PineCrest University’s campus greets visitors with a mix of Gothic architecture and lush, expansive greenery, creating a blend of timeless charm and modern vibrancy. Pathways are lined with towering trees, their branches arching overhead to form shaded tunnels that invite exploration. The brick buildings, softened by ivy creeping along the stone facades, stand tall as a reminder of both the university’s rich history and its forward-thinking spirit.
Wide-open quads, dotted with students, are framed by academic buildings, while quiet, tucked-away corners offer solitude. The campus was alive with energy, from the meticulously maintained gardens and reflective ponds to the small groups of people huddled in conversation. For new students, the sense of anticipation is palpable—orientation packets in hand, many are scanning maps or nervously chatting as they navigate the grounds for the first time.
At the heart of the university stands a grand clock tower, a striking symbol of time and progress. Its presence serves as a focal point, reminding everyone of the journey ahead.
Mal and his friends stepped into the heart of PineCrest University’s campus, heading toward the bustling Campus Center. The building loomed ahead, modern yet inviting, with its glass front reflecting the steady stream of students coming and going. This was the central hub where everything happened: student council meetings, club fairs, and countless activities. It felt like the pulse of the university.
Surrounding the building was a sprawling courtyard filled with picnic tables and outdoor seating areas shaded by large trees. Some tables had students sitting with laptops and coffee, while others were occupied by small groups chatting animatedly. The atmosphere was casual, but buzzing with excitement. Banners and signs hung from poles and the sides of the building, advertising everything from intramural sports to environmental action groups.
As Mal got closer, he noticed the rows of booths set up both inside and outside the building. Outside, under tents and canopies, different fraternities, sororities, and student clubs were vying for attention, their colorful displays promising everything from parties and social events to networking opportunities and mentorship programs. Music pumped from one corner where a group of students were handing out flyers for the university radio station, while near another booth, someone was offering free smoothies.
Inside the Campus Center building, the energy continued. The large, open lobby was filled with more tables and booths. A café buzzed with students grabbing quick snacks or lounging in armchairs with their coffees. The student council had a prominent setup in the middle of the room, a welcoming committee of sorts, with friendly faces answering questions and handing out pamphlets detailing everything the university had to offer.
The group strolled through the bustling crowd, soaking in the vibrant energy and diverse activities around them. Leanne was pursuing a degree in Liberal Arts, eager to explore literature, history, and social sciences, while Mika buzzed with anticipation for her Fashion studies, and Momo Art and Sound Design path. Momo was the only one in the group to have a class alongside Mal, dreaming of understanding the visuals to add sound to their shared future projects. Though they were all starting out together, Mal felt the optimism of each friend finding their own way, embracing the fresh start and endless possibilities that lay ahead.
It was clear that this was the place to be if you wanted to get involved, meet new people, or just hang out. For Mal, it felt like the real start of his time at PineCrest , a place where he could potentially expand his tribe, even if the road ahead seemed a little daunting.
PG.04A
Mal pushed open the door to the Foundations of Drawing & Design class, his eyes scanning the rows of tables quickly filling up with students. This wasn’t the usual environment he was used to. The formal structure of an art class was a far cry from the streets where he’d spent nights tagging walls, letting his imagination run wild.
Beside him, Momo strolled in with his usual laid-back confidence, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Man, this is where it all starts!” Momo said, pushing Mal playfully.
Mal chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, start’ing from the bottom.”
“..and you know where are” Momo joked in return.
They made their way to the back of the room, settling into a 3-person table. But before they even got comfortable, Momo’s attention shifted to a girl sitting a few rows ahead. She had soft lavender hair that cascaded down her back, and her hand moved swiftly over her sketchpad, focused entirely on her work.
“Hey, check it out,” Momo whispered, nudging Mal again. “That must be that girl Roxy knows…”
“Nezami,” Mal said having already spotted her.
She was drawing with intense concentration, her pencil gliding effortlessly across the page. She looked... cute as hell, he thought to himself. And focused.
“Yeah, it’s gotta be, not many girls will full on lavender hair” Momo added in a low voice.
Mal’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer. He didn’t know her, but there was something about the way she worked, how effortlessly she moved the pencil, that made him curious.
Mrs. Mason, their instructor, stepped to the front of the class. She was an older woman, with short silver hair and a paint-splattered apron that made her look like she’d just come from a studio session.
