The sound of my phone alarm pierced the early morning silence, jolting me awake with its shrill ring. Groaning, I fumbled for it on the cluttered nightstand, my fingers still heavy with sleep. The digital clock read 5:50 AM, and I yawned, shifting my bedsheets aside.
Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled into the dingy bathroom of my apartment. The cold, unwelcoming light flickered overhead as I turned the faucet, only to be greeted by a weak sputtering of lukewarm water that quickly turned cold.
"Great," I muttered, frowning at the mirror.
The bruises from the gang attack had mostly healed, but there were still a few distinct yellow and blue marks that stood out against my skin.
I quickly threw off my boxers and t-shirt and stepped into the shower while flipping the water on. Then, I braced myself as the cold water cascaded over me. The icy touch of the water hit my skin like a wave of energy, shocking me into full consciousness. I shivered, but the cold shower somehow felt invigorating, like it was washing away more than just sleep. It was a jarring but effective wake-up call, and I shuddered under the icy stream as I quickly lathered up and rinsed off.
As I stepped out of the shower, I shivered and reached for a towel, wrapping it tightly around my body. I had a long day ahead of me and needed to be alert.
Afterward, I spent a few extra minutes in front of the cracked mirror, meticulously combing my hair, trying to tame the stubborn strands into something presentable. It had always been a bit unruly, but I wanted to make a good impression on my first day.
I opened the small locket I had put on my sink the night before, gazing at the picture of my bratty 12-year-old sister, my father, and a younger version of myself. It was a moment of solace, a reminder of the family I was doing all this for. A soft smile found its way to my lips — a brief moment of warmth in the dimly lit room. It reminded me why I had to keep going despite everything.
Sighing, I began to get dressed. The St. Antonia's Academy uniform was an almost painful contrast to the modest surroundings of my apartment. I slid into the dark blue trousers, feeling the crisp fabric against my skin. The white shirt followed, its stiff collar a little too formal for my taste. The blazer was the centerpiece - deep blue with gold trim, the academy's crest proudly displayed on the breast pocket.
It was elegant. Almost too much so for someone like me.
The crest was intricately designed, featuring a shield with a star at the center and an Chinese-style lance crossed with a Middle-Eastern scimitar. It looked more like a military uniform than a school outfit, but I had to admit that it had a certain aesthetic charm.
Pulling the blazer on, I adjusted the collar and smoothed the lapels. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness as I adjusted the collar of my blazer. I wasn't used to dressing up like this. My old clothes - ragged jeans, practical sweatpants, plain shirts. Sneakers and work boots and such had always been my comfortable shoes of choice.
But now, I had to blend in with the wealthy elite of the Academy. Terran kids who had everything handed to them on a silver platter. It was unsettling, to say the least. I pulled out my phone and checked my bank balance on the Terra Nova app. My heart sank a little seeing the figure – 35,626 Terran credits left. I had to be careful with my spending,
Then, I walked to the kitchen and opened the crusty refrigerator, pulling out the glass container full of homemade ham sandwiches I'd made the night before and quickly heating it up in the microwave. I frowned, staring down at my refrigerator. The door was scuffed, and no matter how much I wiped at it, there was a layer of grime that wouldn't come off. The kitchen was small, with barely enough room to move around. But it was home now, in its own way.
I quickly scanned my apartment, ensuring I hadn't forgotten anything important, before picking up my backpack and stuffing the freshly heated lunchbox into it.
Grabbing my bag and keys, I exited my apartment and began the commute to the Academy. The streets were still quiet at this hour, the sun barely peeking through the clouds. I listened to my footsteps echoing down the pavement, my breath rising in misty puffs in the crisp morning air. I still felt like an outsider in this world, but I was determined to make the most of this opportunity.
Spotting a hologram with train schedules over a stairway that led down to the underground metro station, I quickened my pace and made my way over, pulling out my student ticket and swiping it at the gate. I quickly pushed through the turnstile, descending into the dimly lit metro station. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting a pale, artificial glow over the platform. I checked the schedule, noting that the next train wouldn't arrive for another ten minutes.
Leaning against a pillar, I observed the few early-morning commuters scattered around the platform. Everyone seemed wrapped up in their own worlds, some lost in thought, others immersed in their personal phones.
As I waited, my gaze drifted to a series of large plasma screens suspended above the platform. It flickered to life, revealing a winged, pink-haired Magical Girl with an upbeat, catchy pop music fanfare. Her blue eyes sparkled with life, and her angel wings fluttered gently, casting ethereal glows around her as she stretched and yawned.
