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Chapter 6: First Bell, New Beginnings
The morning came sooner than Oliver had wanted.
He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the white-collar shirt and black slacks Martha had laid out the night before. A uniform? Formal, almost old-fashioned, but clean. He looked… like a tiny office worker. His hair—naturally a curly brown—was pushed back slightly, some strands falling rebelliously over his forehead.
Martha gave him a tight smile as they stepped out to the driveway and entered the car.
The vehicle itself was sleek—floating just slightly above the ground, gliding forward without a single combustion sound. Oliver sat in the passenger seat, gazing out the window with a quiet awe.
> This place is wild.
The city felt modern, almost eerily like Earth… but it clearly wasn't. The streets were clean, wide, and bustling. Pedestrians walked confidently—some human, some beastkin of all kinds. Catfolk in hoodies. Bearfolk in business suits. A mother rabbitfolk pushing a stroller. Nobody stared. Nobody hesitated.
They moved together like this had always been the norm.
> There's no segregation. No weird looks. It's just… normal here.
Even the traffic lights were different.
Instead of red-yellow-green, they flickered crimson, dark blue, and soft pink—odd yet strangely elegant. Martha slowed the car as a blue signal pulsed gently overhead, indicating a soft halt. Oliver's eyes widened.
> "Those aren't real colors for traffic back home," he muttered.
Martha chuckled, "You'll get used to it."
They passed digital signs, ad holograms, and storefronts bearing names Oliver didn't recognize—"Teralux", "Dreamslice Café", "YumeComp". It all felt familiar in structure but completely alien in flavor.
After several minutes, they turned a curve and stopped in front of a wide, white-and-glass building crowned by a floating holographic sign:
> "Auraview Preschool Academy – Room 200 →"
Oliver opened the car door. His little leather shoes tapped against the pavement as he stepped out, slinging his small black backpack over his shoulder.
He stood for a moment, observing.
Children of all shapes and ears were walking into the school—foxfolk, rabbitfolk, squirrelfolk, and of course, humans too. No one looked out of place. He even spotted a tiny lizardkin girl carrying a massive stuffed gecko doll.
> How long have humans and beastkin lived together?
Did they evolve like this? Or was there a joining point?
He didn't know.
But he was excited to find out.
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Inside the Academy
The hallways were bright, shining with semi-frosted crystal tiles. The air smelled faintly of citrus and clean paper. The walls were lined with floating bulletin boards that displayed class achievements, creative Vita-based science projects, and even "Star of the Week" holographic student portraits.
Oliver passed by a display of glowing painted bottles with swirling elemental lights inside. Apparently, these were crafted by Class 201.
> They let kids do this? Actual Vita manipulation?
And here I thought we'd be playing with letter blocks.
He followed the signs and finally arrived at his classroom—Room 200.
He paused outside the door. His stomach wasn't upset, but a slow unease brewed in his chest.
He didn't know why.
> I've never really done school. Not even as a kid… Not properly.
After a long breath, he opened the door.
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Room 200
The classroom was spacious, decorated with glowing lights hanging like vines from the ceiling. Circular rugs and small desks dotted the room in warm, organic shapes. There were no chalkboards—instead, a soft projection wall shimmered with flowing script and illustrations.
Most of the students were beastkin.
Small children with ears, tails, fur, scales, or patterns—each unique. Some chatted, some sniffed crayons, others used small Vita flickers to form shapes in the air. Oliver's eyes met a girl with raccoon-like paws, another with soft pink bunny ears, and a quiet boy in the corner with hawk feathers trailing his neck.
He sat down at an open desk near the window.
Not many paid him much attention.
Then the teacher walked in—a female catkin with silky gray fur, amber eyes, and thick glasses. She wore a gentle gray cardigan over a lilac blouse. Her tail curled behind her as she adjusted her clipboard.
"Good morning, little ones!" she purred. "I'm Miss Narissa—but you can call me Miss Nari."
The room quieted.
Miss Nari smiled warmly. "This is our first day together, and I already know this class is going to be something special. Today, we'll be going over the basics of our academy's program—learning, growing, and most importantly, understanding Vita."
Oliver perked up.
Yes. Finally.
She tapped the wall and a swirling diagram of colored energy filled the screen: Green Vita, Blue Vita, Yellow Vita, and more.
Each had a purpose.
Each had a rule.
Oliver leaned forward, watching intently.
For the first time in years—possibly in his entire adult life—he felt something spark inside him.
Not boredom. Not cynicism.
But something close to curiosity.
> Maybe preschool won't be so bad after all.
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Absolutely! Here's the continuation of Chapter 8: "The Seed of Understanding" where Oliver gets his first real lesson in Qualities, a key aspect of Vita mastery. This day blends learning, self-discovery, and subtle challenges—all helping Oliver realize just how deep this world really goes.
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Chapter 8: The Seed of Understanding
The chairs were arranged in a neat oval, giving each child a front-row view of the large white projection wall as it bloomed to life with shimmering script.
Miss Nari walked to the center, tail flicking softly.
"Today," she announced, "we're going to begin with a fundamental of all Vita-users—Qualities."
A few students blinked, a couple already scribbling notes into their floating notebooks.
