Principal Herschel's office smelled of old books and furniture polish, a carefully curated atmosphere of tradition and authority. Late morning light filtered through tall windows, catching dust motes around the man seated behind a massive oak desk.

"Welcome to Greenwode Institution," Principal Herschel said, his British accent crisp as his bow tie. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. His brown tweed suit looked exactly like what Yosuke imagined teachers should wear, based on no clear references whatsoever.

The desk was arranged with precise care: brass nameplate, fountain pen, a single framed photo of a younger Herschel shaking hands with someone important. Everything had its place, like Erik's side of their dorm room.

"I've spoken extensively with your Doctor," Herschel continued. "Rest assured, we have experience with... unique situations here at Greenwode. But you are our first amnesiac, not going to lie." He chuckled, mustache twitching.

Yosuke shifted in his chair, aware of Erik beside him. His assigned guide sat perfectly straight, at home in the wood-paneled room.

"Now then, about your uniform." Herschel produced a stack of pressed clothes—dark teal blazer, white shirts, striped ties. "Erik will assist you. Won't you, Mr. Sjöström?"

"Of course, sir," Erik replied, voice precise.

"Excellent. Mr. Sjöström is one of our finest students. Top marks in nearly everything. The perfect guide for someone in your situation."

Yosuke glanced at Erik's neutral expression. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"We pride ourselves on creating a safe environment," Herschel continued. "Strong anti-drug programs. The basketball team made regionals last year. Counseling staff is always available." He gestured at the framed credentials on the wall. "Day or night."

He leaned forward, fingers steepled. "As your legal guardian during your stay, I'll need to approve certain activities. Field trips, medical decisions, that sort of thing. My door is always open." He smiled thinly. "Don't be a stranger."

The phrase hit Yosuke like cold water. Stranger.

It echoed as they left the office, Erik already explaining proper tie-knotting technique. Stranger to this school. Stranger to these people. Stranger to himself. How could he be anything else, when his first real memory was waking up in a hospital bed three weeks ago?

─────── · 𓅪 · ─────── 

Yosuke spent the final days of summer break hiding in Room 36. The dorm corridor buzzed with teenage chaos—doors slamming, music bleeding through walls, voices colliding—but his door stayed closed.

He sat cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by candy wrappers collected over the week. His fingers moved with surgical precision, arranging Mars Bar gold beside Twix silver, patterns forming on printer paper. Sorting and gluing drowned out the noise outside.

"Come on, space cadet!" Leon called through the door. "The new guys brought a Nintendo 64!"

"No!" Yosuke didn't look up, aligning a Twizzlers wrapper.

"You can't hide in there forever," Erik added. "School starts tomorrow."

"No!" The word had become a shield.

The hallway swelled with noise—Justin and Adrian wrestling, stereos dueling Nirvana and Rage Against the Machine.

Through the door, Erik sighed. "Han är i alla fall rumsren."

"Do air en hoary pung!" Leon shot back in mangled Swedish.

"That's the only phrase you know," Erik said.

"It's the only one I need, mean hoary pung-when."

"That's not even close."

"Whatever, you hairy ballsack." Leon rattled the knob. "Yo, Yosuke! Pizza rolls or what?"

Yosuke paused, then said, "Yes. And mac and cheese."

"Dude, you can't—" Leon stopped. "Actually, fine. Weird combo dinner coming up. But this is getting ridiculous."

Footsteps retreated.

"You're enabling him," Erik said.

"Better than letting him starve," Leon replied.

Yosuke smiled, adding another Lion bar wrapper. The orange matched Leon's favorite cut-off shirt. The brown reminded him of Erik's leather shoes.

Twenty minutes later, Leon returned. "Room service for the hermit artist."

A pause. Then: "Slide it under the door."

"It's a plate, dude. It won't fit."

Another pause and finally Yosuke cracked the door just wide enough to accept the plate, giving Leon and Erik a brief glimpse of the wrapper collage taking shape on his bed.

"You know," Leon said softer, "everyone else is just as nervous about tomorrow."

"No they're not," Yosuke muttered. "They know how to be... people."

"Debatable," Erik said, eyeing a particularly loud crash from the common room. "Very debatable."

"Is that... are those all from the candy bars we've been buying?"

"Maybe." Yosuke clutched the plate protectively. "They make good patterns."

"You're so weird," Leon said, but his voice was fond. "At least come out for movie night? Adrian brought Terminator 2. I'll give you heads when to cover your eyes."

"No!" The door clicked shut.

Erik and Leon exchanged looks, sharing one of those moments where they silently agreed to let their strange friend process things his own way. The hallway chaos continued around them - someone had started a paper airplane war, and the music battle had escalated to include Tupac.

Inside room 36, Yosuke carefully peeled the backing off another wrapper, adding it to his growing masterpiece while the sounds of teenage life raged outside his door. Tomorrow would come soon enough, with all its social demands and unwritten rules.

He smoothed the final piece into place, completing the symmetry. Maybe he wasn't ready for school, but at least this made sense.