Summer at Shinjuu Academy was usually reserved for echoing halls, half-empty dorms, and the occasional hum of vending machines struggling in the heat. This year, however, the loud buzzing of insects had its kind of weight, thick, waiting.

  The cicadas had already begun their yearly chorus, a bit earlier than last year in Erin’s opinion. Shinjuu Academy even shimmered with soft light, its rooftop catching the early summer sun of July. And yet, the academy looked the same as always.

  At least that was what Carmen told her a few days back when she absently asked if there was something different with the school lately. But to her inexperienced eyes, which were only on her third summer in Shinjuu, there was something off. Something was hovering at the edge. Just beyond what she could see. Every time she had to report to Shinjuu for her remedial lessons, she couldn’t help but watch every corner and hedge, and building she passed by.

  It didn’t help Erin when her radar never ceased its low hum the past few weeks, becoming a backdrop to whatever the cicadas were singing about. As if something was about to happen. But it was odd how her radar wasn’t as sharp or shrill in its warning back when they left England. Her radar felt oddly muted this time, as if something blanketed her senses, like a thin film of water over her head. Whenever she dared to look closely, she feared she would drown from the sensation of being submerged under water. If her radar were a person, she would have suspected it of suffering from flu.

  She snickered disparagingly at herself. As long as that part of her stayed quiet, all was right in the world for her. She didn’t need to consciously block others’ emotions when her radar unceremoniously picked them up. No more “other” sensations or headaches. She could be normal for as long or as short as her radar stayed quiet, even if it was just a buzzing hum for now. Erin was grateful for the reprieve.

  Even if it meant that every time she had to report to Shinjuu for her remedial lessons, she couldn’t help but watch every corner and hedge and each building she passed by. It was a novel experience for her. This must be how others felt normal. Only knowing what could be seen. Never seeing shadows in bright daylight or jarring movements of something unseen.

  She snickered disparagingly at herself. As long as that part of her stayed quiet, all was right in the world for her. She didn’t need to consciously block others’ emotions when her radar unceremoniously picked them up. No more “other” sensations or headaches. She could be normal for as long or as short as her radar stayed quiet, even if it was just a buzzing hum for now. Erin was grateful for the reprieve.

  Even if it meant that every time she had to report to Shinjuu for her remedial lessons, she couldn’t help but watch every corner and hedge and each building she passed by. It was a novel experience for her. This must be how others felt normal. Only knowing what could be seen. Never seeing shadows in bright daylight or jarring movements of something unseen. It wasn’t long now, just a few more tutorial lessons, and she would be free for the whole summer vacation.

  There was barely a week left before the Summer break officially begins in Shinjuu Academy, but the cicadas were relentless. Now that her radar was at an all-time low, she finally noticed how loud those little insects can be. They screamed like broken clocks stuck in reverse—sharp, metallic, grating through the cracked-open windows of their small apartment. How the cicadas thrived in summer, Erin would never know. They’ve even turned all the ACs in their apartment, a heroic attempt of keeping the villainous heat away.

  The early July heat had wrapped itself around the city like a choking scarf. Fans clacked uselessly in corners. The AC unit made a valiant wheeze but gave up halfway through the morning.

  Kael lay belly-down on the tatami mat, one arm flopped over his face, the other aimlessly tapping at his iPhone screen. His weather app blinked “EXTREME HEAT WARNING—STAY INDOORS. HYDRATE.”

  “You know,” he said dramatically, voice muffled, “if the sun melts me into goop, it’s your fault for opening the door and letting the heat creep in.”

  Erin, with glasses slightly fogged from the humidity, checked the items on the table before placing them into her backpack. “That’s a little dramatic for someone who made me three Onigiri and a grape jelly sandwich this morning.”

  “Exactly. I prepared your final meal. A noble sibling’s duty. And you betray me.”

  She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “I’ll be back before dinner, weather-boy. I’m not hiking Mount Fuji.”

  Kael sat up suddenly, dark bangs sticking to his forehead. His features, even at ten years old were oddly sharp for his age—like a face sketched too precisely. And he was almost at the same height as her. “Still. Bring water. And an umbrella. Seriously, El, a heat warning and flu reports are going up like crazy.”

  She paused. His tone was weirdly... serious.

  From the hallway, their mother’s voice called out, “He’s right, you know! Listen to your brother for once!”

