The bell rang. Gym ended. The students broke into casual chatter, grabbing towels and water bottles as they filed back toward the school building.
Oliver walked with the others, his mind still racing. He didn't look tired. If anything, he felt… alive.
And that feeling followed through 2nd period; Modern Japanese:
The classroom buzzed with the soft rustle of paper and occasional murmurs as students flipped open their textbooks. Today's lesson was a dense passage by Natsume Sōseki—something about personal introspection and seasonal change.
Normally, Oliver would've skimmed it and zoned out halfway through. But not today.
As he scanned the page, the words didn't just register—they unfolded.
Each line seemed to sink deeper than usual, as though the meaning wasn't being read, but felt. He saw not just the text, but the rhythm of the prose. The emotion behind it. The subtle way the author shifted tone from one paragraph to the next.
He found himself raising his hand without thinking.
"Sensei," he said, "isn't this section not just about the narrator's loneliness, but a kind of fear? Like he's scared the world's moving without him?"
The class turned toward him. Even the teacher paused, blinking.
Then: "That's… actually a very sharp interpretation, Oliver-kun."
A few heads turned his way, surprised. He barely noticed. His fingers were brushing the paper again, his breathing slow.
He wasn't just reading.
He was connecting.
Into 3rd period; Mathematics:
It was linear functions today, the kind of thing Oliver usually passed by with mild annoyance. But now?
The chalk moved across the blackboard—and it was like watching a martial artist trace footwork on stone.
He didn't know how else to explain it, but every number on the board made sense before the teacher even finished the sentence. His mind had started calculating before his pencil touched the page.
Kenji leaned over from the next desk. "Dude, when did you turn into a math genius?"
Oliver smiled, shrugging. "I dunno. Just kinda… clicked."
And all the way into Lunch Break.
"Oi, Oliver, rooftop today?"
Kenji's voice snapped him from his internal pacing.
Oliver blinked. "Rooftop?"
Kenji smirked, lowering his voice. "Kazu brought some real good stuff today. Imported. Says it's top-shelf. You in?"
Oliver wasn't much of a smoker, but he wasn't about to turn down a chance to hang out. Besides, he needed to clear his head.
"Sure."
They weaved through the halls together, keeping low as they passed by a few wandering teachers. A sharp turn by the stairwell, two floors up, past a "No Entry" sign with peeled edges—and then—
The door creaked open.
Cool wind rushed in.
The rooftop stretched wide and empty before them. A few benches, rusted fence rails, and laundry lines long since unused.
Kazu and Ryota were already there, Kazu lighting up while Ryota unwrapped a still-steaming bento box.
"You came," Kazu said, smoke curling from the corner of his lips.
Oliver sat down on a bench, looking out across the schoolyard. He could see the track from here, and a few students still loitering behind.
The rooftop was a secluded space, one of the few places where students could get fresh air without the constant supervision of teachers. It also served as an unspoken haven for those wanting to escape the suffocating monotony of school life.
The self-proclaimed connoisseur of all things illicit, grinned as he pulled out a sleek tin container.
"Boys, this right here? This is gold," he said, tapping the tin. "Grown in the mountains, and farmed by butterflies, or some shit like that."
Kenji scoffed. "Yeah, okay. You really believe that?"
"Man, just trust me."
They settled into a circle, the usual ritual unfolding—rolling, lighting, passing. The sharp, herbal scent of burning weed filled the air.
Oliver leaned against the wire-net railing, watching as Kenji took the first drag, exhaling with a satisfied sigh. Kazu followed, then the others, passing the joint around as they laughed and joked about nonsense.
Oliver wasn't particularly interested in smoking, but—
His body reacted before his mind even caught up.
The moment the scent reached him, something inside him shifted.
His dantian—the core of his being—shuddered.
A wave of warmth spread through him, subtle but undeniable. It wasn't just a reaction to the smoke; it was absorbing something from it.
His breath caught.
His vision sharpened.
His heartbeat slowed, steady and controlled.
It was faint, but he felt it—a small pool of energy deep within him, something foreign yet completely natural. It was Qi. It had to be.
Oliver leaned against the railing, forcing himself to stay calm.
He wasn't imagining things.
His Qi pool trembled faintly. It wasn't intense, but he could feel it—like a ripple in a still pond. His dantian reacted, shifting in response to the foreign substance in the air. It was different from the morning's experience, but unmistakable.
This wasn't a coincidence.
"Hey, Kazu, can I get a hit?"
Oliver's fingers twitched as he stared at the joint in Kazu's hand. He wasn't really interested in getting high, but if the weed was triggering a reaction in his dantian...
Then there was only one way to be sure.
"Yo, Oliver," Kazu called, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't peg you as the type, but you wanna try?"
The others chuckled, expecting him to decline. Oliver hesitated for only a second before stepping forward and plucking the joint from Kazu's fingers, ignoring the raised eyebrows and exchanged glances.
"Yeah," he said simply.
A few of them muttered in surprise. Ryota let out an amused scoff. "Damn, didn't think you had it in you."
Oliver brought the joint to his lips, inhaling slowly. The smoke was harsher than he expected, the burn searing down his throat and lungs. He coughed slightly, earning a round of laughter from the group.
"First time?" Kazu grinned.
Oliver didn't answer. He was already focusing inward.