"Qualities," she continued, "aren't just your favorite element… they're the compound or element you understand most intimately. Something that responds to you because you know it—not just how it behaves, but why it behaves."
She flicked her fingers and conjured a small flame—then doused it with her breath, forming mist.
"My Quality is steam—because I understand both fire and water, and how heat transfers between phases."
Oliver sat up straighter.
> So it's not just raw elemental magic… It's like chemistry. Like physics, even.
He looked around. Some students were whispering—already guessing their own Qualities.
> "I think mine's pollen!" said the rabbitfolk girl.
"Mine's stone!" declared a boarfolk boy, flexing.
"What's a compound?" whispered someone else.
Miss Nari chuckled. "Don't worry. It takes time. Most adults haven't even discovered their Quality. But if you learn the science behind things, Vita listens more clearly. It listens to the mind that understands."
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Reading & Plant Trial
After a quick introduction to literature-based Vita learning, each student was handed a Biology for Beginners textbook—its cover showing glowing roots winding around a tree.
Oliver flipped through the pages.
Chloroplasts. Plant cells. Photosynthesis. Species names. Osmosis.
It was basic to his adult mind—but in this world, this knowledge was key to power.
Miss Nari spoke again. "Now, let's apply what we read."
She stepped over to a large tray of tiny pots filled with soil. "Everyone, take a seed. Today, we begin the Planting Trial. You'll plant it, and try to use Vita to stimulate early growth."
Oliver looked down at the seed handed to him. It was round, tan, with a slight ridge down the middle.
A pumpkin seed.
> Tough. Nutrient-hungry. Slow-growing.
Everyone placed their seeds into soil-filled pots. Oliver watched the other kids closely as they placed their hands over the soil, closing their eyes. Small yellowish flickers of Vita energy rippled from their palms—like gentle warmth drawn from within.
It was the same golden shimmer he had seen from Martha when she healed Lyra's scraped knee. A nourishing kind of Vita.
Oliver placed his hand on the soil.
Focused.
> Okay. Plants need water, light, and nutrients. Water—I know. I can do that.
He imagined the process of seed hydration, like what he read—how water softened the seed coat, how enzymes would activate…
A small trickle of water formed at his fingertips and sank into the dirt.
But… nothing else.
No sprouting. No golden shimmer. No life.
He looked over. A squirrelfolk boy had a tiny green shoot poking out. Someone else, a deerkin girl, had already sprouted three bright leaves.
Tala raised her hand joyfully. Her pot trembled with a whisper of wind as a little shoot pushed up from the soil. Shura grinned proudly as well.
> Is it really this hard? I've read about plants before. Why's it not working?
Miss Nari came by and gently rested her hand on his desk. "It's okay, Oliver. The energy you gave was good. Just not quite the right type yet. Water's only part of the story."
She smiled kindly and moved on.
> So I have to learn the whole process of growth? The biology, the chemistry, the feeling of it…
This world is harder than it looks.
The bell rang—a gentle chime, not harsh or loud.
Half-day was done.
Oliver sighed, packing up his books and heading toward the front gates.
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Back Home
Martha's car floated silently up to the school. She leaned across and opened the door for him.
"So," she asked, her tone gentle, "how was your first day?"
Oliver pulled his seatbelt across his tiny body and stared out the window as the city rolled past.
"It was… good."
A pause. "Learned anything new?"
"…Yeah," he muttered, "a lot."
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At home, Martha unlocked the front door as Rinku, the family's long-legged mountain dog, lay snoring upside-down on the couch—tongue lolling out. Rarely did the mutt stay inside, but apparently today was a lazy day for canines too.
Lyra came bounding in from the backyard, her red ribbon bouncing in her tied-up hair.
"Oliver!" she shouted, hopping up to him. "How was school? Did you blow something up? Did you make water? Did you learn about fire? Is the teacher mean? Do they let you eat in class?"
Oliver gave her a flat look. "…It was fine."
She tilted her head. "Booooring answer."
"Ask me again in a year."
Lyra pouted but gave up quickly, distracted by the smell of something sweet from the kitchen.
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Room, End of Day
Oliver stepped into his room, dropped his backpack, and flopped face-first onto the bed.
> Three days in this new world… and already I've been reborn, adopted, hit with soul lessons, and now back in school.
He turned his face to the side, eyes barely open.
The pumpkin seed from earlier still rested in his backpack pocket, the corner of the dirt still a little wet.
> If I'm gonna do this right, I need to know everything. Not just how. Not just what. But why.
As his eyelids grew heavy, he stared up at the ceiling again.
Tomorrow, maybe he could try again—with more understanding.
It's both interesting at the same time, Oliver gets thoughts of him back on Earth, united states, he's likely pretty ok with his choices a little uncertain but still alright, this world seem alot better compared to his older 'home', that difficult job hunt, high raise rent, and diploma that didn't do much and the long pointless education, seems like a escapism realm, who knows if it gets better or worse in the future, and his parents? Oliver seems to be glad they aren't working hard and taking care of him as the Black Tortoise with the deal erased memories of Oliver in the world, therfore is parents didn't have to worry about him and he won't be a burden.
>This seems alot better.
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