  Their mom peeked in, apron speckled with ink from the forms she was sorting in the kitchen. A clipboard balanced in one hand, and she frowned at the papers. “I’ve had three more students send in absence slips. One said their goldfish went rabid. Another mentioned ‘blood fogs’ and frequent nosebleeds.”

  “Really Mom, goldfish? Seriously, how in the world can a fish be rabid?” Kael chortled. It wasn’t every day a student claims school leave for a rabid goldfish. He snickered,

  “Maybe it was a piranha in disguise. Rich kid and all.”

  Erin’s lips curled in amusement. But something grabbed her attention, as she echoed something her mother just said. “And blood fogs?”

  She nodded, thumbing through the stack. “Well, that’s what they submitted. Another blamed hallucinations. At this rate, I’ll need to report this to the district health office.”

  “You think it’s just flu?”

  Their mom’s frown deepened. “I don’t know. But it’s odd. The excuses sound like fiction. One teacher said a student tried to bite her during routine first aid.”

  Kael snorted. “Zombie outbreak 101.”

  “Don’t joke,” their mom said, but her tone held a thread of unease. “I need to file these, but I don’t like it.”

  Erin swung her bag over one shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye out. Promise.”

  “You better. You have remedial tutoring all day, right?”

  “Yeah. A bunch of first-years and second years,” Erin groaned. “Carmen’s in the cluster too. ”

  “You know her study groups are like a fixture of the school.” Kael grinned.

  “She’s good at organizing study groups, since she’s like a regular in remedial seasons.” Erin checked the items on the table as she packed them carefully into her backpack

  “Methinks she planned this,” Kael surmised. It still amazed him how Carmen was consistently in the list of Remedial lessons and still safely passed the cut-offs from middle school until Junior High. “She’s like the legendary butterfly of Shinjuu. I’ve heard other students offer rites with her picture like a goddess of study luck.”

  “Where did you even hear that?” Their mother sighed, the antics of children.

  “In the garden, as Carmen likes to say.” Kael wasn’t surprised that Erin wouldn’t know about. If Carmen was consistent in the Remedial List, his sister was legendary for never being in one. He had even attended two remedial sessions already, and there were three per year, one each trimester. This summer would have been his third if he had not wheedled nightly tutorials with Erin. “Thank God, for genius sisters!”

  “Did you say something, Kael?”

  “Nope!” Kael denied. “Are you sure you don’t want to cancel those tutorial thingies with other students? We could just go to the beach earlier, you know? Escape the heat.”

  “I wish I could. But it’s part of the scholarship. Student services. Help the stragglers so they can pass. I’ve got lesson packets, revision quizzes—”

  “And your lunch?” Kael interrupted her extended spiel.

  She tapped her bag. “Double packed.”

  “Then take one more water bottle. It wouldn’t hurt. Brain cells need fuel,” Kael insisted, pressing one into her hands. His expression flickered—still joking, but softer around the eyes, worry bleeding through.

  Erin slowed. “Hey.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sure we’ll be at the beach soon enough,” she said, more solemnly this time. “I would hate to miss your coronation, oh great king of the seas.”

  “Har har.” Kael rolled his eyes, a small curl in his lips was threatening for a full smirk. “I’ll have you know, my royal court will be in attendance!”

  Lyra shook her head in amusement as she went back to her health records. She really needed to file them at the earliest.

  “Of course. Right you are, your highness.” Erin reached out and ruffled her brother’s head. Only to subtly reach for a table napkin afterwards and swiftly wipe the sweat off her palms. “Sir Swimming Pads, Baron Goggles, and the whole knights of the floaties shall be in perfect attendance then. At least go take a cool bath now. You’re absolutely oily.”

  Kael’s grimaced slightly, but he nodded and stood with an impatient wave. “Sounds like a great idea!”

  Sliding the straps onto her shoulders, she hefted the backpack with a grunt. She must have overestimated her load. Its a good thing there was a shuttle service arranged for her. She wont have to lug the heavy bag all over Shinjuu. Erin glanced back once more as she left—watching the two of them: Kael barefoot and thoughtful by the window, their mom bent over the dining table with a growing pile of bizarre student health forms.

  And the cicadas were still screaming.

  * * *

  As Erin boarded the campus cart toward her destination, she couldn’t help but watch her surroundings a bit closer than she would have when her radar wasn’t feeling ill. She snickered again, her lips curling in amusement at the lame joke on herself.

  “It’s a good day isn’t it, Miss Sorin.” The driver called over his shoulder at the sight of Erin’s smile in the rear-view mirror.

