As I walked up the hall I kept my eyes glued to the floor and the teacher's old shoe, barely catching myself from crashing into him as I heard the distinctive click of a door handle being turned. Glancing forward my view of the classroom was obscured by his bulky brown shirt, but I could hear a rapidly quieting class. I wish I could have just slipped inside without any of this hassle, but that would mean being singled out at the start of class in at least some form of introductions. There was no getting around it.

"Hello students, Umeko! In your seat, class is starting!" Dull thuds of a moving chair indicated some kind of reaction but the teacher still blocked my view. Not that I was complaining. If I couldn't see them, they can't see me. "Now, as I am sure you are aware a new student will be joining class today."

Dead silence.

"Well, a new student is attending Kosele High as of today." At that this he walked forward to his desk, and I trailed behind. "Hello, my name is Takaba Shijima but just call me Inet or Ingintzel. I am very..." My voice trails off as I look up, unconsciously judging their reaction, and overwhelmed by the number of faces looking at me. Calm down, calm down. I still can salvage my introduction and not seem completely moronic: "... Uh... eh...” What was I supposed to say? Everyone is staring! “. . . I LIKE MEETING NEW PEOPLE!" A second too late I realized the impending crisis, but my mouth simply blabbed anyway. A snicker permeated from somewhere, and few barely restrained laughs abraded against me like sandpaper.

Very very quickly, I hung my head and made a beeline for the farthest empty seat I could, isolated with only a single neighbor. Why did I say that?!? Why? Now everyone will know I am not only socially inept but a liar. And who wants to be friends with a liar? In all honesty I probably meet more people at once in the last two minutes then in the last two years, and was hoping for a fresh start, somewhere I could make friends outside of necessity. Was I so awful that nobody would ever make friends with me?

Luckily the teacher didn't care about my woeful performance and jumped straight into explaining the difference between scientific laws and theory, forcing everyone to pay attention and take notes. Or at least a semblance of a reminder – he did mention a quiz on this topic later this week. That also unfortunately included me, but at least it kept me distracted trying to hold my pen. It wasn’t too hard though my writing was still a mess, though my sister would say I should be thankful I can write and read at all. Flicking the tip, I watch as the ink spilled out across the page, thinner and tapered as the tip was raised into the air, but deep and dug in along the lowest portion of arc. The student in front of me shifts, and my eyes trace the same black and white uniform, before slipping past the teacher no doubt explaining something important. Roving, I searched for anything to latch onto until the end of class, before alighting on the clock. Tick, the black second-hand vibrated forwards, tick, again it rachets forward, tock, the minute hand turns trying to keep up but fails, the longer rod running circles around it. With a hiss, the hour hand reluctantly paces forward and closing into the end of first period, and a sense of a foreboding and unease slowly, oh slowly dawns on me.

Glancing at the teacher, something is different, his every word a little harsher, the room and little larger. The distance a hair smaller. Suddenly, Sensei Hoshino’s tapping of the black-board and the random pink eraser almost sliding off the table are much more interesting, than letting myself think. I refused to think about IT. Instead I picked up my pen, clumsy in my thick creaking motions, attempting to scrawl the teacher but find myself completely lost in what Sir Francis Bacon actually achieved, writing some random experiment, something about hypothermia, but completely without context. Still, the ink flow and I record the details about a person I never met and never will meet, glancing up whenever my science teacher pauses to catch his breath, the mocking sight of dozens of swiveling heads, many black, many brown, and a few paler, before I caught myself and returned to staring at my paper. A small twinge of pain told me my hands were hurt, but, of course, even if minuscule tears hadn’t been congregating like moths to a flame, I would not see any blood. Not yet at least. Soon the bell rang and even as the teacher and every student darted outside, I dragged every foot, one before the other, the dull shrill of flat rubber on varnish assaulting my ears, my gaze low. Somehow, I managed to be one of the last to arrive at English class, each second before the teacher open the textbook and began reading the literature, an exercise in dread. But IT never happened. Shocked as I was, the teacher did open the textbook and start reading, causing me to look up for the first time.

My other neighbor was nowhere to be seen but not a single student was looking my way. I heard muffled grunts and groans as my teacher shifted up the glasses on her faces and read a basic sentence in English, glancing up the students, her gaze not avoiding nor resting on me. I was alone . . .  and I was happy because of that? That I had been ignored and not force to introduce myself, yet it felt wrong, but around me the student way to left ferried a note beneath her desk and watching the silhouette of a jaw, I swore a boy a few seats in front of me, mousy dull brown hair and wiry frame, was chewing gum. “Takaba-san, can answer what those are?”

