First Quote of the Chapter:
"You can't burn down your future if you don't start a fire first." —Kairo
The smell of hydrochloric acid wasn't exactly comforting, but it sure beat algebra.
Kairo lounged at the back of the classroom, chair balanced on two legs, chewing a pen that definitely wasn't his. The teacher's voice was a steady drone at the front of the room, something about electrons and orbitals and—yeah, whatever. He'd already stopped listening after "valence."
Outside the window, the sky was blue, the wind was teasing the tree leaves, and the world beyond the classroom looked alive. Inside? Dead atoms and dead eyes. The only thing that hadn't died yet was Kairo's absolute talent for staying bored.
He pulled his hoodie over his head, laid it across the desk like a pillow, and closed his eyes.
"KAIRO!"
The chair legs slammed to the floor. Kairo blinked. The class was staring. Mr. Ronson, their chemistry teacher, loomed like a thundercloud with a beaker-shaped tie that made him look like he took his job way too seriously.
"Would you care to explain why sodium reacts violently with water?" Ronson asked.
Kairo blinked again. "Because it's got commitment issues?"
The class burst into scattered laughter. Ronson didn't.
"You think this is a joke, Mr. Haru?"
"No, sir. I think it's hilarious."
That earned him a referral and a one-way ticket to Detention.
Two Hours Later – Detention Room 3B
The door creaked open like a horror movie cliché. Kairo stepped into a musty, dim-lit lab that smelled like burnt rubber and failed dreams. There were chemical stains on the walls, posters with cheesy slogans like "Beaker Safe, Not Sorry", and a lone figure hunched over a bench cluttered with test tubes and wires.
Kairo froze.
"Um. This doesn't look like normal detention."
The figure turned. A man with steel-gray hair, thick goggles, and a wild beard looked up with a half-crazed grin. "That's because it isn't. You're in Lab Detention, Mr. Haru."
"...That's not a real thing."
"It is now. I'm Mr. Ions. Retired chemistry teacher, former Nobel nominee, current punishment specialist."
Kairo stared. "You're telling me I have to learn... chemistry? As punishment?"
Ions grinned wider. "You blew off your education, you disrespected the periodic table, and you insulted sodium. Time to pay your debt. Come. We're making hydrogen."
Kairo hesitated. "Hydrogen... like, the gas that goes boom?"
Ions handed him a pair of goggles. "Precisely."
Lab Table – 15 Minutes Later
Kairo hovered nervously over a beaker of hydrochloric acid. Ions dropped a small chunk of dull gray metal onto a tile.
"Zinc," he said. "Harmless. Now what happens when you add zinc to hydrochloric acid?"
"Uh… it gets fizzy?"
"It releases hydrogen gas, you clod. You've done this before. In the janitor's closet."
"That was an accident!" Kairo protested. "I didn't know it would explode. I was trying to make soda."
"Well, congratulations. You made a bomb."
Kairo looked at the metal. "We're seriously doing this?"
"We're doing this safely," Ions said, adjusting his goggles. "Unlike you."
He placed the zinc in the beaker with tongs. Instantly, bubbles formed. Gas hissed out gently, and Kairo flinched.
"Now collect the gas in this inverted test tube," Ions instructed.
Kairo awkwardly fumbled the glassware into place. The tube filled with invisible gas as the reaction bubbled on.
"Time to test it." Ions lit a wooden splint.
"Hold up, test it?! You're lighting it?!"
Ions smirked and held the flame to the mouth of the tube.
POP!
A high-pitched snap echoed through the lab. Kairo jumped.
"That," Ions said smugly, "is the sound of hydrogen reacting with oxygen. That's your gas doing its job."
"Okay," Kairo admitted, rubbing his ears. "That was... kind of cool."
"Now you try."
Kairo repeated the process, slower. He added zinc, collected the hydrogen, and held the lit splint—
POP!
He grinned. "It talks!"
"Science always talks," Ions said. "You've just never listened before."
30 Minutes Later – Bad Decisions Brewing
By the fifth trial, Kairo had started improvising.
"Hey, what if I use more zinc? Like, a lot more zinc?"
Ions narrowed his eyes. "Do not—"
"Oops."
Kairo dumped a handful of metal into the acid and sealed the container with a balloon.
Instantly, the balloon inflated. Fast.
"OH NO IT'S SWELLING—"
"VENT IT! VENT IT!"
Too late. The balloon burst, spraying the lab with acid mist and a loud BANG that echoed through the halls like thunder.
When the cloud cleared, Ions looked like a frosted donut. Kairo was on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling.
"...That was awesome," he whispered.
Ions sighed. "You're a danger to education."
The Aftermath
"You're lucky you used dilute acid," Ions grumbled, wiping a table.