  “Yes, it is, sir.” Erin said politely. “Just a few days and it’s full-on summer break.”

  The driver mentioned something about tourist spots and best beach sites for summer vacations. And Erin responded in polite inquiry. Her eyes fixed on the road dedicated for the cart and the passing scenery . Still, there was nothing specific that was out of place. Clean pavement. Perfect hedges. Gleaming gates that swung open with mechanical precision. The illusion of order was comforting—almost hypnotic. As if nothing within Shinjuu could ever go wrong.

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  But a small voice in her head was saying that something was wrong. And yet, nobody else seemed to point it out either.

  Erin was grateful the drive was short. The mundane talks of clear blue skies and the occasional buzz of cicadas against the subtle shade of wrongness started to grate on her nerves.

  Normally, the pathway would have taken Erin beyond twenty minutes if she walked, but with the electric cart, the trip was shortened to just under five minutes. It was a pity these little gold carts were only operational with permits signed by the headmistress. Walking for a healthier student lifestyle, the headmistress once said in her speech in the opening ceremony last year. Any other day, she would have appreciated the transit. But as always, her radar would never pass up a chance to ruin her day.

  Erin thanked the driver as she stepped off the campus cart, watching the small electric vehicle drive away with a merry tune to another destination. When the cart all but disappeared from her sight, Erin then crossed the campus courtyard with her bag slung low, eyes half-lidded behind her smudged glasses.

  The heat wave hit her like a wall, thick and unmoving. It was still early, and yet she could almost feel the sweat gathering on her back. She hurried towards the nearby building, hoping for quick, cool relief. Students passed her in scattered bunches, many still in uniform despite the coming break.

  She never expected the volume of students who needed to pass remedial exams before summer break. She heard about the infamous brutal cut-offs examinations of Shinjuu, how brilliant students crammed and went to a study frenzy just to study for the exams. Erin guessed, Shinjuu didn’t become the Elite of elites for nothing. Sometimes she wondered if she would be casted off every time exams came. But to her surprise, she always passed and had never been once in the list of remedial students.

  Even Carmen, who treated the remedial season as a way of life, never missed the list. It started as a tutoring of friends in sixth grade and it carried over with Carmen’s study group into Junior High, although most of the other members didn’t make it to Junior High with them.

  She remembered the odd party that Carmen threw for the whole class. A moving on celebration she said. Although when Carmen pulled her to pay respects to a shrine in Kyoto, she could have sworn Carmen muttered something about “good riddance” and “thank god, she’s not in”.

  “Who’s not in, Carmen?” Erin once asked Carmen in one of their outings. She didn’t know Carmen loathed someone, although she got snippets of annoyance and forbearance whenever Carmen held her regular study sessions. Erin chalked it up to the study sessions itself. But, maybe it was something else.

  “Never mind that. It’s nothing now,” Carmen laughed nervously. She hemmed and hawed for a moment only to blubber timidly, “Well, you know how my Dad is a Diplomat. He kinda asked me to watch over someone. She’s nice sometimes, but just a bit privileged and typical rich kid if you asked me. Well, I kinda hoped she would go somewhere else for Junior High. I mean, don’t get me wrong please. I just feel like she would thrive somewhere else.”

  “Well, some people don’t just get along, for some reason Carmen.” Erin remembered the look of relief on Carmen’s face. “It happens, Carmen. It’s okay. No harm done. You also did your best helping out with the study sessions.”

  A quick hug and thanks cemented their friendship, and somehow they became the best of friends. She was ten and Carmen was twelve at that time. But it felt like she was older than Carmen. She never refuted Carmen’s comments of her being the little sister. She finally had another friend, and Erin felt like she had to look out for Carmen who felt like a harmless little butterfly to her radar.

  She entered the student services building, nodded politely to a bored-looking receptionist, and climbed to the fourth floor. The classroom for tutoring smelled like chalk dust, expensive air conditioning, and artificial gardenia scented cleaner.

  Inside were four desks arranged in a loose semi-circle, and already at one of them, sprawled elegantly with her feet crossed on a second chair, was her best friend, Carmen Lorette.

  "Late again, Erin, " Carmen said without looking up from her tablet. Her voice was effortlessly even, tinged with the kind of teasing that only would have sounded cruel if you didn't look at her.

  "I'm three minutes early." Erin huffed.

  "Technically, I've been here for twenty minutes."

