Kieran's perspective, in this new world
The sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, bathing the entire room in a warm glow. I sat at my desk, second row from the front, right next to the door. The chatter of my classmates filled the air, some talking about last night's shows, others gossiping about meaningless dramas.
Since I couldn't join in their conversation, as I had no clue what they were on about, since I wasn't allowed on the TV.
I stayed quiet, resting my chin on my hand and staring out of the window from my seat afar.
There was this weird hum in the air, like a storm was about to break. Then the teacher walked in, his usual morning scowl in place, and clapped his hands to grab everyone's attention.
Alright, settle down. We've got a new transfer student today."
New transfer student? Great. Another person to add to the class roster of people I didn't care about. The only reason I was happy about it was there was a free seat next to me, so they would probably end up sitting next to me, which would annoy him since I like my free space.
I leaned back in my chair, stretching while staring at the door without much interest.
That's when he walked in.
It was him. I just know it.
That boy.
He stepped into the room with an effortless stride. He didn't have a grocery bag on his head this time though, just a clean school junior uniform, his jumper slightly loose since it is most likely the next bigger size. His hair was neat but also untidy all at once, and his posture was straight but relaxed.
His eyes? Calm. Cold. Observant.
He was, of course, smaller than me, around 4'6". In the daylight, without blood staining his hands, he looked normal. Just another kid. Except I knew better than all the other fools in this room that he is more than he looks.
"My name is Roy," he said with a tone that struck a perfect balance between polite and detached. His voice was steady and unassuming, but there was something about the way he spoke that commanded attention from everyone. "I recently transferred here, so I hope we can all get along."
His lips curled into a faint, practised smile. One that didn't quite reach his eyes.
There wasn't anything special about what he said, but the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to scan the room, pausing for just a second on me, made it clear he wasn't like the rest of us.
I didn't react. No wide-eyed shock. No blurting out his name like in those annoying animes I see while walking to the electronic store; the uncle over there allows me to sit down and watch animes. I think he just pitied me back then; I just followed him with my eyes, leaning back in my chair and watching the scene unfold.
Roy turned to the teacher, his posture impeccable, may I say, and whispered. "Where should I sit, sir?"
The teacher quickly scanned the room to find an open chair and instantly saw the one next to me, not the one right at the back next to a girl, but the one right next to me.
The teacher pointed to the seat next to mine. "Right there, next to Kieran."
Roy's eyes flicked toward me, and for a fraction of a second, they lingered on me. I don't know if it was paranoia back then, but it felt weird; that's all I can say, to be honest. It wasn't the same unhinged stare from the night before, but it wasn't entirely normal either. There was something to it, like he was looking through me rather than at me.
I thought for a second, What a weird guy.
He walked over and sat down without a word, throwing his bag under our desk.
The room buzzed with renewed chatter about the new guy, and it looked like Roy knew they were talking about him, but he didn't seem to care.
He just sat there until he was given a piece of paper by the teacher and started jotting notes down from the whiteboard.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, my mind racing with questions. What the hell was he doing here?
I understand that we are the same age and all that, but why this school?
There are three other junior schools in the area that have better standards than here, so why this school?
But I didn't ask.
Instead, I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms and staring straight ahead.
The hum of the classroom faded into the background as I tried to process the absurdity of the situation. Roy, the same guy who had worn a grocery bag on his head while cutting down mercenaries, was now sitting next to me in our uniform like nothing had happened.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his hand move in smooth, deliberate strokes. He wasn't writing notes or doodling. It was something else entirely. Then I saw it—a faint shimmer of prana tracing across the surface of his desk, vanishing before anyone else could notice.
Prana writing.
I shifted my gaze to under our desk, tracing the same shimmer on its surface. Words appeared slowly, fading almost as quickly as they appeared.
I have questions, so I asked him.
"Why are you here?" I wrote, keeping my expression neutral; my eyes looked at the whiteboard so as not to get the teacher's attention.
Roy didn't even flinch. He continued scribbling on his piece of paper as though nothing was happening. A moment later, more prana shimmered across my desk.
"I was forced too?"
I nearly snorted. Of course, he'd be sarcastic. I wiped the text away with a swipe of my finger and responded:
"Right, what do you want?"
For a few seconds, there was nothing. Roy kept writing in his paper, completely unbothered. Then, with the same deliberate motion, the prana on my desk flickered again.
"I just got transferred to the orphanage downtown."
I frowned, rubbing a hand over my face to hide my reaction. I'd known Roy for less than 24 hours, and he was already impossible to predict but weirdly open.
"Damn,"
The thing was I didn't know what to say to that, so I just said that, but damn am I stupid.
When lunch rolled around, we kids were no allowed inside school as there are no guardians there to take care of us, so we were all forced outside where there would be two teachers out patrolling to make sure all of the kids were safe.
I and Roy just happened to be under the same tree; the only reason I came to eat at the tree was that it was nice, with the wind and the scenery, and I could just lie down a bit against the tree. As for Roy, I don't know why he sat there.
He didn't say much at first. Just sat there, chewing away at his free school meal like it was fuel, not food meant to be enjoyed.
Then, out of nowhere, he said, "Do you dream much?"
I blinked at him, caught off guard. "Yeah, well, sometimes. Why?"
He shrugged, still not looking at me. "I never do. Just black. Every night. No images. No sound. Just... nothing."
There was a strange calm in the way he said it.
"Sounds kind of peaceful, but sad at the same time," I said, unsure if I meant it.
He looked at me then, and for a split second, something in his eyes flickered, something too quiet to name. Then it was gone.
"Anyway," he added, biting into the crust of his sandwich, "that teacher of ours looks like he's one bad cup of coffee away from throwing himself out the window."
The shift in tone made me laugh, more out of confusion than anything else. "Yeah," I said. "He probably is."
And just like that, the weight of the moment passed.
Roy's humour was dry, flat, and a little too timed, but it worked.
Disarming in the weirdest way.