Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  It's a beautiful day outside. Birds are chirping, flowers are blooming. The trees, lightly dusted with autumn's orange, sway in the gentle wind. The fields of grass ripple, movements radiating peace and tranquility.

  That is, until a certain Mercedes-Benz GLA-Class drives by.

  "TURN THE MUSIC DOWN, HIMEKO!" Stelle screams over the radio, currently cranked to max volume and blaring rock music.

  "IT'S SOOTHING!" Himeko yells back, eyes glued to the road. She was nothing if not a follower of safety rules. "STRESS RELIEF IS A MAJOR PART OF CONTROLLING THE EFFECTS OF AGING!"

  "IF THIS IS SOOTHING TO YOU I'D HATE TO SHOW YOU AN EARTHQUAKE! THOSE ARE REAL NICE AND QUIET!"

  "IF YOU TWO DON'T SIMMER DOWN RIGHT THIS MOMENT I WILL VAPORIZE THIS MERCEDES-BENZ GLA-CLASS AND EVERYONE IN IT."

  Out of pure fear, Stelle and Himeko both immediately shut up. Welt's glasses are on the verge of glowing and his back is straight. Welt only fixes his posture when he's incredibly angry or emotional.

  "We're sorry, Welt," they said in unison.

  "That's what I thought."

Chapter Text

  It's a beautiful day outside. Birds are chirping, flowers are blooming. The trees, lightly dusted with autumn's orange, rustle in the gentle wind. The fields of grass ripple, movements radiating peace and tranquility.

  That is, until a certain Mercedes-Benz GLA-Class drives by.

  "Why do we have to move?" Stelle complains, the earlier fiasco completely forgotten. The rock music has been turned down to a grand total of 3 volume.

  Himeko massages her forehead, eyes fixed on the road. "Stelle, this is the eighth time you've asked. In this hour." Her luscious red hair flies in the wind like some kind of commercial. 

  Welt's does not. "Ninth now," he corrects her. Stelle sends a nerd emoji. She then realizes this is real life. "And the answer won't change anytime soon. Trailblaze Academy provides great opportunities, and the things you learn there are much more practical than your old school's curriculum."

  Stelle sighs. "But I liked Genshin. I had friends there." 

  "Can't you stay in touch with your cellular device?" 

  "They're called phones now, peepaw. Mona can't afford a phone. And have you seen Razor try to type? Either way... it's not the same." 

  Welt heaves a sigh. "I know. But Trailblaze is offering free tuition, and there's plenty of new people there to make friends with. Hey, maybe some people there know your old friends." 

  Stelle falls silent. She already knows all this, and not just because Himeko and Welt have told her so many times that she's memorized every comma and period. 

  But it's hard to leave a home. 

 Noticing Stelle's distinct lack of a comeback, Welt's expression softens. "Hey, everyone there will love you. And if it makes you feel better, we can visit Teyvat from time to time. Himeko will drive us. Right Himeko?" 

  "Of course," she laughs. "We're here for you too, Stelle. Don't you forget it." 

  She immediately ruins the effect by taking a swig of her personally brewed coffee (?), still not taking her eyes off the road. She puts down the mug, balancing it precariously next to the clutch. Coughing violently, Stelle rolls the window open to air out the smell of mud and dead small furry animals wafting from the front of the car. Welt just sits and breathes through his mouth, looking resigned. 

  Well, Stelle reasons while fanning out the car, since her fate is inevitable it wouldn't kill her to read up on Trailblaze Academy. She quickly rolls up the window and rummages around in her seat for her phone (she was sitting on it). She pulls up the official website for Trailblaze Academy, hits the little "About" button and settles down. 

  Trailblaze Academy, located in the humble town of Honaki, was founded in the year of 2023 by the mysterious Akivili, and since then we've built ourselves quite the reputation. Our colorful cast of teachers and students loves to cause chaos, striking terror into those who hear its name. We believe that freedom, is the greatest asset to young developing minds, but not without a gentle push to kickstart them. The freedom to allow students to decide their own future while providing them with support has always been one of the aspects of our education that we treasure the most. 

  Stelle suddenly has a flashback to a boy named Venti back in her old school, who regularly jumped onto tables and desks and screamed "THIS IS TEYVAT, LAND OF THE FREE!" 

  We reach out to cities all over the world in hopes of collaboration, to further promote cultural diversity and understanding, and as of now we have forged partnerships with Belobog and Luofu with more on the possible horizon. Safety isn't guaranteed, but fun certainly is!

  Stelle tries and fails to squash the stupid smile that sneaks up on her. Despite her opinions, of which there exists absolutely zero bias, Trailblaze Academy actually sounds... fun. 

  Dammit. 

  Himeko smiles through the rearview mirror and leans back to pinch at Stelle's cheeks. "See, kiddo? Knew you'd like it." 

