Early mornings were never my thing. In fact, I despised them. If it was before 10 AM, I would usually ignore whatever responsibilities I had, no matter how pressing. I had this habit of telling myself I could "deal with it later," which, unsurprisingly, never worked out well. But today? Today was different.
I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside my window. The soft breeze that drifted in through the open window made the curtains sway gently, brushing my face with the coolness of the dawn. I glanced over at the clock on the wall, 8:27 AM, and for once, I didn't feel that familiar surge of irritation. No, today was different.
Today was my first day of college.
It had been two days since I moved to this apartment, a small but cozy place just a fifteen-minute walk from the university campus. A place miles away from the countryside I had spent most of my life in. A city I had never been to, a place I didn't know, and yet here I was, standing in the presence of something new. Something big.
I was excited. But, if I was being honest with myself, I was also nervous. Who wouldn't be? It wasn't just about the college, it was about the city. The noise. The people. The pace. Back home, there were only a few hundred people scattered around the quiet winding streets of the town. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. It wasn't boring, not by any means, but it was peaceful. We had our fairs and celebrations, the summer festivals where everyone would gather, but it was never overwhelming. You could walk through the place, nod to a few people, and be on your way.
I didn't have many friends back home, just one, really. Aside from her, my childhood friend who lived next door, the rest of the people I knew were mostly the elderly I'd helped with their morning walks or the faces from high school, acquaintances at best.
Here, in the city, everything was different. The noise, the crowds, the rush of people, all of it was new to me. And though I would've preferred a quiet life, I knew that wouldn't get me far here. If I wanted to thrive, I'd need to make at least a few friends. At the very least, I needed to figure out how to navigate this place.
I didn't even know my way around yet. My phone would be my guide, a digital map to help me find my way to the university later.
I sighed, sitting up in bed, feeling both sleepy and a bit anxious of what today will offer. With a deep breath, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and felt the coolness of the floor with my bare feet.
A cold bath helped to snap me out of my haze. The chill of the water did wonders for waking me up, and as I stepped out, I went straight to my wardrobe. I needed something more than just "presentable" for today, it was my debut, after all. My first day in this new chapter of my life.
I rifled through the clothes until I found a long-sleeved white shirt, sleek but yet simple. I paired it with black pants and white shoes. I stepped back and admired myself in the mirror. It was fine. It would do. But something was missing. I stared at my reflection, trying my best to fix my hair, then my eyes caught it, my necklace. I hadn't put it on yet. It was a gift from my late mother who died 5 years ago.
I retrieved the gold chain from the shoebox, also known as the "Box for everything important", and slipped it over my head. Then, I grabbed my wrist watch, adjusting it to make sure it wasn't too tight. There. Now I looked presentable at least.
I nodded at my reflection, feeling a small surge of confidence. This was it. I was ready.
After packing my bag with a small book—Hardy Boys Adventures, something light and easy to read, I slung the strap over my shoulder and took one last look around the room. The apartment still smelled faintly of fresh paint and cardboard boxes, a sign of how new everything was. But this is no time for reflection or sentimental stillness, I need to get a move on or I'll be late on my first day.
I stepped out the door, locking it behind me, and made my way down the stairs of the apartment building. The street was already buzzing with activity. People on their way to work, joggers on the sidewalk, a delivery truck unloading goods for the café on the corner. It was a far cry from the quiet streets of my hometown, and for a brief moment, I realized how this is going to be my normal mornings from now on.
I squared my shoulders and set off toward the university.
I had always been fascinated by the idea of studying psychology. The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. But whenever I shared this dream with others, most of them laughed. "But you barely talk to anyone," they'd say, almost in unison.
I couldn't blame them for questioning my passion. On the surface, it didn't make much sense. I was quiet, reserved, hardly the type of person you'd expect to want to study human behavior. But there was something about it that intrigued me. The complexity of people, the way their minds worked, the reasons behind their actions, those were the mysteries that fascinated me. Why did they think the way they did? What made them act the way they did?
