New Semester, New Faces.

The door clacked shut behind him when he stepped into the apartment, a few days before the second semester. The entrance was buried under unsorted flyers, the air stale for weeks without anyone living in it. He opened the windows first, letting the late-summer heat spill in.

The jinbei he’d worn at the festival was still on the bed—singed, dust-stained, with small blotches of dried blood at the elbows and knees. He paused, staring at it longer than he meant to. Those stains were going to be impossible to wash out.

He rolled up his sleeves.

There was a lot to clean before school started.

The voicemail recorder blinked red. When he pressed play, Yukiharu-san’s voice filled the room—three messages, one each week. Each one asked if he was okay, telling him to call when he could. The same words but hearing her voice made something in his chest loosen. The last message was only a click, as if someone had changed their mind at the last second.

He rewound the tape and listened again, thumb hovering over the delete button.

Then he wondered about Sayuri-san. It was strange she hadn’t called at all, not even once, while Yukiharu-san had. He should’ve called her. Even once.

He’d asked her when he saw her at school.

Ryuji thought he’d finally gotten used to the school uniform. That illusion broke the moment he walked past Ushijima Shrine. The real shrine maiden swept the entrance and waved at him. He sheepishly waved back, reminded him again that his uniform still looked too much like hers.

He passed through the two torii gates of the school. Tanaka-san was already out front, cap pulled low as he swept the grounds.

It was a surprise to open his shoe locker and find a pink envelope tucked inside. The handwriting was familiar.

Can we meet after school behind the old building? — Natsume Sayuri.

He wondered what she wanted to talk about. She could have brought it up in class.

The classroom had several new faces, but one girl drew every eye. Hair like fire. Eyes like green apples.

Ryuji took his seat and waved at Sayuri-san. She waved back, a little stiff.

Yukiharu-san and Masaki-san arrived soon after. She waved her greeting to Sayuri-san at the back with a warm smile. Sayuri-san smiled back with meek wave. It felt like the two changed personalities over the break.

His eyes met Yukiharu-san’s for a moment before she looked away, propping her chin on her palm as she stared at the red-haired girl.

The girl noticed him, then walked straight over.

She was about the same height as Yukiharu-san, but with far more pronounced curves.

She leaned on Ryuji’s table and winked.

“You poor thing.” (Kawaiisou.)

She must have meant adorable. Still, a strange way to greet someone — and she was far too close.

A chair scraped loudly. Yukiharu-san had shot to her feet, eyes narrowing for a split second before she smoothed her expression and sat back down.

“I’m Iris McKenna.” The girl extended her hand, her accent bright and unfamiliar.

“Minato Ryuji,” he said.

She seized his hand before he could react, leaning in just a little too close as she shook it firmly.

“Take good care of me,” she said with a smile far too intimate for a first meeting.

A ripple went through the room — gasps, a drawn-out “whoa.”

Even the students who’d been pretending not to stare were openly watching now.

From the back of the room, Sayuri-san let out a small, startled yelp, her pencil clattering to the floor.

He wished Iris would let go of his hand. His eyes flicked toward Yukiharu-san.

She kept her calm demeanor and sat down, sorting her textbooks with deliberate precision.

“Congratulations,” she murmured. “Seems like you’ve got a new friend.”

Ryuji was shocked to hear such sarcasm from her.

Mr. Yamaguchi entered then, slapping the attendance folder against the podium.

Iris skipped back to her seat. “See you, fine boy,” she said in English. Ryuji only caught the first part.

“Before we start our first day of class, we have several fresh faces, so we’ll go down the rows for introductions…” He called each name, and the students stood in turn.

“Salutations! I am McKenna Iris Makena, an international exchange student from the United States of America, here for the next year or two.” She ended with a wink.

Her words blew everyone away. Exotic, Ryuji thought. Must be a cultural thing.

But… Makena? Was she saying she never loses? Or just making a pun on her surname?

“Maken— McKenna-san,” Mr. Yamaguchi corrected himself with a sigh.

“You’re being a bit too showy. Please tone it down next time.”

He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.

He turned to check Yukiharu-san’s reaction. Sayuri-san was too far back to see.

Yukiharu-san clutched her science textbook so tightly it bent in half.

He felt oddly relieved. She was expressive — or maybe he could finally read her. Something had changed since the start of the year. The fireworks festival might have left scars, but she looked fine. Either she was hiding it or she’d moved past it. He hoped for the latter.

“Minato—” Mr. Yamaguchi drawled. “Naomichi.”

Ryuji almost stood up. Instead, a tall, well-built student near the rear entrance rose.

“Minato Naomichi. Looking forward to being in the same class with you all.” He bowed and sat down.

He caught Sayuri-san’s eyes and nodded. She covered her mole with her textbook, but he could see her smiling behind it.

New semester. New classmates.

Ryuji exhaled slowly, glancing at the pink envelope in his bag. His fingers drifted to the iridescent charm. A mix of excitement and fear twisted in his stomach.

A thought crept in.

If someone else claimed the scale… would the burden transfer?

Could he go back to being normal?

He shut the idea down immediately. That would mean going back to being the invisible Minato.

He wondered what Sayuri-san wanted to talk about — and what the second semester would bring.

For now, he looked forward to the moment he could motion his fingers and draw the nine lines again. This time, the binding wouldn’t just anchor the charm. It would pull him closer to Masaki-san, Sayuri-san, and Yukiharu-san.

He had no idea how far those lines would eventually reach.