  "HIMEKO, ROAD!" 

Chapter Text

  After nearly dying many times on the road from Teyvat to Honaki (a shaky Welt offers to drive next time), Stelle hops off the car and gratefully stretches her stiff legs, resisting the temptation to kneel down and kiss the ground. The sun has long since set, and the treetops are bathed in the silver glow of the moon. 

  At a glance, Honaki looks exactly as expected. It's a town of about six thousand, and visually it sure matches. Most of the houses on their street are relatively small, chimneys puffing away, and the area gives off a very homey vibe completely contrasting that of Teyvat, with its bustling streets and golden glow bathing the ground at all times. That being said, it is March and most of the houses seem to have their Christmas lights still up, including the house directly next to them which is draped in criminally bright pink and blue lights. Stelle squints in agony, seeing how the lights were situated right next to a window, and prays to whatever divine being might be out there that that room isn't a bedroom. 

  Their new house is about as rural as the rest of the rural town, a cozy little house with half of a second floor and a modest gray-blue paint job. To be honest, it already felt more comfortable than most apartments they had lived in before. 

  "It's... yeah. I like it," Stelle says in response to the unsaid question.  Himeko proudly wipes a fake tear away and Welt pats her on the back, but much to Stelle's gratitude they don't push it any further. They quickly unpack what they brought in the Mercedes-Benz GLA-Class, set up their makeshift rooms, and go to sleep. 

  That night, nerve-wracked about her new school and surrounded by unfamiliar scents, Stelle has a hard time falling asleep. She drifts off some time in the morning, and her dreams were plagued with legions of muscular trash cans that march past her like she doesn't exist. 

  The next morning, Stelle's grand total of four hours must be showing, because when she pads into the kitchen yawning, Himeko's brow furrows a little. 

  "Cup of coffee?" She offers, holding hers out. 

  "Nah, save it for pesticide." 

  Himeko chuckles and swirls her coffee around with a little wooden stick. Stelle can almost hear it screaming in pain. 

  Stelle's familial situation is a little... special, having been adopted by Himeko and Welt. To be quite honest, Stelle isn't particularly sure what their relationship is, and she doesn't think they know either, but she's certain it isn't romantic - somewhere between cousins and siblings-in-law, probably. 

  Her biological family is nowhere to be found. It's a fact she's come to accept, but it's still not a pleasant topic to think about. She doesn't know the details of how Himeko and Welt found her, and she's not sure she wants to, given how much they seem to avoid the subject, so she's never pried. Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to and all that. 

  "Stelle? Whatcha thinking about?" Himeko waves an arm in front of her face. 

  She blinks - she hadn't realized she was so lost in thought. "Yeah. Oh. Uh, nothing, just a bit tired." 

  Himeko looks worried. "Do you want to call in sick? I know you didn't sleep well last night." 

  Stelle shakes her head vigorously, grabbing a bagel off the counter, and quickly hugs her goodbye. "All good!" she reassures Himeko, and then promptly sticks the bagel in her mouth, rushing off to prepare. 

  She's halfway out the door when she suddenly realizes she forgot to ask Welt about "whomstever". 

  She'd find someone to ask at school. Maybe. Surviving is still her first priority. 

  On the walk to school, Stelle has a lot of time with her own sleep-deprived thoughts, which may as well be an entity of its own. She's able to successfully ward off the evil spirit for a decent time by performing the ancient ritual known as 'reciting shit' (namely Pokémon and the digits of pi), but when she runs out of stuff the Satanic snake known as 'My Subconscious' worms its way in. 

  Hey Stelle, it whispers in a voice that's trying way too hard to be scary. How's it going? 

  "Fine, thanks," Stelle says aggressively. Out loud. Garnering a weird look from a passing stranger. "Sorry, not you." 

  Oh no, look what you've done, it hisses gleefully. You've just ruined a poor lady's morning. 

  No I didn't. Shut up. 

  So! I just got back from sabbatical. How much progress have you made through my newest album, 'Everything That Can Go Wrong Today?' Ooh, you haven't even started! Well, we can't have that, here's track one - 

  Go away. You're single and adopted. 

  Sounds like projection, darling ~ anyways! No time for that today, if we hurry we can finish the entire album before we reach school. Here's track one, "Did you wear the right uniform!" 

  Uniforms aren't mandatory anyway, dumbass. 

  Stelle closes her eyes (still walking). No. She will not let her subconscious win. She will under NO circumstances spare the energy needed to look down several degrees and check. 

  ...

  Her uniform is fine. 

  See? Stelle says smugly, aware she's quite literally having a conversation with herself and entirely unconcerned about her mental health. 

  Hmm, maybe track one wasn't it... Ah, track two is a banger! You'll love this one. I call it, "What if Himeko spilled her delicious coffee in your backpack by accident?" 