"Hiii!~" she declared, tilting her head with a brilliant smile.
I couldn't help but chuckle at the over-the-top display, the contrast between her cheerful demeanor and the dreary atmosphere of the metro station. Her voice was melodic, filled with a bubbly, almost infectious enthusiasm. She spun and struck a pose before winking at the camera.
"Good morning, Shoreline City! Remember to start your day with a smile, and let your heart sing with happiness!"
She radiated a warmth and charm that seemed to transcend the boundaries of the holographic display, reaching out to everyone watching. Several of us watched the screen transfixed, and I felt a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. The Magical Girl's positivity was infectious, and for a moment, I found myself caught up in the whimsy of it all.
"Today's a new day, full of endless possibilities! Let's make the most of it, and spread love and joy wherever we go!" she continued, her voice resonating through the station.
I yawned, suppressing a smile at her relentless positivity as the station rumbled with the train's arrival. It was hard to remain detached and anxious when presented with such optimism.
The Magical Girl flew into the air, taking flight in a bright burst of pink light and blowing a magical heart kiss at the screen as the train pulled up alongside the platform.
"This is Celestial Sonata; wishing you all a wonderful day! Bye-bye~!" she sang sweetly before fading into the aether.
I stepped onto the train, the doors sliding shut behind me with a hiss. The harsh fluorescent lights illuminated the interior, casting a sterile yellow light on everything. I took a seat by a window, settling in for the ride.
A couple of Terrans in business suits looked nervously at my fellow Earthlings walking in, their eyes scanning over us with wariness and curiosity. I hunched my shoulders, trying to blend in and look inconspicuous. If Bishop hadn't pointed out the attitudes of some of the Terrans towards Earthlings, I might have felt more at ease. But now, every glance or whisper caused me to narrow my eyes and feel just a bit self-conscious.
As the train began moving and emerging from the station, I leaned against the window, watching the scenery roll by. The city outside was a blur of buildings and streets, all blending together in a monotony of early morning grays and blues. One stop away from St. Antonia's Island, I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the anxious feeling clawing at my stomach.
St. Antonia's Academy was located on a large island nestled between this world's equivalent of Long Island and Manhattan. It was surrounded by a private, gated community for the elite and privileged. I'd done my research, looking up photos and general layout information. The campus was a sprawling estate of rolling hills and manicured gardens, with chic shops servicing wealthy students and their families.
It was a stark contrast from my old neighborhood back on Earth. Philadelphia had survived the Chaos War mostly intact, but it was still a city that struggled to get by. The buildings were old and worn, and the streets were littered with trash and debris. Crime was rampant, and it wasn't uncommon to hear gunshots at night. Graffiti, trash, and homeless people lined the streets. Violence was commonplace, and you had to watch your back at all times. But here, everything was different. The people were all well-dressed and polite, and everything seemed to run like clockwork. It was like stepping into a different dimension entirely.
Literally.
The train slowed to a stop, and I opened my eyes, seeing that we'd arrived at the Academy's stop. I gathered my backpack and stepped off the train, feeling a wave of apprehension wash over me as I made my way up the stairs and onto the street.
Stepping out of the train at St. Antonia's Academy station, I was immediately struck by the view. The island that housed the academy was like a secluded paradise, surrounded by Terra's expansive version of the East River, which glittered under the morning sun like a vast, tranquil sea. Majestic trees dotted the landscape, their red and gold leaves rustling gently in the breeze, creating a serene, almost otherworldly atmosphere. The air was fresh and filled with the sweet scent of autumn, a far cry from the closed confines of my small apartment.
The crisp leaves crunched underfoot as I walked, painting a mosaic of fall colors against the lush green grass. The island was a picturesque vision of tranquility, an idyllic setting that seemed almost too perfect, too pristine. It was a world away from the gritty reality I'd just left over the weekend. In the distance, the skyline of Shoreline City loomed, a breathtaking backdrop to the pastoral beauty of the academy's island.
Zeppelins and airships glided gracefully across the sky, their silhouettes casting long, slender shadows over the city's futuristic landscape. High-tech buildings with gleaming facades and intricate designs stood as chrome sentinels against the horizon. Their surfaces were adorned with dynamic holographic displays that flickered with the latest news and advertisements, adding a vivid vibrancy to the otherwise static structures.
