The room is small. Barely enough space for the futon you've folded against the wall and the cardboard boxes stacked like an apology for arriving unprepared. The walls are thin. You can hear the distant thud of someone's music through the adjoining wall, low and muffled like a heartbeat you're not meant to feel.

Outside the window, the afternoon stretches over Karasuno's quiet neighborhood. A stray cat picks its way across the tiled rooftop opposite. A bicycle passes, bell ringing once, twice, before fading.

Your phone buzzes on the low table. A message from the school administration.

Student orientation at 8 AM. Report to the gymnasium. Your assigned extracurricular duty will be explained upon arrival.

You glance at the clock. It's nearly four in the afternoon. The day is already half spent.

Below the window, a figure cuts across the street. Tall. Lean. Blonde hair catching the light briefly before it disappears behind the corner of a building. Just a stranger, walking home. Nothing notable. But for a moment, he looks your way—just briefly, just long enough for you to wonder if he's looking at something specific, or if he's just surveying his surroundings the way anyone might. Then he's gone.