  Stelle grits her teeth. Absolutely not. She will not give in to temptation. Every logical brain cell in her body is telling her that no, the chances of Himeko spilling her beloved coffee into her backpack of all places is next to zero - no, it IS zero - she will not be tempted - SHE WILL NOT BE TEMPTED - 

  ... 

  There's nothing out of the ordinary in her backpack, just her pens and books and stuff. No puddles of mud coffee to be beholden here. 

  Oh my, Asshole Alpha whispers. Does that test really say... 31 percent? Yikes. 

  LEAVE ME ALONE. Stelle quickly folds it up and banishes it to the eternal purgatory of suffering that is her pocket. 

  Suddenly, the voice stops. Stelle is about to sigh in relief when she realizes the cause - and instantly has her breath taken away by the towering majesty that is Trailblaze Academy. 

  Actually, wait - wow, this place is tiny compared to her old school. But with Stelle's nerves, she may as well be going to the Burj Khalifa for skydiving lessons. 

  In of its own, Trailblaze is a decently large place, split into two buildings (labelled as ARTS and SCIENCES), with a trail leading between them (trail of students, though Stelle assumes there's some kind of trail on the ground too). The courtyard is occupied by a few tables and benches, probably to eat at during lunch, and... er. Is that a game of tiles on one of the tables? Right. Just get to class. 

  Stelle takes a deep breath, jostles her neon orange backpack (somehow the only one she owns), and steps inside the bustling courtyard, hoping to go unnoticed for as long as possible. 

  Which means, of course, that she gets noticed immediately. 

Chapter Text

  Immediately after passing through the arches of Trailblaze Academy's front gates, Stelle is greeted with a pair of rather threatening eyes. 

  Now, Stelle is no stranger to threatening eyes, given that she used to be friends with the menace known as Hu Tao. But something about these feels off. They're a shade of milky purple, with a faint glow that seems to come from within. The person's face matches her eyes in terms of threatening - a narrow chin, sharklike smile and sharp nose cruelly accentuate her features, and her purple hair is pinned up on the back of her head with a few loose strands, seemingly flying perfectly on a preordained path like fate had determined where every last wisp would land. A shiny crystal earring dangles from her left ear. Or. Wait. Stelle's left. Her right ear. 

  In conclusion: weird lady. 

  Stelle tries to find words. She really does. Every moment this lady is standing in front of her, sizing her up with that effortlessly intimidating gaze, Stelle is desperately searching for something funny or at the very least interesting to say. 

  "Um. Hey. So, whomstever, am I right?" 

  ...Not exactly what she had envisioned. It takes all her control to not slap a mortified hand over her mouth. 

  The girl blinks slowly. Deliberately. "Just as Elio predicted..." she drawls slowly, her sharklike smile widening. 

  If her goal is to be mysterious and confusing, she certainly succeeds, because Stelle only has more questions now. "Who's Elio? Why's he predicting my whomstever?" 

  "Oh, you don't need to worry about that, sweetheart." She extends a gloved hand. "The name's Kafka. Third year." 

  Stelle takes Kafka's hand out of some subconscious instinct, still not entirely processing the situation. "Right, so..." 

  "You're wondering why I'm here in front of you?” 

  Stelle shrugs, trying to look aloof and nonchalant (and probably failing miserably). "A little bit, I guess." 

  "Well, you see…" she tilts her head a fraction. "Ah, here comes the bell~" 

  Right on cue, it rings, making Stelle jump and whip her head around toward the building - and by the time she looks back, Kafka is nowhere to be seen. 

  "Um," she says eloquently. "Okay."

  A rather fine summary. 

  Stelle has never been one for making friends. She's always been lucky enough to have met people who were willing to reach out first, to take the first step. She can't remember the last time she initiated a proper conversation with a stranger that didn't involve an accident (or weirding them out). 

  So when she walks into her first period classroom and sees a bunch of empty tables, when she sees that she's given a choice, her mind blanks. 

  Standing at the door indecisively, Stelle counts three heads - a girl with a fiery head of hair leaning back in her chair with her feet on the table, a tall girl with soft platinum white hair quietly doodling something, and a regal-looking (albeit vertically challenged) girl with a pink hairdo that bears a striking resemblance to an alien pretzel. They're so vivid and colorful that Stelle can't help but feel a bit conscious of her own dull gray hair. 

  In this current predicament, Stelle decides she has exactly three options. 

  Option one: Sit alone. This option is usually the safest, given the privacy it provides, and it risks no loss of social credit. She can already spot several corner desks perfect for being a loner at. The only con is that well, she’d be sitting alone. Comes with the package. 

  Option two: Be a social butterfly. This option is probably the most optimal, and, consequently, the one Stelle has the least chance of choosing. High risk plus high reward equals scary, and Stelle does not have the confidence in her social skills to walk up to some random dude and offer them a Twix bar. Or something. Something social. 

