Chapter 2: The Noise of First Day
Ryugenn woke before the alarm again. The room was already bright; Haruto must have left the curtains half-open when he stumbled in late, muttering about some late-night game session. Ryugenn didn't mind. The light felt honest.
He dressed the same way—white button-down, slim black chinos, navy cardigan—and clipped the university badge to his pocket because the orientation packet said "recommended for day one." Breakfast was half a convenience-store sandwich eaten standing at the window, watching the street below fill with students carrying new backpacks and fresh energy.
The walk to campus felt shorter today. The blue sky was sharper, almost accusing.
His first class was Introduction to Computer Science and Engineering, held in a large lecture hall on the second floor of the Engineering Building. Ryugenn arrived at 8:55, chose the back-row aisle seat as always, and opened his notebook to a fresh page. The room filled fast—eighty or ninety freshmen, voices bouncing off the high ceiling like ping-pong balls. Someone's phone kept chiming notifications. Another group laughed too loudly about a meme they were passing around. Ryugenn kept his eyes on the blank paper.
At exactly 9:00 the door opened and Professor Tanaka walked in—mid-forties, wire-rimmed glasses, soft gray cardigan over a plain shirt. He set a single laptop on the podium and looked around the room with quiet calm.
"Good morning," he said. His voice carried without effort. "I'm Tanaka Hiroshi. I teach introductory programming and systems thinking in the CSE department. I believe code, like stories, should be clear, honest, and kind to the person who has to read it later—including your future self."
A few people chuckled. Most just nodded.
"Before we dive into variables and loops," Tanaka continued, "I'd like each of you to stand briefly. Say your name, where you're from, and one thing—could be why you chose computer science, a favorite language, a game that got you into coding, or just something real. No pressure to impress. Just be honest."
The room made that small collective sound—half groan, half nervous energy.
Ryugenn felt the familiar tightening in his chest. Not panic. Just… too many people. Too many eyes waiting. He breathed once, slow, through his nose.
Introductions started from the front.
"I'm Sato Kenji, Osaka. I chose CS because I want to build games. Favorite language: C# for Unity."
Laughter. A few claps.
"I'm Yamada Aoi, Hokkaido. Python because it's clean. I got into coding after hacking my school's attendance system—don't tell anyone."
More laughs.
Names and reasons blurred together. "Java for Android apps." "Because my dad said it pays well." "Minecraft redstone got me hooked." "I like solving puzzles."
Then a girl stood near the middle row.
She rose without fidgeting, hands loose at her sides, voice clear and unhurried.
"I'm Naomi. Just Naomi. I'm from a small town near Kyoto that doesn't appear on most maps. The book that matters to me is The Little Prince. Not because it's about space or foxes. Because it reminds me that what's essential is invisible to the eye… and sometimes we spend too much time debugging the wrong things."
She sat.
For a second the room was quieter than it had been all morning.
Ryugenn didn't realize he was staring until she glanced toward the back and their eyes met—just half a heartbeat. She didn't smile. She just looked—calm, curious, gone.
He dropped his gaze and wrote one word in the margin of his notebook:
Naomi.
When his turn came, he stood without hurry.
"Ryugenn. From a coastal town north of here. I chose CS because I like building things that work exactly the way they're supposed to. No favorite language yet—just clean code."
He sat.
No extra applause. No questions. Perfect.
The lecture moved on—Tanaka talking about what makes good code (readability, simplicity, intention), why abstraction matters, how thinking like a computer forces you to think like a human first. Ryugenn took notes in neat columns. Every so often his pen paused when he remembered Naomi's line about debugging the wrong things.
After the bell he stayed seated until the rush cleared. Then he packed slowly.
Lunch in the canteen was louder than the lecture hall had ever been.
Couples everywhere—sharing earbuds, feeding each other fries, laughing at screens held close. Ryugenn carried his katsu curry to the farthest corner table by the window, overlooking a small courtyard with a single bench. He ate methodically, watching the scene like it was someone else's life.
They're here to study, right? he thought. Or is the real major just… finding someone?
He finished quickly, returned the tray, and headed to the afternoon lab: Computer Basics and Tools.
The lab smelled like warm monitors and static. Rows of desktops, dual screens, a TA who looked like he'd just graduated last week. Ryugenn took the back corner seat. The girl next to him said "Hi!" brightly, then immediately turned to talk to the boy on her other side.
The session was straightforward—setting up accounts, file organization, intro to VS Code, first "Hello, World" in Python. Ryugenn completed the exercises in minutes and spent the rest reading the course syllabus on his phone.
When the dismissal chime rang he stood, shouldered his bag, and walked toward the exit.
And then it began.
"Hey—are you a model or something?"
"Wait, are you in CSE too? What's your handle?"
"You're really tall—do you play basketball?"
Three girls first. Then five. Then more appeared from the sides like they'd been waiting in the wings. Phones out. Smiles too wide. Voices layering over each other.
Ryugenn kept walking. Head down. Pace even. The hallway narrowed in his mind.
Someone tugged his sleeve—lightly.
He stopped. Turned.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "I have somewhere to be."
He kept moving.
They followed for another stretch, giggling, whispering, until he turned a corner and they finally drifted off, scrolling for the next thing.
Ryugenn exhaled in the empty stairwell. Leaned against the wall for three seconds. Closed his eyes.
Then he started down.
Halfway down he nearly collided with someone coming up.
She stepped back gracefully.
Naomi.
She carried three books against her chest, the top one The Little Prince, cover worn soft at the edges.
Neither spoke for a beat.
Then she tilted her head slightly.
"You look like you just escaped something."
Ryugenn blinked.
"…Something like that."
She nodded once, as if it were the most normal thing.
He stepped aside to let her pass.
She didn't move right away.
Instead she said, very softly:
"Next time, just keep walking. They'll get bored faster if you don't give them anything to chase."
Then she continued up the stairs, footsteps light, books steady.
Ryugenn watched her go until she disappeared around the landing.
He didn't smile.
But the tightness in his chest loosened—just a fraction.
Outside, the afternoon sun had turned golden and lazy. Students drifted toward the gates in twos and threes. Somewhere a club was practicing trumpet scales.
Ryugenn adjusted his backpack strap and started the walk back to Sakura Heights.
The city still breathed around him.
But today, for the first time, it felt like someone else might be breathing in the same rhythm.