A/N: Well, I promised I'd make a rewrite... I might take my time due to being on two or three other writing-based sites, and I have a lot of things going on in my life, but I've never lost my love of writing!

Green… Calm…

Green… Calm…

Green… Calm-

White.

White?

White wings… flapping…

White wings… flapping towards…

Darkness.

The old man was startled from his meditation, the suffocating emotion sending shivers down his spine. "Wayzz… Did you feel that?"

"I did." A tiny green floating creature hovered just over the elder's shoulder. Despite the antenna sticking out of his head, it vaguely resembled a turtle. Or, well, at his size, a baby turtle. "It felt… familiar, but… twisted."

"A dark omen," the old man stroked his beard, standing up from his kneeling position. "I feel evil will descend on the world soon."

"Master," the turtle-like creature flew in front of him, arms outstretched as if his diminutive size would stop the human. "You are not considering going out there?"

"What other choice is there?" The man walked past, his sandals clapping on the wooden floors. "If it's what I think it is, as Guardian, I have a duty to uphold."

"Master Fu, you're 186 years old!" Wayzz pointed out. "It is your duty to pass on wisdom, not run around, chasing down ill omens."

"186 and a half," Master Fu began to do some stretches, clearly undeterred from his mission. "And I still feel as spry as 150, I'll have you know. Now-" Taking a stance, Fu pointed to the ceiling, a bracelet on his arm clinking quietly as he did so. "Wayzz, Shell-!" His cry was cut off by a loud cracking sound, freezing in place with wide eyes. "Uh… Wayzz? May I have some… assistance?"

Sighing, Wayzz flew around the man for a few minutes, punching pressure points until Fu's body finally relaxed, slumping a little bit in relief. When had he gotten so old, he thought to himself bitterly. After a second to check he had full range of motion back, he looked back at Wayzz, his brow raised in his patented 'I-told-you-so' expression. "Fine. I might be… a little out of shape for this. But, what other option is there?"

"Well…" Wayzz trailed off, his gaze wandering over to a corner of the room… where there sat an old but well-maintained gramophone on an oak table. "There's always-"

"No!" Fu shook his head, already knowing where this was going. "Absolutely not! They are too dangerous!"

"But, Master. If what we both sensed was true," Wayzz argued, "we will need them sooner than later. We have no other options."

Fu wanted to protest – there just had to be a better solution than unleashing… them onto Paris. But, try as he might, he had nothing else. Feeling his age even more than earlier, he rubbed at his face to fight the rise in his blood pressure. "Ai-yah… Fine, but we must do this carefully."

Walking over to the gramophone, he pressed the two buttons hidden as dragon eyes on the device's decoration. Between the ornaments, a door opened up to reveal ten buttons; Fu only pressed three, allowing the carved-out gramophone to flip open another secret compartment. Out of its main body, an octagonal box rose, covered in ornate red carvings with the Chinese symbol of Lu in the center. As Fu reached out to open the box, a part of him thought 'Maybe they're dormant…' He lifted the lid-

And slammed it shut when red and green lights peeked out at him. From inside, he could hear two thuds, like something smacked into the lid, followed by the hiss of an angry cat. Looking over at Wayzz, Fu said, "I believe they notice the omen as well."

"Yes, that was my impression as well."

Taking a deep breath, Fu lifted the lid again, but only a crack. The red and green light show blared from within, flaring as if it were angry or impatient. "Okay, you two. I know you're awake! I am going to open the box, but I am warning you: no flying off and causing trouble! If we are to face what is coming, we will choose your users together, understand?"

Whatever was in the box didn't answer, but the lights dimmed slightly, which Fu took as an agreement. Carefully, he opened the box, looking inside to see the two objects giving off light resting peacefully in their designated spots. Releasing his held breath, Fu traded looks with an equally relieved Wayzz. That relief was short-lived as both objects shot out of the box like a couple of bullets!

Reacting quickly, Fu and Wayzz ran around the parlor, trying to catch or slow the flying, speeding objects to no avail. Eventually, both lights shot out of a half-opened window, flying out over Paris, leaving behind a stunned pair. They stood there in shock, frozen for a minute, before rushing for the door. Grabbing his cane, Fu bit back a curse. 'I don't know which is worse – the dark omen, or those two running around unsupervised!'

