The undercity in the morning after was on a Tuesday, the city still being shrouded in a blue haze as Rad trudged down the narrow alleyways, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. The usual hum of the city was absent at this hour, and the only sounds were the distant hiss of steam pipes, the clanking of old machinery, and the occasional drip of water from rusted pipes overhead.


    It was a cold morning, the air thick with dampness, and the orange light of dawn had yet to pierce the smog-laden atmosphere of the undercity. Rad’s worn shoes scraped against the cracked pavement, the soles thin from years of use. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his breath rising in small clouds in front of him as he moved forward, eyes fixed on the ground ahead. The weight of the world felt heavier this morning, an unshakable pressure that hung over him like the damp fog in the streets.


    As he walked, Rad’s mind swirled with thoughts. School. His mom. His homework. The way he always seemed to be falling short, never quite able to keep up with everyone around him. And of course, Kite. He couldn’t stop thinking about him, and that made everything worse.


    Rad’s gaze flicked upward as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His stomach clenched when he saw them, Kite and Ava, walking side by side. They were laughing about something, their voices carrying in the cold morning air. Ava’s sharp laughter rang out, her carefree attitude a sharp contrast to Rad’s heavy mood. Kite was grinning, looking as easygoing as always, his posture relaxed as they talked like it was the most natural thing in the world.


    Rad’s chest tightened, and an unbidden feeling bubbled up inside him. A twinge of jealousy. A hot, bitter wave of anger. He didn’t want to feel this way, but he couldn’t stop it. It felt like he was watching something he could never have, something that didn’t belong to him. Kite and Ava. They had something Rad didn’t. A friendship. A connection. Something real.


    They were always so happy. So comfortable in each other’s company. Rad had spent too many days watching them from a distance, feeling like an outsider, an invisible presence in a world that wasn’t meant for him.


    Why don’t I get that? Rad thought bitterly, his hands clenching into fists in his pockets. Why is it so easy for them?


    But he knew he couldn’t let them see the storm raging inside him. He couldn’t show weakness, not to them. Not to anyone. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, and, for a moment, he considered turning back home. But no. He wasn’t going to give in to this petty jealousy.


    With a shaky breath, Rad forced himself to focus, to take the next step forward, and walk past them as though they were just another part of the city. His eyes stayed on the ground in front of him, the soles of his boots slapping against the wet pavement. He walked with his head down, trying not to acknowledge them, trying to ignore the way his heart twisted as they passed by him, their laughter still ringing in his ears.


    He heard Ava’s voice, teasing Kite about something, her words drifting back to him. “You sure you can keep up today? Don’t want you falling behind again, Kite.”


    Kite chuckled; his voice warm. “Oh, please. Ill dust you in our rematch.'''' Rad couldn’t stop the bitter taste that crept into his mouth. He tried to ignore the anger simmering just below the surface, but it was hard. Every word, every laugh, every shared moment between them felt like a reminder of how far out of reach that kind of life was for him. He wasn’t part of their world. He was just Rad, the kid who didn’t fit in, the kid who never measured up.


    But he kept walking, forcing his feet to move, keeping his eyes on the door of the school building in front of him. He didn’t want to deal with this today. He didn’t want to feel this way.


    When he reached the entrance of the school, he hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward Kite and Ava. They were still talking, still laughing, their voices fading as they moved further down the path. Rad clenched his jaw, the knot in his stomach tightening. Get it together, he told himself. You’re not them. You’re not even close. Just go inside and get it over with.


    With a sharp inhale, he pushed open the heavy school doors, the sound of them creaking on their hinges a brief moment of separation from the world outside. The smell of stale air and old textbooks hit him, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. His shoulders slumped as he walked in, blending in with the crowd of students trickling in for the start of the day.


    Kite and Ava were long gone by the time Rad made his way to his locker, his fingers brushing the cold metal of the door. He thought about the two of them, their laughter, the ease between them. And it stung, deeper than he wanted to admit.


    But he wasn’t going to let it show. Not today. He wasn’t going to let himself fall apart in front of everyone. So, he shoved the feelings down, buried them deep, and focused on the tasks ahead. The day would go on, just like every other. And he would just have to get through it.


