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Greenwode Institution loomed against the gray morning sky, all worn brick and foggy windows. A 1950s attempt at educational grandeur, now softened into shabby dignity. Paint peeled along the frames. Ivy clung stubbornly to the north wall, still green despite the autumn chill.

Yosuke tugged at his uniform as they climbed the stone steps, trying to settle the dark teal blazer across his shoulders. The shirt beneath was stiff enough to crackle when he moved. The silver stripes on his tie caught the thin light. The small G brooch sat precisely where Erik had pinned it, aligned to the millimeter.

"The colors suit you," Erik said. "They make your eyes look bluer."

Yosuke touched his glasses, uncertain what to do with that information.

Students streamed past them through the heavy doors, voices bouncing off the high ceiling. The entrance hall smelled of floor wax and chalk dust, layered with something older—years of teenage bodies moving through the same space, leaving traces behind.

Lockers lined the halls in dented beige and blue. Trophy cases held yellowed team photos, faces staring out from behind dusty glass. Everything felt tired, but orderly. Like something that endured out of habit.

"Two hundred students," Erik said as they walked. "Mostly locals. Some city placements. Boarders like us." He nodded toward a group of younger students struggling with oversized blazers. "You'll have mixed-age classes depending on placement. Teachers tend to leave us alone if we don't cause trouble. The building closes at ten-thirty. Facilities stay open." A beat. "Trust is earned here. Herschel's motto."

They stopped outside Room 2B.

Through the scratched window, Yosuke saw students leaning into desks, laughing, trading looks. Familiarity radiated from them, effortless and unearned. His stomach tightened.

"Everyone already knows about the amnesia," Erik said quietly. "You don't owe anyone explanations. Just be yourself." He hesitated. "Within reason."

Before Yosuke could ask what that meant, the door opened.

The noise inside dipped—not silence, but attention.

"Class," the female teacher said, "this is Yosuke Shirai. He's joining us under unusual circumstances. I trust you'll help him adjust."

Yosuke bowed automatically. Too formal. Too deep.

"Please take care of me."

The quiet that followed was sharp, brittle.

Someone whispered, "Robot boy."

Snickers followed, quick and contained.

In the back row, Leon Quaver lounged in his chair, blazer already rumpled like he'd fought it and lost. He stared openly, not unkind, not subtle. Their eyes met. Leon's mouth parted slightly, then curled into something that looked like interest rather than judgment.

Yosuke recognized Pablo from the restaurant. Behind him sat a girl with the same dark eyes but none of the warmth—brows arched in permanent appraisal, posture sharp. Karin. The name landed with weight.

"You can take the empty seat by the window," the teacher said.

As Yosuke moved down the aisle, fragments of conversation brushed past him.

"...amnesia kid..."
"...almost prettier than Ratio..."
"...Enhanced, look at his eyes..."

The last one made him falter. Outside the window, a falcon cut across the sky, its shadow briefly crossing his desk. He touched the fish pendant under his shirt, grounding himself.

Just get through today.

"Please take care of me," a nasal voice mocked from somewhere behind him. Yosuke turned slowly to look over his shoulder. The boy had close-cropped hair and ears that stuck out like car doors. His uniform was even more wrinkled than Leon's, like he'd slept in it.

"Baby," someone else snickered.

A paper airplane shot across the room and struck the boy square in the face.

"Hey—!"

Yosuke looked up.

Leon hadn't moved much—just lowered his arm slowly, like this had been an accident. When their eyes met, Leon's mouth dropped open slightly before morphing into an exaggerated wink, eyebrows dancing up and down like demented caterpillars.

"That's quite enough," the teacher snapped. "Mr. Quaver, this is your final warning about projectiles in my classroom."

Leon slouched deeper into his chair, grinning.

"Sorry Mrs. S."

Time stretched.

Yosuke pulled out his notebooks, aligning them carefully. Physics. Literature. Mathematics. The teacher's voice blurred as he struggled to keep pace, his handwriting tightening, then slipping. Each mistake felt visible, public.

The whisper came again.

Please... take... care... of... me...

Yosuke felt his lips pucker involuntarily, like he'd bitten into something sour. This must be what hell feels like, he thought. Not fire and brimstone, just an endless first day of school where your body won't obey and everyone watches you fail.

A shrill ring pierced the air. Yosuke jumped, heart hammering - fire? Emergency? They were coming, coming to get him! His muscles tensed, ready to run.

"Relax, amnesia boy." Leon materialized beside his desk, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. "Just break time."

"English then science," Erik added, already perfectly organized while others scrambled to pack up.

"Don't remind me," Leon groaned, clutching his chest dramatically.