As the morning daylight graced the citizens of the French capital, a bright red Mercedes cruised smoothly through the Parisian early morning traffic. Many motorists watched as it passed them, not just for the bright cherry red paint job but also pausing at the lack of driver in the vehicle. Its only occupants were in the back of the coupe – a middle-aged woman wearing darkened glasses, and a teenager with a strong resemblance to each other. If any driver had more time to look at the pair, they might even notice how both women sat in the same posture of rigidness, with the backs straight and the heads and eyes facing forward.

Inside the vehicle, the teenage girl glanced out of tinted windows from the corner of her eye. Taking in the sights, she took stock of her new surroundings. 'This is where we live now,' she thought. 'Paris is our new home. I… must accept that.' She quietly exhaled at that thought, a heavy gloom settling in her stomach.

"Kagami," The older woman called for the younger's attention, tapping her bokken cane lightly on the floor of their transport.

Kagami flinched internally; had that slight noise caught the other passenger's attention? "Yes, Mother?"

"Tell me what you know about where we are going."

Kagami nodded, though she knew Tomoe Tsurugi could not see it. It was not that her mother didn't know where they were going – she was a busy woman, but not to the point of forgetfulness. The invitation was obvious; she wanted to make sure Kagami had done what was expected of her and not flown into their new situation unprepared. Kagami Tsurugi was never unprepared. "We are going to Lycee Françoise Dupont, a private school under contract. The school will be full of children from either affluent families or have proven themselves gifted in some capacity. It is going to be my educational institution for the next three years."

Tomoe nodded, though it was unclear if she was pleased or just acknowledging what Kagami had just said. "Tell me what your schedule is today."

Not showing any reaction to the lack of expression, Kagami responded, "Chemistry Honors and Language Studies in the morning, followed by a Study Period and Physical Fitness before Lunch, and Algebra and World History in the afternoon. After school, I will try out for the school fencing team and succeed in joining the team." Kagami was 100% sure of all of this. After all, she had checked three times last night and twice this morning before even leaving her room. After all, she did not make mistakes, she left no room for errors, and she never broke routine or tradition.

Such was the life of Kagami Tsurugi; she was created to be the perfect heir from day one, trained in kickboxing from the moment she could walk, and was already a champion fencer in her junior division. It was the life she was born into, it was the only one she'd ever known, and it would never change.

Even if she wanted it to.

Seemingly satisfied with her sudden (read: expected) interrogation, Tomoe hummed in the affirmative and the car lapsed back into silence. Kagami watched the cityscape pass by her window until the automated automobile pulled up to Françoise Dupont. She gathered her satchel and kendo bag and was about to leave the car when Tomoe spoke up again. "Kagami."

Turning back to ask what was needed, her eyes fell on the small box Tomoe held out to her. "Okāsan, what-"

"Happy Birthday." The girl blinked at the greeting, falling silent for entirely new reasons. "Since I was unable to spend it with you the day of, I figured a gift was at least in order."

"I-" Kagami caught herself; her first instinct had been to hug her mother back, but 1) being blind, she hated when her personal space was suddenly invaded, and 2) Tsurugis don't spontaneously hug each other. Swallowing her emotions, she fixed her mask back on. "Thank you, Mother." Accepting the gift, she opened the box to find… a ring. It was silver-colored, but made of lighter metals, and engraved on it was the family crest, blazing out to Kagami like a constant reminder: you are a Tsurugi.

"You are 15 now, daughter," Tomoe began, her head turned to the front of the car. "The time is fast approaching when you will have to take on bigger responsibilities than you have now. This ring symbolizes that not only do you represent yourself, but the Tsurugi name as well. At your age, this is what my mother told me: A Tsurugi's mind is as elusive as the wind, their will as powerful as the flood, and their fury as swift as lightning." She turned her head slightly, sunglasses gleaming in the light as if inspecting Kagami's response. The older woman was sharp, she didn't need eyes to look through anyone, let alone her own daughter.

Kagami kept her face neutral, not showing the careful woman anything. "Thank you, Mother," she said after a moment, her gaze turning downward to the ring as she placed it on her finger. "I… will endeavor to not bring shame to our name."

As Kagami's attention was on the ring, she failed to notice Tomoe's reaction to the answer. Nor did the teen notice Tomoe's hand reaching out for a moment to touch her shoulder, before retreating back to rest on her bokken. "Tatsu, open door."