    The classroom was a dull gray, with flickering fluorescent lights overhead, their hum filling the silence between the occasional sound of pencils scraping against paper. The desks were arranged in neat rows, the floor creaking underfoot as students shifted in their seats. Rad sat two rows behind Kite, as always, with the familiar dull ache of distance pressing down on him. It was a feeling that had become second nature to him, always just outside the circle, always just beyond the conversation. The back of the class was a familiar sanctuary for him, a place where he could exist without drawing attention to himself.


    Ms. Lena stood at the front of the class, tapping her stylus on the large interactive screen mounted on the wall. It flickered to life, displaying a series of complicated diagrams, wires, nodes, and lines that wove into something Rad couldn’t quite decipher. She was speaking about something that seemed way over his head, something about nanotech and cybernetic interfaces, new tech that was supposed to revolutionize the undercity. The kind of thing that made his head spin, especially with the pressure of the day''s weight already hanging over him. He caught snippets of her words, but it all felt like static.


    "…and so, as you can see, the integration of nanomachines into the human brain allows for seamless control over external devices, just like the neural implants we’ve been studying." Ms. Lena’s voice cut through the fog in Rad’s head. She gestured to the screen, where a simulation of a human brain, lit up with bright blue lines, was shown manipulating a series of floating objects. The image shifted, showing a close-up of a glowing blue cybernetic eye with intricate circuitry tracing through the veins, and Rad''s attention drifted back to the front of the room.


    He glanced sideways at Kite, who was sitting at his desk with a relaxed posture, one arm resting casually on the table. Kite seemed to be absorbing everything effortlessly, his eyes tracking Ms. Lena’s words with ease. Rad had seen it too many times before, the way Kite’s mind just clicked with this stuff, the way he absorbed knowledge and made it seem so simple. His fingers tapped lightly against his desk, his face thoughtful but not overwhelmed, like this lesson was something he could apply without even thinking about it. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Kite''s mouth, as if he found it all amusing, like he was already ahead of the lesson before Ms. Lena even finished it.


    Rad felt that familiar pang in his chest, the sharp twist of envy that never quite went away when it came to Kite. How was it so easy for him? How did he get everything so quickly, without breaking a sweat? Rad could barely keep his eyes open, trying to grasp the concepts that Ms. Lena was laying out, the words slipping through his fingers like sand.


    Rad’s gaze lingered on Kite for a moment longer, watching his pen effortlessly move across the paper, taking notes with an ease that only made Rad feel smaller. His own notebook lay untouched in front of him, the scribbles from earlier that day barely legible under the mess of half-written thoughts. It wasn’t like Rad hadn’t tried, but the ideas in his head never seemed to line up the way they did for Kite. The tech, the concepts, the language, it was all just noise to Rad, a tangled mess that made him feel lost, drowning in a sea of information he couldn''t keep up with.


    A soft chuckle broke Rad from his thoughts. He glanced up, catching Kite’s eye. Kite’s grin was small but genuine, like he was aware of Rad’s struggle without saying anything. Kite didn’t need to taunt him; he never did. But Rad could tell when Kite had finished writing, when he was more interested in what was happening around him than what was on the screen. He saw the way Kite’s eyes wandered to the students around them, a brief moment of distraction.


    Rad felt a twinge of discomfort, unsure whether he should be grateful that Kite wasn’t trying to show off or if it made him feel worse. Kite had a natural gift; he could learn without effort. He could navigate the complicated world of tech like it was his second nature. But for Rad, it was an insurmountable wall, one he couldn’t scale no matter how hard he tried.


    Ms. Lena’s voice brought Rad’s attention back to the front of the room. “Now, let’s apply this concept to something more familiar. What about the neural interfaces that are in use today?” She asked, looking around the room, waiting for someone to answer.


    Rad was zoning out again when he heard Kite’s voice. “Well, like the ones they use for controlling drones in the upper districts, right? The ones with real-time data analysis?”