“Alright, class, settle down,” she called out.
“I know classes haven't officially started yet, but while we’re doing introductions around the school, I want us to do a little assignment. Today's task is simple: I want you to show me where you’re at. Draw anything you like—characters, objects, scenes—whatever speaks to you. Just let me see what you can do.”
Mal glanced at the blank page in front of him, feeling a familiar tightening in his chest. He’d never really done this kind of structured drawing before. His art was born in alleyways and on abandoned walls, not in the confines of a classroom.
“Just do your thing, man. It’s all good.”
Mal nodded, putting his pencil to the paper, and sketching one of his usual graffiti characters. His lines were rough, but they had that same energy he brought to his street art—raw and unpolished. Momo had been doodling since high school, getting serious about it after picking up a “How to Draw Manga" book midway through. His dedication was what pushed Mal to chase his dream of making an anime, and the two always hyped each other up, feeding off each other’s creative energy.
Mrs. Mason began walking around the room, observing each student’s work. When she reached Mal and Momo, she paused, a smile spreading across her face as she looked at their drawings.
“You two have very similar styles,” she commented, raising an eyebrow.
Momo grinned, his voice loud enough to draw a few glances. “Yeah, we’ve been drawing together since we were kids. We’re gonna make our own Anime one day.”
Mrs. Mason chuckled. “We got a couple of future animators here, huh?”
Momo puffed confidently. “That’s right!”
Mrs. Mason looked down at both of their sketchpads again, nodding in approval. “Well, you’re both off to a good start. Keep working at it.”
Mal couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at her words. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but the fact that she saw potential in them meant something.
“You hear that, man?” Momo said, giving him another nudge. “We’re killing it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mal muttered, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he continued sketching.
Mrs. Mason lingered for a moment, then added, “Mal, you’ve got strong lines, but you need to breathe through it. Don’t hold back. Just let your hand flow.”
Mal blinked, realizing how tense he was. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, trying to loosen his grip on the pencil.
A student, Enrique, leaned over from his table. “I feel you, man. Pencils feel so awkward for me—I’m more into digital art. My lines are a mess right now.”
Enrique was tall, handsome, and slender, with olive skin and brown hair that seemed effortlessly styled. He had chosen to sit with Mal and Momo at the back table, his easygoing demeanor fitting right in with their group.
Mal glanced at Enrique’s rough sketch and titled his head in solidarity. “Yeah, it’s different from my style too.”
“You guys do digital artwork too?” He asked genuinely interested.
“I do a little bit, but mostly paper. My homeboy is more of an urban murlist” Momo offered.
“Ahhh graffiti huh?” Enrique smiled knowing exactly what Momo meant.
“Something like that.” Mal smiled.
“I’ve never had the balls, but I love to see good work.”
“Ya getting caught does suck.” Mal replied.
“Yeah he has four older sisters too so it’s extra trouble.”
“Dang four I’m sorry my guy. I’m Enrique by the way.” He said offering his hand.
“Mal”
“Momo”
“You guys both have very unique M names that’s awesome.”
“We had a dance group in junior high called M&M” Momo said casually
“I bet you did haha.”
“Why you always gotta bring that up, it’s so cheese.” Mal said shaking his head.
“Pfft says you we were dope.”
“So you guys have known each other since then and same purists?”
“Ya but Momo is focusing more on Sound design, I am taking every drawing, 3d modeling, animating, and painting class I could get on my schedule.”
“Oh we got seriousness, love it. My childhood friend Kevin is here too, he is just focusing on general studies no major yet, but it’s cool to have someone to start this nerve-wracking journey with.”
“For sure, plus I have to babysit this fool for his sisters and keep him in line…otherwise he gets himself in trouble.”
“Thus the urban mural work” Enrique quipped.
“Seems he has his mind on some other kind of work though,” Momo said noticing Mal hadn’t really moved his eyes from glancing at the lavender-haired girl a few rows up, watching as she moved her pencil with a practiced ease that made it all look effortless.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
She’s on a whole other level, he thought, admiring her work from afar, but keeping his focus on his own page.
With that, they all fell back into their work, the quiet sound of pencils scratching paper filling the room.
PG.04B
The late-morning autumn sun beat down on Mal as he moved from one building to the next. His mind was on the girl with lavender hair hoping she might be in his next class when he suddenly heard his name being called across the quad.