Crossing the island, I approached the modern, artistic glass bridge that led to the actual school grounds. The bridge was a marvel of design, its transparent surface giving the illusion of walking on air. Below, the serene waters of the river were visible, reflecting the bright colors of the autumn leaves and the gleaming city in the distance. As I reached the other side, the bridge opened into a spacious plaza dominated by a statue of a nun.
The nun stood tall and proud, her features etched with a serene grace. One arm supported a massive crucifix the size and shape of a great axe, its surface glinting in the sunlight. The other arm was outstretched in a beckoning gesture as if offering protection and deliverance. Her gaze was fixed in the distance, resolute and unwavering, in a slightly crouched posture.
Below the imposing statue, the plaque with her epithet, "The Maid of Tuscany," drew my attention. The poem engraved there was short but powerful, painting a vivid picture in my mind as I read it.
"In twilight's shadow, alone against the horde,
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Stood the Maid, her hope, a divine sword.
For the hundred and eight, her courage did burn,
Her sacrifice remembered evermore, where fate took its turn."
Reading the poem, I felt a shiver run down my spine. The words conjured images of a fierce battle, where she stood alone against many, fighting to protect herself and her companions and the ideals they held dear.
I stepped back, looking at the sprawling campus in front of me. It was more like a cathedral in its grandeur than a school. Towering spires intermingled with modern buildings showcased the harmonious blend of Gothic architecture and futuristic design. The lush, manicured gardens added a touch of nature's serenity to the bustling environment. The paths were lined with vibrant flowers, which contrasted against the slate stone and shining metal of the buildings.
The campus was quiet, and other students were still trickling in from the nearby residential district. Realizing I had time to kill, I decided to explore more to familiarize myself with my new surroundings. I self-consciously brushed the fading bruises on my cheeks and noticed a few students staring at me with interest and caution. Their whispers reached my ears, but I couldn't make out their words.
Feeling self-conscious, I decided to find a more secluded spot to wait for orientation to begin.
I wandered through the campus, marveling at the seamless integration of nature and architecture.
The walkways were lined with trees that seemed to be from another world, their leaves a vibrant kaleidoscope of autumn hues. Small, serene courtyards with benches and fountains offered a peaceful respite, hidden away from the main paths.
Rounding around a corner, I found a quiet bench near a softly bubbling fountain, the sound of water offering a soothing, beautiful background noise. Taking a seat, I stretched out and relaxed, letting the tranquil atmosphere wash over me.
I decided to pull out my sketchpad from my backpack and capture some of this ethereal beauty. The gentle play of light through the leaves, the way the water danced in the fountain, and the surrounding architecture's quiet majesty were all too perfect to not try and get on paper.
As I sketched, I became lost in the world of lines and shades. The tip of my pencil danced across the page, tracing the outlines of leaves, the fountain's curves, and the buildings' imposing structures. The art was my escape, a way to connect with this new world that felt so alien yet familiar.
I was so absorbed in my drawing that I didn't notice her at first.
But then I heard a faint cough — a slight, high-pitched sound of someone quietly clearing their throat, and I looked up to see a girl sitting at the other end of the bench.
Startled, I paused, my pencil hovering mid-air. It was a tiny, brown-skinned Asian girl with pigtailed blonde hair under a beret. She sat there, quiet and intense, her eyes fixed on a coverless book in her lap. Her presence was so unobtrusive that I hadn't noticed her at first. She sat there so still, almost ghostlike, with an unreadable expression that made me fidget subconsciously.
I cleared my throat, trying to break the ice as I waved at her, trying to get her attention.
"Hey there, I'm Ikazuchi," I said, my voice a bit too loud in the quiet of the morning.
She didn't respond as I waved at her. Not a word, not a glance. It was like speaking to a statue. The air around us became heavy with a tense silence. I wasn't sure if she was ignoring me or just deeply lost in thought. I shifted uncomfortably, wondering if I should move to another bench or try again to strike up a conversation.
I decided to try again, "Are you also new here?" My voice was tentative this time, trying to sound friendly without being intrusive.
But again, she gave no response, no acknowledgment that I even existed. It was like my words were swallowed up by the serene morning air, leaving behind a thick layer of awkwardness. She just continued to read her book, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
The situation felt almost surreal. Here I was, trying to connect with another human being, yet the only response I got was complete silence.
Was I being too forward? Was this how people interacted in this world? Or was it just me?