The command was followed, the door opened automatically, and Kagami got out of the car in the same reflexive manner as the door, her focus only on the ring. Despite how light it felt, the very nature of the ring felt heavy to her, holding her whole arm down like a lead weight. As Tatsu pulled away, Kagami's thoughts swirled within her.

All her life, the young fencer had done everything to be perfect. She had followed all the rules and made no problems for her mother, and even now, as it turned out, there were more responsibilities? Kagami gulped as her pulse quickened a little at the heavy thought. How much more could there be? How much longer did she have to walk, talk, and act like the perfect doll? What else did she-

Kagami shook her head, clearing her mind. 'I don't have time to think about this. I am a Tsurugi. Just as much as my mother. I… I can do this. I won't let anything else distract me-'

"Look out!"

Kagami reflexively sidestepped as a bike and its rider barreled through the spot on the sidewalk she was just occupying. Blinking at the near collision, the Japanese teen looked over to the finally halted biker. The rider, a dark-skinned girl with curly hair and glasses, jumped off her bike with an apologetic expression. "I am so sorry! I've been meaning to get the brakes checked on this old thing-"

"It's alright." Kagami shook it off, half turning away. "You wouldn't have hit me anyway. Just be mindful in the future." Kagami began walking away, not giving the interaction a second thought.

Frowning, the bespectacled teen looked ready to call out, until a blue car pulled up to the curb, catching her eye. Immediately as it stopped, a sharp-dressed man jumped out of the driver's seat, walking around to the other side for the passenger door. "Excuse me, mademoiselle." The black teen had barely moved before the older man had opened the car door.

Out of the high-end vehicle, a blonde girl emerged; while her eyes were hidden by her sunglasses, the way her head was cocked back gave the impression she was looking down at everyone there. Even if she wasn't, her clothes spoke for themselves – from her sweater and miniskirt to her three-inch heels, the confident girl looked like the very definition of the word 'untouchable'. "Have a nice day, Miss Bourgeois," the driver said with a pleasant and earnest smile.

"Yes, yes," 'Miss Bourgeois' answered dismissively, with a wave of her hand. "You can go now, Jean-Luc. And you'd better pick me the minute school ends!" Acting as if this was an everyday occurrence, the girl's driver only smiled and nodded before getting back into the vehicle.

A sharp gasp brought the blonde's attention to the bike-riding teen nearby, flinching as if just noticing her presence. "You-! You're Chloé Bourgeois, right? You're, like the biggest influencer in all of Paris!" Chloé raised an eyebrow above her sunglasses, an unimpressed expression pulling on her face. "Sorry, sorry! You must get a lot of people fawning over you, but really, I'd just like to ask for an interview. I'm-"

Chloé raised a hand suddenly, the gesture startling the chattering peer into silence. "One, I don't do interviews for nobodies. Two, I don't deal with anyone in plaid. Three," Chloé pulled down her shades and glanced meaningfully at the teen's hair. "...try some conditioner once in a while."

Pushing her shades back up, she snapped her head to the side, ponytail smacking the now shocked and insulted teen in the mouth as she sauntered off, walking as if she were on a runway. Spitting the taste of hair out of her mouth, the glasses-wearing teen glared at the girl's back. "I do use conditioner, you spoiled, bottle-blonde..."

As Chloé stepped away from the curb, two new teens immediately arrived to greet their immaculate peer. "Good morning, Chloé!"

Chloé nodded in greeting. "Perfume."

"Nature's Bounty," Sabrina Raincomprix had a perfume bottle out of her backpack before Chloé had finished speaking. "Lavender and a spritz of honey."

"Hm. That'll do." Chloé waited patiently as the eager redhead sprayed the air in front of her before the blonde walked through it. Sniffing at the mist settling on her, Chloé looked toward her male peer. "Books."

"Right here!" Lê Chiến Kim showed the poised teen his heaving pack, smiling as if it was the easiest thing to lift. "All your books, plus all my books. Good workout, jogging all the way here with double the weight. Really worked up a good sweat!"

"So I noticed." At Chloé's nod, Sabrina sprayed a cheaper perfume at Kim, earning a cough and sneeze from the athletic kid. "Coffee."

Sabrina whipped out an expensive thermos. "Low-fat vanilla latte. No cream, no sugar. Two shots of espresso. Cooled to be consumed warm."