There.
A pulse.
His dantian, small and dormant for who knew how long, reacted almost instantly. A faint green shimmer rippled within it, and for a brief second, he felt something new—a faint, refreshing energy seeping into his core. It wasn't much, barely a drop in an empty ocean.
His fingers twitched slightly. He was aware of everything—the way the smoke settled in his chest, the weight of the evening air pressing against his skin, the distant sound of laughter from the schoolyard below. Yet, his focus remained inward, fixed on the strange, undeniable truth forming before him.
This was real.
This wasn't some fleeting illusion or baseless fantasy.
He had felt something earlier from the secondhand smoke, but now? Now, he was certain. His body was absorbing something beyond just chemicals.
Kazu smirked at him, his sharp eyes catching the subtle shift in Oliver's demeanor. "Damn, Oliver. You sure you don't smoke?"
Oliver exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral. "Yeah. I don't."
Kazu let out a sharp laugh, nudging Hiro with an elbow. "Could've fooled me. You're taking that shit like a pro. First-timers usually cough their lungs out or take baby puffs, but you? You're practically savoring it."
Hiro chuckled, leaning back against the railing. "Shit, he's right. You look way too natural. What, you hiding a secret habit or something?"
Oliver gave a half-smile, brushing off the comment. He wasn't about to explain that he wasn't focusing on the high but rather on the strange, inexplicable sensation within him.
Instead of answering, he took another hit.
Another pulse.
It was growing, this small pool of energy. Faint, but real.
Jun stretched, lazily rolling his shoulders, his body language exuding a casual indifference as he leaned back against the railing of the rooftop. The cool wind tousled his hair, but his expression remained skeptical. "Man, I still think Kazu's full of shit. No way this stuff is as expensive as he claims. I've had better from a buddy who smuggled it in from who knows where."
Kazu scoffed in mock indignation, his lips curling into a smirk as he took the joint from Oliver's hand, twirling it between his fingers with exaggerated flair. The faint glow of the setting sun cast an orange hue on his features, making the flickering ember at the end of the joint glow even brighter. "Oh, this?" Kazu said, puffing out his chest slightly, as if he were a connoisseur of fine art. "This is top-tier, my guy. Imported. Natural. Refined. This ain't that gas station crap. This is the kind of quality you gotta pay for."
Oliver watched the exchange, half-focused on the banter, half-lost in his own thoughts. His mind was still buzzing, the haze of the weed beginning to settle into his body like a comfortable weight. He could feel it settling deep in his chest, wrapping around his limbs, a pleasant warmth that felt almost like a second skin. But something deeper stirred beneath it—a sensation he couldn't quite place, something he had never felt before.
Jun raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed as he shot Kazu a skeptical glance. "Imported? Natural? Refined, huh? Sounds like some fancy sales pitch. Let me guess—you've got a 'guy,' right?"
Kazu grinned, leaning back against the wall, his tone turning more smug. "I don't have a guy. I am the guy. You should be thanking me, Jun. The next time you're looking for some good shit, you know where to go."
Oliver's gaze flickered to Kazu as he took another hit, inhaling deeply before handing the joint back. He didn't care much for the back-and-forth banter; his focus was on the strange undercurrent he could feel pulsing through him. It was subtle, but undeniable. The air around him seemed to hum with energy, his senses sharpened to an almost unnatural degree. He could hear the wind rustling through the trees below, the distant hum of city traffic, and even the faint shuffle of footsteps within the school building. But it wasn't just the sounds—it was a deeper awareness of his own body, a shift in how he felt within his skin.
"What about you, Oliver?" Kazu teased, eyeing him with a smirk. "You feeling anything yet?"
Oliver blinked, suddenly pulled out of his reverie. He didn't quite know how to answer. He had been so wrapped up in the strange sensation of energy moving within him that he hadn't considered how it might look to others. Was he acting strange? Did he seem different? He glanced at the others, trying to focus.
"I—uh, I don't know," he mumbled, unsure how to explain the subtle sensation that was building within him. His mind wasn't fully clear, but there was something pulling at the edges of his awareness, an almost electrical hum deep inside him, thrumming softly.
Jun laughed, nudging Kazu with his elbow. "Look at him, Kazu. The guy's clearly zoning out. First time smoking and he's acting like he's having an epiphany or something."
Kazu snickered, flicking the joint between his fingers before taking another slow drag. "I wouldn't blame him. This stuff's potent. I told you. It gets into your head."
Oliver, still not fully ready to admit what he was feeling, took another hit to play along. The smoke burned his lungs, but instead of coughing, he found himself drawing it in deeper, as though his body wanted it. He held the smoke in for a moment, then exhaled in a long, slow stream, watching as the smoke coiled into the air, twisting and spiraling like tendrils of thought.
But when the smoke left his body, it wasn't just a feeling of lightness or a relaxing buzz. It was like something had unlocked inside of him. The sensation in his chest, at the core of his being, shifted, pushing outward with a force he didn't understand. His body felt both heavy and light at the same time, a tension that was unfamiliar, like he was on the verge of something, but didn't know what it was.
"Oliver?" Kazu's voice broke through his thoughts, more urgent now. "You good? You've been staring at nothing for like... two minutes."
Oliver blinked rapidly, shaking his head to clear the fog. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine."