Thursday's cafeteria fluorescents buzzed like trapped wasps. Leon's lighter danced between his fingers—tap, flip, tap—sending tremors through the table. Yosuke watched ripples in his chocolate milk, counting waves. 1:43. Two minutes until Leon's disappearance ritual.

Victoria's Secret Love Spell hit first, thick enough to choke. It clung to Leon's collar beside a pink lipstick stain that bloomed like a wound. Yosuke's peanuts formed careful constellations until Leon's hand scattered Orion.

"Well." Leon stretched. "Better grab a smoke before History."

Ice crystallized in Yosuke's chest. His hand caught Leon's sleeve, feeling pulse through cotton.

"Just say no."

"What?" Leon's eyes widened.

"The posters, Leon." Yosuke's grip tightened. "They're everywhere. Just. Say. No."

Erik's fork paused midair, Swedish precision interrupted.

"You're addicted." The words tumbled out, loud but clear. "To nicotine and strawberry lip gloss and whatever makes you smell like her body lotion between classes." Yosuke's nose wrinkled involuntarily. "It's not good for you. It's like... cancer. Karin cancer."

The cafeteria inhaled. Then laughter erupted. Color flooded Leon's face, wine-dark spreading from his neck.

"Dude, what the actual—"

"The posters Leon. Say no to drugs. Say no to toxic substances." Yosuke's free hand swept toward the faded D.A.R.E. banner. "Say no to Karin's strawberry kisses—"

"Holy shit." Adrian's whisper carried from the next table. "Space cadet's finally lost orbit."

Leon jerked his arm, but Yosuke held on. Months of basketball drills had given him grip strength he didn't know he possessed. The fabric stretched between them, a taut line of connection.

"Let go—"

"What's this? Trouble in paradise?"

Jessica's voice sliced through the air like a perfectly sharpened blade. She materialized at their table's edge, lunch tray balanced with practiced ease. Her cheerleader uniform caught the light—green and gold perfection, not a thread out of place. Two lieutenants flanked her, their smiles sharp as broken glass.

"Better keep your pet on a tighter leash, Quaver." Her eyes swept over Yosuke, cataloging every flaw. "He's obviously not housebroken."

The laughter rippled outward, a stone dropped in still water. Yosuke's fingers went slack on Leon's sleeve.

"I'm not a pet, I'm a boy!"

"Clearly." Jessica's hair tossed in a practiced arc, blonde waves looking dull in the fluorescent light. She pivoted on one heel, her squad following in perfect synchronization.

Something cold unfurled in Yosuke's chest. His eyes tracked the pulse point at Jessica's throat, watching the steady rhythm beneath pale skin. His vision sharpened, narrowed, until all he could see was that vulnerable flutter of life. His fingers curled involuntarily.

"You're actually scaring me now, you know that?" Leon's voice came from very far away. He'd managed to wrench free, backing toward the exit. A cigarette pack materialized in his shaking hands. "Like, dude! Who even are you anymore?"

The cafeteria doors swung shut behind him with a pneumatic hiss.

Yosuke sat frozen, aware of Erik's careful gaze, of whispers spreading like wildfire through the lunch crowd. His empty hands tingled where Leon's warmth had been. Through the windows, three dark shapes circled the dying maple. Falcons, where no falcons should be.

"Way to make it weird," Erik muttered, but Yosuke was already moving.

The hallway stretched endless, lockers blurring past like fence posts from a speeding car. He followed Leon's trail—the lingering scent of Marlboros and cheap deoderant, the echo of sneakers on worn plastic floor. The drinking fountain dripped its eternal rhythm. The side door's handle was ice against his palm.

Then—a scream, high and pure as breaking crystal.

December air slapped his face. Twenty yards ahead, Jessica spun like a broken music box, her perfect hair whipping in wild arcs. Three shapes dove from the cloudless sky—falcons, their wings cutting air with deadly precision. The first struck her ponytail, talons tangling in blonde silk. The second and third flanked her shoulders, beaks snapping inches from her face.

Her uniform became a green and gold blur. Blood bloomed across white collar, spreading like watercolor on wet paper. The other cheerleaders scattered, pom-poms abandoned on frost-brittle grass.

Students pressed against cafeteria windows. Doors burst open, bodies spilling onto frozen ground. But Yosuke couldn't move. His dilated pupils locked with the lead falcon's amber gaze, and something ancient passed between them. Recognition. Understanding. The bird released its grip immediately, winging toward the maple where its companions already perched.

"What the actual fuck!" Jessica's voice cracked, all composure shattered. She stumbled into Erik's steadying arms, blood trickling from parallel scratches on her neck.

"Oh my god Jess! Don't move, we'll totally carry you to the nurse." Karin materialized from the crowd, her concern sharp-edged with curiosity. "She's literally bleeding everywhere."

Yosuke stood transfixed. The three falcons tilted their heads in perfect unison, a choreographed question. Without conscious thought, his own head mirrored the motion. Something stirred beneath his skin—not quite an itch, not quite pain. Like feathers trying to push through.

"Bogus."

The word drifted from the science building's shadow. Leon leaned against brick, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes moved between Yosuke and the falcons, understanding dawning like a slow sunrise.

"Mother of Jesus!" Jerrell shouted, "Someone should shoot those damn birds already!"

Their gazes met across trampled grass—Yosuke's still wide and strange, Leon's clouded with fear and recognition. Teachers converged on Jessica, voices rising in concern and confusion. Leon melted back into the growing crowd, but not before Yosuke caught the tremor in his hands.

