(AN: First I want to say thank you to those who have taken the time to read my story.
I will be releasing 10 chapters today and then 10 again next week to make up for the week of Christmas and New Years I will be preoccupied.
Ok thanks again more at the end but for now lets get to it. Fifth of 10) (you know I should have just did 5/10 but already committed)
Age 13
The morning air was already heavy with heat, the kind that clings to brick and concrete long after sunrise. Cicadas whined from somewhere unseen as students moved in loose rivers between buildings, balancing coffee cups, notebooks, and optimism.
I adjusted the strap of my backpack and started across the quad. I didn't rush; there was no reason to. My schedule was clear in my head, every classroom mapped from yesterday's walk with Paige. Orientation week had given me enough data to predict the rhythms of campus life, when the dining-hall line peaked, which benches caught shade the longest, which professors cared about punctuality and which didn't.
It was all systems now. Predictable. Measurable. Safe.
A group of students hurried past, one complaining about a parking ticket, another laughing at his own bad luck. Someone called out for a friend, waving a binder like a flag. The noise washed around me without touching.
I passed a bulletin board layered with announcements, tutoring sessions, band auditions, a flyer for Quantum Computing Club with more tape than paper left. The smell of fresh-cut grass mixed with the metallic tang of sprinkler water. Everything about the place hummed with beginnings.
By the time I reached Welch Hall, the crowd had thinned. Voices and the faint clatter of chalk led me toward the right door. Advanced Calculus I was printed in fading letters beside it.
Inside, the lecture hall was cooler, the air sharp with chalk dust and old paper. Rows of seats curved down toward a blackboard already crowded with symbols. The professor, Dr. Holloway, moved like a man who'd been teaching since time was measured in semesters, mid-fifties, short sleeves, tie slightly askew, a picture of quiet precision.
"Find a seat anywhere," he said without looking up. "We're not formal here until someone gives me a reason to be."
I took a seat near the middle and set my notebook on the desk. Students filtered in, most older than me by several years, a few whispering when they noticed. I didn't look up. The sound of pages turning was enough.
The professor began without preamble, writing an equation that spanned the width of the board. "We start with limits, not because they're simple, but because they're merciless. You'll find most truths in math are."
Chalk clicked against slate like a metronome. I followed easily, my pencil moving faster than the lecture. I solved ahead almost unconsciously, checking steps, rewriting the final expression before he reached it.
From the corner of my vision, the grad assistant paused mid-note to glance at me, Lena Cho, name tag slightly crooked, eyes sharp. She watched for a moment, then smiled faintly, recognizing the pace.
Halfway through the hour, Paige slipped quietly into the seat beside me. She mouthed, Miss me?
I kept my gaze on the board. "You're late."
"I was in the wrong building. They both start with W. Rookie mistake."
"Technically you're not a rookie, just directionally challenged."
She elbowed me. "Three blackboards ahead already?"
"Two and a half."
She shook her head and opened her notebook with deliberate slowness.
When Holloway posed a question, a complex derivative meant to silence the room, no one moved. I knew the answer; so did Paige. Neither of us spoke. The professor smiled faintly and wrote it out himself.
"I see we're a shy bunch," he said. "That'll change."
I doubted it.
After class, Holloway dismissed us with a wave. "You'll either love this or transfer to sociology by October. Both are valid life choices."
Paige snorted softly. "Encouraging."
"It's data," I said, sliding my notebook into my bag.
We joined the slow stream of students leaving the hall. A few whispered again, the kids, the scholarship pair, what's their story, but no one asked. By the time we reached the door, the whispers had already moved on to the next novelty.
Library Interlude
The Perry-Castañeda Library smelled like dust and ambition. Ceiling fans turned lazily overhead, stirring air that had long since given up on freshness. Rows of books stretched like corridors in a maze, logic, topology, behavioral science, all in neat, fading spines.
Paige claimed a table near the back, dropping her notebook and a small gray laptop heavy enough to count as exercise.
"Home base," she said.
I sat across from her, unfolding my notes. "For the hour, maybe."