"Mr. Shirai?" The teacher's voice cut through the chaos. "A moment, please?"

Leon and Erik exchanged glances. "We'll wait outside," Erik said, dragging a lingering Leon with him.

The teacher perched on the edge of her desk once the room cleared. "Ms. Spade," she introduced herself. "I've heard remarkable things from your doctor." Her smile was genuine, softening the stern lines around her mouth. "A strong will to learn - that makes you quite unique in this institution." She adjusted her glasses. "That alone will get you far, Mr. Shirai."

Yosuke bowed deeply, grateful his voice came out steady. "Thank you, Ms. Spade."

"That's all." She hesitated at the door, adding softly, "Good luck out there, Mr. Shirai."

The hallway hit him like a wall of sound; lockers slamming, laughter ricocheting down the corridor. Then motion: bodies cutting in front of him, brushing past, colliding and reforming without apology. He stalled for half a second, unsure where to put himself.

Leon and Erik didn't.

They fell into step on either side of him as if it were automatic, their presence opening a narrow path through the current.

"Well?" Erik asked.

Yosuke stopped walking. "I was... bad." He pressed his back briefly to the lockers, needing something solid. "Why did I say that? Please take care of me."

Leon's face lit up. "Dude, no. That was adorable."

"It was maladaptive," Erik said.

Leon waved that off. "Nah. It was honest. That's the problem." He demonstrated immediately—hands in pockets, shoulders loose. "'Hey, what's up.'" He nodded at an imaginary audience. "Keep 'em guessin' what you're packin'."

"That was your strategy," Erik said. "And you were mocked."

Leon grinned. "Yeah, but I survived. Plus—" he leaned closer, stage-whispering, "—I absolutely wrecked Adrian for you. Right in the eye."

Yosuke didn't know who Adrian was, but Leon looked proud in a way that felt oddly protective. The tightness in his chest eased a little.

They pushed through the doors into the courtyard.

Light spilled everywhere—thin autumn sun catching on leaves, on metal benches, on polished shoes. Groups clustered instinctively, each one radiating its own gravity. Yosuke slowed, trying to take it all in.

He immediately failed.

Erik was talking. "Those are the athletes. Mostly basketball. That group by the steps is debate and student council overlap. Over there—" he nodded "—card kids. They're harmless."

Leon cut in. "Don't forget the goths. See the eyeliner budget? Respect."

Yosuke nodded automatically, even though his attention kept slipping sideways, pulled by sound.

"...No way, they're walking together—"
"...Leon dumped Karin, right?"
"...Is Erik single?"

"...Baby Ratio in glasses—"

He flinched at that last one, fingers tightening on his tie.

Wilkes' voice surfaced unhelpfully in his head—gossiping does you no good, honey—just in time for his hearing to pick up something worse, whispered too softly for anyone else to catch.

"He looks so cold. Think Erik warms him at night?"

Giggles erupted somewhere behind him.

Yosuke's ears burned. He sped up without meaning to, nearly colliding with Leon's shoulder.

"Whoa, easy, space cadet," Leon said. "You'll drift into traffic."

"Everyone's talking," Yosuke muttered.

Leon laughed. "Classic first day." He spun around, walking backward now, arms wide. "See, we used to be a duo. Erik the brain. Me the charm."

"You were also the liability," Erik said.

"Still am. But now—" Leon gestured to Yosuke "—we've evolved. Trio status."

"You're enjoying this too much," Erik said.

Leon didn't deny it. "This year's gonna be hella sick."

He slung an arm around Yosuke's shoulders.

Yosuke froze.

The contact detonated every sense at once—heat through fabric, the sharp tang of deodorant and something sweeter underneath, the weight of a body too close. His instincts screamed move, escape, something is wrong—

—and then Leon was already pulling away.

"Hey, Jessica!"

The girl turned.

Yosuke recognized her from homeroom—long legs, high ponytail swinging like a metronome, uniform worn like it had been tailored for her specifically.

"Hey Jessica..." Leon's voice dropped an octave as he tugged at his slacks, revealing patterned boxers. She sent him a cold look, rolling her eyes, but then as Erik gave her a knowing nod, her whole face lit up.

"Hi Erik!" she said in a sugary sweet voice, shifting masks in rapid speed. Very peculiar behavior, Yosuke thought.

"She's like the female version of Erik," Leon explained, "except she actually gets some."

"At least she has standards," Erik replied. "Unlike someone who hooked up in Coach Anderson's office."

"That was one time," Leon protested.

Yosuke added gets some and hook up to the growing list of phrases that clearly did not mean what they sounded like.

