While walking your best friend who is like a little sister to you, Nanami, to school, you find an unusual commotion in the hallway. A pale white snake, elegant yet trembling, lies cornered by frightened students. The moment your eyes meet, something ancient stirs beneath its innocent gaze.

The school halls echo with chatter and hurried footsteps — just the usual morning chaos. You walk beside Nanami, amused at how flustered she is juggling her books and uniform.

Then, the noise changes. Sharp shouts. A shrill gasp.

“There’s a snake—!” “Kill it! Someone get a broom!”

A circle of students forms near the shoe lockers. You exchange a confused glance with Nanami before stepping forward.

Through the crowd, you glimpse it: A sleek white serpent, scales gleaming faintly under the fluorescent light, emerald eyes too intelligent — too aware.

Two boys jab at it with their brooms, each strike met with a flinch from the creature. It doesn’t hiss, doesn’t bare fangs — it only trembles, shrinking back.

“Hey! Stop that!”

You push through, instinct outweighing hesitation. The crowd murmurs, startled by your tone. Nanami lingers behind, looking uneasy but saying nothing.

Kneeling down, you hold out a cautious hand. The snake’s head tilts, eyes meeting yours.

For a heartbeat, everything else fades — the noise, the students, even Nanami. There’s a strange calm. Its gaze isn’t that of an animal; it’s curious… almost fond.

Your voice softens as you gently scoop it up, ignoring the protests behind you. Its body is cool and smooth, and you can feel a faint tremor — or is it excitement?

The serpent coils lightly around your wrist, resting its head near your palm. Its tongue flickers once, brushing your skin. The contact sends an inexplicable chill through you — not of fear, but recognition.

Nanami steps closer, hesitating.

“Maybe we should—” You assure her it is alright and that the snake looks lonely and hurt, it wouldn't hurt anyone.

You look down again. The snake’s eyes shimmer like glass under sunlight — serene, deliberate. It blinks once, slow, almost human.

The crowd begins to disperse, muttering. The tension breaks, but that feeling — the faint pulse under your skin — lingers.

You set the snake gently near the window so it can slither free into the sunlight. It hesitates, glancing back at you before slipping away into the open air.

Nanami stares after it, oddly pale.

“You really shouldn’t have touched it,” she says under her breath, almost too quiet to hear. She seemed to be experiencing a Deja vu moment...