    Rad’s heart skipped a beat, not because of the answer, but because it was so easy for Kite. His response had come without hesitation, the words smooth and confident, like he’d been born knowing exactly what Ms. Lena meant. Rad’s hands tightened on his notebook. He hated the way he felt, like he was stuck in a place where he couldn’t get out. Like he couldn’t even keep up with something as simple as class.


    "Exactly, Kite," Ms. Lena replied with a nod. "And how does that tie into the advancements we’re seeing with augmented reality? Anyone?"


    Rad forced himself to look down at his desk, focusing on the scribbles he had written earlier. His hand moved automatically as he started to jot down something, anything, to make it seem like he was keeping up. But the words blurred together, and he realized he wasn’t even sure what the question was anymore.


    The class continued, and Rad’s mind drifted back to the image of Kite, easygoing and confident, a far cry from the turmoil Rad felt inside. The weight of the lesson, the weight of his own insecurities, it all swirled around him, and it made it so hard to focus. His fingers tapped nervously on the edge of his desk, fighting the feeling of suffocating under the pressure to be someone he wasn’t. And all the while, Kite’s voice drifted in and out of his thoughts, a constant reminder that no matter how hard Rad tried, it was never quite enough.


    Ms. Lena clasped her hands together at the front of the class, her stern gaze sweeping over the room. "Alright, class," she announced, her tone brisk, "we’re starting a group project that will span the next two weeks. This will count for a significant portion of your grade, so I expect you to take it seriously."


    The room immediately filled with murmurs of excitement, apprehension, and outright dread. A chimera child sitting near the front, her cat-like tail flicking lazily, raised her hand. "Can we choose our partners, Ms. Lena?" she asked, her voice hopeful.


    Ms. Lena’s frown deepened, and she shook her head firmly. "No, you may not. I’ve already decided on the pairs."


    The classroom erupted into groans, with some students leaning back in their chairs while others exchanged exasperated looks with their friends. Rad, sitting near the back, leaned forward with a scowl, resting his chin on his hand. Kite, meanwhile, shifted uneasily in his seat, glancing toward Ava, who shot him a confident smirk.


    Ms. Lena’s eyes narrowed at the collective grumbling. "If you’d prefer," she began, her voice sharp, "I can scrap the project and give you a pop quiz right now instead." The class immediately straightened up, voices uniting in a loud, panicked, "No, ma’am!"


    "That’s what I thought." Ms. Lena allowed herself a small, satisfied smile before picking up her tablet. She began reading off names, pairing students together. “Jax and Maria.” The two nodded at each other, already seated close. ''''Bryce and Mona.” A loud groan came from Bryce, who slouched in his seat, while Maria rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ava and Lira.”


    Ava raised an eyebrow but didn’t complain, casting a glance back at Kite. Lira, the chimera girl with feline features, gave a small nod of acknowledgment. Lira is a nine-year-old chimera girl with animalistic traits, her feline attributes blending seamlessly with her youthful innocence. Her soft black and white fur was short and sleek, accentuating the distinct patterns that made her look like a living ink painting. Her large, expressive eyes, one gold and one a pale icy blue sparkled with curiosity and innocence. A slender tail swayed behind her, its black tip twitching occasionally as if echoing her thoughts.


    Her outfit was as unique as she was, perfectly tailored for her playful and agile nature. She wore a sleeveless tunic-style hoodie in a soft gray, its material loose enough to allow free movement but snug enough not to hinder her natural grace. Black and white accents ran along the edges, matching her fur, and an artistic paw-print design adorned the chest. The hood itself had small, triangular cat ears sewn into the top, adding a whimsical touch to her already feline-like features.


    Below, she sported flexible black leggings, the fabric reinforced with knee patches to withstand her constant climbing and exploring. Subtle claw-mark patterns adorned the leggings, a playful nod to her natural abilities. Her feet were snugly fitted into lightweight slip-on shoes with soft, padded soles designed to accommodate her retractable claws, ensuring she could move silently or grip securely whenever she needed to climb or leap.


