"So, you're new here."
The voice came from her left—flat, unreadable.
Shinoa Kurai turned and found a tall boy leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, eyes distant but sharp. His uniform was immaculate, and his presence somehow colder than the polished floors of Holy Cross Academy.
She smiled anyway. "Yep. First day. I'm kinda freaking out, but…" Her grin widened. "It feels right. You ever get that feeling?"
The boy didn't answer right away. He just stared at her, like he was trying to decide if she was real or just another loud voice in a noisy hallway.
Finally, he spoke. "Can't say I remember."
Shinoa tilted her head. "You always this cheerful?"
He didn't crack a smile. Just turned and started walking.
And for some reason… she followed.
They walked in silence at first, the crowded hallway parting around them. Eyes followed. Whispers spread.
The Ice Prince is talking to someone?
Shinoa glanced sideways at him. He looked like he didn't hear any of it. Maybe he didn't care. Or maybe he was just good at pretending.
When they reached her classroom, she gave him a wave. "See you after class, partner."
The day went on, but for Kaiser, it was the same as always.
On the outside, calm. On the inside, noise.
His classmates disappeared in expensive cars or private drivers. Kaiser? He walked his bike out from behind the storage shed.
It was old. Rust on the chains. Paint flaking off the frame. But it worked. It was his.
No one saw. No one asked.
He liked it that way.
The streets blurred around him as he pedaled, not home, but to the stadium. After hours, the place was empty—his kind of peace.
He tossed his bag aside, picked up a basketball, and let himself breathe for the first time all day. Here, under the glow of the setting sun, with the echo of a bouncing ball, he could forget.
About how little he had.
About everything he'd lost.
About the truth he never told anyone.
Later, towel draped around his neck, Kaiser walked past the gym doors—and froze.
A group of students stood by the courts, laughing. Among them was her.
"Hey, Kaiser!" one of the guys shouted. "Come on! We're making the new girl try badminton!"
Shinoa caught his eye and grinned. "You play?"
He didn't mean to stop. Didn't mean to answer. But the words slipped out anyway.
"…Yeah."
She held out a racket. "Then come prove it."
He walked over. Took it.
And for the first time in a long time, something shifted.
Not in the sky. Not in the wind. But inside him.
The court lit up—not just with the clash of rackets and shouts—but with something quieter.
Laughter.
Warmth.
A connection he hadn't been ready for.
But even as he smiled—just a little—Kaiser knew something she didn't.
That behind every quiet boy is a story.
And his?
Was about to break the surface.