“Sorry, Sugimoto Sensei can you repeat the question – please? Hahaha. . . ,” a weak laugh tried to cover my complete previous inattention. An exasperated response and stifled embarrassment at not being able to answer the basic pronouns concluded the interaction and I finally noticed I was in the same cohort as the science “Biology” class. Umeko; the boy who had been chewing gum, who I now noticed simply was grinding his teeth and was stockier than I initially thought, now assessing from the diagonal; the dark-skinned girl that was tall enough to block my view of the blackboard; and the random cat aficionado who I now remembered almost bumping into while she leaned down to pick up her pet-shaped eraser. Maybe I had been a little hasty repeating the same mistake as in science, sitting at the back with full sight of the entire daunting class. But still, I only now noticed every student I passed had also been in my previous class, explaining Sugimoto’s lack of introduction.

With every query and question the teacher fielded me, “How do you count?” “What is the word for book?”” the confusion and anxiety that entered me upon Sugimoto and every other student opening their books, an instinctive hesitation at the failing my doom to become true, was replaced with a discombobulated wonder at why I was the only desk she called out. Only after returning from the white-board the second time, actually answering correctly from the lesson this time, did I realize I never opened my textbook. My query  answered and clock ticking, I felt a felt a shiver travel up my leg and I suppressed the urge to shiver, flipping through the pages to near the beginning but still a chapter in, thankful my sister had made me catch up, I read-along silently as she explained out the list of common objects the class had to memorize, almost but not quite regretting that she no longer was singling me out. Soon the bell rang and a din emerged as each student started talking at once, while I slipped my textbook into my bag . . . I guess I will just have to tell my sister I ate alone.

“ – Hey? You’re Shijima or En-net?” I flinched back before my head instinctively rotated upwards to look up at the student standing next to my table. I froze halfway through dropping my pen into the stationary bag. On the other side than the golden-halo investigator of course. “Hello, I am Jue! Do want to have lunch together?” Her light locks, dappled almost as if undecided to be auburn or blond, but still framing her olive-toned face in a sharp and unusual contrast amongst a sea of white skin and dark-haired students. I felt like the luckiest student ever, even if the first person to talk to me was almost as weird as a me. This might be a friend! “Sure, I was heading the cafeteria . . . now – I would love to join you! ” I lied, or rather half-lied. I doubt I would have done anything but drag my feet to eat lunch. Probably eat my lunch in the classroom after everyone left. Flashing a smile, I tried and failed to return, her quick steps forced me to break stride to keep up. I wasn’t short, at least that was what I told myself, but looking at a girl the same age or a few months younger, who wasn’t by no means tall within the class, really put in perspective how little I had grown since the incident.

Still though, as we entered the cacophony that characterized I guided us towards the back of the cafeteria, near the exit leading straight onto the campus oval, randomly selecting an empty table hoping there wasn’t any particular reason why Jue wouldn’t like this. Glancing back, she seemed fairly neutral with her expression, was she disguising surprise? Disappointment? I would have no idea, but regardless she settled quickly onto the opposite small black stool-cross-bench seat from me, setting her backpack on the shiny grey table. Looking closer though, it was simply an illusion, crumbs from a previous occupant, probably at least a day, maybe two or three, scattered along it. Other portions almost looked sticky as the cheap plastic polish peeled away revealing the supposed metal to be simply a reflective coating on yet more plastic. Yet it was still better than eating on the chipboards of chairs. I had a companion. A slight smile tugged on my lips, but as quickly as it came, the fleeting sustentation vanished. “Hey, I remember at the start of biology you introduced yourself as Ent?

“Inet, you can call me Inet.”

“Okay-dokey, Inet it is!”

“And you? Just Jue?”

“My parents actually named by Jurietto but Jue’s great. Everyone I know calls me that, well except my teachers. I am so happy to meet, but I really can’t wait longer. We don’t often get transfers here,  so where are you from?" My first instinct is to say Kosele, but that is not going to fly. The truth really probably is best. "Osaka."

"Like the Osaka?!? As in THE city of contact? What is it like there? Are there really mermaids in the city canals? Is it true a civilian there encounters more breaches than most MG trainees? You're pulling my leg, aren't you." I swiftly regret taking a bite out of my sandwich, each and every second Jue's voice grows louder. If it were not for the general din of the cafeteria, I was certain someone would have heard. As it was several tables from the nearest student, I still almost choked forcing the tomato and bread down my throat. At least with this distraction Jue wouldn't notice what I was eating.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"No, no, I am not. I really did live in Osaka." Pausing to dredge up what distant memories I still had of the place I carefully began, "It isn't too different from here really. Just busier, more cramped, and urbanised. The skyscrapers are cool I guess, but due to portal pollution all the waterways have been covered but they are probably too toxic now for anything to live in. Restoration and beautification aren't exactly a top priority. The biggest difference would the Skyling." "Skyling?" "That's what the residents call the dome that grid-ifies each block and where the dropping walls that cordons off each portal breach." I suppress the urge to shiver, telling myself it is just that the window seals are leaky. "With the amount of containment protocols, you rarely see any besides in traffic detours." I was ad libbing hard, having barely remembering the city except for the few days after I was rescued and out of hospital. Maybe people really did encounter portals a lot, or maybe my childhood was just traumatic. Still five times portals forced my sister to change my father's navigation on the way out of Osaka and that wasn't even accounting for the ones already open when the trip began.

