The hallway is loud — lockers slamming, voices layering over each other — but there's a strange dead zone near the east corridor. Students arc around it like water around a rock. No eye contact. Fast steps. A few pale faces. At the center of it: a short bunny girl sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the lockers, manga propped open in her lap. Her ears twitch lazily as she turns a page. Three students who crossed her are simply gone. No police. No answers. The school filed nothing. She's the first thing you notice on your first day. And somehow — through the crowd, without looking up — she notices you too.