Inside Class 1-B, the once lively and energetic atmosphere had been replaced by a dense, oppressive silence—as if even the slightest sound would shatter something sacred. The children remained unusually quiet, for reasons none of them could clearly explain.
At the front, Kobayashi-sensei continued teaching, her chalk gliding across the board as she wrote down notes and questions. She called on the class more than once, yet not a single hand was raised. No one dared to answer. No one even tried.
She merely shook her head faintly at the response—or rather, the lack of it—her thoughts unreadable.
Just like that, recess arrived.
The children quickly scattered, engaging in their own activities, and for some reason, almost everyone hastily left the classroom. The room, once full, emptied within moments.
Only four remained.
The chubby boy, the skinny kid, the four-eyed glasses boy, and Ayumi.
They stayed seated, their attention fixed entirely on the new student.
They watched as the boy slowly raised his hand and reached for the black flask. His gloved fingers twisted the cap, loosening it before removing it completely. The cover revealed itself to be shaped like a small cup—rounded, compact, functional.
Carefully, he placed the cup down on the table.
Then, lifting the flask, he began to pour.
A stream of brown liquid flowed smoothly into the cup, its color deep and rich. Steam rose from it in soft curls, carrying a thick, bittersweet aroma through the air. The scent reached them almost instantly—warm, inviting… something like hot chocolate, yet darker, heavier, with a distinct hint of bitter cocoa.
They swallowed unconsciously, their throats tightening as the smell lingered.
The boy lowered the flask and set it back onto the table.
Then, his black-gloved hand wrapped around the cup. His fingers curled tightly around it, steady, controlled.
The four children tilted their heads slightly in confusion.
He wasn't drinking.
Not yet.
He was still wearing the black face mask.
Then they saw him move.
His right hand rose toward his face, and with a precise motion, his index finger and thumb caught the edge of the mask. Slowly, he pulled it down.
They leaned in, close enough to see.
Only half of his face was revealed—just his mouth and lower features.
And it was… pale.
Unnaturally so.
His skin looked almost devoid of life, as if blood barely flowed beneath it. His lips lacked color, faint and drained, and the exposed portion of his face carried a ghostly pallor, like someone who had never once stood under sunlight.
The contrast was striking.
That deathly pale skin against the absolute black of his clothing.
Then, without a word, he raised the cup to his lips.
And took a slow sip.
The chubby boy was already drooling, utterly captivated by the rich aroma drifting from the cup. He couldn't hold himself back any longer. Pushing himself up from his seat, he made his way toward the new kid, who was quietly sipping his drink.
As he approached, the other three watched closely, their eyes fixed on him, curious about what he was about to do.
"Hey… can I have some of that choco drink? It smells so good…" the chubby boy asked, practically salivating as the scent grew stronger the closer he got.
The skinny kid, the four-eyed glasses boy, and Ayumi all slapped their foreheads at the same time, exasperated by the bluntness of his request—as if he had just asked for directions without a second thought.
Still, they waited for a response.
Then they heard it again—that same hoarse, fragile voice.
"Hmmm… I don't have another cup…"
This time, they couldn't understand him at all. The words were spoken in English, the pronunciation uneven, the accent foreign and difficult to catch.
The chubby boy blinked, confused. Tilting his head, he asked, "Huh? What did you say? I don't understand…"
Before the new kid could repeat himself, another voice cut in—this time, the same sentence, but delivered with a clear Japanese accent.
"I don't have another cup. He's saying he doesn't have any extra cup to use."
It was the four-eyed glasses boy, calmly translating and explaining.
"Oh! That's what he meant…" the chubby boy repeated, finally understanding.
"Amazing… you can understand that?" the cheerful girl said, turning her gaze toward the glasses boy, impressed.
"Right… right…" the skinny kid added, nodding in agreement.
Meanwhile, the chubby boy had already hurried back to his seat. Without wasting a second, he crouched down and began rummaging through the space beneath his desk, searching for something.
The new kid didn't join their conversation. He remained silent, continuing to sip from the cup-shaped lid with slow, measured movements.
Meanwhile, the chubby boy finally found what he had been searching for inside his desk. It was a water bottle. Without hesitation, he rushed back to the new kid's table and held it out.
"What about this?" he said, presenting the bottle eagerly.
The skinny boy immediately frowned. "What kind of idea is that? The drink will just spill if you try to transfer it into that," he pointed out, directing his words at the chubby boy—Genta.
Genta Kojima was heavily built—overweight for his age. He had short, straight black hair, with a noticeable bald spot on the left side of his head. His thick, dark eyebrows framed his large brown eyes, which now blinked as he processed the criticism.
