Chapter Text
Sandrone had already decided that today would be another waste of time.
Morning light streamed through the classroom windows in long, uneven stripes, catching flecks of dust drifting lazily in the air, moving far more freely than she did.
She envied them.
Her chin rested in her palm, elbow propped against the desk, her expression flat and unimpressed as she stared at the whiteboard. Another day in the same stiff chair, listening to lectures she could have mastered online in half the time. She leaned back, eyes half-lidded, focusing on nothing at all.
What a joke, she thought.
Her fingers found the small device resting on her desk, a tiny robot she had built from spare parts. No bigger than her palm, its metal shell clicked softly as she tilted it, the miniature limbs shifting as if resisting gravity.
At least this kept her occupied.
If she focused on the robot, she did not have to think about the endless hours she was expected to endure. She did not have to think about how absurd it was to be trapped in a routine that made no sense while waiting for homeroom to start.
Around her, the classroom buzzed with idle chatter and the faint scraping of chairs, but Sandrone remained apart, as always. She sat at the far end of the row, beside the window, leaving an empty chair beside her. Her classmates knew better than to approach her casually. Only the foolhardy or the unwary risked being snapped at. Even her adviser respected the invisible boundary Sandrone had drawn around herself.
Today, though, her adviser was late, which was unusual. A middle-aged woman of strict punctuality, she left Sandrone muttering under her breath, wishing she could enjoy a slow morning with a warm cup of tea. Crossing her adviser over even the slightest tardiness was unthinkable.
Her thumb tapped the side of the little robot, joints clicking faintly. It was the only thing keeping her from being consumed by boredom, trapped as she was in a room, in a class, in a routine that had no purpose.
Homeroom was supposed to have started ten minutes ago.
Still no adviser.
Still no escape.
She sighed quietly, bracing herself. If she was forced to endure this, the day had better not get any worse than it already was.
The door opened abruptly.
Their adviser stepped inside, looking slightly rushed. Sandrone paused, holding the robot mid-turn.
The woman cleared her throat and straightened her posture.
"Alright, everyone. Before we begin, I have an announcement."
She placed her clipboard on the teacher’s desk and clasped her hands together.
"Before we proceed with homeroom, I would like you all to welcome a new student. She transferred here because her parents recently moved to the city for work."
The room shifted instantly. Chatter faded. Curiosity replaced boredom.
Sandrone did not bother pretending interest. A transfer student. Wonderful. Another unfamiliar face in an already tedious environment. She scoffed quietly to herself.
The adviser stepped back toward the doorway.
"And please be mindful," she added, her tone softening, "she may need a little extra consideration."
Sandrone raised a brow. Extra consideration?
The adviser returned, guiding a girl gently by the arm. She moved with slow, measured steps, each one deliberate, as if aware of every eye in the room.
The girl wore a neatly pressed long-sleeved blouse beneath a soft cardigan, paired with a modest knee-length skirt and dark tights. Her outfit was simple, clean, and proper, matching the school’s uniform guidelines, yet there was a softness to her presence that set her apart.
Her eyes were closed. Not in sleep or disinterest, but calmly, permanently shut.
In her other hand, she held a long white cane, its tip tapping lightly against the floor with each step.
Tap.
Pause.
Tap.
There was no mistaking it.
It was painfully obvious.
The new transfer student was blind.
The classroom fell into an unnatural silence. Some students stared, mouths slightly open. Others whispered behind cupped hands, hesitant, uncertain.
Sandrone said nothing. Her fingers stilled around the tiny robot on her desk, its soft clicks fading as if the world had pressed pause.
The adviser stopped at the front of the room, placing a careful hand on the podium.
“This is your new classmate,” she said, her voice warm but measured. “She will be joining us starting today.”
She turned slightly toward the girl.
“Would you like to introduce yourself?”
The transfer student tilted her head the slightest amount, her expression calm and almost serene. She did not smile widely nor fidget nervously. She simply… spoke.
“…My name is Columbina.”
