The next morning, I dressed for school in a daze, my body moving on autopilot. My parents had already left for work, Mom's shift started at six, and Dad had an early meeting. I grabbed my backpack, checked my schedule one more time (Economics 101, room 215, first period), and stepped outside into a city alive with noise.
Cars honked. Neighbors greeted each other over fences. Clouds drifted lazily across a perfect blue sky. Everything looked so normal. So ordinary.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me.
Walking to Redwood High, I passed a group of kids tossing a football in someone's front yard. They looked relaxed, laughing, completely at ease. I envied them.
Then the football smacked me square in the head.
"Ow!" I stumbled, my hand flying to my forehead. "What the hell?"
"Watch where you're going!" a voice called out, sharp and annoyed.
I turned to see a boy with dark hair and sharp, calculating eyes smirking at me. He was tall, athletic build, the kind of guy who probably played every sport and knew it. His friends snickered behind him.
"What?" I muttered, rubbing my forehead where a dull ache was already forming.
"You just got in the way," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I frowned, anger flaring despite my better judgment. "You threw it at me."
He stepped closer, and I noticed he had at least three inches on me. "I'm Shin," he said, like his name was supposed to mean something. Then he pushed past me, shoulder checking me hard enough to make me stumble. "Move."
No hello. No sorry. Just gone.
Great. My first day, and already someone making my life difficult.
Inside Redwood High, the halls buzzed with energy that felt almost overwhelming after the quiet of summer. Lockers slammed. Groups clustered around phones. Couples leaned against walls. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they belonged.
I followed my schedule, weaving through the crowd: Economics 101, room 215. A kid carrying a massive stack of papers slammed into me at an intersection, sending them fluttering like startled birds across the hallway floor.
"Oh! Sorry!" he said, immediately dropping to his knees to gather them.
I helped him pick them up, noticing they were covered in detailed sketches buildings, landscapes, what looked like architectural designs. "No problem. I'm William, the new kid."
"I'm Zach," he said, a faint grin forming on his face. He had messy brown hair and glasses that kept sliding down his nose. "And don't worry about Shin. He's a jerk to everyone. It's not personal."
"Good to know," I said, handing him the last of his papers.
We nodded at each other, a quiet understanding forming. I slipped into my classroom just as the bell rang, and all eyes turned toward me.
Perfect.
I face-palmed internally.
"Name?" the teacher demanded. She was a stern-looking woman with gray hair pulled into a tight bun and glasses perched on the end of her nose. Mrs. Maldiva, according to the nameplate on her desk.
"William Ashborne. Sophomore."
"Take your seat. Back row, by the window."
I hurried to the empty desk, hyper-aware of everyone's eyes following me. Next to me, a girl glanced up from her notebook. She had soft brown skin, dark hair that caught the light like melted chocolate, and an expression that was curious but not unkind.
"You're new?" she asked quietly as Mrs. Maldiva started writing on the board.
"Yeah," I admitted, keeping my voice low.
"I'm Ava. Don't worry about Mrs. Maldiva she's strict, but fair. You'll survive." She offered a small smile that made some of the tension in my chest ease.
"Thanks," I whispered back.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
Lunch was chaos.
The cafeteria was a war zone of noise and movement. I grabbed a tray of something that might have been pizza and looked around for somewhere to sit. Zach waved me over to a table near the windows, and I gratefully headed that way.
That's when I saw Shin again.
He had Zach's backpack and was holding it over his head while Zach jumped uselessly, trying to grab it. Shin's friends laughed, recording on their phones.
"Come on, man, give it back!" Zach pleaded. "My project's in there!"
"What project?" Shin taunted. "This?" He unzipped the bag and pulled out what looked like a carefully constructed model building. "Looks fragile."
Something in me snapped.
I set my tray down and walked over, my heart pounding but my voice steady. "Leave him alone."
Shin turned slowly, his expression shifting from amusement to irritation. "Or what, new kid?"
"Or you'll have a problem," I said, meeting his eyes even though every instinct screamed at me to back down.
He stepped closer, and I could smell his cologne too strong, trying too hard. "You really want to do this on your first day?"