  Option three: Pray. 

  “Can you move?” A grumpy voice calls out behind her. 

  Stelle whirls around to see a girl with piercing red eyes and a short black bob cut with teal and red undertones standing in the hall, arms crossed and altogether looking rather unimpressed. 

  “Oh! Sorry!” Stelle jumps into the hallway at record speed, almost crashing into a tall, sleepy-looking guy. He offers her a placid smile and keeps walking before she can offer an apology, and she sheepishly turns back to Scary Girl, who is shooting Stelle a funny look. 

  “You can just… go in, y’know.” 

  Stelle shakes her head, silently hoping she’ll get why. 

  The girl nods in understanding. “Right, you’re new. March’ll love you.” She peers into the classroom with a searching gaze, then retracts her head, satisfied. “Wait here for a girl with disgustingly bright pink hair. I mean, another one,” she gestures at Pretzel Lady. “Shorter hair. Should be a tall guy with her. She’ll be moving like a highly caffeinated five-year-old, you can’t miss her.” 

  “Thank you,” Stelle says quietly. Despite having a couple inches over Scary Girl, she feels tiny. 

  Scary Girl hesitates, then nods, making her way over to a chair next to the platinum-haired girl. She puts down her sketchbook and ruffles Scary Girl’s hair affectionately, and it’s only then that Stelle notices the bit of white very similar to the shade of Platinum Girl’s. 

  As Stelle casually loiters in the hallway, trying not to look suspicious, a problem suddenly occurs to her. What if this pink-haired girl (March?) doesn’t show up at all? Would she be left here for the rest of eternity, doomed to turn to stone and become a decorative statue? Stelle is considering the technical logistics of fossilization when - 

  “Coming throooouuuuuugh! Move, tall people!” 

  She whips her head toward the commotion - there! The top of a bright pink head weaving through the crowd, a black-haired guy reluctantly following. Relief floods through her. 

  As the odd duo approach, Stelle gets a good look at the girl apparently named March. At a glance, she appears to be the cheery type; round, soft features and bright pink hair that falls in spiky tufts. She does indeed appear to be moving like a highly caffeinated five-year-old. Her eyes are a pretty mix of pink and icy blue. 

  Of course, the only way to know one’s eye color is to stand directly in front of them.

  “Hey there! You’re new, arentcha?” March bounces circles around her. “I haven’t seen your face around before. Then again, I probably don’t know every single person that lives in town. I mean maybe I could, it’s not a huge town or anything. Ooooh, your eyes are really pretty. And your hair is awesome. Hey new person, are you new?” 

  An overwhelmed Stelle manages a nod. 

  “I was right! Dan, over here! Look, we have a new transfer.” 

  The tall guy makes his way over, looking exasperated. “March, I told you to stop bothering the new students.” His hair is tousled, and he has distinctive Asian features. Upon closer inspection, he’s wearing some kind of red eyeshadow around the rims of his sea-green eyes. Stelle faintly remembers learning about it in Xianzhou culture, but can’t quite recall what it means. 

  “C’mon, don’t you at least want to know her name?” March nudges him with her elbow. The visual contrast between them is almost comical. 

  Despite being built like a twig, he doesn’t budge. March digs her elbow into his side, hard enough to get him to stumble and sigh in defeat. “Let’s get inside first, at least, since…” he halfheartedly indicates the decently sized chunk of hallway they’re currently blocking. 

  March gives him a thumbs up, immediately grabs Stelle by the wrist, and leads her to a table at the back. She plops down next to Stelle and the guy takes the far seat, pulling out a book. 

  March turns to Stelle. “So, you’re new in town?” 

  Nod. 

  “Know anyone yet?” 

  Nod. 

  “...Anyone new?”

  Shake. 

  “Figured. Yeah, Honaki can be pretty cool! It isn’t too big, fifteen minutes tops to walk across the entire town, but there’s a really nice place a few blocks down that sells amazing fried rice. We can check it out at lunch, I dunno how other schools work, we have lunch periods off which is an entire hour to just hang out! The forests nearby are safe to explore, they’re so pretty in the fall, and there’s a beautiful lake that’s a good walk away from town, oh - and the school does these awesome events, last year we held a rock-paper-scissors tournament and the loser had to put on a backpack full of mentos and got dunked in a pit of pepsi, this year I hear they’re doing a thing where they randomly pick students to be in charge of a part of an event…” 

  And on and on she goes, leaving her listener awestruck at the amount of oxygen in her lungs. Dan Heng is quietly reading his book. Stelle is massively impressed that he can stay focused with March next to him, who is probably spewing out words faster than my average typing speed. 

