The first week at his new school was… exactly as Valen expected.
Classes dragged on like an endless march of boredom. Chalk scraped on blackboards. Teachers droned like broken radios. Numbers, letters, history dates- none of it mattered.
At first, the teachers were irritated. A student who didn't flinch at authority, who didn't scramble to answer questions? Infuriating!
But irritation quickly turned to avoidance.
Why bother? He couldn't be taught. And the witty remarks he slipped in only made them look dumber, eating away at what little respect they had left.
Valen leaned back in his chair, doodling lazily in his notebook, gaze drifting toward the window. Lectures sounded like lullabies for the undead, and he didn't even try to pretend he was listening.
And every recess, his desk was swarmed with curious classmates.
"He's so brave!" one whispered.
"Teach me how to talk back to teachers!" another begged.
"…A-are you not s-scared of them?" a third asked, wide-eyed.
The girls, meanwhile, whispered in that half-giggling, half-conspiratorial way.
"He's kinda cool…"
"His eyes are weird, but in a good way."
"Do you think he likes candy?"
Valen, meanwhile, was really annoyed. Kids were kids: noisy, nosy, and annoying as hell.
He answered what he could, tolerated what he had to, and retreated whenever possible.
Introvert life. He hated crowds, but he endured them. Because ironically, to earn peace here, he had to swim through the noise first.
Kids at that age crave attention the way adults crave validation.
Being "noticed", whether by teachers, peers, or especially the opposite gender feels like proof of their existence.
They're newly exposed to group settings, so fitting in is survival. They imitate others, adopt trends, and fear standing out too much unless it wins them popularity.
Anyone who breaks the norm, like him talking back to teachers, becomes a mini-celebrity.
Whispers, rumors, and exaggerations spread like wildfire. By the time the story passes around, he's 'the kid who made the teacher cry'.
Well, maybe he actually did.
Boys especially see social hierarchy as competition. If one boy gets too much attention from girls or classmates, jealousy boils fast.
Just what Valen had been waiting for.
Because their emotional control isn't mature yet, jealousy usually doesn't stay verbal, it escalates to shoving, dares, or straight-up fights.
It didn't take long for the boys to start glaring.
His mother's one rule echoed in his mind: "No fighting unless they start it."
Well… if he couldn't start it, he could at least help speed things along. Instigating without lifting a finger still counted as self-defense, right?
All he had to do was wait.
So Valen waited. Patiently. Politely. Smiling when the girls crowded around him, pretending he didn't notice when the boys glared daggers from the corner.
The countdown had started the moment he walked into that classroom.
The first few days were all whispers and glances. By the fourth day, the whispers became stares. By the tenth, he noticed them- older boys loitering in the corridors, pointing and whispering, the smug arrogance of kids who'd just discovered the concept of "gang up."
By the second week, Valen could almost taste it.
Every recess, the tension thickened, the stares sharpened. And then, one bright afternoon, it finally happened.
The playground buzzed with laughter and games. Three older boys approached, taller and broader than the rest, radiating the confidence of self-appointed kings.
One cracked his knuckles. Another smirked. The third just glared.
"So you're the 'cocky' kid, huh?" the tallest sneered. "Think you're better than us?"
'Finally! After whole two weeks of waiting!'
Valen tilted his head lazily and said nothing.
The crowd of onlookers went "ooh."
The boy's face twisted in frustration. He leaned forward, hand raised, about to shove.
Valen had been waiting for exactly this moment.
His hand shot up, catching the wrist. A sharp twist later, the boy yelped and stumbled sideways into the dirt.
The other two lunged. Valen moved with fluid precision. He sidestepped one, hooked his foot, and sent him sprawling. The second got a palm to the chest that knocked the wind out of him and slammed him against the monkey bars.
Gasps. Silence. Then whispers erupted across the playground.
Valen dusted his hands like he'd just brushed off chalk. Calm.
"You idiots should stick to tag," he said flatly, glancing at the crumpled trio. "Less risk of embarrassment."
Nobody laughed. Nobody forgot.
From that day on, the whispers changed.
Boys steered clear, girls whispered quieter, and teachers only called on him when absolutely necessary.
Peace, at last.
And like this months passed...
In the endless parade of monotonous, boring classes, only one thing ever held his full attention- Music.
Music was the one thing he truly loved.
When he first got access to the internet, he realized just how limited the music here was. No Linkin Park, no Nirvana, no Queen, no Beatles, NO Never Gonna Give You Up! He had no idea how people survived without them.
His only salvation was his mother's songs and the music class, where he was learning guitar.
In his last life, he had wanted to learn an instrument, but his motivation had collapsed spectacularly.
He'd even broken the guitar he bought. Very mature... I know.
But this time, he was determined. He even dreamed of composing his own songs, combining favorites from his old life with what he was learning now.
And he knew the perfect place to debut.
The Siren Festival.
And Valen could hardly wait.
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A/N- Do lemme know ur thoughts. Some constructive criticism would really help this story!