Chloé took the offered drink and sipped, her face subtly relaxing as the caffeine hit her tongue. After her sip, she removed her sunglasses, handing them to Kim who put them in his sweatshirt's pocket. She made a mental note to not ask for them back and just get a new pair. "Is there anything else?"

Sabrina whipped out her phone and checked the schedule. "There's… Adrien's gift?"

Chloé's whole person stiffened as she fixed powder blue eyes onto bespectacled forest green. "Where is it?"

"I…" Sabrina looked away, gulping nervously. "Well… there was so much to get done for today… and I needed to get my own school supplies-"

"And?"

"I… I handed it over to Kim." Sabrina's words raised some alarm bells in Chloé's mind. Hiding her worry under a mask of calm, Chloé looked over to Kim. The larger teen had noticed nothing, too engrossed with his phone to taste the tension in the air.

"Kim." The simple call was enough to pull the boy away from his device. "Where is Adrien's gift?"

Kim blinked, before he looked up in thought, pulling at his jersey's drawstrings. "Gift? Gift…"

"Yes. The Gift," Chloé said through her teeth (which were not clenched, just close together. Clenched teeth ran the risk of damaging her molars, which was out of the question!). "The one welcoming Adrien back to Paris and to finally getting out of home school and enrolled into a real school."

"Oh!" Kim brightened up as he caught on, completely unaware of the mounting anger present on Chloé's face. "That gift! Oh, I got him something amazing! I bet he'll love it!"

Chloé raised a trimmed eyebrow. "And?"

"And… what?"

"Where. Is. It?" With each word, the blonde heiress' eyes bore deeper into the dense jock. Behind her, Sabrina gave Kim a pleading look, clearly hoping he hadn't botched the one thing she had asked him to do.

"Don't worry, Chlo," Kim smiled. "I remember the last time I was put in charge of getting a gift. And broke it. This time, I put it somewhere even I can't sit on it."

"Where." At this point, Chloé wasn't asking, her tone drier than a desert.

"It's back home, in my dresser! Safest place I know! Not bad, amirite?"

Chloé just barely stopped herself from crushing her coffee in frustration. Her face flushed as her breath quickened, and she looked ready to erupt on the spot and take the school with her. Realizing her state by the heat in her face, she immediately began taking deep breaths. She can't get angry, she can't do anger. Anger can twist the face, causing wrinkles and prematurely aging the skin. After a few more breaths, she opened her eyes and looked flatly at Kim. "Adrien's gift… is no good if it's not here, Kim. But never mind."

Sighing, she turned back to Sabrina. "Go get it from his house after school. Don't let it leave your possession until tomorrow." At the girl's eager nod, Chloé allowed her anger to fully release. "In the meantime, I suppose my stunning visage and fashionable charm will have to stand in as his 'welcome to society' gift. And you two," she looked at the pair on either side of her, raising her cup for a sip. "Must make absolutely sure that nothing messes this day up-"

Of course, it was that moment when the universe decided to enact Murphy's Law, by smacking the icy-blue-eyed girl in the back and causing her to spill warm coffee all over her outfit.

A few moments earlier…

Over a little bakery near the heart of Paris, a blue-haired 14-year-old girl was roused from her slumber by the first rays of the sun peeking through her window. Frowning at the disturbance, she turned over and pulled the covers over her head. The movement managed to wake the teenager up a little more, enough so she heard the constant, distant ringing of her alarm. Groaning at the assault on her eyes and ears, she reached blindly with one hand to turn off her phone.

She was leaning halfway out of her loft bed when she thought, 'Wait, didn't I put my alarm on my desk-'

THUD!

"Marinette!" a feminine voice called out through the trapdoor that served as her room's entrance. "Hurry up, dear! You're going to be late for school."

Moaning in response, the now sore girl got out of the heap of limbs that was her collision with the floor and shuffled half-asleep to the desk. One look at her phone, however, and she couldn't be more awake. "What!? I overslept!" As she began rushing around the room, grabbing her clothes and supplies for the bathroom, she talked (babbled) in a frantic manner. "Ohnoohnoohno! I set three alarms, I went to bed at 8:30, I had three cups of chamomile tea – how did I oversleep!?"

