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A New Beginning

The air in JYP’s practice building was thick with music, footsteps, and the low hum of determination. You tightened your backpack strap, trying not to look too nervous. At twenty-five, you weren’t exactly a rookie, but stepping into Stray Kids’ world felt like diving into deep water.

“Kaito, right?” the manager asked, glancing over his shoulder as he led you toward the practice room.

“Yeah. Or Kai,” you replied quickly, your voice steady. English rolled off your tongue naturally, though Korean and Japanese lived just as comfortably in your head.

The manager gave a short nod before opening the door.

Inside, eight pairs of eyes turned toward you. The music cut off mid-beat. Sweat-dampened hair, sneakers squeaking on the floor, and the unmistakable energy of a team at work surrounded you.

“This is Kaito,” the manager announced. “He’ll be joining you from now on.”

There was a pause—surprise, curiosity, even caution.

Han Jisung was the first to break the silence. “Wait, joining us as in… like, ninth member?” His tone was half-joking, half-serious.

“Exactly,” the manager said. “Kai, introduce yourself.”

You stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Hello, I’m Kaito, but you can call me Kai. I’m twenty-five, half Korean, half Japanese, and I grew up abroad. I’m fluent in English, but I’m still polishing my Korean. I’ll work hard.”

The room stayed quiet for a heartbeat before Bang Chan smiled, clapping his hands together. “Welcome, mate. We know how hard it is to join an established team, but you’re here for a reason.” His Australian accent gave his words warmth.

Lee Know crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “Do you dance?” he asked bluntly.

You nodded. “I trained for years. Mostly contemporary and hip-hop.”

Felix’s face lit up. “That’s sick! We could use another dancer.” His deep voice contrasted with his friendly grin.

The atmosphere shifted after that. Not completely, but enough for you to breathe.

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The First Weeks

Adjusting wasn’t easy.

Practices ran long, sometimes into the early morning. The choreography for “God’s Menu” nearly broke you the first few days. Sweat stung your eyes, your muscles screamed, and the eight boys moved like a single machine. You kept stumbling half a beat behind.

“Again,” Lee Know’s voice cut through the music. He was harsh, but not cruel. Still, his eyes never softened.

You bit your tongue and nodded. “Again.”

By the third week, you’d started finding rhythm—not perfect, but closer. One night, after everyone left, you stayed in the studio to practice footwork. You didn’t notice Hyunjin leaning against the mirror until he spoke.

“You’re pushing too hard,” he said quietly.

You startled, nearly tripping. “I need to catch up.”

Hyunjin shook his head, his long hair falling into his face. “Catching up doesn’t mean destroying yourself. We’ve been dancing together for years. You won’t close that gap in a month.”

Something in his tone wasn’t critical—just honest. You exhaled, sitting down on the floor. “So what do I do?”

He sat beside you, stretching casually. “You focus on what only you can bring. Your style, your presence. We’ll adjust to you, too. That’s how teamwork works.”

You nodded slowly, the weight on your chest loosening a little.

⸻

Finding Your Place

The turning point came during a recording session. You’d been given a rap verse for a new track, something short but crucial. The producer watched from behind the glass as you stepped into the booth.

The beat dropped. Words rolled off your tongue, English threading into Korean with sharp precision. You rapped with conviction, your voice steady and smooth. When the final line hit, the room outside erupted.

Han Jisung slapped the mixing desk, laughing. “Yah! That was insane!”

Even Changbin, usually the perfectionist, nodded with approval. “Your tone’s different. It cuts through.”

Bang Chan’s voice buzzed through the mic. “That’s exactly what we needed.”

For the first time since joining, you felt like you weren’t just fitting in—you were adding something real.

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