“Mal!”
He turned and spotted Sumi sitting at a table with a group of her friends. She was laughing, her golden hair catching the light, making her look effortlessly polished as usual. Sumi had always had a magnetic energy about her, and it was no surprise she’d become so well-known at PineCrest University. Sophomore year had only amplified her popularity—especially since joining the student council over the summer.
She waved him over. "Where you off to, trouble?" she asked playfully, standing up from the table.
"Just heading to my next class," Mal replied as he walked over.
"Which way?" she asked, grabbing her bag.
"ISH building," he said, shrugging.
"Perfect!" she grinned, looping her arm through his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I’m heading that way too. I’ll walk with ya.”
“You leaving already Sumi?” One of the girls asked.
“I’ll meet you in class, gotta talk to my little bro”
A couple of the girls gave Mal batted eyes as he nodded his head and the two walked off.
“What’s this? You ditching your fan club back there?” He nodded toward the group of friends she left behind.
Sumi waved him off with a laugh. “They’ll survive a few minutes without me.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, glancing back to see them staring after her. “Besides, I figured you could use the company. Wouldn’t want you getting lost on your first day.”
“Oh yeah,” Mal said sarcastically. “I’ve only lived here my whole life. Totally can’t find my way to a building two minutes away.”
Sumi gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow. “You know, if you played your cards right, you could be a bit more popular around here. Hang out with your big sister’s crowd, maybe?”
Mal snorted. “Yeah, because that’s exactly what I need—more people asking me about your Streams.”
"Hey, don’t knock it. My follower count’s through the roof." She gave him a playful shove, and Mal couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yeah, well, when I’m a famous anime creator, I’ll make sure to put that follower count of yours to good use,” Mal shot back with a grin. “Could be handy for promoting my work, you know.”
Sumi looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Famous anime creator, huh? More like you’ll be my personal assistant for a long time before you get that far,” she teased, nudging him playfully. “I’ll have you fetching coffee before I let you use my influencer powers.”
Mal, shaking his head. “Oh don’t worry to pursue this I’d even double down on the coffee for your pestilence little ass.”
She smirked. “Yeah, we’ll see about that, little bro.”
As they approached the ISH building, Sumi eying a familiar student to her she let go of his arm and gave him a wink. "Alright, little brother, this is where I leave you. Good luck in class." She turned to walk away but then looked back. "Oh, and try not to embarrass the family name, okay?"
Mal laughed. "No promises."
With a wave, Sumi strutted off, leaving Mal shaking his head. Same old Sumi—always in control of every room, and always making him feel like he wasn’t walking this path alone.
Mal glanced over at the young man she was looking at he watched as the guy’s face lit up when he saw her coming, waving back a bit awkwardly. The guy had no idea what was happening. Mal smirked, knowing all too well what was likely trailing him—just beyond his awareness. A shadow orb.
Even though Mal couldn’t see them anymore, he could sense their presence. After all, he had chosen his path when he turned 13. He had denied his orb back then, losing the ability to see them as clearly as he did when he was a kid. The burden of that choice lingered, but it was one he made willingly. Sumi, on the other hand, embraced hers as his sisters didn’t get the choice he did. He had never known the reason why, but the divine clock was still ticking maddeningly in the back of his mind.
Mal shook it off, and with a quiet laugh as he watched Sumi’s personality transform before his eyes.
At home, Sumi was far from the bubbly persona she showed on campus. She was more of a lovable villain—constantly a smart-ass, always in Mal’s business, and never missing a chance to tease him. But out here, in her element, she turned into someone else entirely—her flirty, bubbly side on full display. It was like watching her online persona come to life. The frat-girl version of Sumi, all blonde hair and confident smiles, looked almost like she had stepped out of a “Legally Blonde” remake.
As she walked beside the guy, their voices drifted into the air, a giggle here, a playful touch there. Sumi led him between two buildings, her figure swaying, manipulating the world with her charm. It was strange seeing her like this—out in the wild, as he called it. The side of her that few got to witness beyond her polished social media.
As she disappeared around the corner, Mal’s smile faded. He couldn’t see the shadow orbs anymore, but he didn’t need to. He knew the guy was marked—probably following the path most did, unknowingly under the orb’s influence. Mal had made peace with his own choice to refuse it, even if it meant watching others walk blindly through their lives.
