Down a long tunnel lined with soft, elegant LED lights, a girl with shaggy hair walked slowly, shoulders slightly hunched. Strands fell across her face, hiding part of it, but the quiet sadness in her gray-blue eyes was unmistakable.

Her thoughts spiraled as she clutched the straps of her bag tightly, her steps hesitant. She inhaled deeply, her lips moving in a silent rehearsal of her line.

“Okay, Zenobia, you can do this. I’ve rehearsed this for three days now. Just say it: ‘I would like to try out for cheer.’ ” Her thoughts ran over the words again and again, as though repeating them enough would anchor her confidence.

“Almost there,” she thought, quickening her pace with her head lowered. As she turned the corner, her breath caught in her throat. 

The hallway stretched before her—far longer than she had anticipated. The cheer room wasn’t in sight, and all the confidence she had painstakingly built during her mirror practice crumbled in an instant.

“No… no, no, no.” Panic bloomed in her chest. “I thought the room would be right here! I was ready. I was prepared. I should go home. This was a mistake.”

But before she could turn back, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from behind her. Someone was approaching.

Her eyes darted toward the floor, her body freezing for a moment. “I-I can’t let them see me like this!”

Reluctantly, she pressed forward, clutching her hands tightly against her chest. With every step toward the end of the hallway, her heartbeat quickened, drumming louder and louder in her ears. 

Each movement felt heavier, her growing dread pushing her closer to the door she now feared more than ever.

Zenobia’s breath hitched as doubt began clawing at her mind.

“I should never have done this. What if they think I’m ugly? What if I trip? What if I say something stupid and they laugh at me?” Her thoughts spun in a whirlwind of self-doubt, tightening the knot in her chest with every passing second.

Her steps Faltered, and for a brief moment, she considered turning back. Her eyes darted to the hallway behind her, but the sound of approaching footsteps reminded her there was no escape.

She gripped the fabric of her jacket tightly, her knuckles white. Her vision blurred slightly as panic threatened to overwhelm her.

With trembling hands clasped to her chest, she approached the end of the hallway, her heart pounding as though it might burst.

“Eh…? It’s empty.”

No voices. No music. Just stillness.

“Did I get the time wrong? No, I checked three times… Maybe they’ve already started and locked me out, or maybe they saw me coming and—”

“Excuse me, young lady.”

The sudden voice cut through her spiraling thoughts like a knife. She jumped, nearly dropping her bag as a wave of cold sweat prickled at the back of her neck. 

Her breathing quickened, her trembling hands clutching the fabric of her jacket instinctively.

Turning, she found a woman behind her — neat shirt patterned with radiant sun-rays, business-casual attire, friendly face framed by soft hair. Her tone was polite, curious, and warm.

Her name ID read: (Ms. Amari – Cheer Coach)

Zenobia could feel her pulse racing as she struggled to respond, her voice caught somewhere in her throat. “Say something—anything,” she urged herself, but all she could manage was a shaky, almost inaudible, “Y-Yes?”

“Are you here for cheer?” Ms. Amari asked with a friendly smile, her tone warm and inviting. “You’re pretty early—most students don’t start showing up until the last minute. You’ve got good timing; you might just make the team.”

Zenobia’s fingers tightened on her strap. “I-I got lost. Took a wrong turn. I was heading home, sorry,” she stammered.

Ms. Amari’s expression softened. “That’s a shame, because you’re actually very pretty.” Then, tilting her head, she added curiously, “Forgive me, but are you Sunese? You look rather unique for someone from the Sun Nation — even Freya.”

Zenobia’s eyes widened. “I have to go, sorry!” she blurted, before spinning around and sprinting away.

Her heart pounded as her thoughts spiraled. “I’m a bother. I shouldn’t have come here. Never again. M-maybe Sephoric is waiting for me outside…”

The brisk afternoon air washed over Zenobia as she pushed through the exit doors, clutching her bag like a lifeline. Her lungs still burned from running, her throat tight with shame.

She scanned the courtyard, and there they were, her guild, her friends.

They were gathered near the glowing steps of the plaza fountain. Their laughter and casual banter felt like sunlight after the suffocating tunnel.

Mirai noticed her first, raising a hand lazily. “There you are. Thought you ditched us for a solo speedrun.”

Zenobia forced a small smile, hugging her arms. “I… took a wrong turn. That’s all.” Her voice was soft, but the excuse was enough. The others didn’t press.

She pushed herself faster, clutching her bag. Her relief made her careless, her foot snagged the edge of the step.

“Ah—!” She pitched forward, the world tilting. Panic seizing her chest, but before the ground met her face, a firm hand caught her arm, halting her fall.

Her breath caught as she blinked up into Issan’s calm, watchful eyes.

“Careful,” he said evenly, his expression unreadable, though there was the faintest flicker of surprise in his tone.

Her cheeks burned crimson. “S-sorry! I—I wasn’t watching where I was going…” She quickly pulled away, clutching her bag tight against her chest.

He let her go without pressing, simply adjusting his glasses. “No harm done. Just watch your step next time.”

Mirai smirked from a few behind him. “Don’t worry, Zenobia. We’ll tank the embarrassment damage for you.”

Saiya shot him a look, pressing a finger into his temple. “Shut it.”

Zenobia’s shoulders sank, but despite the humiliation, a small warmth lingered where Issan had steadied her.

Before the silence could stretch, a ping rippled across the plaza. Dozens of watches lit up at once, projecting holographic headlines above their owners. Students gasped, voices rising into chaotic excitement.

“Breaking: Official “FNL” Trailer — October 11, 7:00 AM”

Saiya groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You’ve got to be kidding, why early?”

Issan adjusted his glasses, his tone calm but dry. “You’re aware you get up at that time all the time, correct?”

“That’s different,” she snapped. “This is my day off!”

Mirai grinned. “Nah, we’re watching it together. Gives me time for breakfast before we break the internet.”

The group laughed, their voices echoing in the sunlit plaza. But Zenobia lingered a step behind, her eyes fixed on the floating text.

7:00 AM.

The numbers felt final — like a countdown.

Something deep in her chest tightened, a whisper she couldn’t name telling her that nothing would ever be the same.

She pressed the thought down, listening to the laughter around her, letting it steady her heartbeat.

“Even if I can’t stand tall by myself… with them, maybe I still can.”