Kairo handed him a mop. "I learned something."
"Do tell."
"I learned that science is dangerous."
"It's only dangerous when used stupidly."
Kairo grinned. "So I'm like a mad scientist in training?"
Ions paused. "Mad scientist… no. But perhaps a chaotic catalyst."
Kairo raised an eyebrow. "Catalyst?"
"Substance that makes things happen faster—without being consumed."
Kairo blinked. "Wait… that's actually kind of cool."
"You're learning. Now get out of my lab before I consume you."
The Next Day – Principal's Office
Kairo sat in front of Principal Elway, who looked like she hadn't smiled since the Cold War.
"Mr. Haru," she said slowly. "Ions says you're... 'unteachable by normal means.'"
"Thank you?"
"He also says you might actually be useful for once."
"That's... surprising."
"You're being placed in the school's Chemistry Club as part of an experimental behavioral program."
Kairo blinked. "You mean as punishment?"
"No. As your only shot at graduating. If you ditch the club or fail to contribute, you're out. Permanently."
Kairo leaned back, smirking. "So you're telling me... I have to blow stuff up in a controlled educational environment?"
Principal Elway glared. "I'm telling you to find something worth not failing for."
Kairo walked out of the office, kicked a pebble down the hallway, and muttered, "Chemistry Club, huh?"
He looked at the burn mark still on his shoe from yesterday's hydrogen test. A grin curled at the edge of his lips.
"Guess it's time to start something dangerous."
🧪 Formula of the Chapter:
Zn + 2HCl → ZnCl₂ + H₂ (gas)
Sngle replacement reaction. Hydrogen is liberated, making a neat little bang when ignited.
Second Quote of the Chapter: "A failed reaction still teaches you something—usually to duck faster." —Kairo
Kairo hadn't been inside the school's Chemistry Club room for more than three seconds before he considered faking his own death.
The door creaked shut behind him like a final judgment. Inside, the room was—well, the nicest word might've been "abandoned." A skeleton model was missing its skull. A poster of the periodic table was peeling off the wall, split down the middle like it had seen war. And in the center of the room sat three students.
Correction: three weirdos.
They looked up at him like he'd walked into their secret lair and tripped over a laser tripwire.
"Uh," Kairo said. "Hi?"
No response. Just staring.
"Nice place," he tried again, voice casual. "Love what you've done with the—uh—broken goggles on the windowsill."
One of them—a girl with long, dark hair dyed blackhole black and a hoodie covered in punk band patches—raised an eyebrow. "You're the hydrogen kid, huh?"
Kairo blinked. "You mean… like, the boom thing?"
The girl nodded. "You flooded the second-floor janitor closet with gas. Respect."
"Thanks," Kairo said, unsure whether that was a compliment or a warning.
The boy sitting next to her, tall and wiry with thick safety glasses perched on his head like a crown, leaned forward. "You must be the new lab rat. Mr. Ions said you'd show up. I'm Bunsen."
Kairo paused. "Like the burner?"
"Exactly."
Of course.
The last member was barely visible behind a wall of stacked lab notebooks. Kairo squinted. "And that's…?"
The girl replied. "Pipette."
"That her name or her weapon of choice?"
"Yes."
Pipette didn't look up. Her hands were moving with surgical precision, labeling vials, aligning glassware, and flipping pages in a notebook that had so many tabs it looked like a peacock exploded.
Kairo shuffled forward, trying not to look like a threat. Or worse—like he cared.
"So uh," he said. "What exactly do you guys do here? Mix vinegar and baking soda until someone pukes?"
Bunsen looked offended. "We're scientists."
"We're rejects," the girl corrected. "I'm Mona. Ex-honor roll. Got kicked off the school's elite team for calling my tutor a 'walking oxidation.'"
Kairo grinned. "Okay. That's funny."
"I meant it as an insult."
"Even better."
Mona smirked.
The Ultimatum
The room's door opened again with the sound of doom, and in walked Mr. Ions, still wearing those impossible goggles and a long brown lab coat that made him look like a desert wizard.
He didn't waste time.
"You four are now officially the Kemi-Knights."
Kairo raised a hand. "Sorry, the what?"
"It stands for 'Knowledge, Experimentation, Mischief, and Innovation.' It was a bad acronym twenty years ago, and I'm bringing it back. Deal with it."
Pipette groaned quietly behind her tower of notebooks.
Mr. Ions slapped a sheet onto the lab table. "This is the entry form for the School Chemathlon. First round is next week."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kairo said, backing up. "I thought this was punishment, not punishment and public humiliation."
"Do well," Ions said, "and the club survives. Do badly, and the principal shuts you down. Either way, you're participating."
Mona crossed her arms. "You're throwing us into a tournament after meeting this walking hazard?"