Her voice was soft, gentle, and clear.
And that was it.
No extra words. No unnecessary explanation.
Just… her name.
A few students shifted awkwardly in their seats, unsure how to respond. The quiet lingered, a strange mixture of curiosity and hesitation filling the room.
Sandrone, meanwhile, leaned slightly forward, eyes narrowing just enough to take in the girl’s composed posture, the deliberate taps of her cane, and the unshakable calm she seemed to carry.
Something about the new student felt different. Something about her demanded notice, even without words.
Sandrone scoffed quietly in her mind, but this time it was for a different reason.
This transfer student might be more interesting than she expected.
The adviser cleared their throat lightly, trying to smooth over the sudden quiet.
“Umm. Thank you, Columbina. Do you want to add more to your introduction? Perhaps share your interests so your classmates can know you better.”
The new girl smiled softly and shook her head no.
The adviser blinked and paused, maybe taking a breath to consider how to interact with the seemingly shy student. “Alright then. Now, as for your seat…”
Sandrone felt a faint chill of foreboding creep up her spine.
No.
No.
NO!
The adviser turned toward the back of the room.
“Sandrone.”
Her grip tightened around the small robot.
Of course. There were no empty seats in the room except one.
“You will be sitting beside Sandrone,” the adviser said, guiding Columbina toward her desk.
“And for the meantime, Sandrone will serve as your class buddy. To help you navigate the room and adjust to the school.” The adviser gave Sandrone a long, expectant look, part warning and part pleading.
Sandrone’s eye twitched.
Just great. Exactly what I needed. She thought sarcastically. Another responsibility she never asked for.
The adviser gave a final reminder about class rules before stepping out to handle paperwork, leaving the room buzzing with whispers again.
Columbina stopped beside the empty chair next to Sandrone. Her cane tapped lightly against the edge of the desk, her head tilted faintly as if sensing Sandrone’s presence without seeing her.
Sandrone did not speak as the girl settled into the seat.
So this was her new reality. Babysitter duty.
Columbina shifted slightly in her chair, turning her face toward Sandrone. Her lashes rested lightly against her cheeks. Her eyes remained closed, yet her expression was calm and sure.
Her voice came in a soft whisper, as if meant only for Sandrone.
“I will be in your care.”
Sandrone stiffened at the unexpected words. She exhaled through her nose, barely audible, and leaned a little closer so no one else could hear.
“Just… do not expect too much,” she muttered, irritation low but clear. “Do not expect me to babysit you all the time.”
Normally, that would be the point where people backed off. Awkward apology. Nervous smile. Quiet avoidance.
Columbina did none of those things.
Her reply came soft, steady, deliberate.
“It is alright,” she said gently. “I do not need a babysitter.”
Sandrone froze. Her mind stalled for a moment.
No defensiveness.
No hurt.
No timid reaction.
Just certainty, almost bordering on something teasing, something challenging.
She turned her head slightly, studying Columbina’s serene expression.
“…What?” Sandrone muttered under her breath.
Columbina spoke again, calm and innocent as ever.
“I only need someone who can tell me when there are stairs ahead,” she said softly, “or when the hallway gets too crowded, or if something is in my way that my cane might miss.”
Her fingers brushed the handle of the cane resting by her leg.
“I can handle walking on my own.”
It was not prideful.
It was not stubborn.
It was simply… honest.
Sandrone blinked.
She swallowed, the usual snark caught in her throat, though she could not stop a quiet scoff.
“…You’re strange,” she muttered.
Columbina let out a tiny, breath-light laugh.
“I have been told,” she said gently. “Is it a problem?”
Sandrone clicked her tongue and looked away, heat pricking faintly at her cheeks.
“No,” she muttered. “Just… unexpected.”
Silence lingered between them. It was not heavy, only unfamiliar.
Then Columbina spoke again, softer this time.
“Thank you for staying close when you spoke.”
Sandrone’s fingers curled against the edge of her desk. She did not answer. She did not lean away either.