  “...And that’s how Honaki got a literal PhD to teach math! He’s a little scary, but you’ll be fine - Oh! You still don’t know my name. I’m March 7th, and this is my brother Dan Heng.” March smiles and produces a pack of pink gum from out of thin air, popping one into her mouth. She offers the pack to Stelle. “Want one? Everyone - morning, Sushang!” She suddenly says, her attention momentarily diverted by a brown-haired girl making her way past March, who nods a greeting back before settling down next to Fiery Girl. March turns back to Stelle. “Yeah, that’s Sushang. She’s from Luofu, I think she and Dan knew each other?” 

  Without glancing up, Dan Heng nods his affirmation. 

  “Ooh, the gum! Yeah, everyone keeps saying it’s too sugary. There’s no such thing as too much sugar.” She blows a bubble. It immediately pops, leaving a frown and a pink moustache on her face. 

  Stelle takes the offered piece and bites into it - and is suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer amount of sugar compacted into the little pink square. She suddenly receives a vision of rainbow hills filled with prancing unicorns and cotton candy flowers. 

  March has already forgotten about the gum. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked about my name. Or the whole sibling thing.” 

  Stelle had been curious, but this was the kind of thing that if they didn’t tell you, should probably be left alone. “I’ve heard weirder. Doesn’t hurt to not judge.” 

  Dan Heng looks up from his book, a surprised but approving expression on his face. 

  March tilts her head curiously. “Fair… I’m sure you’re curious though. Yeah, I’m adopted, no one really knows where I’m from but I was found on March 7th. I dunno, it sounded cool, I kinda suck at naming things and Dan Heng’s parents didn’t want to force a name or anything. Oh, but don’t worry about me, she says quickly, seeing Stelle’s sympathetic expression. “Seriously, it doesn’t bother me anymore.” 

  Stelle feels a little closer to the bubbly girl talking up a storm beside her, but she can understand the desire to not talk about it, so she forces her expression away and quickly searches for a different topic. “Oh, some random person talked to me this morning… I think her name was Kafka?” 

  March frowns, blowing another bubble. It pops again, darkening her moustache. “What would Kafka want with you?” 

  “So you know her?” Stelle leans forward. 

 “Yeah, Honaki’s tiny, so everyone knows everyone, but Kafka and her gang are about as close to infamous as you can get here. She and her friends, Blade and Golden Bear or something -” 

  Dan Heng sighs. “Silver Wolf, March.” 

  March sticks out her tongue and blows another bubble, looking immensely proud when it does not immediately pop. 

  “I’m sorry, wait - Blade?” 

  “Yeah.” Dan Heng’s mouth twitches with a ghost of a smile. “His real name is Yingxing, but well, he’s a bit on the eccentric side.”

  No kidding. “And Golden Bear?” 

  “Hey, babwas a bibstake!” March says through her bubble. She blinks and reluctantly pops it. “Silver Wolf’s kinda weird. I don’t think she even has a real name… even the teachers say Silver Wolf, they sound super awkward doing it. One time we were at an assembly an-” 

  “Well, she obviously has a real name,” Dan Heng says, quickly cutting off another long-winded story from March. “We just don’t know it. Blade is a really good martial artist, and Silver Wolf loves her video games.” 

  “I heard her say ‘gg’ in real life once,” March whispers conspiratorially. 

  Dan Heng rolls his eyes. “Yeah, back to Kafka. The trio don’t really do anything bad bad, but they definitely don’t give off friendly vibes. You’ll know what I mean when you meet Blade.” 

  “Blade is terrifying… how’d you put up with him for so long, Dan?” March asks. 

  Dan Heng tenses. Looks like some history there. 

  “Yeah, so,” March continues, “they’re like the Three Musketeers but bad. Well, not bad, just a little intimidating. Also they like to talk about fate and destiny and stuff. It’s a bit creepy.” 

  Stelle shrugs. “Yeah, I think Kafka mentioned an Elio or something.” 

  March offers a shrug back. “Never heard of them. Go Fish?” She offers, pulling out a pack of cards from her pocket. 

  Dan Heng pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to find his happy place.

Chapter Text

  Over the course of twenty-ish minutes, Stelle grows a bit more comfortable with March and Dan Heng, even going so far as to poke a bit of fun at the latter (much to March’s delight). They’re in the middle of a very heated argument when - 

  “Pineapples are fine! You’re just weird for not liking fruit.” March intensely studies her cards, then tosses one onto the pile. It tumbles off the side of the table. 

  “Excuse me, you’re the weird one for liking SWEET things on your pizza,” Stelle shoots back, slamming a card down before picking up the fallen one. 

  “Excuse ME, why wouldn’t you want sweet things on your pizza? Everything is better sweet.” 

  Stelle senses an immense, life-changing opportunity. 

  “That’s what I said to your mom last night -” 

  Dan Heng chokes on air and coughs violently. 