During this rush, she stubbed her toe 12 times, rammed her knee into her desk five times, and nearly fell down the attic steps. But, despite all of that, she was able to get to the bathroom and began getting ready… before the light bulb blew and she had to go and replace it. The only good news out of all this very usual string of bad luck was that it was just that – the usual amount. Marinette Dupain-Chang's life was a string of disaster, nerves, and misfortune, but where most would crumble, this girl persevered.

With only 15 minutes before she was late, she had managed to get dressed in her favorite white blouse with gray overshirt, and pink pants. She even had time to make sure all her new and various bruises during her express morning were bandaged. Sadly, she had forgotten to go and get more flesh-colored ones, so she was stuck with a rainbow of kid-sized band-aids running up and down her exposed arms, a few on a couple of fingers, and one more from her wake-up drop on her cheek. It had a neon-green kitty face on it, which made Marinette smile despite herself. Looking at her semi-long hair, she briefly entertained putting it up in pigtails to keep it off of her neck. "Maybe if I was still 13…" Shaking her head, she wrapped it in a quick and messy bun before shooting out of the bathroom.

As she barely avoided falling down the stairs as she raced down them, Marinette stumbled into the bakery. Before Marinette crashed into anything, her mother caught her in a hug and shielded her from smacking into a display of croissants. "Whoa, slow down, dear!" Taking a step back, Sabine Chang looked her daughter up and down with a mixture of pride and amusement. "Fall out of the wrong side of the bed today, Marinette?"

"Only because I forgot where my phone was." Marinette paused before glancing away and muttering, "Again."

"Marinette," Sabine shook her head in affectionate exasperation. "You need to be more careful and slow down."

"It doesn't matter how slow I go, Maman," Marinette sighed. "Not when I'm a klutz."

"My daughter?" a deep-voiced man spoke from the kitchen countertop he was working at, slight humor in his tone. Tom Dupain was built like a bear but was as gentle as a teddy. Despite that softness, his massive hands kneaded bread dough like he was fluffing a pillow. "A klutz? Perish the thought! Why, she's the luckiest, most wonderful girl I know!"

"Papa-"

"Who picked up the slack in the kitchen when we got that last-minute catering order last month?"

Both parents looked proudly and expectantly at the young teen. "...Me."

"And who defused that disagreement last week by splitting the last Danish between two customers, with a promise to make them a Danish each the next day?" Sabine added in with a sly smile. "And made them herself?"

"That was me," Marinette said, a little prouder this time.

"And who's gonna get to their first day of school on time with only 12 minutes to get there?"

"I-what?" Marinette looked over at the wall clock, gaping at the time. "Oh no! I'm gonna be late! I'm gonna be-"

"Marinette," Tom said, coming over from his workstation. "Breath in." Marinette followed the command, mimicking him. "Breathe out." As she exhaled, Tom smiled and patted her shoulder. "Remember, Lycee Françoise Dupont is just a few blocks from us. You have time. Now, do you have everything?"

Calmer than she was before, Marinette did a quick checklist, counting off on her fingers. "Bookbag. Wallet and purse. Emergency sewing kit. Emergency first aid kit-"

"Lunch," Sabine added, handing a pink lunch bag to the girl, before adding a fresh baked croissant in her other hand. "Breakfast."

"And treat!" Tom pulled a macron box seemingly out of nowhere and opened it to show Marinette the varieties.

"Oh, Papa!" Marinette cheered happily; her father was, in her and half the city's opinion, the best baker France had ever seen. Anything made by him would always be a treat. "Thank you, but… that's a lot of macrons for just me."

"Well…" Tom hummed in thought as if he hadn't already planned out everything. "I bet… you could share some of them with your friends! I'd bet they'd love a few with lunch."

"If I had any friends," Marinette muttered, looking very down at that glaring stain on her social status.

"What are you talking about?" Tom shrugged and pointedly did not look at his wife's 'fix-this' look. "You had plenty last I checked! Like… what about… umm…"

"You can't remember them," Marinette supplied, "because I haven't had any since Primaire."

"Well, it's never too late," Tom smiled warmly as he handed the sweet box over to his daughter. "And you can use these as an icebreaker."

"Not like it'll work," Marinette mumbled, putting the box in her backpack anyway. "Everyone I know is well aware of my bad luck. They wouldn't want to be a meter near me, as if the sky's gonna fall on their heads."