Which made it irritating in its own confusing way.
She shifted in her seat, adjusting her posture as if she were not still sitting close enough for Columbina to sense her presence.
This was supposed to be a chore.
A responsibility.
A nuisance the teachers had dumped on her because everyone else would have complained.
So why did it suddenly feel like she was the one being thrown off balance?
What is the deal with this girl?
Sandrone exhaled sharply and tore her gaze away, picking up the tiny robot perched on her desk. With practiced motions, she flicked a switch and let it crawl back and forth across her palm. Something familiar, predictable, mechanical.
Unlike the transfer student beside her.
She tried to focus on the ticking gears and the faint hum of the servomotors, and not on the quiet presence just inches away.
Tch. Whatever.
She would survive the day. She always did.
Sandrone slouched back in her chair, eyes drifting toward the clock.
Only a few more hours.
Then school would finally be over.
>>><<<
Break time came faster than Sandrone expected.
The moment the bell rang, chairs scraped and footsteps filled the room as everyone stood. Some students headed for the door, but most of them did not.
They gathered.
Around Columbina.
“Wow, so you transferred from another city?”
“Do you really walk everywhere like that?”
“Is it hard to memorize the classroom layout?”
“How do you read your notes?”
Their voices overlapped, curious, eager, and too loud.
Columbina remained composed, hands folded neatly on her lap as she answered each question one by one.
Her tone stayed calm.
Patient.
Polite.
But her replies grew shorter.
Slower.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her cane.
There were too many voices.
Too many questions.
Too close.
Her brows drew together as each second passed.
Sandrone watched from her seat, jaw tightening.
They were not trying to be cruel.
Curiosity, however, always carried a problem.
People forgot they were still speaking to a person.
Sandrone sighed, loud enough to announce her presence. She rose to her feet.
Her classmates did not notice at first, not until her shadow fell across them.
Sandrone’s icy blue eyes narrowed. Her voice was sharp, low, and cutting, almost threatening.
“Break time means break time,” she said flatly. “Not ‘interrogate the new student’ time.”
The chatter stopped immediately.
Several students stiffened.
One swallowed audibly.
“We were just—”
“Leaving,” Sandrone finished for them, her tone cold and precise.
A silence followed.
Then, slowly, the group dispersed.
Murmurs faded.
Footsteps retreated.
The air felt lighter around Columbina. She exhaled almost imperceptibly.
She turned her head slightly toward Sandrone, a small, grateful smile forming on her lips.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Sandrone beat her to it.
“No need to thank me,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “I did not do it for you.”
Columbina paused.
Sandrone looked away. She then continued, “They were too noisy. They were interrupting my peaceful break.”
A short silence lingered between them.
Then Columbina’s smile softened. Her tone was light, innocent, yet somewhat… gently teasing.
“Oh,” she said softly. “I was not going to.”
Sandrone blinked.
“…Huh?”
“I was going to ask,” Columbina continued, “if you could give me a tour now.”
She tilted her head faintly.
“Especially the restroom nearby. I would like to memorize the route before lunch.”
That… made sense.
Practical.
Logical.
Reasonable.
Sandrone’s brow twitched anyway.
“Tch… you are really something, aren’t you?”
Columbina smiled again. That smile. Small, soft, almost teasing.
Sandrone clicked her tongue.
“…Fine. Let’s go.”
She picked up her little robot, slipped it into her pocket, then lightly tapped Columbina’s desk.
“Stand up. I will tell you when there is a turn.”
Columbina rose gracefully, her cane sweeping lightly across the floor.
She stepped up beside Sandrone, keeping just enough space to move comfortably.
“Thank you,” Columbina whispered softly.
Sandrone did not answer.
She slowed her steps, walking carefully to match Columbina’s pace, staying close enough to guide her through the first corner. Her eyes flicked to the approaching turn, ready to give a quiet cue if needed.
Sandrone exhaled inwardly, realizing something.
Maybe this was better than being bored.
Maybe.
Though she would not admit it out loud.