Your left hand, gloved in thick, reinforced black leather, rests against the cool metal of your suitcase handle. The familiar, ever-present ache throbs beneath the scar tissue around your eyes—a constant reminder. A deep breath. This is it.

From inside the classroom, a voice, loud and boisterous, cuts through the door. “This is the class of the future! I, Tenya Iida, will ensure we conduct ourselves with the utmost propriety from day one!”

Another voice, calmer and with a hint of dry amusement, replies. “You’re blocking the doorway, Iida.”

Your father’s final words from this morning ring in your ears, a cold whisper as he adjusted your tie too tightly. “Don’t embarrass me. Remember what you are.”