Still, maybe they have it easier, he thought, glancing back once more as the two disappeared from view.
His mind drifted back to their younger days at the skating rink. Sumi had always been a master at luring her prey, just like she was now. She’d flash that same flirty smile, giggle at all the right moments, and before long, some poor guy—or girl—would be giving her a ride home or going around the backside of the rink to sneak a “smoke”. Not that they’d ever see those people again. It was almost an art form, the way she worked.
She’d always come back too quickly, just like she did now. He watched as she emerged from between the two buildings, her hair still perfectly in place, her smile still intact.
Wow, that was fast, she’s getting good he thought, shaking his head in amusement.
From across the quad, Sumi caught his eye and, without missing a beat, winked at him and waved at another group of people toward the building she was about to enter.
Mal grinned. She hadn’t changed a bit. Even after all these years, she played the same games, pulling the same tricks. As she slipped into the building, disappearing behind the doors closest to her, Mal couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her. For all the trouble she got into, she was always in control, always three steps ahead of everyone else.
Same old Sumi, he thought.
Momo’s gonna be a while, Mal thought, tucking the phone back into his pocket. Momo’s primary study was around sound, and music design something he had always had a much greater passion for and was part of the Animation Studio dream they both had shared for a long time.
With some unexpected free time, Mal’s thoughts wandered. He remembered the old bridge near the park down the street. It had been a while since he visited, but the spot held a special place in his heart. It was where he’d put up some of his earliest tags. He figured it might be a good time to check them out, maybe even see if they were still intact.
Pocketing his phone, he adjusted his backpack and started walking in the direction of his SUV as a pitstop before the park. Popping open the door, he grabbed his second backpack from the trunk area—the one he always kept packed with his graffiti supplies. Inside were the essentials: cans of spray paint, extra nozzles, gloves, painter’s tape, and a sketchbook full of designs he hadn’t tried yet. The thought of revisiting his old work brought a mix of nostalgia and curiosity—had his tags stood the test of time, or had the city covered them up like they often did? Either way, he was eager to find out.
With the bag slung over his shoulder, Mal skateboarded down the back path that led off-campus and toward PineCrest Park. He liked this time of day when everything seemed a little quieter.
This spot’ll be perfect right now, he thought.
The dirt path that led under the small bridge that crossed the ravine to the North End neighborhood was old and mostly forgotten. Most people headed to the newer park on the opposite side of the road, which left the under-bridge area almost always deserted.
It was his place to think.
To create.
The bridge, its worn concrete structure came into view, familiar and comforting. He found his usual spot under the overhang, tucked out of sight from anyone passing by above and below. Dropping his board and backpack, he unzipped it and pulled out a few cans of spray paint, the rattling sound filling faintly in the empty space beneath the bridge. He typically had his mp3 player for his creations even though music blaring in his ears had gotten him caught more than once. This place was different though, this space felt like a temple.
After starting at his older and mostly covered-up tags he decided to update the colors now faded and worn. He focused on sharpening the lines, layering new colors over the old, and bringing his work back to life. The smell of paint filled the air, swirling around him as he worked.
He felt at peace here—no rush, no pressure. Just him and the wall.
Once satisfied, he stepped back, admiring the way the colors seemed to glow in the fading daylight. He dropped the can into his bag and slumped against the bridge wall, sliding down until he was seated with his back against the rough concrete. He pulled his backpack over, using it as a makeshift pillow, and let his mind wander.
"I wish the art in class felt like this," he muttered, his voice low, barely above a whisper.
"Everything just flows when I’m out here. No rules, no second-guessing... I can just do it. But in class, it’s like I’m fighting with my own hands." He closed his eyes, thinking about how far he’d come.
"I used to barely be able to spray my name right. Now I can layer colors, make things pop, get the shading just right."
A small chuckle escaped him. "I guess I just hate that it still feels like I’m missing something."
He let the thought drift, the sound of the wind and the rustling leaves filling the silence. Then, he heard footsteps—soft, almost hesitant, but getting closer. Mal sat up, his senses suddenly alert. It wasn’t common for anyone to walk this path. He stayed still, peeking out from under the overhang.
A familiar figure appeared, walking slowly down the path, talking to herself. He recognized her right away—lavender hair, flowingly baggy hoodie, leggings, and naturally graceful. The girl from his class.
