The sound of my summoner’s movements stirred me awake, and my eyes opened to him departing the room, dressed in the school’s uniform.

  I guessed the syllables he spoke were either him telling me he’s leaving for the day, or a simple see you later, before stepping out of the door frame.

  I got up to see the marked calendar and schedule Mr. Blonde gave me.

  Tomorrow will be my official first day of school.

  The thought of going to school irked me, as the idea of having to once again fulfill the academic obligation of learning to help establish what I want to do in my life sounded utterly exhausting. I didn’t like going to school when I was capable of reading at a speaker’s pace and could understand just about every English word I heard.

  Now, I have to do all of that with a language that I’m unsure I can learn, because I don’t know of anything that can help me translate.

  Does this mean I’m gonna learn what it’s like to be academically disadvantaged? I mean, it wasn’t until a few days ago that I didn’t exist in this world. Would the label apply if it’d be more accurate to say, figuratively, that I was born yesterday?

  I took a look at the uniform I was given, along with all the papers I had gotten detailing my class schedule and the school’s map. Sitting in my summoner’s room all day would be boring, so I took the replica map I had made that I had nearly forgotten about, and set off on using my remaining free day to repeat the route I had for my classes so that they’d be better committed to memory.

  The moment I opened the door, I heard a shout.

  Someone bumped into the door just as I opened it, making them cover their nose to hide the injury.

  Ooh…

  “I’m sorry,” I told them, even though they wouldn’t understand me; it would be insincere to withhold an apology.

  The person spoke syllables before waving it off. Whoever was at fault was no longer a concern.

  Their tone changed, asking questions. It seems they’re curious about why I’m in my summoner’s room. I guess that means it’s usually assigned as one person per dorm room.

  I saw other faces give a curious glance in our direction, but paid little mind before walking away.

  The person who accidentally bumped into the door started sounding more agitated, irritated that I wasn’t answering any of their questions. Damn it. It’s a bit more difficult to leave a conversation in this situation when you’re staying in someone else's room. Can’t they just ask my summoner instead? You can ask all you want, but I can’t give you any answers!

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  After a while of that one-sided conversation, the person gave up, before following the footsteps of others leaving the building.

  Thank you.

  I looked at the clothes on my body before closing the door and locking it.

  I should change out of this before exploring the school.

  As I changed into my outfit, I wondered where the school does its laundry. Surely there must be a place where everyone cleans their clothes and beddings.

  It wasn’t too difficult to imagine doing laundry the old-fashioned way. While I was excited that the school had usable showers and toilets, I shouldn’t be quick to assume and believe they have automatic washing and drying machines.

  Hang on, maybe they don’t need dryers- no, there’s cold weather.

  I sniffed my clothes to ensure they didn’t have an odor. I smelled a bit of grass on the pants cuffs and the scent of iron on the upper torso of the shirt.

  I began to wonder where the smell of blood came from when it hit me, literally. The old man hospitalized me, suspecting me of being a part of some conspiracy involving dead students, and was quick to treat me like some kidnapper and murderer simply because I conjured smoke.

  Should I dissipate them, or leave them?

  I could always recreate them, as their designs have been committed to memory. But at the same time, they’re a record of my first near-death experience in this life.

  I imagined a scenario where the old man and I shared a laugh when I finally transcended this language barrier.

  I modified the shirt, printing the wrathful expression of the old man with his staff. The print is made of that weird, plastic, and rubber material that peels away with age. I’ve never learned the name of that exact material that prints it onto clothes, but that was my experience with those kinds of clothes.

  As for the jeans, well… they’re jeans. Nothing too remarkable about them, and the only pairs of pants I’ve found remotely remarkable are yoga pants with printable designs on them, some made with the same wrinkly, tearable, and rubber material.

  Should I try wearing my uniform? It’s not my first day yet. Maybe I should try wearing it to get into my role as a student of this school.

  It’s the only way I could explain my presence here, assuming no one explained I’m a student-to-be. The weird looks I’ve been getting from other students were tolerable to a certain point, but if that one annoying student from the old man’s class was any indication, I won’t be acknowledged as a student until I put on the uniform.

  That should be enough for students to be less suspicious of me, right? You’re given a uniform after enrollment, and I find it hard to believe a uniform can be stolen or forged.

  I decided to make a new pair of jeans before putting on the uniform shirt and sweater. From what I’ve seen, the school’s dress code wasn’t very demanding of what students wore on their lower half, so as long as it was appropriate. I’ve seen multiple students wearing different pants, dresses, and long skirts. So, I guess that meant the school allowed some degree of freedom of expression.

  After using a mirror I conjured to make myself look presentable to the best of my ability, I grabbed the smaller version of the school map I had created out of convenience before heading out.

  Just as I was about to shut the door out of habit, I stopped, remembering the key I was given. I rushed back in and grabbed my key, stuffing it in my jeans’ pocket before closing and locking the door.

  There weren’t as many students around since I stayed in my summoner’s room for a good few minutes. The momentary peace was nice, but I’m certain moments of peace like this would be fewer and far between in the future. So it’d be best for me to expose myself to the chaos and uncertainty of life before getting too comfortable with isolation and silence.