The courtyard buzzed with morning energy—cliques gathering by lockers, music leaking from shared earbuds, backpacks slung lazily over shoulders, and whispers of weekend plans drifting through the air like pollen.
Kaida barely had time to wave before Kumuna Rolin sprinted up and clapped a heavy arm around his neck.
“My guy!” Kumuna grinned wide, his voice naturally set to max volume. “You live! I had a bet with Tsubaki that you wouldn’t make it past round three of Olivia’s Morning Boss Fight.”
Kaida wheezed. “I barely made it out with my ribs intact.”
Kumuna stood at least half a foot taller than Kaida—5’10” and still somehow growing. His messy brown hair flared like he hadn’t brushed it since birth, and his uniform shirt was already half-untucked. Chaos followed him like an aura.
“That girl is a menace,” Kumuna said with admiration. “You should consider a restraining order—or ask her for self-defense lessons.”
“I’d rather get hit by a truck.”
“Probably safer.”
“Would you two morons shut up?” came a dry, tired voice behind them.
Tsubaki Moeta stepped into view, arms crossed and face half-hidden behind her sleek black bangs. Her glasses reflected the sun with a sharp gleam, and her expression screamed “I’ve already had enough of today.” She was a little taller than Kaida, lean, and always carried an energy like she was five seconds from either solving a math theorem or setting something on fire.
“You’re lucky I didn’t film the headlock,” she added, brushing past them. “I was going to use it as a training video on how not to lose to your older sibling.”
“Hey,” Kaida muttered. “Support your friends.”
“I do. That’s why I didn’t sell it to the Internet.”
“Tsubaki,” Kumuna beamed. “Still as sharp as ever. You wanna insult my hair next?”
“Do I even need to? It’s doing a pretty good job of embarrassing you on its own.”
“Wounded,” Kumuna clutched his chest. “But I’ll recover.”
Kaida chuckled—and then felt it.
A soft tug. A subtle ripple in the back of his mind. Like an invisible string tied to his spine had been plucked. His eyes darted toward the school building. Nothing. Just the normal crowd and the drone of announcements over the PA system.
He shook it off.
“Morning, Kaida…”
The voice was quiet, barely audible over the courtyard hum, but Kaida heard it clearly. Or maybe he was just good at hearing her by now.
He turned to see Mishell walking up, holding the strap of her bag with both hands, her fingers twisting together.
Her long sleeves partially hid the fact she always kept her arms close to her sides. She wore the same uniform as the other girls—by choice, not by rule—and her long hair, dyed a soft lavender, fell across one eye.
Kaida smiled. “Hey, Mishell.”
She smiled back—small, gentle, real.
“You weren’t late today,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kaida leaned forward to hear her better. “Yeah, Olivia made sure of that. She jumped on me like a pro wrestler.”
Mishell giggled—light and honest. “I can imagine.”
Tsubaki stepped in, scanning her watch. “Alright, if we don’t want to be late, we should start heading up.”
Kumuna groaned. “Ugh, I hate that we’re on the fifth floor. What do they think we are—mountain goats?”
“They think we’re students,” Tsubaki replied flatly.
“I vote we rebel. Revolt. Create a new classroom on the first floor.”
“You’d still be late,” she shot back.
They moved together, climbing the stairs two at a time. Mishell stayed close behind, her footsteps quiet.
The fifth-floor hallway stretched long and sunlit, rows of lockers and classroom doors on either side. The bell rang just as they reached the top.
“Alright, nerds,” Kumuna said, stretching. “See you after class. Try not to miss me too much.”
Kaida offered a half-wave. “I’ll try.”
Tsubaki rolled her eyes. “Focus in class. Don’t get sent to the office again.”
“No promises.”
Mishell gave a small bow. “See you later…”
They split off, disappearing into different rooms. The normalcy of it all felt like a pattern they had followed a hundred times. Maybe a thousand.
But Kaida… felt off.
He stepped into his classroom, took his seat near the window, and exhaled. The hum of voices around him faded into white noise.
That feeling from earlier hadn’t gone away.
He glanced over his shoulder. No one behind him looked suspicious. No cameras. No open windows.
Still… that tug in his gut remained.
Like something was watching him.
Judging him.
Waiting.
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The teacher entered, pushing a cart with an old projector stacked with lesson materials. “Alright, everyone. Seats. Let’s begin.”
Chairs scraped. Pages flipped. Pencils tapped.
Kaida stared out the window. The sun still shone. The clouds drifted lazily across the sky.
Maybe he was just overthinking it.
Maybe it was nothing.
The lesson began. Something about post-war politics. Kaida wrote the title in his notebook but couldn’t bring himself to focus. The teacher’s voice blurred. His pen tapped against the desk.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
Still watching.
Still waiting.
Then—
THRUM.
The floor shook beneath his feet.
Just once. A deep, dull pulse. Like the heartbeat of something buried.
His classmates looked up, confused.
The teacher paused. “…Did anyone else feel—”
THRUM.
Stronger this time. The windows rattled. Light fixtures swayed slightly.
People looked around. Nervous laughter. Someone made a joke about an earthquake.
Then came the third.
THRUUUMM—CRACK!
The walls trembled. A low, groaning sound vibrated through the air. Something in the ceiling snapped.
BOOM!
An explosion rocked the far side of the school.
BANG—BOOM—CRASH!
The windows blew inward. Screams erupted. A fire alarm began blaring, shrill and distorted.
“EVERYONE OUT! SINGLE FILE—NOW!” the teacher shouted, trying to maintain order.
But order shattered in an instant.
Panic spilled into chaos.
Students bolted from their seats. Desks scraped and flipped. Some tripped over chairs. Others pushed forward toward the hallway in a stampede of limbs and backpacks.
Kaida stood up—then SLAM—something hit him from the side.
His desk tipped. He crashed to the floor, ears ringing, elbows scraped raw.
More screams. Shouting. The hallway was a mess of movement.
“MOVE! GO!”
CRACK—CRASH!
A chunk of the ceiling fell near the door, bursting into plaster and debris. The building was shaking like it had a pulse—like it was breathing its last breath.
Kaida pushed himself up with a grunt, vision blurry.
His mind scrambled.
What was happening?
What caused the explosion?
Was it just an accident?
Another tremor ran through the floor. Books spilled. Lights flickered.
His pulse pounded in his ears. His breath hitched.
Then a single, sharp thought pushed through the noise like a knife.
Where’s my sister?
He turned toward the hallway.
And ran.262Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ49n18wsADd
