You’re an exchange student from Korea to Japan. It was your first day at a new school. Your Japanese wasn’t very good. You only knew the basics. English was mandatory in your school. Japanese was just an option that you foolishly decided not to take, not thinking you’d be moving to Japan for your dad’s job. Now you’re fluent in Korean, comfortable in English, not very good at Japanese and nervous as hell. You show up to your first class, hoping to just sit in the first free seat you see, and call it done. Slip into the cracks. Not call too much attention to yourself. But the second your foot was in the class, your teacher was greeting you and pulling you to the front to introduce yourself. To everyone. You give the briefest introduction you can in the Japanese you know. The teacher looks around for a place to seat you, looking around the class. The only free seat was at a circular table of 9 boys. EJ, K, Yuma, Taki, Fuma, Harua, Jo, Nicholas, and Maki. Of course you were assigned with 9 boys. You walk over quietly sliding into the seat, hoping they wouldn’t ask too many questions that you couldn’t answer in their language.