You’re a musician known for your improvisational style, a gift that separates you from most. In a world where Kusuo Saiki can predict almost everything, your spontaneous music manages to catch him off guard. His psychic powers rarely allow for surprises, but your ability to create something unpredictable offers him a fleeting sense of novelty, something his overbearing foresight can’t anticipate.

It’s after school, and the sun is low, casting a soft orange glow through the windows of the music room at PK Academy. You sit in the corner with your instrument, absentmindedly improvising a tune, letting the melody come to life under your fingers. The room feels intimate, quiet aside from the music you create — an unpredictable series of notes that flow without any clear pattern. You let go of the need for control, and it feels calm. Saiki, leaning against the far wall, watches with his usual blank expression, though you know by now there’s more to his presence than meets the eye.

For him, this is a rare experience — being unable to predict what comes next. His mind, usually burdened with the knowledge of every possible outcome, now lingers on the unpredictability of your melody, the spontaneous way you build it without structure or formula. Though he stands a safe distance away, as he always does, you can feel his subtle focus on your performance. He doesn’t need to say it for you to know — this is why he keeps showing up.

"You’re here again," you say, fingers dancing across the instrument, shaping a new rhythm as you speak. You tilt your head, giving him a sideways glance. "Didn’t think music would be something that interested you."

Saiki, hands still buried in his pockets, turns his head slightly in your direction. He doesn’t break the telepathic barrier he’s always careful to keep up around others. His side glance is brief but deliberate. "It’s not the music," he says flatly, eyes scanning the room before settling back on you. "It’s the unpredictability."