The second period bell rang sweetly through the hallways, and the entire class of 2-A sighed like a single exhausted organism.
"Literature time," Yuen groaned. "Back to the land of symbolism and heartbreak."
"You can barely read subtext in a sentence," Mila replied.
"I can! I just don't want to!" Yuen argued.
Rei tapped her pen against her notebook. "That's the same energy you put into everything."
Annika smiled as she took her seat. From beside her, a bag dropped quietly as Kai sat—still silent, still composed.
Their eyes met for the briefest moment before the teacher entered.
Ms. Hawthorne strode to the front, sharp-eyed, her hair pinned back in a silver clasp. She looked elegant—deadly, even—which fed into the rumor she'd once been a spy.
"Everyone," she began, tapping her desk, "today we're going to break down a short play. 'The Blue Door.' It's about facing buried regrets."
Groans. Whispers. Yuen visibly wilted.
"You'll work in pairs," she continued, ignoring the sighs. "I'll assign them myself."
The class tensed.
Annika glanced sideways before she could stop herself.
Kai didn't move.
Ms. Hawthorne began reading names down the roster. A steady stream:
"Rei and Nolan."
"Leo and Hana."
"Mila and Jamie."
Yuen prayed loudly. "Ms. Hawthorne, I'd like to formally request—"
"No," she said flatly. "Yuen and Cyrus."
"MY SPIRIT IS BROKEN—!"
A few giggled.
Ms. Hawthorne continued:
"And finally: Annika Wu and Kai Ardent."
Annika blinked.
And turned her head—just in time to see Kai calmly close his notebook.
He nodded once toward her.
She felt something flutter in her chest that she quickly ignored.
Ms. Hawthorne assigned their topics, then stepped away, allowing quiet conversation to take place between pairs.
Annika shifted her chair slightly toward Kai.
"So," she began gently, "how do you feel about dramatic plays and emotional breakdowns?"
Kai blinked. "…I haven't had much opportunity to form opinions on those things."
Annika laughed softly. "That's honestly the best possible answer."
He watched her face as she tilted the packet of notes toward him.
She pointed to a passage.
"The main character says, 'I chose silence to stop the world from hearing me break.' I think… maybe it's about control."
Kai's gaze lingered on the underlined sentence.
"…Or survival," he offered quietly.
Annika watched him for a moment longer than she meant to.
"You read between the lines."
He didn't respond.
But something in his expression relaxed. As if he wasn't completely sure how to react to someone talking to him without expecting something back.
She smiled.
"Okay. You do the unpacking, I'll do the actual writing. Deal?"
"…Deal."
---
The two worked quietly. Annika traced phrases, Kai gave profound interpretations in precise, minimal words.
More than once, Annika had to resist asking him questions she wasn't sure she had the right to.
She settled instead for moments like:
"You're good at this."
"I observe."
"That's not the same thing."
"…It's close enough."
She paused at that. Then nodded.
"…Alright. Close enough."
---
By the time lunch arrived, their group gathered again.
"How was partner work?" Yuen asked with a dramatic flourish, collapsing beside them.
Annika shrugged. "Peaceful."
"BORING," Yuen corrected.
"Productive," Leo interjected calmly.
"Kai says deep things with minimal words," Rei stated, sipping milk tea.
Annika nodded. "He says more than he thinks he does."
Kai said nothing.
Yuen leaned in dramatically. "Bro. Do you talk in your sleep? Is that where you use all your saved words?"
"Yuen," Mila groaned, "stop trying to make him malfunction."
Kai simply raised an eyebrow slightly—subtle amusement flickering. The group erupted into laughter at his tiny reactions.
Even Kai didn't quite understand why this time, he didn't mind.
---
The rest of the day passed in quieter tones.
They shared lunch beneath the sycamore again, Yuen regaling them with football drama. Rei and Leo exchanged commentary that was far too insightful. Mila complained about an upcoming recital. Annika laced a soft compliment into the conversation now and then.
Kai simply listened.
Growing used to the chaos. Almost… curious.
---
By the final bell, he gathered his bag without rushing.
Footsteps. Voices. Sunlight on desks.
No reason to hurry.
He stepped beyond the main gate, the breeze cool against his face.
He walked the same route—down the main street, across the bridge, toward the quiet roads leading home.
As he rounded the corner near the park entrance, he didn't look twice.
But someone did.
A man stood by a lamppost.
His posture was casual, leash in one hand, dog quietly sitting at his feet. He wore simple street clothes. The dog yawned once.
The man didn't move as Kai passed.
Only when Kai was half a block away—when his shadow no longer touched the grass—did the man click a small device by his wrist.
A quiet vibration.
A low voice spoke into the tiny mic in his collar.
«Target stable. No issues.»
He glanced toward the spot where Kai disappeared behind the cherry blossom trees.
"Still walks like a ghost."
The dog tugged lightly on its leash.
The man pocketed the mic and smiled faintly.
"Come on. Let's go home."
He walked back into the afternoon light—blending into the world like any normal person out for a walk.
No threats.
No enemies.
Just silent guardians, watching their ghost soldier find a place to breathe.