I decided to give up on trying to make conversation. Maybe she needed her space; maybe she had her reasons. I turned back to my sketchpad, my hand moving mechanically as I tried to focus on my drawing. But the magic of the moment was gone. My lines were stiff, and my shading was uneven. The tranquility of the garden no longer felt like a sanctuary but more like a reminder of my isolation.
Just as I was about to close my sketchpad and leave, a soft, unmistakable sound broke the silence.
Her stomach growled, loud enough to bounce through the area and echo off the walls.
It was so sudden and loud in the quiet morning that I couldn't help but look up. Our eyes met, and for a moment, there was a flicker of embarrassment in her otherwise impassive face. She looked away quickly, her cheeks coloring slightly. I couldn't help but smile; it was the most human thing I'd heard from her.
Without thinking, I reached into my backpack and pulled out the box of homemade ham sandwiches. "Hungry?" I asked, offering the box to her. "I made too many anyway."
She finally looked up; her eyes, a bright shade of green, flickered with a brief moment of surprise as they settled on the box of sandwiches. She looked up at me suspiciously for a moment, and I wondered if I had overstepped some unspoken boundary.
Then, cautiously, she reached out to take one and jerked back, hesitating and lingering over the box as if unsure of her decision.
I smiled sheepishly and took one myself to take a bite out of, hoping to encourage her. The sandwich was tasty, filled with cheddar cheese, ham, and mustard. The bread was still soft despite the ride I took over via the train.
After a moment, she took one and bit into it. Our eyes met once again, and this time, the flicker of surprise was replaced by a hint of gratitude. She nodded at me, a silent acknowledgment that broke the awkwardness between us. We continued to snack in companionable silence, the bubbling fountain and the rustle of leaves the only sounds in the morning.
I returned to my sketchpad, my hand moving more naturally now that the tension had eased. We sat there silently, munching on our sandwiches, watching the morning come alive. Birds chirped overhead, and the whisper of leaves in the breeze was hypnotizing. It was serene, and I didn't care about anything else for a moment. It was just me, the girl, and the beauty all around us.
"Thank you," she said quietly, breaking the silence again. Her voice was soft and mellow, but it held a hint of depth that intrigued me.
"You're welcome," I replied, smiling at her. "What's your name?" I added, hoping to get more than just a couple of words out of her.
She hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to answer or not.
But then she spoke, "Dior," she said, her eyes flickering up to meet mine. "This one is named Dior. Just Dior."
Something about how she said her name with such a sense of finality piqued my curiosity. I wondered what was behind that name and why she introduced herself in such an unusual way. But I didn't press further; I just nodded, taking in the enigmatic girl in front of me.
I nodded, "Well, nice to meet you, Dior. I'm Ikazuchi if you didn’t catch it before. Or Ikki, which everyone ends up calling me anyway."
I kept my voice gentle, trying not to startle her.
She chewed slowly, her gaze shifting back to her book, but I noticed she wasn't really reading anymore. Instead, her eyes flickered to the garden around us, taking in the serene beauty of our surroundings. It was as if she was seeing it for the first time despite being seated there before I arrived.
The silence between us was no longer tense but comfortable, like a quiet understanding. I got the sense that Dior wasn't used to casual conversations, or maybe she was just wary of strangers.
Either way, I respected her space, focusing on my sketching and letting the peaceful atmosphere envelop us once more.
"This one is here on a scholarship," she finally spoke, her voice a delicate whisper that seemed almost hesitant. "This one must study hard."
I looked up from my sketchpad, surprised by her sudden revelation. "Me too," I responded, a sense of camaraderie building between us. "I guess we have something in common then."
‘This one’, huh?
It seemed like she had a habit of referring to herself in the third person.
Dior's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than before, a hint of curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Why does Ikki sketch?" she asked, her tone carrying a subtle lilt that I found intriguing.
I paused, considering her question. "It helps me... connect with my surroundings, I guess. Makes the new feel familiar," I explained, feeling a bit self-conscious. "I'm from Earth and not around here, if you haven't figured."
Dior nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "This one knows what it is like to be far from home," she said quietly, almost to herself.
Her words struck a chord within me. "It's not easy, is it?" I asked, my voice tinged with empathy.
She shook her head slightly, her eyes reflecting a depth of experience beyond her years. "No, it is not. But this one has learned to find strength in new places."