"Uh ... What about you? Have you always been in Kosele?" Jue picks up a chopstick and starts prodding her rice, before plopping some into her mouth, obviously much less enraptured at the change in conversation than me. “No, not really. My parents moved here was when I was young, so I don’t I remember much, but that’s about it.” I finish my sandwich in an awkward kind of silence as neither of us wish to continue the conversation. Soon though we had to move, and started to head towards the door, forcing too my lips the one question that had been plaguing me for some time. “Why after everything, are you still being so kind to me?”

An easy expression of surprise flits across before she, giggling, simply said, “None, us blondies just need to stick together!” That was a shock. Blond? Me? I guess my hair was paler than most but it would still be halv-deqr to th – nope, not going there. She said I was blond, I must be blond or at least dark blonde. Still, thinking about hair made me look at her twice, and I realized I hadn’t even thought her blond up until now, even if her hair wasn’t very dark. Even past the tanned, maybe, skin, curved facial features, and curly locks, she looked nothing like them, the ones I knew as blond, her strands only at the lightest a weak straw-color while o deep ash at other extreme, all covered in warm tint. But if she was blonde was she like them? No, she was not blond, so why did I have to justify to myself so hard her statement meant nothing. “Hello? Okay there? Earth to Enet?” I realized I had stopped, standing there, halfway to the cafeteria door, my hand bringing my straight hair, bleached a consistent stringy dark blonde, to my face as I stared at her back. “Yeah, just got lost in thought.” Jue giggled again, and wow, she really did laugh frequently, before taking my hand along beginning to guide me forward. Hesitantly, I slipped my hand out of her grip, the soft pressure more disconcerting than comforting, a force applied on my hands I had no control over and which reminded me too much of a stranger’s touch. I still did not know her, not really. Everything was happening so fast, first the questions, then her response to why she sought me out, and now the touch, but I knew if I kept pushing away she might leave me, yet this was too much.

Jue turned back, a flicker of sadness touching her features for the first time since I met her, making me feel bad even though I would have pulled back every time. It was damage control time: “W-Well, I was just thinking, how do you know we are going to same class?”

“Oh, you’re right. I guess we part ways here.” A resigned look passed over her face, and I felt I was missing something.

“Wait, I just meant to compare classes. We could still be in the same one.” Was she going to leave me? Should I have ignored her hand? Why did I say anything?

“Well yeah, but after lunch on Monday’s for our cohort is our FUL?”

“What’s FUL?” Now I was confused, not remembering anything like that on my schedule. So I reached into my bag, and grabbed the schedule but couldn’t find it anywhere.

“You know, a Foreign Universal Language?”

“Oh . . . ” I looked up feeling dumb, my attempt at looking at my itinerary obviously doomed to fail. Languages were classified as individual subjects so naturally the acronym would not be on the class schedule. I remembered my sister saying something about having to take at least three languages to graduate: English, Japanese, and a portal-based tongue – a FUL. Of course, my cohort would be split on these “FULs” based on which one they picked. “Can you tell me where the classroom for No’chiekiv is? 5B it says but I have no idea where that is.” But she was gone, lost in the crowd, and I sighed. So I started my way, asking for directions before finding myself in front of the brightly colored door, yellow with a white gradient on the outside, almost looking like a giant blurry sun with a white piece of paper reading 5B stuck to it. A stumbled as someone knocked me over, falling to one knee before I force my muscles to pull me back, and I look to see who it was, and spot a very particularly honey-colored head of locks walking towards the door. I half-weave half-push myself through the rapidly emptying hallway until I hesitantly touch her shoulder.

Flicking her head Jue raises her eyebrows a dark expression seeming more than just perplexed. “How did you find me? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I . . . uh . . . didn’t.”

“So, you’re taking No’chiekiv?”

“Yeah . . . ” Was there an appropriate thing to say in this situation? It was so awkward and I had no idea why.

