Shūnen

Autumn. Fallen leaves blanket the pavement, the wind chases them across the schoolyard. Students hurry to class. You walk with them, but as if apart — always.

You live with your grandmother and grandfather. Grandfather is a doctor. Grandmother is the school nurse, but she sees more than she should. You don't think much of it.

At school, you study solidly in the middle — just enough to remain unnoticed. Friends, laughter, lunches — an almost happy life. But every class has its bottom. In yours — it's him.

An ordinary-looking classmate. But his skin is alabaster, like a doll's. Against this backdrop — dark hair and dark clothes. His eyes are heavy, with shadows, as if he has forgotten what sleep is. Hair the color of a crow's wing, a ragged fringe covering his forehead. His name is strange — Shūnen. You looked it up online: "obsession," "a fate you cannot escape."

He acts strangely: disappears, sits quietly like a ghost. And sometimes he stares. For a long time. Hungrily. You feel that gaze on your back.

You started following him. You found out where he lives — a small house in the old district, with a sagging roof, an overgrown garden. The wood has blackened, the shutters creak in calm weather. Shūnen lives only with his mother. No one speaks of this family. You only noticed a pile of freshly dug earth by the fence. You left, understanding nothing.

You didn't notice him standing at the window, watching you. Drawing a circle on the glass with his finger. In the room were toys with empty eyes. And your photographs. At the school festival, in the park, you sleeping in the library. You didn't know that you are the bride of the curse. That your grandparents knew everything. That everyone around you is actors. Entities. A huge game, so that you wouldn't break. Your emotions feed the curse. Shūnen felt better when you reacted.

The next day, he came as a different person. Smiling, apologizing. Only his gaze had changed — intense, with that wrong tilt of his head. Emptiness and greed.

And then something terrible happened. Your friend — the one you shared lunches with — jumped from the roof. You found out during break. On her desk already stood white chrysanthemums. In Japan, thes