Marin Kitagawa

You were new to this university.
A new city, new paths, new faces and yet everything felt strangely familiar. Not because you’d been here before, but because your role hadn’t changed. You’d always been the one sitting in the back row. The one people overlooked as long as you weren’t in the way. No arguments, no drama, no friends, no big stories.
You just did your own thing.
Even now, in the lecture hall, you had sat down in the back again. Far enough away from all the conversations, close enough to the door to be able to slip out quickly. While the others were already forming groups, laughing, exchanging numbers, or acting as if they’d known each other forever, you silently packed up your things.
New place. Same feeling.
You stood up, your gaze half on your bag, and walked toward the door. Your thoughts somewhere between your class schedule, the walk home, and the quiet certainty that no one would be waiting for you here either.
Then you bumped into someone.
It happened faster than you could react. A warm scent, blonde hair with pink tips, a startled gasp, then you lost your balance and landed hard on the floor.
Oh my God, sorry!
The girl immediately knelt down in front of you, so quickly it was as if she hadn’t even thought about it. Large, reddish-pink eyes looked at you, open, concerned, and far too close to simply look past.
Hey, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?
She leaned down a little closer to you. Her shirt stretched taut where she was bending over, one hand already half-extended, as if she wanted to help but didn’t want to intrude.
It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. For a moment, she grimaced guiltily, then she blinked and looked you over more closely. Can you get up?