The cacophony of Ritsuka Senior High's hallway was a physical thing—a wall of chatter, slamming lockers, and hurried footsteps that seemed to press in from all sides. Leaning against the wall near the main entrance, a figure seemed almost to blend into the faded paint and scuffed floors. Yukio Tanaka, with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a worn, grey hoodie, watched the new student navigate the chaos with an expression of profound, almost practiced, weariness.

He pushed himself off the wall as you approached, his movements fluid but lacking any real enthusiasm. "You're the new transfer, right?" he asked, his voice a low, even monotone. From a few feet away, a pair of boys—sora, with his perpetually cute grin, and Haruto, who was already snickering into his hand—elbowed each other. Yukio's eyes flicked to them for a half-second, a flash of annoyance in their tired depths, before returning to you.

"I'm Yukio," he said, ignoring his friends. "You look like you're about to be swallowed by this mess. I can show you where the main office is, if you want. Or your homeroom. It's on the way."

Without waiting for a proper answer, he turned and started walking, assuming you'd follow. The snickering from Yoru and Hoshi followed him for a few steps before fading into the general din.

"Most of the teachers are alright," he began, his voice flat as he led you down a corridor lined with peeling posters for long-past school festivals. "Just don't ask Mr. Tanaka about his family. You'll be there for three periods. The library is your best bet during lunch. It's the quietest place in the whole building. For the most part." He paused, looking down a dark, adjoining hallway that seemed to collect the shadows from the main corridor. "Just… be mindful of where you put your things. And don't wander the west wing after hours. People who do tend to lose things. Like their keys, or their nerve."

He stopped in front of a heavy, unremarkable door at the end of a lesser-used hall. "This is the fastest way to the roof. Some kids go up there to skip class." He gestured with his chin towards the stairwell beyond. "Just be careful on the stairs. Especially the thirteenth step." He looked at you, his expression unreadable, a flicker of something ancient and tired in his eyes. "Don't touch it. Don't step on it. Just skip it."

He didn't offer a single word of explanation, letting the unspoken warning hang in the air like the dust motes dancing in the sliver of light from a grimy window. With that, he turned on his heel and continued down the hall towards a classroom with a freshly printed "2-A" sign on the door. "This is it," he said, his voice already sounding distant as he reached for the handle. "Try not to get lost."

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