The first period dragged on in the way only math could manage.
At one point, Mr. Grant turned suddenly.
"Kai," he said. "Since you're new, let's see where you are. Can you solve this?"
He gestured to the board, where a moderately nasty equation waited.
The class perked up.
"Ohhh, test the new kid."
"Bro, he's going to die."
"Or he's from some genius academy and we're about to feel stupid."
Kai looked at the board once.
He stood, walked up, picked up the chalk, and without any visible pause, wrote the answer in three neat lines.
No hesitation, no scribbling, no erasing. Just clean, efficient movements.
He set the chalk back, stepped aside.
Mr. Grant blinked. "...Correct."
Someone whistled under their breath.
"Okay, scary eyes and smart. This is illegal."
"Do you think he studies for fun?"
Yuen whispered, "I take it back. He doesn't speak with sword swings. He speaks with math."
Annika found herself staring again.
He didn't look proud, or smug, or relieved. Just… done. As if solving that problem was about as exciting as picking up a pencil from the floor.
Kai walked back to his seat and sat down.
For a brief moment, his sleeve shifted, revealing faint, pale scars along his forearm. Thin, old, almost invisible.
Annika's eyes caught them.
Her chest squeezed for a second—then the fabric fell back into place, and the scars vanished from sight.
---
By the time the second period rolled around, the room had settled into its usual rhythm: half-paying attention, half-drowning in conversations.
During a short break between lessons, groups formed immediately.
A girl at the front turned to her friends. "Okay, but seriously, did you see him solve that thing? I stared at it for ten minutes and got a headache."
Her friend fanned herself with a notebook. "He looks like one of those tragic male leads, you know? Dark past, smart, quiet."
"Tragic male lead? This is real life, not your drama."
"You say that, but we're in Class 2-A. The drama is built-in."
---
At their cluster, Yuen leaned closer to Rei and Leo.
"So. What do you think of our new classmate, panel of experts?"
Rei tapped her pen against her notebook. "His gaze is steady, attention controlled, movements economical. He's either highly disciplined, highly traumatized, or both."
Yuen blinked. "...Can you say that in non-psychological terms?"
"He's weird," Rei summarized.
"Ah. Thank you." He turned to Leo. "And you?"
Leo shrugged slightly. "His center of gravity seems trained. He walks like he's used to combat scenarios."
Mila frowned. "You got that from math class?"
"He walked to the board," Leo said. "I have eyes."
Annika listened quietly, fingers loosely entwined on her desk.
"They're right, you know," Mila said softly, leaning toward her. "He doesn't move like a normal kid."
Annika hummed. "Maybe he isn't a normal kid."
"Are you curious?" Mila asked.
Annika thought about the scars, the eyes, the stillness.
"…A little," she admitted.
Yuen's eyes lit up. "Ohhh. Oh-ho. Oh-ho-ho."
"Don't start," Annika said immediately.
"I didn't say anything!" Yuen protested. "I just laughed in a way that implies something."
"That's worse," she said.
Rei chuckled quietly. "Just talk to him after class. You're not going to explode."
"I might," Annika muttered.
---
The rest of the morning rolled by in a blur of chalk, pages, and half-whispered rumors about the new transfer student with the short introduction and too-sharp eyes.
Kai spoke only when called on, and even then, only as much as necessary. He never volunteered, never complained. He didn't fidget, didn't slouch, didn't kick the chair in front of him. He was like a statue that had been accidentally enrolled.
But he watched.
He watched the group next to him—Yuen's exaggerated movements, Mila's tough affection, Leo's quiet observation, Rei's faint smiles, Annika's thoughtful gaze. He watched the way they fit together, overlapping comfortably like pieces of a puzzle that had been in place for a long time.
They're close, he thought. Used to each other. No visible tension.
He shifted his eyes to the windows, where sunlight spilled across the desks.
So this was a normal classroom.
Too loud. Too bright.
…Strangely, it didn't feel entirely unpleasant.
---
When the lunch bell finally rang, the room erupted again.
"Freedom!"
"I'm going to die if I see one more number today."
"Who wants to trade side dishes?"
Chairs rattled, bento boxes appeared, snacks were smuggled out of bags with the skill of experienced criminals hiding contraband.
Annika stood up, clutching her lunchbox. She glanced sideways.
Kai was still seated, bag at his feet, eyes on the desk as if deciding whether to move.
Her heart thumped once, louder than it should've.
Mila nudged her. "Now or never."
Annika took a quiet breath.
She turned toward him.
"Hey," she said, voice steady. "Do you have plans for lunch?"
Kai looked up at her.
For the first time since he'd stepped into the classroom, his gaze actually met hers and stayed there.
The noise around them kept going—laughs, shouts, the clatter of desks—but for a moment, it all felt a little distant.
He blinked once.
"…No," he said.
Annika smiled, small but genuine.
"Then," she said, "do you want to sit with us?"
The storm hadn't started yet.
But the first wind had finally changed direction.