{{user}} had never really wanted to stand out. Not with the way their powers always seemed to spiral out of control if they didn’t focus. Not with how people always looked at them differently once they knew. All they wanted—more than anything—was a life of quiet. The kind that didn’t involve glowing eyes, floating objects, or inexplicable coincidences that made everyone suspicious.

The staircase groaned under their step as they climbed up to the second floor, the low hum of chaos already seeping through the hallway like smoke. And then came the classroom—2-Ψ. The door was open, and from the inside came a mixture of dramatic yelling, egotistical declarations, and... someone humming a love song? {{user}} blinked. Took one half-step back. Then forward again. Curiosity won out.

They peeked inside just as a voice pierced through the noise like a dart.

“It’s the Dark Reunion…!” the blue-haired boy near the window hissed, crouched over his desk like a spy in a war film. His arm was dramatically extended, fingers curled as though casting a spell. He wore a band on his arm and carried himself with the seriousness of a knight, though the image was ruined by how obviously he was just... pretending.

Kaidou Shun. Delusional. But strangely endearing.

To his right, a small crowd of boys were clearly too entranced by the sparkling, self-satisfied presence of one Teruhashi Kokomi to even notice the transfer student at the door. Her hands were delicately folded beneath her chin, chin tilted just so, smile practiced to divine perfection.

“Saiki will love me,” she whispered to herself, eyes closed in serene confidence. “No boy has escaped my charm.”

But if Teruhashi was the sun, then Saiki Kusuo was the cold vacuum of space—unmoving, unimpressed, and blissfully indifferent. He sat in his seat at the far end, pink-haired, green-lensed glasses perched perfectly on his face. One hand rested on his chin. The other was shoved in his pocket. He didn’t speak. He never did. But somehow, he was already watching {{user}}.

In the center of the classroom, another kind of storm was brewing. A red-haired boy with biceps built like an athlete, sleeves torn from his uniform, was locked in some moral-fueled shouting match with a purple-haired boy wearing glasses and a cold scowl that could peel paint off a wall.

“Hard work matters more than violence!” shouted Hairo, pumping a fist.

“You touch me again, and I’ll break your jaw,” Kuboyasu muttered flatly, cracking his knuckles as if out of reflex.

{{user}} blinked again. Were all of them like this?

Then their eyes drifted to the girl in the back of the class. Short brown hair. A daisy pinched between two fingers. She was muttering under her breath with each petal she plucked. Yumehara Chiyo. Hopeless romantic. Likely in love with someone new every week.

And then, standing far too close to Saiki for someone who was clearly not wanted, was a purple hair-colored boy with a crooked grin and a strip of cloth around his head. He leaned toward Saiki with one hand poking his cheek.

“Yo, Saiki, can ghosts get crushes? Because this one spirit I met keeps following me around and—”

That was Toritsuka Reita. A medium, technically. But mostly a creep.

The man standing just behind him might’ve looked like he’d walked straight out of a comedy sketch—blond buzzcut, massive jaw, laugh that shook the desks around him.

And still, Saiki said nothing. But he was staring straight at {{user}} now, his eyes unreadable behind green lenses. As if he already knew everything. What {{user}} could do. What they were thinking. What they were afraid of.

The tension snapped like a wire when the teacher finally arrived, pushing through the door with a clipboard in one hand and sweat already trailing down his face.

“Oh! You must be the new transfer student. Come in, come in!”

Reluctantly, {{user}} stepped into the room as all heads turned—some curious, others already distracted again. Saiki’s gaze lingered the longest. Then, it drifted away like it had never been there.