Before his fist could come forward and I saw it tensing, saw the shift in his weight and his voice cut through the tension like a knife.
"Mr. Nakamura. Mr. Ashborne. Is there a problem here?"
Principal Hendricks stood behind us, arms crossed, expression thunderous.
Shin's demeanor changed instantly. "No, sir. Just messing around."
"Messing around looks a lot like bullying from where I'm standing. My office. Now."
Shin shot me a look that promised retribution later, then followed the principal. His friends scattered like roaches when the lights come on.
Zach looked at me like I'd just saved his life. "Thanks, man. Seriously. He's been on my case since freshman year."
"No problem," I said, my hands still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. "Come eat with me?"
He nodded enthusiastically, and we walked to my table. Ava was already there, quietly eating a salad and reading something on her phone.
"You stood up to Shin?" she asked, looking up with raised eyebrows. "On your first day?"
"Seemed like the right thing to do," I said, sitting down.
She studied me for a moment, then smiled. "You're either really brave or really stupid. I haven't decided which yet."
"Probably both," I admitted, and she laughed.
For the first time since moving, I felt like maybe I could actually belong here.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes and introductions. Math. History. English. By the time the final bell rang, my brain felt like mush and my body ached from tension I hadn't realized I was carrying.
I was walking toward the exit, thinking about the homework already piling up, when someone bumped my shoulder. Hard.
I turned, expecting to see Shin or one of his friends.
Instead, I saw an old man.
He had a long white beard that reached his chest, piercing dark eyes that seemed to look through me rather than at me, and weathered hands that gripped my arm with surprising strength.
"You are a Dragon Keeper," he said, his voice low and urgent.
Pain exploded in my forearm where he held me. Not just pressure burning, like someone had pressed a brand against my skin.
"What let go!" I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron.
"You are a Dragon Keeper," he repeated, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
I shoved him off with more force than I intended, and he stumbled back. My heart raced. Students flowed around us like water around stones, completely oblivious. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
He straightened, his expression unreadable. Then he turned and vanished into the crowd, moving with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for someone his age.
I stood there, trembling, my arm still burning.
"You okay?" Zach appeared beside me, concern written across his face.
"Yeah," I said, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to my ears. "Just some crazy guy."
But as I walked home, I couldn't stop thinking about his words.
Dragon Keeper.
What the hell did that mean?
I got home to an empty house. Mom wouldn't be back until six, Dad until seven. I locked my bedroom door, dropped my backpack, and slowly rolled up my sleeve.
My breath caught.
A dragon-shaped mark was etched into my skin, glowing faintly red like dying embers. The design was intricatescales, wings, a serpentine body coiled around my forearm. It looked ancient, like something from a museum or a history book.
I touched it gently. The skin was hot but not painful. The mark pulsed with a rhythm that matched my heartbeat.
"What the hell…" I whispered.
I pulled out my phone and started searching frantically. Dragon symbols. Ancient markings. Tattoos. Anything that looked remotely similar.
Most results were useless modern tattoo designs, fantasy art, video game screenshots. But then I found something.
A Wikipedia article, barely maintained, about the Sengoku Period in Japan. 1500-1600. It mentioned a secret ninja clan that believed dragons still roamed the earth. That they were protectors. Guardians. Rarely seen. Slowly fading into myth.
There were images two men and women in robes of red, blue, green, and gold. Their stances looked rigid but commanding, like warriors who had seen centuries of battle.
One of them had the exact same symbol burned into his arm.
The article called them Dragon Keepers.
I slammed my laptop shut, my hands shaking.
This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening.
But the mark on my arm said otherwise.
That night, I barely touched dinner. My parents asked if I was okay, and I lied, said I was just tired from the first day. They believed me because they wanted to, because the alternative that something was seriously wrong was too scary to consider.
I went to bed early and lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling.
Come find me.
The voice echoed in my head, clear as day.
Go to Redwood City. Downtown. Old coffee shop.
An image burned into my mind: the old man, white beard, hood over his face, piercing blue eyes. And behind him, a small blue coffee shop tucked between two taller buildings.
I closed my eyes, trying to make it stop.
It didn't.