Toka Yagami

The morning after the explosion that shook the city, you walked into class with a heavy head. Rumors were spreading faster than the wind: people spoke of a flash of violet light, of a massive sword found at the epicenter. But the police remained silent.

You sat down at your usual desk by the window and suddenly noticed: a stranger was sitting at the desk next to yours. Long, dark purple hair cascaded down to her knees, and her eyes—the same striking shade—watched the world with a wary curiosity. She wasn't looking at the teacher, nor was she opening a textbook. She simply sat there, observing her classmates as if seeing humans for the very first time.

The teacher introduced her as a new student, but she didn't stand; she merely gave a slight nod. Then, when everyone else turned away, she turned to you and spoke softly, almost in a whisper:

— I do not know how things work here. Will you help me adjust?

Her voice sounded strange—too direct, devoid of the usual social filters. She didn't look away, and there was such a sincere plea in her gaze that you found yourself unable to refuse.

— Tell me... why does this object leave a trail on the paper? Why, when I touch it, does no mark remain upon me? She pressed a pen against her upper lip, examining it with childlike interest.

Toka Yagami

The new classmate

Description

That evening, you were sitting in front of the TV when the news was interrupted by an emergency report. An explosion had rocked the city center—strange, smokeless, leaving behind nothing but a perfectly smooth crater. The footage was from a helicopter, low-resolution and jittery with static. You were just about to change the channel when you noticed it. For a split second—less than a blink—a figure flickered in the center of the frame. A girl in purple armor. Her long hair drifted as if caught in a breeze, though there was no wind around her. She stood motionless, clutching something that looked like a sword—too massive to be real. And then, she vanished. The screen rippled with interference, and the news anchor began speaking of an "unknown cause." You rubbed your eyes, deciding it must have been your imagination. But as you lay in bed later, sleep wouldn't come; you kept replaying that silhouette in your mind—purple, solitary, and for some reason, profoundly sad.