  Erin sighed and slid into her chair. "You live in the dorms. You don't have to brave the campus sauna."

  Carmen finally looked up. Her short black hair gleamed like auburn under the overhead light, and her uniform had been custom-tailored—still regulation but clearly expensive. Her dark eyes were unreadable but carried a faint glint of amusement.

  "I live in the dorms because my father thinks I'll become a 'proper woman' if I suffer through communal living," she said dryly.

  "Wasn't he an alumnus or something?"

  "Class of '82. Top one percent. Became a Diplomat and married a surgeon by some miracle. Still sends me vitamin packs and passive-aggressive essays about leadership." She raised an eyebrow. "Yours?"

  "Single mom. School nurse. No essays. Just reminders to eat and hydrate."

  They both stared at each other until they burst into laughter. If someone else heard them, they could have been mistaken for strangers or worse enemies to each other.

  They’ve struck an odd friendship since sixth grade, when Carmen took one look at ten-year-old Eleanore and instantly took her under her wing until everyone in the school took to calling her Erin instead of her first name. It was a nice feeling, one that she had never experienced back in England. They quickly became the best of friends since then.

  Carmen tilted her head. "So, dearest Auntie Lyra has been filing the health records, right?"

  Erin blinked. "Yeah. Why?"

  "Dorm grapevine says she's been noticing weird stuff. Students are going home with migraines. Rashes. Some were even muttering about pets attacking them. One girl claimed her goldfish tried to jump out and bite her hand."

  Erin gave a weak laugh. "That's... a new level of goldfish trauma."

  But her stomach knotted. The same excuse her mom had told her about. Even the goldfish. The poor fish must have been true, if Carmen brought it up.

  "You okay?" Carmen asked, watching her too closely.

  "Yeah," Erin said quickly. "Just remembered Kael snickering over piranhas pretending to be gold fish."

  “A piranha he said? Well, it’s not that far-fetched. With the rich kids clamoring for exotic pets,” Carmen snickered.

  Erin pulled out the review packets and began to place them on the study desk. She separated the stack of paperbacks into five stacks, the air a perfect cool temperature you would expect from a posh school.

  It would have been perfect, if not for something warm touching her from behind. She whipped her head to look behind her, only to find a nearby window that was not completely closed. Reaching over, she made sure to latch the window properly and firmly kept it closed.

  She rubbed at the base of her neck. That odd prickle again. Like the room was holding its breath. It was her darned radar again. If she were more honest, she wanted to go home already. She wasn't even in need of remediation—but as a school-funded scholar, her contract bound her to "student service contributions."

  Erin didn't mind, not really. But something in her had been on edge all week. Like walking too close to a cliff edge in heavy fog. Her quiet reprieve from her not-so-ill radar swiftly ended.

  "So this is how they trap us," a familiar voice drawled behind her. "Free labor in exchange for survival."

  Erin turned just as Mika Hoshino slid into view, all limbs and flair. She wore a loose linen blouse tucked into cut-off shorts, her auburn-dyed hair twisted into a half-bun that looked accidental but probably took twenty minutes. "Summer break, and here we are. The Ghost Squad."

  Erin gave her a strained smile. "You volunteered."

  "I came to keep you alive," Mika corrected, dropping her tote with a thud. "I might also need the extra service for recommendations and whatnot."

  "You don’t really need one, do you? You—"

  "Still need the experience," she admitted cheerfully. "Still not sure how I convinced my mom remedial classes were a thing. By the way, I brought the sacrifice!"

  Carmen rolled her eyes in amusement. She mouthed, "Drama queen."

  The classroom doors creaked open with theatrical slowness.

  "Guess who brought electrolytes for everyone!" shouted a tall boy with sun-kissed skin and the dramatic energy of a forgotten stage actor. Souta Izumi—second-generation wealthy kid of two renowned neurosurgeons, and possibly the least medical person alive—waltzed in with a tote full of boxed drinks and oversized sunglasses sliding down his nose.

  "I even labeled the flavors by chakra alignment!" He added, handing a blue box to Carmen with a wink.

  She took it between two fingers, inspecting it like it might detonate. "Why is this labeled 'Throat: Speak Your Truth'?"

  Souta grinned. "It's peach mint. Helps with verbal courage. Or minty regret."

  Erin's eyes glanced at one of the bottles—'Third Eye: Intuition Boost'—and didn't ask questions. You didn't question Souta unless you were prepared for a twenty-minute explanation involving energy diagrams and niche science ever since he subscribed to MIXI and joined a community there.

