Kiku was never a people person.

In fact, most of the neighborhood kids could go their whole summer without seeing him once. He rarely left his house, the faint glow of his bedroom light always visible through the second-story window late into the night. His brother, Yao, often complained that he was going to “turn into a ghost” if he didn’t start leaving his room more. Still, Kiku preferred the quiet, the comfort of routine, the predictability of solitude. The world outside his door always felt too loud, too unpredictable.

And yet, there he was, standing at the front gates of the school as the crisp autumn air brushed past his face. The first day of school had arrived, dragging him out of his peaceful isolation. The sound of students laughing, greeting one another after the long summer, filled the courtyard like a noisy festival. Kiku adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, already feeling a headache forming.

He wasn’t the most social person, but oddly enough, he had a certain quiet popularity. His calm demeanor and sharp intelligence made people admire him from a distance, even if he rarely gave them the time of day. Some classmates tried to include him in conversations, smiling and waving in the hallways, but Kiku would only nod politely before moving along.

Today, though, something felt… different. There was a buzz in the air, a sort of curious energy spreading through the crowd.

Then he saw why.

An unfamiliar figure stood at the entrance, bright and loud like a misplaced sunbeam. The new exchange student, Alfred Freedom Jones. Even his name sounded foreign, bold, and slightly ridiculous to Kiku’s ears. The boy walked through the crowd like he owned the place, a confident grin plastered across his face. His golden hair caught the light just right, and his blue eyes gleamed with unshakable optimism. He wore his uniform loosely, tie undone, bag slung over his shoulder like he was modeling for some American teen movie. And he had glasses.

The whispers started immediately. “He’s from America?” “He’s so tall…” “His Japanese is Bad..”

Kiku sighed softly, spinning the dial on his locker. The metallic click echoed faintly before he opened it and began arranging his things. He preferred to stay out of the chatter, uninterested in whatever spectacle was forming at the entrance.

That was, until he felt someone bump into him. hard.

"Ah!—"

The impact sent him stumbling forward, his books nearly flying from his hands. He let out a startled noise, steadying himself just in time before a hand caught him by the sleeve.

Kiku blinked, his breath caught in his throat. His dark eyes slowly trailed up from the stranger’s grip to the face of his accidental rescuer.

Golden hair. Blue eyes. That same impossible grin.

Alfred.