We worked mostly in silence, only the whirr of the laptop fan and the soft scratch of pencil on paper. Outside, heat bled against the tall windows, turning them into pale mirrors.
Lena Cho appeared twenty minutes later with a stack of reference books. She spotted us, hesitated, then walked over.
"You two were in Holloway's lecture," she said. "Hard to miss."
Paige blinked. "That obvious?"
"Let's say you stood out. I'm Lena, the teaching assistant."
I nodded once. Paige smiled. "We're the trial pair."
Lena tilted her head. "Ah, the university's special scholarship program. I heard about you. Must be strange."
"Less strange than people think," I said.
She studied me a second longer than most people dared, then shrugged. "If you ever need reference access or lab clearance, let me know. Holloway's good, but he moves slow for minds like yours."
She turned to leave, then paused. "Just don't skip the easy steps. They teach patience."
When she was gone, Paige smirked. "She likes you."
"She likes potential."
"Same thing."
We worked until the afternoon light turned orange and long shadows reached across our table. Paige's typing slowed.
"You think we'll stay anonymous long?" she asked.
"Statistically unlikely."
"Good. Makes things interesting."
I closed my notebook, the pencil line still half-finished. "You like interesting too much."
"Better than boring."
Evening in the Commons
The student commons was half-lit, vending machines humming like cicadas trapped in glass. A TV in the corner played a fuzzy news broadcast about another space-shuttle delay.
I sat at one of the tables, legs stretched out, working through logic puzzles on a napkin. Paige sat across from me, half-dozing over her notes, a paper cup of cocoa cooling beside her.
Ben wandered in, yawning, a deck of cards in hand. "You two again. You planning to move in down here?"
"Already did," Paige murmured.
Ben grinned. "You're making the rest of the floor nervous. Couple of kids solving the universe before lunch."
I looked up. "We only did the easy parts."
"Uh-huh." He pulled a chair backward and sat. "You know, most people your age would be sneakin' into the arcade or something."
Paige raised an eyebrow. "What's the median success rate for that?"
Ben laughed. "Okay, fair. Just remember to be college kids sometimes, yeah? Not every problem needs an answer."
When he left, Paige glanced at me. "Do you ever get tired of being reminded we're anomalies?"
"Constantly."
"But you like it."
I thought about that. "I like the control that comes with it."
"Same thing," she said again, teasing.
We fell into silence, the kind that doesn't need fixing.
Outside, the windows reflected dim pools of light. Students crossed the courtyard in clusters, some laughing, some quiet, all moving through patterns I'd already begun to memorize. Paige leaned her head on her arm and finally drifted off.
I watched her for a moment, then looked back down at the half-finished puzzle. It was almost too easy. I left it unsolved.
Night Reflection
Later, back in my dorm, the room glowed faintly from the desk lamp. My notebook lay open, untouched since afternoon.
I didn't bother writing tonight. Some days didn't need documentation, they were meant to be lived, not logged.
I opened the window. Warm air carried faint laughter and the low hum of the city. Somewhere across the courtyard, someone played guitar badly but earnestly.
I thought of the morning's lecture, Holloway's quiet authority, Lena's curious eyes, Paige's calm beside me. All of it felt like the beginning of a system, people as equations, interactions as variables I couldn't yet define.
I didn't want to define them. Not tonight.
The clock ticked past eleven. I leaned back in my chair, watching the Tower light flicker through the blinds.
Thirteen years old, enrolled in a world built for adults, carrying the weight of expectations I hadn't agreed to but accepted anyway, and somehow, for the first time since arriving, it felt steady.
No applause. No spectacle. Just the quiet hum of learning how to belong.
Thanks for reading, feel free to write a comment, leave a review, and Power Stones are always appreciated.
I have two other stories I am currently working on and I want to assure that it will not effect this story I have every thing planed out story wise.
The first story is called Naruto: Crimson Reaper
The story of a soul reincarnated into the naruto universe half Uzamaki half Chinoike
The second story has a work in progress name but it is a story a sould reincarnated as Cain (Bible) in the world of TVD/Originals.