Chapter Text
Shibuya never really felt like it belonged to mornings.
It belonged to motion– train cars sliding into stations with mechanical precision, crosswalks flooding and emptying in waves, people weaving past each other through their memorized paths.
You step out of the station with your bag pulled tightly over your shoulder, adjusting the strap for the third time already as you look down at your phone screen.
7:42 a.m.
Too early to feel awake. Too late to turn around and get back in bed.
Shibuya Metropolitan University’s medical building lies a few blocks away, thanks to your early morning coffee run. You follow the steady flow of students, many of which share similar exhausted expressions.
Anatomy lab. First week of your sophomore year in college. You spent the better half of your morning double checking that you didn’t forget anything, rambling to your barely-awake roommate that you need caffeine before class.
Don’t embarrass yourself. Did you really remember everything? Laptop? Charger? Penc–
You stop yourself before the list can spiral further.
The building comes into view as you turn the corner: a pristine, modern structure made of concrete and glass, with minimal decoration. It doesn’t look like a place where people come to learn, moreso a place where students are reminded of how little they truly know.
As you enter, the atmosphere changes immediately.
Sterile. Cold.
The hallways are already filled with students, some clustered in nervous groups, others scrolling on their phones with headphones dampening the noisy space. There’s a faint scent of disinfectant that seems to cling to everything, even the air itself.
You check the room number again on your schedule.
322.
Of course it’s at the very end of the hall.
When you push the door open, the room is already half-filled.
Anatomy lab doesn’t look so much like a classroom, but a silent warning. Stainless steel surfaces line the space, and the disinfectant smell is stronger than in the halls. The tables are arranged in clean rows, where covered forms rest beneath white sheets.
You swallow.
So this is what they meant by “don’t be late to lab”.
Your eyes quickly scan the room for an open seat before you can overthink it. Most of the good spots were already taken– window seats, front row. You want to be close enough to the front to see clearly, but not so close that you feel like the professor’s next victim.
One table near the center still has space on one side.
And someone sitting on the other.
You walk over anyway.
The guy next to the empty chair doesn’t look up at first. He’s flipping through the syllabus like it’s optional reading, elbows resting casually on the covered table in a way that suggests he either has no idea what’s happening or is entirely too comfortable with it.
You hesitate.
Then sit down.
The chair scrapes softly against the tiled floor. That got his attention.
He looks over.
Bright brown eyes meet yours. The boy sports messy hair like he’d given up halfway through it. His expression is open in a way that doesn’t match the vibe of the room at all.
“Oh,” he says, like your existence there makes sense. “Hey.”
It wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, either. Just… easy.
You blink. “Hi.”
A pause.
Then, slightly too late, you add, “Is this seat taken?”
He glances at it like he’s considering the question seriously.
“Guess we’ll find out together,” he says.
That made absolutely no sense.
You frown, taking a sip of your half-empty coffee. “That’s not really how seats work.”
He smiles at that, like he’s been waiting for someone to say something normal. “Fair point.” He taps the syllabus with a pen. “I’m Yuji, by the way.”
You hesitate for half a second before answering. “I know. Well– I mean, I’m not stalking you. It’s on the class roster.”
That earned a short laugh from him. Not loud. Just genuine.
“Good to know,” Yuji says. “Would’ve been a weird way to meet.”
You exhale through your nose, something almost like a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. You tell him your name.
Yuji repeats it once, like he’s making sure it sticks.
“Got it,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”
The moment should’ve ended there. It should’ve folded neatly into silence, like most first introductions in a university classroom do. Instead, he leans back slightly in his chair and glances around the lab.
“So,” Yuji starts. “You ready to pretend we know what we’re doing for the next sixteen weeks?”
You look at him.
“I think that’s the entire course.”
“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
That gets something out of you that you weren’t expecting.
A laugh. Small, quick, almost disbelieving.
Yuji looks mildly pleased with himself, like that was a successful outcome. Before you can respond, the lab door opens again.
The room shifts immediately– subtle, but noticeable. Conversations quiet. Phones disappear into bags. The atmosphere tightens like a held breath.
The professor walks in. His sharp eyes survey the students in the laboratory, briefly landing on you.
“Welcome to Anatomy 201 Lab,” he says, like everyone is already supposed to know what comes next.
You sit straighter without meaning to.
Yuji leans closer, voice low.
“Okay,” he murmured. “So it’s not just me who feels like we’re about to get emotionally destroyed, right?”
You don’t look at him this time, but answer anyway. “No. Definitely not just you.”
A pause.
Then, softer.
“I think we’re all about to suffer equally.”
Yuji nods like it's strangely comforting. “Good,” he says. “Shared experience builds character.”
You glance at him again. “You sound way too optimistic for this class.”
He shrugs. “I try not to panic until I have a reason.”
“That’s… not reassuring.”
“It’s efficient.”
The professor starts speaking again, listing expectations, grading policies, lab safety procedures. Words like cadaver, practical exam, and identification accuracy begin settling into the room like weights.
You tried to focus.
Tried.
But every so often, you catch Yuji scribbling something in the margin of his syllabus.
Not notes.
Just doodles.
Little things. Random sketches. Like this isn’t the first day of something that is going to consume the entire semester. You can’t help the wandering of your eyes, curious as to what he’ll draw next.
At some point, he slides the syllabus slightly towards you.
“Here,” he whispered.
You look at him. “What?”
“You’re missing the breakdown for lab practicals,” he says quietly. “It’s kind of important.”
You frown. “How do you already know that?”
He taps the paper. “I read fast when I’m scared.”
That was so absurdly honest that you don’t know how to respond. So you just take the paper. Your fingers don’t touch.
But the exchange still feels like something you would remember later, even if you don’t know why yet.
The professor claps once, sharply. “Lab groups will remain consistent throughout the semester.”
A few students groan. Yuji tilts his head slightly towards you.
“Guess we’re stuck together then,” he says.
You look at him.
“Guess so.”
He smiles again. It’s not big, not dramatic. Just there. “Don’t worry,” he adds. “I’ll try not to be annoying.”
You raise an eyebrow at that. “Try?”
“Can’t make promises I can’t keep.”
That got another laugh out of you. Smaller this time. More reluctant.
The professor gestures towards the covered forms on the tables. “Let’s begin.”
The room goes quiet in a different way after that, as if students are finally realizing what lies underneath the sheets.
Yuji stops talking.
So do you.
But as you look down at the table in front of you, the sterile tools and the shape beneath the sheet, you’re suddenly aware of something you can’t quite name yet.
Not fear– not exactly. Just the feeling that this semester is going to last longer than it should.
And that the person sitting next to you is going to be part of it.
Yuji adjusts his gloves beside you.
“Alright,” he says quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “Let’s survive this.”
You look at him once more before putting your own gloves on.
“Yeah,” you agree.
“Let’s.”