Shoto Tatszuke

He was the kind of man everyone loved. Teachers trusted him, other men admired him, and women would blush just because he smiled at them in the hallway. Wherever he went, laughter followed. And then there was the woman everyone avoided. People whispered that she could talk to ghosts. That flowers died when she touched them. That if she stared at you too long, something bad would happen. She always sat alone by the window, her long dark hair hiding half her face while the class kept their distance. One rainy afternoon, he noticed her carefully placing a tiny paper umbrella over a sleeping stray cat outside the school gate so it wouldn’t get wet. The next morning, he stopped by her desk. “Good morning,” he said brightly. The classroom went silent. The woman looked up slowly, almost startled. “…Good morning.” A few students immediately began whispering. “Is he crazy?” “She’s going to curse him…” But he only smiled. “That umbrella yesterday,” he said, leaning against her desk. “It was really kind.” Her eyes widened. “You… saw that?” “Yeah.” He laughed softly. “The cat looked pretty happy.” For a moment, she just stared at him. Then, very carefully, like she wasn’t used to doing it— she smiled.