Above, the falcons preened with satisfaction. Blood dotted the dead leaves beneath their perch—small crimson coins paying for some unknowable debt. Yosuke stared up at them, ice crystallizing in his veins, a terrible understanding taking root:

He hadn't prevented anything. He was what they'd answered to.

· · ─────── · 𓅪 · ─────── · ·

By second period, the nurse's office smelled like alcohol swabs and hairspray.

During break, Leon found himself out in the freezing cold behind the science wing, rubbing his nose, fingers fumbling with the lighter until his thumb went sore.

"Fuck, come on," he muttered, snorting wetly. Tried again. Sparks.

He must've imagined it—Yosuke talking to the birds, calling them down on Jessica after that pet comment. Comic-book type of shit. Still, the face he'd had when he went all psycho on him, ranting about Karin-Cancer or whatever: pupils blown, brows drawn tight and flat. No. Correlation. Whatever shit Erik was always on about. Had to be.

Finally the flame took. Leon lit the cigarette he'd forgotten to smoke before and watched his hand shake, then shook it harder until it didn't.

· · ─────── · 𓅪 · ─────── · ·

Finals week hit Greenwode like a sugar crash after too much eggnog, but Jessica Milner's bandaged state cast a longer shadow than any test score. She moved through the hallways with a strange new celebrity, gauze wrapped around her neck where falcon talons had drawn blood. Her blonde hair, usually perfect, hung limp around her face, follicles still traumatized from the attack. The basketball team formed a protective phalanx around her between classes—Kendrick adjusting her books, Jarrell fetching cafeteria food, Derek and James acting like a meat plow through the crowds.

Liam alone kept his distance, watching from the back of their huddle with clinical detachment. Whenever his eyes met Yosuke's across the hall, something unreadable passed between them.

"Endangered raptors or not," Mr. Patterson declared in the faculty room, "those birds have got to go." Teachers nodded, curriculum rivalries briefly suspended.

Principal Herschel called an assembly Wednesday morning, bow tie perfectly centered, voice echoing through the cold gym. "I've been in contact with wildlife authorities," he assured them. "These protected birds cannot be harmed, but professionals will safely relocate them once properly identified."

The bleachers creaked beneath hundreds of teenage bodies. Yosuke sat rigid, hands folded, avoiding Erik's sideways glances.

"Until then," Herschel continued, "do not provoke or approach them. Notify faculty immediately." His gaze swept the crowd, pausing—just briefly—on Yosuke. "Above all, do not provoke them."

Yosuke sank lower in his seat. Provoke. Had his anger summoned talons from the sky? The thought terrified him more than any final.

That evening, he climbed to the roof access, snow lying in pristine drifts. Three falcons perched on the ventilation unit, silhouettes against the darkening sky.

"Was it me?" His voice cracked. "Did I make you do that?"

The largest falcon tilted its head, amber eyes assessing him like a slow mouse. Yosuke raised his hand, palm up.

"I need to know if we're... connected. If you can hear me, if I'm some kind of—"

The strike came like lightning. Pain flared as the beak opened his palm. He stumbled back with a strangled cry as the other two falcons mantled their wings in warning.

"Shit."

They weren't his. Not servants or familiars—just wild things that had chosen violence, leaving him to take the blame.

By the time he reached room 36, the bleeding had already stopped. A dark scab had formed, crusted and dry. He prodded it. No pain. No fresh blood. Just skin knitting itself together too fast.

The next morning it looked weeks old. Yosuke examined it, shrugged. Bodies healed. That was simply what they did.

· · ─────── · 𓅪 · ─────── · ·

Between exams and bird panic, the hallways still sparkled with holiday hysteria—tinsel strangling stairwells, paper snowflakes multiplying, fairy lights flirting with fire code violations. The whole building smelled of cinnamon and chaos.

"It's ridiculous," Erik proclaimed over lunch, dissecting his sandwich. "Christmas is emotional manipulation wrapped in tinsel." He aligned carrot sticks with surgical precision. "Back home we watched the same Donald Duck cartoon every year while my parents calculated tax deductions."

Yosuke caught himself humming "Last Christmas" and stopped when Erik's eyebrow twitched. He'd been censoring himself lately, then resenting it.

"I like the lights," Yosuke said finally. "And the songs."

Erik's mouth quirked. "You would like nuclear waste if it came in festive colors."

Leon sat at the far end of the table, close enough for appearances, Calvin a human DMZ between them. His laughter came late, eyes tracking exits like a spooked cat.

Pablo's birthday party the weekend before break proved everything parties should be. No surprise cake, no presents—just beanbags, alternative records, and arguments about which X-Man could take Spider-Man. For some reason, Erik hadn't been invited.

Leon circled Yosuke all evening without ever quite meeting his eyes.

"Dude, you're being mega weird," Calvin finally said.

"I'm chill," Leon muttered, fingers drumming, gaze flicking to Yosuke with something like fear.

Midterm scores followed. Yosuke earned solid B's and a surprise A in Chemistry. Leon barely scraped through Math but stunned everyone with his Art portfolio.

"Raw talent," Leon said, eyes fixed on the paper. "Can't teach that shit."

"Language," Erik muttered.

"Whatever, dad." Leon bolted, tray abandoned.

· · ─────── · 𓅪 · ─────── · ·