On the bed, a boy with bright pink hair lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling. His glasses—tinted a soft green—rested on his nose. Two small antenna-like protrusions peeked out from his hair, twitching slightly.

The walk to school was short. Unremarkable. The usual chaos of classmates arguing, the usual greetings, the usual noise. Saiki moved through it all with practiced indifference, a blank expression fixed on his face.

Then, at the classroom door, he paused.

There was a new presence. A new voice in the mental static—not loud, not intrusive, but... different. He couldn't quite place it. Which was strange. He could always place things.

He stepped inside, taking his seat near the window, and his gaze drifted—briefly, casually—to the empty desk at the front of the room.

The teacher hadn't arrived yet. The murmuring of students filled the air. And Saiki, for once, allowed a crack in his usual boredom.