"I believe in trial by fire," Ions said.
Bunsen fist-bumped the air. "Fire's my love language."
Kairo groaned. "This is a cult."
"Correction," Ions said, heading toward the door, "this is science."
Mission: Not Exploding the School
The next day, they met for an emergency meeting. The Chemathlon would consist of several timed challenges—one of which was a live demo of a balanced chemical reaction.
"We need something flashy," Mona said, scribbling ideas on the whiteboard. "Not too dangerous, but enough to make the judges think we know what we're doing."
"I say fire," Bunsen said, holding up a lighter.
"Put that down," Pipette said without looking up.
Kairo leaned back in his chair. "What if we do something with gas again? Like that hydrogen thing. Pop, bang, wow factor."
"You nearly blew up the janitor's mop bucket," Mona said.
"But I learned something," Kairo argued. "Zinc and hydrochloric acid. I get it now. Metal replaces hydrogen. Hydrogen goes boom. Simple."
Pipette finally looked up. "...He's not wrong."
Everyone stared.
"Repeat that," Mona said.
Pipette adjusted her glasses. "If he controls the amounts, it's safe. We collect the gas in a balloon, release it, then ignite it from a safe distance. It would impress the judges. Controlled combustion."
Bunsen was already grinning. "Can I light it?"
"No," said everyone else in unison.
Trial and Terror
The rest of the week was a mix of:
Explosion math (Kairo's term for stoichiometry)
Hydrogen farts (Zinc + HCl again, but now using syringes to measure volume)
Safety drills (including "what to do if Kairo knocks over a beaker of acid"—which happened twice)
They rehearsed the reaction until it was second nature:
Zn + 2HCl → ZnCl₂ + H₂ (gas)
Kairo even started saying the formula under his breath like it was a magic spell. Which, in a way, it kind of was.
By Friday, they had a full routine planned:
1. Kairo explains the reaction to the judges (with Mona watching like a hawk).
2. Pipette safely collects the gas.
3. Bunsen lights the balloon fuse on command.
4. Small pop, big reaction, safe distance.
Fail-proof.
Mostly.
The Calm Before the Chemstorm
The night before the competition, Kairo sat in his room staring at a piece of paper. It wasn't homework—well, not official homework. It was something he'd copied from Pipette's notes.
A full page of chemical reaction types.
He didn't understand half of it.
Yet.
But he stared anyway.
"Double replacement... combustion... decomposition..." he muttered. "It's like... each one has a personality."
The realization hit like static.
He started scribbling:
Combustion: flashy, fast, dramatic
Synthesis: building something new
Decomposition: falling apart
Single replacement: someone cuts in and steals the spotlight
Double replacement: relationship drama
Kairo chuckled.
"Chemistry is just people, but angrier."
🧪 Chemathlon – Round One
The school's gymnasium had never smelled so sterile.
Rows of tables were set up like a science fair gone military. Judges in white coats. Cameras. Spectators. Pressure.
Kairo's team was up third.
He paced behind their demo table, fists stuffed into his lab coat pockets. The coat was two sizes too big and had a mysterious stain shaped like Australia.
"You good?" Mona asked.
"Define good."
"Not going to panic and turn this into a Hindenburg reenactment."
Kairo took a breath. "...I might actually be excited."
Their time was called. The Kemi-Knights stepped forward.
Mona gave the intro. Kairo stepped up to explain the process. His voice wavered... then leveled out. He described the formula. He pointed to the zinc, the HCl, the balloon setup.
Then Pipette took over, silently and expertly collecting the hydrogen. The balloon inflated slowly. The crowd leaned forward.
Bunsen prepared the ignition point at a safe distance. A slow fuse.
Kairo gave the signal.
Fwoosh—POP! (Note: I'm bad at describing sounds, unfortunately.)
A clean, sharp sound echoed through the gym. The judges flinched. The crowd applauded.
The balloon burst into a tiny flash of fire, and nothing else.
Safe. Smooth. Controlled.
Kairo grinned.
For once, everything had gone—
FWUMP.
A second balloon behind the desk—left over from a test run—had inflated from residual gas and ignited too.
A column of foam shot out of the collection flask like a geyser, coating Mona's shoes and Bunsen's face.
The crowd gasped.
The judges... laughed.
"Bonus points for unpredictability," one of them chuckled.
Kairo looked around at his soaked, foamed-up team.
"We meant to do that," he said.
Results
They passed. Barely.
Not because they were perfect. But because they were gutsy.
As they left the gym, Mona wiped foam off her hoodie and glared at Kairo.
"Next time," she said, "triple-check the backups."
"No promises," Kairo replied.
Pipette handed him a rag silently.
Bunsen just smiled, foam still in his hair. "That. Was. Glorious."