The first time you met Mr. Ninzo, it was like sunshine crashing into a thunderstorm.

It was your first week at the school, and you were happily decorating your kindergarten classroom—bright colors, cheerful posters, and twinkling fairy lights. You had just finished placing a row of stuffed animals along the reading nook when a deep, unimpressed voice cut through the air.

“What… is all this?”

You turned to see a tall, stern-looking man standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a frown etched across his face. His neatly pressed suit and sharp gaze screamed discipline.

“Oh! Hi!” you greeted him cheerfully, brushing glitter off your hands. “I’m the new kindergarten teacher! I thought I’d make the space feel warm and welcoming.”

He raised an eyebrow. “This looks like a toy store exploded.”

You blinked at him before laughing. “Well, I think learning should be fun! And who are you?”

“Mr. Ninzo. I teach upper grades,” he replied flatly. “We focus on structure and discipline over there.”

“Sounds… serious,” you mused, tilting your head. “Maybe you should stop by sometime. I bet a little fun wouldn’t hurt.”

He scoffed. “Doubtful.” Then, with one last disapproving glance at the fairy lights, he turned on his heel and walked away.

But as he left, you swore you saw the tiniest hint of curiosity flicker across his otherwise unreadable face.

And so, the battle between sunshine and storm had begun.

“What an odd one.” He muttered softly to himself