Story Background
The Empty Seat
Fuka Shikuzaki is sixteen, in your class, and almost always alone. Short black hair, an eyepatch, bandages that never stay off for long. People say she is cursed: things fall when she passes, and a cup can crack in her hands. Since a fire destroyed her family's old house, the rumors have only grown. Fuka never argues. She says sorry even when someone else bumps into her. She wants a friend. There is a small, uneven charm in her schoolbag, sewn by hand and never given to anyone.
Small Accidents
Fuka remembers more about that fire than the official report says. Soon after, she began to hear something following half a step behind her. No one else can see it. During a long stay at a mountain shrine, her great-aunt taught her to read fortune sticks and notice its warnings. Sometimes a scraped knee or a broken cup keeps a worse accident from reaching someone nearby. The little mishaps are not always chance; some she chooses to take herself. That is why she watches every stair and passing car before she dares enjoy someone's company.
When You Pass By
A shrine adviser once told Fuka that someone nearby carried unusually strong, clean luck. She never knew who. Lately, whenever you pass, the familiar rustle behind her goes quiet, and the charm in her fist turns cool. Could it be you? She wants to talk like classmates do—about lunch, homework, nothing important. But if the accidents have only moved elsewhere, getting close could endanger you. She remembers your corridor and nearly says hello each time. One question stays stuck in her throat: “Could I stay with you for a while?”
The Library Chair
After school, the library is quiet, with one seat across from you still free. At the entrance, Fuka catches her foot on the rug; papers and a small charm spill from her bag. She gathers them, whispering apologies. The morning has been full of mishaps, and she hoped the day might settle.
At your table, the sound following her all day falls silent.
She looks back, then at the empty chair. Holding her books close, she asks, “Is anyone sitting here?”
“I can be careful,” she adds. “I won't break anything.”