“You got to be joking?” Jue started to giggle, and I giggled too though I am not sure what was so funny “You’re taking No’chiekiv too? You should have told me you’re into languages,” she slapped her forehead comically, “Come on though, we will be late for class.” I glance at the time and note that between leaving Jue and finding the room half-an-hour had passed. I must have spent longer trying to find 5B than I thought, but I had something on my mind.

“Is it that weird I chose it? I already knew some, so the class was the best suited for me,” I defensively probed, wanting instinctively to take a step back, until I knew why Jue didn’t expect me here. Instead I stilled myself to a complete frozen statue, not entering the room, as the flow of students parted around us, milling down the hallway to other classes.

“No! I mean yes! It is, but not in a bad way. No’cheikiv is great! Well, nobody actually is able to speak it natively so is an easier FUL, so I guess I understand why you picked it. Arrrghhh . . . I mean I also chose it as my FUL alongside PL-Tienbac and Sharaye, but I need to study No’cheikiv this period since there is no split classes for it later.” Relaxing, but still cautious I walked inside and chose a seat as close to Jue as possible and waited for the teacher to arrive. Within a few minutes a slightly battered woman power-walked to her desk. “Hello, since class is starting a little later than usual,” I eyed the clock, three minutes into the third period, “Open your textbooks to page 26 where we left off last time.” Gasping, she fumbled to put on a pair of glasses, “But first a new student has transferred to our class as of today.” A surge of ice ran through my body and all the positivity I gained during lunch drowned out of me. IT was here. What if I messed up again? What if . . . ?  “Her name is Takaba Shijima. Takaba would you please come forwards.” Shakily, I pushed my chair back, distinctly aware of it as the chair moving in the entire class. I forget I wouldn’t have all my classes with the same people. Even though I kept my eyes focused entirely on the teacher as I walked, I knew the bulkier figure to my left was from a different main group.

Thick in my throat, my tongue refused to move as the teacher, Morioka-sensei if the triangle metal name prism on the desk was to go by, continued to speak, “I am sure most of you have met her already, and heard this, but still be nice to her while she is new here. If you have any disagreements I will gladly show you to the principle right now. No? Well, Takaba-san would you introduce yourself.”

“Hello,” I mumble transfixed by the fake wood grain of the desk, “my name is Takaba Shijima and am in your care. . .” I trail off glancing at the teacher but she is still waiting patiently, but I don’t continue. “Well, I heard something about you already know some No’cheikiv.” Wait, where did she hear that? “Would you be as kind as to demonstrate for the class?” I could, definitely, but should I?

For the first time, I actually look at the students, some are leaning closer, just enough to disguise their voices but not enough to be obviously talking at a glance. Then my eyes a light on Jue, near the window. A smile split her face and she held up a hand in a subtle or maybe not-so-subtle thumbs-up.

I could talk, I could speak in No’cheikiv, but how would Jue react? How would everyone react. Nobody like a know-it-all, especially one that fails everywhere else. The teacher would be happy though. Maybe. Or maybe she would just give me that concerned look everyone got when I acted differently from everyone else. Better to just be normal. So, I stayed silent.

“Ahhh . . . never mind. You can return to your seat.” Feeling like a ball of yarn had just unknotted in my chest, I carefully made my way back next to Jue. “So . . . can you speak No’cheikiv?” I looked up, remembering that I HAD told her that outside the classroom. “Yeah . . . a little, but I got nervous.” It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the complete truth either. Though if it was a lie, I would have still said it. I just needed to keep track of who I was lying to and what, corroborating stories and all. Jue smiled brightly and then turned to the teacher who was watching us. Us. Instinctively, I looked down. Nooooppppeee. No textbook. I reached down while looking across and saw Jue was already studiously studying her textbook . . . or not. Her eyes weren’t moving, at all. A small thunk resounded as I leveraged the book onto the table, and Jue jumped, and some other students looked up startled. I internally cringed at the accidental attention, opening up the book and reading. At first it made literally no sense, talking about nasal sounds and practice exercises. I wanted desperately to open it at the start but the teacher was still watching, or at least she just happened to meet my gaze whenever I glanced up, like a vulture circling the classroom. Or maybe it was because I really should have read the book.

Still soldiering on, the messy sentences began to sort themselves out in my mind after a few sentences, and the instructions were beginning to make sense – exercises for each “phoneme” of the No’chiviki language. The only problem was that “phonemes” were a Japanese and English analysis, No’chiviki was a portal-language which meant it was naturally messed up. Or maybe Earth was messed up. I winced, knowing that made me sound like an alien, or a provocative jerk. Probably both. Still why was . . . check the cover . . .  Bekutai arguing to assort the language this way? Root phonemes he calls them . . . My head bobs and feel tired, but I can’t fall asleep in class . . .

I can’t . . .

I really can’t . . .