It wasn't too different from my love of mystery novels, really. I devoured books about puzzling crimes, characters with hidden motives, and intricate plots. But while I loved solving the mysteries on the pages, I was equally captivated by the mysteries inside people's heads.
That, to me, was the real puzzle. And I couldn't wait to start figuring it out.
Fifteen minutes before 10 AM, the time my first class was supposed to start, I finally arrived at the university after a slow paced walk. The campus was huge, bigger than I expected, and I couldn't help but hope I wouldn't get lost or be late on my first day.
One thing I noticed was that students didn't have to wear uniforms in college. It was a strange feeling after years of school where everyone wore the same thing. But now everyone is free to dress in their own way.
After what felt like an eternity of wandering the hallways in search of the classroom, I finally found it just two minutes before class was about to start. I swung the door open, and the familiar scent of old wood immediately hit me. The lecture hall was massive for sure, rows upon rows of seats filled with students already settled in. The room was filled with quiet conversations of the students. I can see that most of them are trying to get acquainted with each other already.
As I looked around the room for an empty seat, most of the spots were already taken. The only ones left were way at the back. I sure don't want to sit in a place where I can barely see or hear the professor. But I guess that's on me for not being early. With a small sigh, I made my way toward the last available spot right next to a girl with shoulder-length blonde hair. She looked pretty delicate or rather thin, but maybe that was just because she was wearing an oversized hoodie that made her seem smaller than she probably was.
As I sat down, a sweet fragrance immediately replaced the lingering scent of wood. It was subtle but pleasant like the scent of a rose being carried by fresh air.
"Is this seat taken?" I asked, just to be polite. It might make a good first impression.
She looked up at me, barely glancing from the book she's immersed in, and shook her head.
"Nope. Do as you like with it."
For a moment I was puzzled by her cold response. I mean, what else could I do with an empty seat but sit in it? As confused as I am, I sat into the chair. Did I perhaps irritate her? I sure do hope I didn't.
The professor began his lecture on cognitive psychology, his voice cutting through the quiet chatter of the room. I glanced over at the girl beside me. she seemed just as engrossed as I was. Her attention was locked on him, and I found myself doing the same.
The professor's name was Mr. Hayato Fujima. He was 43, had a wife, a kid, and a life outside of class. Not that it really mattered to any of us, I only knew because he said so earlier during his introduction. What did matter was how, in just a few minutes, he completely captured our attention. His words weren't just dry facts or something spoken out of a textbook. He spoke with such confidence and clarity that showed how knowledgeable he is in this subject. It felt like we were being pulled into the subject, whether we wanted to be or not.
An hour and a half passed in what felt like a minute, with Mr. Fujima deep into his lecture while I took down notes. By the time he wrapped things up, the class ended right on schedule. I was just about to stand up and pack my things when I noticed the girl sitting next to me staring at me, weirdly.
I couldn't quite figure it out. Was she trying to talk to me? Or was she just disgusted by my very existence? The silence that accompanied us in this moment was so awkward that it stunned me in place. So, in an attempt to break the uncomfortable situation I am in, I let out a quick smile and asked.
"Do you need something?"
I slid my notebook back into my bag. I did this after remembering something I'd read, if you're going to ask a stranger something awkward, it helps to do something as you ask it. That way, it's not just a stilted question hanging in the air.
She blinked and seemed to shake herself out of whatever thought she'd been lost in as if surprised to even hear me say a word.
"Not really," she said, her voice soft but sincere. "I just wanted to apologize for being kind of rude earlier. I can get really aloof when I'm reading something. I hope you didn't misunderstand."
Now that was a surprise. Here I'd been thinking she didn't like me, and it turned out I'd misjudged the whole situation. So much for my "psychology student" skills.
"Oh, no problem," I said, brushing it off. "As long as we're good."
I extended my hand, feeling a bit awkward but hoping that she would shake it. "I'm Sora. Tanaka Sora."
She looked at my hand for a second, then reached out with a small smile. "I'm Yui. Aiko Yui."
There we go. She shook my hand. That felt like a good start for getting to know someone on the first day of class.