Dior adjusted her uniform, causing me to actually see her for the first time instead of awkwardly avoiding committed conversation. Dior's uniform was a striking contrast to her petite frame, almost engulfing her. It mirrored the one I had on, yet tailored for a female form. The skirt was pleated and in the same deep blue as my trousers, swaying gently with her movements. It fell just above her knees, complementing the neatly pressed white blouse she wore underneath the blazer. The blazer, similar to mine, was adorned with gold trim and the school crest, but it seemed slightly oversized on her, the sleeves coming down past her wrists.
There was a delicateness to her, a fragility that seemed out of place in a school like St. Antonia's. Her small stature and youthful features made her appear younger than the rest of us, almost as if she belonged in a middle school instead. She even looked younger than my sister.
As I observed her, I couldn't help but notice how she seemed to shrink into her uniform, as though trying to hide in its folds. It wasn't just the physical aspect that struck me; there was something in her demeanor, a guardedness, a sense of being perpetually on alert that hinted at a life far from privileged.
A minute or so passed as I looked down and finished my sketch, and when I looked up again, I jolted in surprise.
Dior had moved closer to me, her eyes intently focused on my sketchpad as she hovered beside me. I considered myself pretty situationally aware, and I hadn't even noticed her move.
"What is Ikki drawing?" she asked curiously.
I hesitated momentarily before holding the sketchpad up for her to see. It was a simple sketch of the garden, nothing too detailed, but it captured the essence of the peaceful atmosphere surrounding us.
Dior's eyes widened as she took in the sketch. "This one has not seen the garden this way before," she said quietly, almost in wonder.
I smiled at her, happy to have shared this small moment with her. "It's amazing what we can see when we take the time to look," I said with a grin.
Dior nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "This one will try to see more in the future," she said resolutely, her eyes scanning the garden as if seeing it for the first time.
The sun had climbed higher, casting a golden light over the academy as the morning progressed. It was almost time for orientation, and students began to converge on the campus, filling the air with excitement and nervous chatter. Dior and I stood up from the bench simultaneously, brushing off the crumbs from our impromptu breakfast.
"This one must go to the opening ceremony," Dior said suddenly, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts. "Ikki will go too?"
"Yeah. Hey, why don't we head in together?" I replied.
Dior looked at me hesitantly as if unsure if she should trust me. I offered her a small smile, trying to convey my sincerity.
"I won’t bite, I promise," I added with a chuckle. "I just want to be friends."
Her lips twitched in a barely-there smile, and she nodded. "This one would not object to company," she said softly, falling in step beside me.
As Dior and I walked towards the grand auditorium for the orientation ceremony, the morning light cast a soft golden hue over the academy grounds. The sprawling campus of St. Antonia's, with its gothic spires and lush gardens, felt like something straight out of a fantasy novel. I couldn't help but be in awe of how sharp of a contrast it was to the gritty streets of Earth I had left behind.
Dior moved beside me with a quiet grace, her eyes occasionally scanning our surroundings with a hint of wariness. It struck me how she seemed so out of place yet perfectly adapted to this environment. Her uniform, slightly oversized on her petite frame, swayed with each step she took. The pleated skirt and the crisp white blouse under the blazer gave her a formal appearance, yet there was a subtle sharpness in how she carried herself.
We didn't speak much as we walked, but the silence between us was comfortable rather than awkward. I could tell that Dior chose her words carefully, speaking only when necessary. It was a trait I respected.
As we approached the auditorium, a sense of anticipation built within me. The heavy doors loomed ahead, marking the threshold to a new chapter in my life. I glanced at Dior, wondering what thoughts were running through her mind. She seemed composed, her green eyes reflecting a quiet serenity.
Stepping through the doors, the vastness of the auditorium enveloped us. The rows of plush seats slowly filled with students, their voices melding into a low hum of excitement and nervous energy. I felt Dior's pace slow beside me, her gaze sweeping over the hall's grandeur. There was a fleeting expression of awe on her face, quickly masked by her default stoic demeanor.
The fading bruises on my face seemed to draw curious stares from some students we passed. Whispers fluttered in the air, their words indistinct but their tone unmistakable. I self-consciously touched my cheek, feeling the remnants of last week's encounter. Dior, however, seemed unfazed by the attention coming our way.
"We should find a place to sit," she said suddenly, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts.
I nodded, following her lead as she maneuvered towards a seat in the back row. I couldn't help but chuckle in relief as it suddenly hit me.
I had found a friend on my first day by some stroke of luck.
Maybe... this academy wouldn't be so bad after all.