“Nezami.” He said quietly.
Mal froze, unsure whether to say something or stay quiet. She was so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed him. He stayed hidden, trying to decide if it was better to speak up or let her pass without realizing he was there. The last thing he wanted was to freak her out.
As she walked closer, she sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose. "It smells like spray paint," she muttered, glancing around but not seeing him yet.
Before he could overthink it, Mal cleared his throat. "Hey, I don’t wanna scare you. I’m up here."
Nezami jumped slightly, turning toward his voice. Her eyes scanned the shadows until she spotted him leaning against the wall, mostly out of sight. She raised an eyebrow, recognition flickering across her face.
"What the hell are you doing down there?"
Mal stood, holding up his hands apologetically. "I—uh—wasn’t sure if I should just sit here quietly or say something. I didn’t want to freak you out." He shifted, feeling a bit awkward. "Didn’t want you thinking I was some kind of vagrant creeper hiding under a bridge or something."
She smirked, shaking her head. "I appreciate that. Could’ve been a lot more jarring." She stepped closer, peering at him with a curious tilt of her head. "Hey, you’re that guy from my class, right?"
Mal nodded, stepping out a bit from the shadows.
"Yeah, that’s me. Sorry, we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Mal."
"Nezami," she replied, her gaze flicking toward his bag and then back to his face. "Nice to officially meet you, Mal."
Nezami noticed the splatters of paint on Mal’s hands and shirt. "So, what were you doing up there?"
Mal gave a half-smile, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Just messing around," he said, his voice casual.
From where she stood, the angle prevented her from seeing the full scope of what he'd been working on, but she could tell he was up to something. The underside of the bridge was a patchwork of graffiti—some of it intricate, almost beautiful, while other sections were marred by crude tags and slurs. Mal had always taken it upon himself to cover up the uglier parts with something more thoughtful, something with care and skill.
Nezami took in the scene before turning back to him. "So, you just decided to come down to this park and... paint on the bridge?"
Mal chuckled. "Yeah, I used to live around here, actually. Spent a lot of time in this park when I was younger."
Nezami laughed lightly, the sound almost teasing. "There’s a whole plethora of cafés around PineCrest, but you choose this old bridge?"
Mal shrugged. "Yeah, but it’s quiet here. Usually, no one’s around, and sometimes it’s hard to find a place with some peace and quiet."
"Oh really? Do you live in a crowded house or something?"
Mal grinned, a little sheepishly. "Yeah... that’s an understatement."
Nezami crossed her arms, her interest clear. "Why’s that?"
"I live with five women."
Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she laughed again louder this time. "Five women? Do you have like, a harem or something?"
Mal laughed along with her. "No, nothing like that. It’s my four sisters and my older sister’s best friend. So... not as exciting as it sounds."
She’s got a great laugh
"Wow, that is a lot," Nezami said, still grinning.
"Yep, which is why I seek solace under an old bridge," he joked. "But since we’re sharing, I’ve got to ask... only people who live nearby usually take this path to the neighborhood. Do you live around here?"
She looked at him sharply, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. "Are you a stalker or something?"
Mal laughed. "Nah, I gave that up years ago."
"Good to know," she said with a smirk. "Well, no, I don’t live super close. But I like to do a lot of my sketch work after walking around the park. Some of the trails help me think."
Mal noticed a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, something she wasn’t saying. He didn’t push, but he could sense she was holding back.
Something about this place must mean more to her, he thought.
"Well," Mal said, shrugging lightly, "I guess we’ve got that in common. I come here for inspiration too. I’m trying to learn how to draw characters, and sometimes working out here helps. Gives me a different perspective. Though, I usually have my headphones on—wouldn’t have even heard you if I hadn’t left them at home."
Nezami eyed him awkwardly for a moment as if deciding what to say next. After a beat, she gave him a small smile. "Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Mal. I should probably get going."
"Yeah, same," Mal said, his tone a little fumbling as he stood up.
"I guess I’ll see you around campus. Or, you know, in class." He scratched the back of his head, feeling just a little strange at how awkward he sounded.
Nezami nodded, offering him a small wave as she turned to continue down the path. "Take care," she said, walking away.
Mal watched her go, then turned back to the wall where his artwork stood. He gave the colors one last look, touching up a small detail before packing up his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he headed back toward his truck.