  March gives him the stink eye. “Well, I-” 

  “Morning, everyone!” The door bursts open with a loud bang and Stelle nearly jumps through the ceiling. It hits the door with another bang and Stelle jumps again. Everyone else seems unsurprised though, so she gathers this is not some form of psychological or governmental assault. 

  Stelle turns around to see a tall girl with long blonde hair, a bright rebellious streak of blue running through it. The confidence and ease in the way she holds herself screams performer , and Stelle has no doubt she has experience on stage. A blue feather sticks out of her shoulder for some reason, attached to her uniform by a big glob of hot glue - speaking of which, her Trailblaze uniform seems to be completely… er… renovated, as the left half of the white uniform appears to have been entirely dunked in black paint. Silver chains dangle from her throat. 

  “Serval!” March cheers. “You’re unsuspended!” 

  “Yeah, baby! Wish it was longer, gonna be boring without Seele around.” Serval glides up to the table and plops down at the table in front of March. 

  Glides? 

  Stelle peers over the edge of the table, and sure enough, roller skates are strapped to Serval’s boots. She notices her gaze and grins. “Yeah, you like these boys? Got ‘em on sale!” 

  “Aren’t those… what got you suspended last time?” Dan Heng asks, full of common sense like the reasonable lad he is. 

  “Pfft, nah. Seele tried to beat up Sampo and I helped.” 

  “With…?” 

  “With my guitar case, of course.” Serval smiles and reaches down to take off the skates. 

  “And did this guitar case have a guitar in it?” Dan Heng asks, looking like he wants to reconsider his life choices. 

  “Duh! Don’t be silly, that’s a silly question. Anyway, new girl! Hi!” Serval stuffs her skates in her backpack and turns her attention to Stelle. “I’m Serval, I promise we don’t regularly bash people in the head with guitar cases, at least not full ones.” 

  Stelle immediately likes her. 

  Serval seems to sense it and smiles. “Soo… what’s your name?” 

  “Stelle,” says Stelle. 

  “Ooh, pretty. Stelle means ‘star’ doesn’t it?” 

  “Sounds about right. But isn’t Serval a kind of…” 

  She laughs. “Yeah, my parents are big nature nuts. They have a whole theme going - my brother’s name is Gepard and my little sister’s Lynx. You might actually be able to meet them today! It’s a day… two, is it?” She looks to March. 

  March shrugs and looks to Stelle. 

  Stelle shrugs and looks to Dan Heng. 

  “Day one,” Dan Heng says. 

  “That should mean…” Serval intensely calculates. “We should meet Geppie next period in bio. Lynxy likes to wander around, she’s not always here, but if she is then we’ll see her in… art?” 

  “No classes with year one today,” Dan Heng supplies. 

  “Ah. well, you’ll meet everyone eventually,” Serval assures Stelle with a shrug, and then snaps her fingers. “Right - anyone seen Bronya yet? She’s never late.” 

  “Herta’s first period, I don’t think she’s got anything to be worried about,” March points out. 

  “True…” Serval doesn’t seem very reassured. “She really wanted that perfect attendance record though.” 

  Right on cue, the door bursts open again, sending Stelle jumping. 

  Turning around, the culprit this time seems to be an elegant young woman, with waist-length silvery gray hair (a similar shade to Stelle’s, she idly notes) curled into a terrifyingly elaborate hairstyle that Stelle can’t even begin to describe. She has an air of regality to her, reinforced by her perfectly straight uniform and prim posture. Two amethyst earrings dangle from her ears. 

  Additionally, she does not seem to be the kind of person to slam a door open. 

  “Ah - my apologies everyone. I may have stumbled upon my way in.” Her voice is soft and proper, each world pronounced with care. Stelle assumes this is Bronya. 

  “Bronya!” March cheers. 

  “Sup, Bronya. I thought you were gonna be late.” Serval holds up a hand in an invitation for a high five. Bronya pats her hand hesitantly. 

  “Yes, about that, I may have overslept a tad…” She looks sheepish as she takes the seat in front of Stelle. 

  “Oh, you were not up late studying again.” Serval jabs a finger accusingly. “Just because Seele isn’t here to keep an eye on you doesn’t mean you get to cram, we’ve talked about this. Also, we’re like two weeks into school, are you completely insane?” 

  Bronya straightens indignantly. “I was not up late!” 

  “Uh-huh.” 

  She deflates immediately. “Please don’t tell Seele.” 

  Serval gives her the stink eye. “This is the last time, okay? How late this time?” 

  Bronya coughs out a quiet “5”, and Serval whistles. 

  “We should hold her down until she falls asleep,” March pipes up. 

  “Brilliant, thank you, March.” Serval fixes Bronya with a glare. “Tonight, if you do not sleep before midnight at the latest, we are personally coming to your house to make you.” 

  “Sure,” Bronya says, sounding completely unthreatened. “Why are you released from suspension so early, anyway?” 