"Don't try to decode it," Erik said, catching his expression. "High school is confusing enough without Leon's romantic disasters."

"Exactly," Leon said. "Just roll with being part of the elite weirdos. Better than being stuck with those-" he nodded toward a group comparing cards "-whatever they are."

"Pokemon fanatics," Erik said.

"Total spazzes," Leon translated.

Yosuke watched the different groups circling each other like planets in orbit, invisible boundaries keeping everyone in their lanes. He'd studied social hierarchies in books, but seeing it live was something else. Somehow he'd landed at the top of the food chain without even trying.

"What if someone crosses the lines?" he asked.

Leon and Erik traded looks.

"Let's just say," Erik's voice went quiet, "it's easier to stay where you fit."

"Unless you're us." Leon flashed another killer smile at the pastel girls. "This Trio's too potent to fit any standard issue mold."

¨Yosuke smiled, then faltered when he caught Erik watching him—sharp, unreadable. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong.

"Leon!"

The voice cut through the courtyard like a blade wrapped in silk.

Karin stood a few steps away, immaculate and unmistakable, strawberry perfume reaching them before she did.

"Why didn't you even look at me in class, baby?"

And just like that, the air changed.

"Duh? We broke up in like June, after I hooked up with that Seattle chick, whatever her name was," Leon said. Yosuke could see the energy draining from his usual swagger.

"Oh really?" Karin's smile was bright and sharp, white teeth flashing. "Weird, 'cause I totally missed that memo."

She stepped closer, a cloud of artificial strawberry perfume trailing her. A group of girls materialized behind her, watching the scene unfold.

"Don't even remember her name, Quaver?" one of them chimed in, mirroring Karin's stance.

"Yeah, whatever, Martinez." Leon's voice went flat. He turned away, already moving.

Once they reached the vending machines, he banged his head against the wall. "God, I'm so dead."

"What'd you do?" Yosuke asked.

"She's obviously decided we're gonna be the school's Leonidas and Gorgo this term," Leon said, dragging his hands through his hair until it stuck up everywhere. "Like, can't she just leave me alone? Go torture someone else with her boobs and that stupid perfume she practically bathes in?"

"Hold up," Erik smirked, counting coins. "You actually know who Leonidas and Gorgo are?"

"Shut up," Leon groaned. "I don't care about that history crap. Just saw this sick movie about Spartans once. You don't mess with Spartans."

Erik lined up his coins and fed them into the machine. "Maybe try actually telling Gorgo to back off?"

"It's not that simple, man." Leon scuffed his shoe against the concrete. "She's, like, actually into me. For real. And I'm... not. And she won't deal with it, and I don't wanna be the bad guy, and—" He kicked the wall. "It sucks."

"Sounds complicated," Yosuke offered.

"Nah, it's just toxic," Erik said, grabbing his drink. "Grow a spine and dump her already." He tossed a Fanta to Yosuke. "Here. Bet you've never had one of these before."

The sudden change of topic caught Yosuke off guard. He stared at the bright can like it was a rare specimen. Leon popped it open for him, orange foam spilling out.

The first sip sent bubbles exploding up his nose. He squeaked.

"Wow!" His eyes went huge. "This is incredible! I like this. I really, really like Fanta!"

"Dude," Leon snickered, "you sound like a TV commercial."

The bell shrieked across the yard.

"Great, English time," Erik sighed, already moving. "Try not to bounce off the walls from your sugar high, Yosuke."

They merged into the crowd, Yosuke clutching his precious first Fanta.

"English is, like, the only subject Erik keeps getting B's in," Leon stage-whispered, shoulder-bumping him. "He blames the teacher. I blame his nazi accent."

"Sweden wasn't even part of the Great Wars," Erik called back flatly.

"Greeyt vars!" Leon mimicked, badly.

Students pressed past them. Two tall guys from the basketball team called out to Leon—something about Friday night plans and movie rentals. Leon answered on autopilot, grin thin, hand going to his hair.

A boy in a green-and-white jacket shouldered past them, taller and wider than Leon. Leon stumbled, recovered, said nothing. The boy didn't apologize.

Rude, Yosuke thought, clutching his Fanta closer.

He didn't catch the subtler shifts—old friendships cooling, new hierarchies forming. Instead, his attention snagged on a framed photo in a trophy case. Last year's basketball team. Leon stood in the center, younger but still glowing with confidence, his arm slung around someone Yosuke didn't recognize.

Something about that other boy's pale eyes felt... familiar.

"Hey, space cadet!" Erik called. "English class is this way."

Yosuke hurried to catch up, unaware of how much he'd already altered the air around him.