  He turned toward the doorway again and called, "Julian's coming. I made him carry the rest of the drinks because he looked too serious. And he’s in the remedial cluster for sophomores."

  Erin didn’t even need to look up. Julian Ward entered like he owned the building, which wasn’t entirely wrong. Son of Marsden & Ward Foundation, he had the kind of casual wealth that smelled faintly of imported cologne and expensive rebellion. His family probably donated a building somewhere in Shinjuu. Tousled blond curls framed a chiseled face that was both charming and vaguely smug. He held three iced coffees and wore a grin sharp enough to earn suspicion. His gray eyes held an annoying smirk.

  “I come bearing gifts,” he announced, dropping one beside Carmen and another in front of Erin. “I may also have misplaced my dignity somewhere in remedial math.”

  Carmen rolled her eyes. “You? In remedial anything?”

  Julian shrugged. “I’m a mystery. The school system fears me.”

  Erin accepted the iced coffee with a quiet nod, but her eyes narrowed, just barely. She had seen Julian’s academic scores. They were short of exemplary. She might have expected an average, but not failing. And his sudden enrollment in the summer program had come with no warning, like he was an afterthought.

  Which would have been a feat if Erin had to say it. Julian was the exact opposite of an afterthought. With how he was enrolled in seventh grade last year, just a few months after the official opening. One day, he’d simply been… enrolled. Without an adaptation period and a “special admission clearance” according to Carmen’s garden mill.

  She didn’t say anything. Not yet. But she felt the tension coil beneath her skin. Julian leaned against the desk beside her, gaze flicking to her profile.

  “You okay?”

  Erin blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You’ve been zoning out. More than usual.”

  “Maybe the heat’s getting to me,” she murmured.

  He just shrugged and settled in the seat next to her, flipping open a battered notebook filled with scrawled formulas and scratch-outs.

  As the remedial prep session began, Erin handed over the revised lesson materials. Her scholarship required extra hours in tutoring. Basically, babysitting high-functioning rich kids.

  History first. Souta asked if feudal warlords would’ve had better diplomacy with access to memes. Carmen looked ready to flip a desk. Math followed. Julian murmured corrections without raising his head.

  The classroom buzzed with scented cool air and faint electric hums.

  Erin’s instincts whispered at her again. That low radar hum deep inside it flickered uneasily now. Not urgent. Not loud.

  But… there.

  She glanced toward the hallway window. The sky beyond the building’s edge looked off. Too bright. Too still. Below, a group of pigeons burst into flight like something had startled them. She saw nothing else.

  When the bell finally rang, Mika packed up wordlessly.

  “I have fencing in fifteen, and a tutorial session with firsties in the afternoon.” she said, brushing invisible lint from her skirt. “Try not to die of heat stroke before then.”

  Souta grabbed his bag and tried to convince everyone to join him for shaved ice. “I know a place that serves it with lavender honey and—”

  “Pass,” Julian cut in, and murmured something about heading to his grandfather’s clinic, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

  As Erin turned to leave, Carmen e paused beside her and asked about her plans for the rest of the day. Erin waved goodbye as she answered, “I still have two clusters of first years in the afternoon.”

  Erin froze. The hallway light flickered above them. She had just slid the door open when she caught the end of a black tendril slithering through the window in front of her.

  Not again, her mind uttered over and over again.

  “Erin?” Carmen’s voice jolted her back. “Are you okay?

  “Hey, whose ribbon is this?” Julian grabbed at the black silk that fell on the floor and promptly threw it at Souta who squawked with indignation as the offending ribbon landed on his styled hair.

  Just a ribbon. Only a ribbon, Erin reassured herself. She could have sworn they were the same spindly arms she saw when she was a child. It has been years, they were surely gone. She is older now. Surely they were just the imagination of a child back then.

  “I-I’m fine.” Carmen thought she heard a stutter from Erin. Erin never stuttered. She was graceful and composed. Erin was rarely startled.

  “I better go now,” Carmen heard Erin say in a detached voice. She was about to ask further when she saw Erin blink her eyes, as if to clear away something from her sight.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cara.” Erin smiled and waved in goodbye. Carmen must have imagined it.

  ‘It must be the heat.” Carmen muttered to herself as she closed the door and made her way down the stairs slowly.

  Once she was outside, the cicadas in the summer heat greeted her.