  Serval gasps and clutches her heart. “I am heartbroken.” 

  Bronya arches an eyebrow, somehow managing to look elegant while doing so. 

  “Hey, that’s very unladylike behavior,” Serval smirks. “Anyway, good question, I dunno why actually. I guess cause I didn’t start the fight? They called us to the office and were all ‘Serval, thou shalt serveth two weekeths ofth suspensionth!’ and then let me leave before they said anything to those two.” 

  “So… you do not know how long Seele will be gone?” A pause. “Sampo. And Seele. I was asking after both of them.” 

  “You’re so in love,” Serval cackles, pointing a finger at her. 

  Bronya’s cheeks flush bright red and she splutters some excuses that Serval waves off with the air of someone listening to a blatant lie. “Blah, blah, she’s just a friend. She’ll be back Friday if that makes you feel any better.” 

  Bronya sits back, visibly relieved. “Thank you. And it’s… ah, Tuesday today?” 

  Serval snickers some more. “Yeah, it’s Tuesday. Oh, that’s right, this is Stelle. Stelle, Bronya.” 

  Stelle leans forward to shake Bronya’s outstretched hand. “Nice hair,” she says. Can’t go wrong with that. 

  Her mouth twitches into a smile. “Thank you. Perhaps we’re long lost twins, given our hair color.” 

  “Oooh, that’d be cool, Stelle you’d be a princess!” March says excitedly. 

  Stelle looks at Bronya. “Oh, are you…?” 

  She looks royally embarrassed. “Not exactly… while I am distantly related to the monarchs of Jarilo, there’s nothing in particular that-” 

  “She’s a princess,” Serval cuts in impatiently. 

  “Should I… kneel? Your majesty?” Stelle hesitates as Serval roars with laughter. 

  “No! No, please, treat me as you would a friend,” Bronya says hurriedly. “I am merely a normal teenager amongst normal teenagers, nothing more.” 

  “Not talking like that, you aren’t,” March says. 

  “I’m working on it, dewd.” 

  March and Serval burst into laughter. 

  Bronya faces Stelle again, a faint flush on her cheeks. “Yes, as I mentioned, I’d appreciate you treating me as a normal teenager.” 

  “Alright then, Bronya.” 

  She visibly relaxes. “Thank you. Although you do seem to be taking this awfully well,” she notes. “It took Serval a week to adjust to using my name.” 

  Stelle gives the same reasoning she gave to March earlier: “I’ve heard weirder. Doesn’t hurt not to judge.” 

  “You already said that,” Serval whispers theatrically. 

  “You already said that,” Dan Heng says to Bronya from across the table. 

  Bronya sighs. 

  A brief lull in the conversation, and then - 

  “Guys, we should play two truths and a lie!” March suddenly declares. 

  Dan Heng looks dead inside, Serval shrugs, and Bronya perks up. “I believe that’s the game where you say three facts about yourself and one of them is false?” 

  “Yep!” March claps. “Okay, I’ll start! Number one… wait.” Her intense thought drags her consciousness into the abyss beyond. 

  In a speed that suggests previous practice, Serval and Bronya pull up chairs around March’s desk, and Serval wordlessly picks up the scattered cards and starts shuffling. The cards are quickly dealt appropriately. Actually, since no one said what game they’d be playing, Stelle assumes the cards are dealt appropriately. She picks up her hand (of cards) and nods approvingly, not understanding in the slightest. 

  A comfortable silence settles over the group as Bronya and Dan Heng toss their cards onto the pile in the middle. Stelle picks a card at random and puts it down, and the other two girls nod approvingly (Dan Heng just sits there and is edgy). 

  The game continues for a few more rounds, and then Serval throws her hand (of cards) onto the table. “We have no idea what we’re doing, do we?”

  “Nope,” Stelle, Bronya and Dan Heng reply simultaneously, throwing their hands (of cards) down as well. 

  “Got it!” March suddenly says, hitting the table with her hand (of human). 

  “That was quicker than usual,” Bronya notes. 

  “Was it?” Dan Heng says, glancing over. 

  “Hey!” March complains. 

  Bronya pulls out a stopwatch she’d been hiding under the table. It reads 2:56:31. 

  “Jesus Christ, is that an actual real stopwatch?” Stelle says in disbelief. 

  Serval chokes on her laughter. “That’s what I said too! Girl doesn’t know the word ‘modern’.” 

  Bronya flushes. “This is a perfectly normal stopwatch I received on my thirteenth birthday!” 

  “You got a stopwatch for your birthday?!” Stelle exclaims. “Is this some fancy rich people ritual I don’t know about?” 

  Serval slams the table with her fist, wheezing. 

  “Yeah, so about two truths and a lie,” March cuts in (Bronya looks immensely grateful), I thought of mine - oh wait, what were they again?” 

  Dan Heng starts shuffling the cards.  

