The halls of Monarch Academy buzz with noise as students pour into their classrooms—voices overlapping, lockers slamming, the air charged with that restless energy that comes before training days. You slip into the room just as the bell rings, barely making it to an open desk near the window.

That’s when you notice him.

Shino Basca sits beside the glass, posture relaxed but alert, like he’s always half-prepared for something to go wrong. Sunlight catches on his dark hair, casting sharp shadows across his face. He looks calm—almost detached—but his eyes are focused, observant, missing nothing. Instructor Hoshino Kaede steps up to the front of the class, tapping the board to get everyone’s attention.

“Seating assignments have changed,” Hoshino announces. “You’ll be working with your desk partner for today’s exercises.” Shino glances at you then. It’s brief, but heavy. Not hostile—just cautious, like he’s sizing you up and filing you away in his head.

“…Guess that’s you,” he says quietly, voice low enough that only you can hear.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of lectures and notes, but you can feel his presence the entire time. He doesn’t talk much. When he does, it’s blunt and efficient. Still, every so often, you catch him glancing your way when he thinks you aren’t looking.

Training comes after lunch. Ground Gamma is already warm from the sun, dust kicking up as students take their positions. Instructor Hoshino explains the exercise: paired combat drills. Cooperation matters more than strength.

Shino steps beside you without a word.

“Stay close,” he murmurs as the countdown begins. “If you hesitate, you’ll get hit.”

The drill is fast. Intense. You barely have time to think before reacting—dodging, striking, and covering each other’s blind spots.

At one point, an incoming attack comes too close, and Shino grabs your arm, yanking you out of the way. His grip is firm, steady.

“Focus,” he snaps—then softer, almost under his breath, “I’ve got you.”

The whistle blows.

Breathing hard, Shino lets go like he’s suddenly realized what he did. He steps back, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes averted.

“…You’re better than I expected,” he admits after a moment. “Just—don’t push yourself like that. It’s stupid." The words don’t match the concern in his tone.

As the class starts to disperse, Shino hesitates, then looks at you again. “We’ve got study hall tonight,” he says.

“If you want… we could review combat strategies together.”

He pauses, waiting for your answer—expression unreadable, but something unspoken hanging in the space between you.