The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft light across the small apartment. Daigo stood in the kitchen, preparing a simple breakfast. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board echoed through the otherwise quiet space. Nam-Soon shuffled into the room, her hair still damp from her shower, wearing a set of clothes Daigo had lent her.
"Morning," she said, her voice groggy but polite.
"Morning," Daigo replied, sliding a plate of eggs and toast across the counter. "Eat up. You'll need energy if we're heading to school."
Nam-Soon raised an eyebrow. "You're serious about that? I haven't been to school in years."
"Neither have I," Daigo admitted, taking a sip of tea. "But if we're gonna get anywhere, it starts with blending in. Besides, it's not like we have better options."
Nam-Soon hesitated before nodding. She wasn't sure why she trusted Daigo. Maybe it was the quiet confidence he exuded or the fact that he didn't pry into her past. Either way, she found herself agreeing to his plan.
The walk to J High School was uneventful, but the atmosphere shifted as they approached the gates. Groups of students lingered, their uniforms sharp and their eyes sharp as daggers. Daigo could feel the tension in the air—a mix of youthful bravado and unspoken hierarchies.
Nam-Soon walked beside him, her expression unreadable but her posture alert. She wasn't one to back down, even in unfamiliar territory.
As they entered the schoolyard, a group of boys loitering near the entrance turned their attention to them. One of them, tall with bleached hair and a smug grin, stepped forward.
"Yo, new faces," he called out, blocking their path. "You two lost, or are you just looking for trouble?"
Daigo sighed, already annoyed. "We're not looking for anything. Just trying to get to class."
The boy laughed, his friends joining in. "Class? You think you can just walk in here like you own the place? This isn't a charity, new guy. You gotta earn your spot."
Nam-Soon crossed her arms, glaring at the boy. "And what? You're the one in charge?"
The boy's grin faltered at her defiance. "You got a smart mouth, girl. Maybe I should teach you some manners."
Daigo stepped forward, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. "Back off. We're not here to fight."
The boy sneered. "Then you're in the wrong place, pal."
Before he could finish his sentence, Daigo moved. His hand shot out, grabbing the boy's wrist in a vice-like grip. The boy's smug expression twisted into one of pain and surprise.
"I said," Daigo repeated, his voice low and steady, "we're not here to fight. But if you want to push it, I won't hold back."
The boy froze, his confidence evaporating under Daigo's intense gaze. After a tense moment, Daigo released him, and the boy stumbled back, clutching his wrist.
"Let's go," Daigo said, turning to Nam-Soon. She followed without a word, a small smirk playing on her lips.
The first day of classes was uneventful, though Daigo couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Nam-Soon seemed to adapt quickly, her sharp mind allowing her to keep up despite her years away from school.
During lunch, they found a quiet spot on the rooftop to eat. Nam-Soon leaned against the railing, taking in the view of the city below.
"You handled that punk pretty easily," she said, breaking the silence.
Daigo shrugged. "He wasn't worth the effort."
She glanced at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "You've been through a lot, haven't you?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. But I'm not the only one."
Nam-Soon smiled faintly. "Fair enough."
As the day ended and they walked home, Daigo felt a strange sense of peace. For the first time in years, he wasn't running or fighting to survive.
But deep down, he knew it wouldn't last. The world they lived in wouldn't allow it. Trouble was bound to find them—it always did.
And when it did, Daigo would be ready.