  “So then we open the back door, and then lo and behold, another door. This second door has - great heavens - a net on it! Bronya looks at it for a bit, scratches her chin, pokes it and goes, “Madam Seele, what dost this thingeth beeth?” Stelle and March snort at the butchered Shakespearean. 

  Bronya looks affronted. “Never once have I ever spoken like that. And screen doors are an incredible invention, whomstever invente-” 

  “HEY!” Stelle nearly knocks her chair over in excitement. Bronya looks mildly alarmed. “Whomstever! She said- the- um, okay. So your royal vocabulary dictionary thing agrees that ‘whomstever’ is a real canonical real word?” 

  Bronya suddenly looks embarrassed. “Ah, how to say this. So. Did you… come across this word on the school website, perchance?” 

  “You can’t just say perchance,” March butts in. Serval whacks her with the deck of cards. 

  “Yeah, I came across per- I mean, whomstever, in the website.” 

  “Yes, well. I may have… well, put a little too much trust in the website. You mean to say it is not a commonly used slang word?” 

  Stelle struggles to keep a straight face at her mortified expression. “It’s fine, we’ll find someone to ask.” 

  Dan Heng holds up his phone. “I could search it u-” 

  “NO!” Stelle and Bronya shout simultaneously. They’ve come too far in their quest to give up now. 

  At that moment, the bell rings loudly. Stelle stays perfectly still, her mind a sea of tranquility. 

  “Haha, Stelle, you jumped so high!” March laughs. 

  The chatter in the classroom quiets down, as if in anticipation. There’s a messy, paper-covered desk with a large monitor at the front of the room, but it appears to be empty, so Stelle isn’t entirely sure what they're waiting for. 

  Then the teacher stands up from behind the monitor. 

  …Right. 

  Herta (her name lazily scrawled on the board) stands at 4’9 at most, flowing gray hair almost touching the floor. The way she walks seems almost mechanical, every step calculated to use the least amount of energy. She takes a few steps from her desk and clears her throat. 

  Everyone waits with bated breath, awaiting her wisdom. 

  “Yeah, so…” Hers was the voice of a coffee addict on withdrawal. Stelle instantly connected to her on an emotional level. 

  “Morning to all you rodents,” she says monotonically, stifling a yawn. “Today we’ll be writing an essay on the- God, what did Akivili say again?” she glances at the haphazard piles of paper on her desk. “Uh, ‘the relationships between major countries around the world, most notably Belobog and Xianzhou’. Jesus, he just can’t keep his hands off any kind of conflict,” she mutters in a voice that was probably supposed to be quiet. “Due date next Wednesday, information should all be online. Bye.” 

  She goes to sit down. 

  “Oh, and I swear if another one of you neurodivergent little shits start another fight you’re all going through the window.” 

  She sits down and effectively vanishes behind the monitor, and the classroom goes back to banter mode. 

  Stelle doesn’t actually know much about the political landscape (especially not Belobog and Xianzhou), so asking her newfound friends is probably her best option - but upon a glance, Dan Heng is already writing, Serval and March are debating the philosophical meaning of existence with the aid of exaggerated hand gestures, and Bronya… is hunched over her desk, furiously scribbling notes with a terrifying expression. 

  “Uh. Bronya?” Stelle pokes her in the shoulder (then immediately pats the slightly wrinkled uniform smooth). “You good?” 

  “Nothing must come between my mind and perfection.” She says the words like a robot, her eyes still laser focused. 

  “You haven’t blinked in the last minute.” 

  “A small price to pay for salvation,” she intones. 

  “Your pencil’s bending.” 

  Bronya blinks, and instantly the bloodlust in her eyes is gone. She looks down at her pencil, which is indeed curved at a strange angle. “So it would seem.” 

  “You want a new one?” 

  “That’s alright, thank you. It happens more often than you’d expect.” 

  “Okay. Wait what?” 

  But Bronya has already gone back into rage mode. 

  “Well. Have fun, I guess,” Stelle says to absolutely no one. “So about Belobog…” 

  Bronya instantly snaps toward her, rage mode forgotten. “Did I hear that right? You would like to learn more about the great country of Belobog?” 

  “I mean, if you’re not too busy-” 

  “There is never a moment too busy to educate the uninformed about our country.” Bronya looks almost fanatic. “The first thing our young children learn is governmental history, so let us start there.” 

  “Young children? Listen, I’m no grandma, bu-” 

  “Belobog is founded on the value of mining, and with the separation of labor also came the separation of classes. Back then, the government was an absolute monarchy, which essentially defines a form of government where a royal family rules the country with no self-generated opposition…” 

  March gives Stelle a pitiful look. Stelle shoots a panicked stare back. 

  “Eventually an uprising from the lower classes collapsed what was essentially a dictatorship, and the government established a constitution, while still maintaining its monarchical system…”