Come early April, and I found my fingers trembling a little as I prepared my materials for the beginning of my first semester in university. It had been a long time since I last immersed myself in an environment full of people, and I began to grow nervous with the passing minute. 

It’ll be okay, Hanzou. I tried to reassure myself. This is just the beginning. You’ll be alright.

I took a deep breath as I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, stepping foot outside of my apartment. I glanced at my student identification card one last time, internalizing the fact that I really had been admitted, and that I was going to be a student again for the next four years. I exhaled slowly, trying to calm my nerves, and slipped my ID into the pocket of my trousers. 

In a bit of a nervous daze, I made my way to the bus stop, and rode the bus to the stop near the school, not saying a word along the way. Throughout the ride, I found myself eyeing a variety of young adults chatting away, or listening to music, contemplating the fact that they may be the same people to sit in the lecture halls I’d take my courses in. It was a nerve-racking thought, and I clenched my fists in apprehension. I tried to tune out the excessive conversations, and found myself relaxing a little to the steady humming of the bus’s engine. Caught up in my thoughts, I was startled by the sudden stopping of the bus, along with the screeching of the opening doors. I left amongst the crowd, instantly distancing myself as we spread out along the pavement that lined the entrance to the school grounds. It’ll be safer if I avoid direct contact with others. I don’t want to cause a scene on my first day…

The loud chatter seemed to dissipate into softer, milder conversations once inside the buildings, and I found myself thankful for it. The clamorous surroundings had been slowly irritating me, and I was relieved to hear them ebb away on their own before I felt the urge to silence someone myself. I briskly walked into the lecture hall of my first class, and took a seat in the far corner, which was still rather empty at the early time. It remained that way for several minutes, until I noticed a small group of people heading in my direction. 

I panicked, turning away from them, hoping that they would turn the corner and go somewhere else. 

“Hello! May we sit here?”

I was forced to turn my head at the sound of such a cheerful voice, and to acknowledge the existence of the young adult to whom it belonged to.

I hesitated a little before speaking, wishing I had a reason to reject his question. “...Yes.”

“Thank you!” The boy replied, “I’m Kazama Akihito. You?”

“Kuroda.”

He laughed a bit at my response. “Just Kuroda, huh?” 

He sat down, and the others around him followed suit, but they did not attempt to start a conversation with me. It suited me just fine, as I had no real desire to make friends at the time. 

Yet until the bell rang, Kazama continued to speak to me, without any worries. 

“Kuroda, since you’re in this class, you’re a freshman right?”

“Yes.”

“Me too!” He replied, grinning widely. “Let’s get along from now on, okay?”

I briefly nodded, but did not answer. I had no inclination to continue getting to know him, and I wondered if I’d be alright with such thoughts. My main priority was to get a degree, but I was also hoping to learn to control my emotions. To do that, I would have to be able to withstand at least a small degree of social interactions. I gripped my pencil a little tighter, my fist trembling.

“What’s your major?” He continued, “I’m a psychology major.”

“...Anthropology,” I responded.

“Oh, that’s cool,” he stated. “So we’re both studying people!”

He laughed again, and I wondered if he really was able to derive amusement from a conversation with someone such as myself. If only I could be that carefree.

“By the way, has anyone ever told you that you look mature?” Kazama asked. “Though I’m 19, people always say my face looks like a kid’s…”

I paused for a moment, looking at his face. I didn’t know what to say.

He grinned. “Are you examining me now? That makes me embarrassed.”

He put his hands to his cheek, in an artificial show of nervousness, and I turned away to stare at my textbook. 

“Well, you look normal,” I answered at last. “...I am older than you.”

His shocked expression was unnecessarily telling, and again I found myself contemplating the earnestness of his character. I was saved from a bombardment of questions by the appearance of the professor, and we both turned our focus to the lecture instead. Although the conversation had thrown me off guard, a small part of me did think that making an acquaintance may be alright if it’s with someone like him.