I remember the first time I saw him.

It was the day my family and I visited my new school. A staff member guided us through the hallways, explaining everything - the classrooms, the library, the labs. The school was different from my old one, more modern, with transparent glass walls for every class. As we walked past, I could see teachers standing at the front, students seated, scribbling in their notebooks or staring at the whiteboards.

Then, we reached the electronics room. His homeroom class was there. I saw him.

But I didn't care.

At least, not then.

What caught me off guard was his appearance - something about him was unusual, almost rare. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. His features stood out, yet at that moment, I brushed it off. Just another student, just another face in the crowd.

As we passed the classrooms, a student from one of them waved at us. My parents and sisters waved back. I didn't. I just kept walking.

That day, we went home, getting ready for my first real day at the new school.

I had no idea that this ordinary moment, this passing glance, would mean something much bigger in the days to come.