The bell had just rung, signaling the end of third period, but Akira Killua wasn't about to let him disappear into the shuffle.
"So tell me, Meykami," she said, leaning forward, elbows on the desk. "What exactly are you?"
Kylori's dark eyes flicked to her, calm, precise, unreadable. He said nothing. His silence wasn't dismissal—it was observation.
"A question best not answered," he finally murmured, voice soft, measured, almost too quiet to hear.
"Oh? Afraid I won't like the answer?" she teased, smirking. Bold. Fearless. Intrusive. Exactly as she should not be.
His shadow, barely noticeable to anyone else, stretched a fraction along the floor, twitching like a living thing. She didn't notice. She wouldn't. But the air around her felt… wrong, almost like the room itself held its breath.
"You're weird," she said finally.
"Not strange. Not unusual. Dangerous," he whispered, calm as ever.
She laughed lightly, brushing it off, unaware how close her joke grazed the truth.
---
By lunch, Kylori had taken his usual seat by the window. His pale hands rested on the desk, posture perfect. Shadows clung to corners and cracks of the classroom, twitching subtly, pulse-like, almost sentient.
Akira plopped down across from him, tray clattering onto the table.
"You're… not normal," she said, testing the waters.
Kylori's eyes flicked to her, calm and calculating. "Normal is fragile. And dull," he said.
She leaned forward, teasing again. "So what? You float around, staring at people all day, with creepy shadows following you?"
A faint smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. Shadows under the table stirred subtly, stretching toward her like a question, then recoiling, obedient.
"You should be careful," he whispered, voice light and precise. "Curiosity has a way of biting back."
She laughed, shaking her head. Fear didn't register. Curiosity did. It always did.
---
Later, in afternoon class, a classmate tripped near his desk. Kylori didn't move. But the shadow beneath them stretched imperceptibly, catching the boy before he fell. No one noticed. No one would. Only Kylori nodded slightly, a faint acknowledgment of order restored.
Even when unnoticed… the world bent where it should bend.
---
By the time school ended, Akira had fallen in step beside him. She didn't ask to walk with him. She just did.
"You're really… weird, Meykami."
"Dangerous," he corrected automatically, voice flat and calm.
She grinned. "I like weird. I don't like boring."
Shadows shifted beneath his feet, stretching ever so slightly. A whispering hum followed him out the door—minor eldritch echoes, subtle, silent.
The audience could see it, feel it, and shiver. Akira didn't. Not yet.
A stray cat hissed. Streetlamps flickered. Shadows in the alleys stretched just a fraction more than they should.
Some things were curious. Some things were dangerous. Some… were worth observing.
And Kylori Meykami Genesis had already begun observing.