"Marinette, you are not unlucky," Sabine denied. "You're a smart girl with boundless energy, always thinking, and needs to remember to slow. Down. And remember to stop trying to plan out everything here." She tapped the girl's head before tapping her chest. "And learn to listen to this once in a while." Smiling dazzlingly at her daughter, Sabine said, "Then I'm sure miraculous things will happen for you!"

Marinette looked between her two optimistic and supportive parents, wishing she had even a fraction of their positivity. "I-" A buzzing from her phone cut off her words with a yelp. "IreallygottagobyeIloveyou!" Giving her mother a quick peck on the cheek and her father a fast hug, the clumsy girl dashed out of the bakery.

As she shot like a bullet toward Dupont, she nearly tripped and ran into several different obstacles, like a jogger on his phone, and a pigeon going after her breakfast. Despite all the delays, she dodged or defended herself with zeal, not breaking stride once. As she crossed the final intersection, the school in sight, she mentally patted herself on the back; not only would she be on time, but she had avoided all major hazards. 'Maybe it's a sign? Is this the year my luck changes-?'

The next seconds seemed to happen in slow motion; as Marinette barreled down the sidewalk, a boy glided into her path on a skateboard. The bluenette spun on the spot like a football star, curving around him. Her speed had not changed though, so her change of direction only sent her toward a new target to crash into. She only had a moment to see who it was she was about to slam into: a girl of clear Japanese descent, sporting a cute navy blue top with a red tie, a plaid skirt with black leggings, and red and white running shoes, all complimented by a smart white blazer with a patch and symbol on it that Marinette couldn't identify, largely because she was about to collide into the poor teen-

In a move that Marinette had no hope of following, her target spun out of the way with more grace than she should have with two bags on either shoulder. Marinette tried anyway, not noticing she was still about to run into someone, just not the immaculate girl. In an explosion of colors, Marinette crashed into the other person sending them both stumbling back. The Chinese-French girl looked over herself to see any new injuries, only to breathe in relief that she was fine. The other person, though…

"That," Chloé said in an icy tone, her wool sweater drenched in latte. "Was a Gabriel original." Completely forgoing her composure, her face twisted in righteous fury as she turned to see who'd run into her. "Who dares-!" Her furious gaze settled on a cowed Marinette. "You."

'Or Murphy's Law was waiting for the best moment strike,' Marinette groaned. Because, how else would you describe the chances that, of all the people she could have crashed into, it had to be Chloé freaking Bourgeois?

Two sets of manicured nails dug into the bluenette's collar, as she was dragged toward Chloé. "You are so-"

A small cough interrupted the growing tirade; both girls looked up to see the curly-haired girl smiling smugly, her phone raised and the camera aimed squarely at the pair. "Hello, Chloé Bourgeois. Alya Césaire, future ace reporter and current blogger. We met earlier. Just wondering what you would like to say to your millions of followers about your new look?"

Chloé looked flatfooted at the situation she was now in; glancing around to see that a few people were glancing their way and whispering, her face instantly brightened as she released Marinette. "...so alright, I hope! You gotta be more careful, Dupain-Chang! You know how clumsy you can be!"

Blinking at the one-eighty, Marinette looked around in confusion. "I… I-"

"Oh, don't worry about the sweater!" Chloé said sweetly, sounding like poisoned honey to Marinette's ears. "It's just a piece of clothing! A… very expensive, limited edition piece of clothing." At the last sentence, Chloé turned around and marched toward the building. Once she was away from the camera, she turned to her posse, already right behind her. "Sabrina-"

"Spare outfit in the locker room," Sabrina was already on the same wavelength. "White spaghetti strap top, yellow sweater."

Chloé tensed at that description, before looking ill. "That's… last season's ensemble!"

Sabrina flinched and looked down. "It was leftover from last school year. Couldn't be replaced until now…"

"I have to greet Adrien in – in – in old clothing!?" Chloé huffed, her teeth very much clenched now. "Ooh! If it wasn't for that tacky, clumsy little-! I'm so mad right now, I could – I could eat a cranberry muffin!"

Sabrina gasped, mouth hanging open in shock. "Chloé! Those're carbs!"

"I know!" the blonde whined as she entered the school in clear distress.

Following behind the both of them, Kim lagged as he looked at the exchange in confusion. "What's wrong with carbs? They're a great way to build up muscles fast – especially if you eat about five with raw eggs and a steak!"

