The feeling from earlier didn't disappear. It thinned.
Kai sat through the rest of the period with practiced stillness, eyes forward, pen moving only when it was supposed to. Anyone watching would have called him calm. Normal, even. They wouldn't have noticed how carefully he was listening.
When the final bell rang, the room snapped back to life. Chairs scraped against the floor, voices surged, bags were slung over shoulders in a rush to escape.
Sora was on her feet instantly, hooking her arm around Kai's like it was muscle memory. "Finally," she muttered. "That class was unbearable."
Ayko waited near the door, arms crossed, eyes already scanning the hallway like she expected trouble to appear any second.
Joro fell in behind them, quiet — too quiet.
The moment Kai stepped outside the classroom, he felt it. Not thoughts. Not whispers. Attention. Directed. Focused. Heavy.
Sora noticed first. "Why are people staring again?"
Ayko shot a sharp look at a group of girls who didn't turn away fast enough. "They've been staring since morning."
Kai exhaled slowly. "Ignore it."
"That's easy for you to say," Sora muttered, tightening her grip on his arm.
As they walked, something brushed against Kai's awareness. Not random. Not distant. A presence slid past his mental defenses with unsettling ease, like it already knew the path.
— He felt it.
— Good.
Kai's steps faltered for half a second before he forced himself to keep walking.
So that was it. What he'd felt earlier wasn't a mistake. It wasn't stress. It wasn't his control slipping. It was someone checking if he would notice.
Sora tugged his sleeve. "Kai?"
"I'm fine," he said automatically. This time, it was a lie.
They were nearing the stairs when a voice called out.
"Hey — Kai!"
A girl jogged toward them, smiling nervously. Two more slowed down nearby, pretending not to stare too obviously.
Sora froze. "…Oh no."
Ayko sighed. "You've got to be kidding me."
Kai stopped. Then — against instinct — he turned.
"Yeah?" he said calmly. "What's up?"
Sora stared at him like he'd just betrayed her on a personal level.
The girls relaxed immediately. "We just wanted to talk," one of them said. "You looked really composed today," another added.
Kai shrugged lightly. "Guess I am."
They laughed. And then, without asking, they started walking with them.
Ayko's eye twitched.
Sora leaned in close and hissed, "Why are you encouraging this?"
Kai smirked faintly. "Field experiment."
Ayko shot him a glare. "You're enjoying this."
"Maybe a little."
"So are you always this chill?" one of the girls asked, walking beside him.
"Only on school days."
Another laughed. "What about weekends?"
"Depends who I'm avoiding."
Sora tightened her grip on his arm. "Rude."
Ayko stepped closer to him. "He forgets homework, loses his phone daily, and zones out mid-conversation."
Kai blinked. "That's exaggerated."
Sora nodded seriously. "Barely."
One of the girls tilted her head. "Then why do you stick so close to him?"
Ayko answered instantly. "Because someone has to supervise him."
"And he's hopeless alone," Sora added.
Kai sighed. "I can hear you."
"That's the point," Ayko said flatly.
The girls laughed, but the curiosity lingered — sharper now, more focused. Too focused.
Near the shoe lockers, Kai opened his compartment. Letters spilled out onto the floor. More than usual.
"This is getting out of hand," Sora muttered.
Ayko crouched beside him. "You didn't even do anything."
Kai gathered the envelopes, hands moving automatically — then stopped.
One felt wrong. Plain. No decorations. No color. Just his name written cleanly.
Kai.
His head pulsed once.
"I'm reading this," he said.
Ayko grabbed his wrist. "Kai, don't—"
Too late.
You noticed me today.
Good.
That moment earlier wasn't a slip.
It was a response.
You're not the only one who can listen.
Silence dropped hard.
Sora swallowed. "That's… not normal."
Kai folded the letter carefully and slipped it into his pocket.
Ayko stared at him. "What did it say?"
"Nothing important," Kai replied — too quickly.
They walked home in uneasy silence.
That night, Kai didn't turn on the main light. He sat at his desk with only the lamp glowing faintly. The letter lay open in front of him, untouched.
A knock came at the door.
"You can come in," Kai said.
Joro stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"You gonna tell me what that was about?" Joro asked.
Kai shook his head. "Not yet."
Joro nodded. "Figured."
"That pressure earlier," Joro said after a pause. "You didn't imagine it."
"No."
"So someone noticed."
Kai nodded once.
"Great."
"You okay?" Joro asked.
"I will be."
"If anything changes — if it gets worse — you tell me."
"I know."
After Joro left, the room returned to stillness.
Kai leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling. The air felt heavier — not threatening. Aware.
"So," he murmured quietly, "you can listen too."
The room didn't answer. But it didn't feel empty.
And Kai adjusted — the way he always had.