"Oh… you're right…" Genta muttered, pausing to think.
Then the skinny boy spoke again, a hint of excitement in his tone. "Why not just cut it in half and make it into a cup?"
"Oh… that's a good idea!" Genta said, his face lighting up.
He was just about to turn and run back to his desk when he suddenly felt the water bottle slip out of his hand.
Startled, he looked back.
It was the new kid.
The boy had already taken the bottle and placed it horizontally on the table. Then, without a word, he reached for his bag. His gloved hand slipped into one of the side pockets, searching.
Genta watched closely.
From inside, the boy pulled out something metallic—silver in color. It resembled a compact, chain-like multi-tool, similar to the all-purpose tool Genta had seen his father use before. A small object, yet packed with various functions—cutting, grinding, and more.
Then, with a smooth motion, the boy unfolded one of its parts.
A blade.
The silver knife emerged, catching the light instantly—its edge gleaming with a sharp, brilliant shine.
Genta gulped at the sight of the dangerous object now held in the new kid's hand.
"Isn't that… a dangerous thing to carry?" Ayumi asked, instinctively stepping back, putting a bit of distance between herself and the blade.
The skinny boy nodded. "Yeah. Bringing a weapon—especially a knife—is against school regulations."
The four-eyed glasses boy remained silent, his gaze steady and analytical as he watched closely, focusing on how the boy would handle cutting the water bottle.
All four of them stared.
The blade moved.
It sliced cleanly through the plastic bottle as if it were nothing more than thin paper, cutting straight across the middle in one smooth motion. The bottle split neatly into two halves.
Then that same hoarse, fragile voice echoed again.
"A knife isn't a dangerous weapon… if used in the right way."
The three didn't understand a single word, the sentence slipping past them in English. Thankfully, the four-eyed boy translated once more, calmly repeating the meaning in Japanese.
Only then did they understand.
They watched as the boy retracted the blade, folding it back into its casing before placing the multi-tool neatly into the side pocket of his bag. Without hesitation, he picked up the flask and poured the chocolate drink into the cut bottle, filling it carefully.
Once done, he pushed the makeshift cup forward across the table—toward Genta, who had been watching and waiting impatiently.
Genta's eyes lit up.
"Hahaha… this smells really good!" he exclaimed, not wasting even a second. He grabbed the bottle and drank.
"Ahh… that's really delicious! Where did you buy this? I've never tasted anything like it before—hey—"
He suddenly stopped.
He didn't remember the new kid's name.
"Uh… hey… what was your name again?" Genta asked awkwardly.
The other three immediately shook their heads in disapproval.
The skinny boy sighed. "Genta-kun, it's Suzuki-san… how do you forget someone's name that fast?"
"Oh, right, Suzuki…" Genta scratched his head. "But his name was really long… what was it again? If I remember… Strawberry… Lemon… Napkin…?"
The others stared at him.
"Idiot. Definitely an idiot," the skinny boy muttered under his breath.
Still, even he fell into thought, trying to recall the name. He could only remember the first part—and that alone felt familiar, like something from a well-known story.
Ayumi also furrowed her brows, thinking hard about the unusually long name.
Then the four-eyed boy spoke, clear and precise.
"It's Sherlock Leanardo Napoleon Suzuki."
"Yup, that's the one!" Genta, Ayumi, and the skinny boy exclaimed at the same time.
"But… Sherlock?" the skinny boy added, tilting his head. "Isn't that a name from a novel…?"
"I think it's Sherlock Holmes," he continued.
"Sherlock… h-homes?" Genta muttered in confusion before turning to him. "Hey, Mitsuhiko, what's a Sherlock Homes?"
Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya had short, straight black hair with messy bangs, large dark eyes, and noticeable freckles scattered across both cheeks—his most recognizable trait.
"It's Holmes! Not homes!" Mitsuhiko corrected sharply, lifting his hand to his chin as he sank into thought.
Then the four-eyed boy spoke again.
"Sherlock Holmes… a famous fictional detective."
As he said it, his eyes shifted toward the new kid, who continued drinking quietly, completely unbothered by their conversation.
"Detective…" the three children repeated softly.
"Ah… that's right. Sherlock Holmes—the detective from that novel," Mitsuhiko said, nodding as the memory clicked into place.
"Who's that?" Genta asked again, still confused by the topic.
But before anyone could answer—
The bell rang.
Its sharp sound cut through the air, signaling the end of recess and the return of class.
(っ－＿－)っAM N. NOT.
♤DRAFT ♤