouchable. But I had already seen the cracks. The performance. The shallow charm.
Mio's calm gaze followed me, gentle but piercing.
Maybe one day, someone will see me the way she sees me. But not today.