As if following Chloé's lead, students began to funnel into the school as well, already putting the scene before out of their thoughts. Marinette was not one of them, still processing how she got out of a tongue-lashing from the Queen herself. "Wow," Alya spoke up next to her, garnering her attention. "That was a lot. You okay?"

"I'm-" Marinette paused, her nerves getting the better of her. "I'm sorry to bother you. Have a nice day!" She turned to head inside but was stopped by the bespectacled girl.

"Whoa there! I think you meant to say 'Thanks for your help, Alya! You're really cool and helpful! You saved me!'" There was a pause between the two, silence dragging on for a second. "That was me pretending to be you, ya know. I was… doing an icebreaker."

Marinette blinked. "Wait, are you… really talking to me?"

"Well, there ain't nobody else but pigeons out here!" Alya smirked before her own words sank in. "Oh, shoot! We're gonna be late for class!" Pulling her phone back out, she fiddled around with it for a second. "Do you know… where Ms. Bustier's room is?"

Marinette tried not to, but she kept giving this new overly expressive girl an astonished look. By now, people would have walked away, put off by her. So, why wasn't this girl leaving yet? "You must be new," the Chinese-French girl muttered.

"Hm?"

"I-I mean!" Marinette spoke quickly to cover her tension. "I've never seen you around!"

"Not from around here," Alya shrugged. "So, er, Bustier's room?"

"O-oh! Right!" Marinette nodded. "I know where she is! I have her for homeroom, too!"

"Awesome!" Alya smiled blindingly as she grabbed Marinette and began walking them into school. "Must be fate! Let's see if we can be seatmates! Full disclosure – I have a terrible sleep schedule, so if you could nudge me awake now and then-"

"You don't have to do this."

"Huh?" Alya stopped, fixing the quiet girl with a puzzled stare. "Do what?"

"Act like… you like me." Marinette fiddled with one of her bandaged fingers. "Stand up to… Chloé like that."

"Oh please, that was a pleasure!" Alya's smile wasn't as wide and bright as before, but more warm and comforting. "Bottle blonde was asking for it! Plus I didn't see a lot of people lining up to help you for whatever reason."

"Marinette Dupain-Chang." Said girl gestured to all of herself. "Walking mass of bad luck and awkwardness. Even though I try… not to." Scratching at her arm in discomfort, she added. "You probably don't want to spend too much time with me." With that, she began trudging down the hallway, looking down at her feet.

"So," Alya spoke up, catching up to her easily. "Sounds like you're a magnet for chaos." Marinette nodded, not looking up to see the contempt that would surely be on the other girl's face-

"Great! And here I thought school here was gonna be boring!" The downtrodden girl's head shot up. Alya's response was very… unlike Marinette's usual expectations. "Sorry, girl, but I am a card-carrying drama queen! I live for the action shots!" As if to punctuate her next statement, she wrapped an arm around Marinette's shoulders, reeling her in. "Face it, Marinette! We were meant to bump into each other! Maybe not how you bumped into that spoiled brat earlier, but you know what I mean!"

Marinette blinked at Alya's boundless optimism; frankly, it was overwhelming, but… welcoming and familiar. It was like being with her Maman… but way more energized. Coasting on that warm feeling, klutz and ace reporter walked into class in high spirits.

Outside, as the late bell rang, a black limousine pulled up to the curb of Françoise Dupont. Two young men of identical looks got out of the car from the backseat. Well, they resembled each other, but their expressions were vastly different; one was excited and wide-eyed, like a golden retriever, and the other was calm and stoic, inspecting and studying everything around them.

"I can't believe it!" the excited one smiled brightly. "We're finally going to school, Felix! Real school!"

"Well, it is still a rather famous school in Europe," the stoic one commented. "Lots of gifted kids or kids with popular connections go here, Adrien. Try to remember to keep a calmer head."

"Aw, come on, Felix!" The happier teen elbowed the other one lightly. "You can smile a little bit. This is what freedom feels like!"

In response, the more serious twin glanced at his watch. "Considering we're late, I think this might be what tardiness feels like."

"What?" Glancing at the other boy's watch, the kid's wide eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Oh, man! We gotta move!" With that, the young teen bolted into the school building.

The calmer of the pair looked after him, before laughing lightly at the scene and following at a more sedated pace. "Still too easy to wind up, Adrien."