    Around her waist, a small utility belt carried a satchel just big enough to hold her collection of little treasures, pebbles, shiny trinkets, or any oddities she found during her adventures. Draped loosely around her neck was a scarf in black and white, its fabric lightweight yet warm, fluttering slightly as she moved. It complemented her fur perfectly, making her look both cozy and ready for adventure. Lira''s outfit wasn''t just practical, it mirrored her personality, combining the playful creativity of a child with the sleek elegance of her chimera lineage.


    Ms. Lena worked her way through the list, her tone methodical and unwavering. Finally, she looked up and called out the next pair, "Kite and Rad." Kite froze in his seat, his stomach flipping. His fingers gripped the edge of his desk as he gulped nervously, glancing over his shoulder at Rad. Rad’s immediate reaction was a scoff, a sharp, irritated sound that made Kite’s ears burn. Rad leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his jaw tightening as he shot a glare at the back of Kite’s head.


    Ava’s eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the exchange from a distance, her expression hard to read. She adjusted her position in her seat, keeping one ear on her new partner, Lira, but her focus was undeniably on Kite and Rad. Rad muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Kite to hear. "Great. Just what I needed."


    Kite winced but forced himself to move back a few seats next to Rad, offering a hesitant smile. "Hey, uh… looks like it’s us." Rad didn’t respond, his eyes flickering away, his expression set in a grimace.


    Ms. Lena continued pairing students, but the air between Kite and Rad felt heavy, the tension palpable. Ava noticed Kite’s unease and frowned slightly, her sharp instincts picking up on the discomfort. She wanted to say something but knew it wasn’t the time.


    As the class settled into their pairs, Ms. Lena clapped her hands for attention. "I expect you all to collaborate and bring your best effort to this project. It will require teamwork, so I advise you to set aside any differences and focus on the task at hand."


    Kite and Rad exchanged another glance, the weight of Ms. Lena’s words hanging between them. Ava tightened her grip on her pen, while Lira’s tail flicked slightly against her chair. She wasn’t sure how this pairing would play out, but she knew one thing: she’d be keeping a close eye on both of them.


    Ms. Lena stood at the front of the classroom, her sharp gaze scanning the sea of curious, nervous, and bored faces. The murmurs of student chatter quieted as she raised her hand, signaling for silence. Once the room was still, she cleared her throat and tapped on her tablet, causing the holo-board behind her to light up with an image of a sleek, white humanoid robotic baby cradled in glowing text that read "The Nurture Project."


    "Alright, listen up," Ms. Lena began, her tone firm and businesslike. "Your group project for the next month is going to be unlike anything you’ve done before. This is about responsibility, teamwork, and problem-solving in a real-world context." She paused, letting the suspense build.


    "Each pair," she continued, "will be responsible for caring for and maintaining a robotic baby." A wave of surprise rippled through the room, with some students gasping while others groaned or muttered under their breath. Kite’s eyebrows shot up, and he instinctively glanced over at Rad, who still looked unimpressed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Ms. Lena ignored the commotion and continued. "These robotic babies are highly advanced. They are programmed to simulate the needs and behaviors of an actual infant. That includes crying, feeding schedules, and even occasional mood swings. You will need to nurse them, change their synthetic diapers, and monitor their health through the paired app on your school tablets and handout watches."


    At this, a chimera boy in the back snickered. "Synthetic diapers? Seriously?" Ms. Lena shot him a glare so sharp that the smirk immediately disappeared from his face. "Yes, seriously, Mr. Roe. This project is designed to teach you how to manage stress, share responsibility, and think critically under pressure, skills that are vital no matter what career path you choose. "She walked over to her desk and picked up a small, lifelike robotic baby with smooth metallic skin, soft blue eyes, and jointed limbs covered in synthetic padding. She held it up for the class to see, her tone softening slightly. "This," she said, "is your baby. Each one is unique and will have its own personality and needs. They’re built to simulate real reactions, so don’t think for a second this will be easy."


    The class stared at the robot with a mix of fascination and horror. Ava leaned forward, squinting at the baby. "Does it... poop?" she asked bluntly, causing a ripple of laughter.


    Ms. Lena raised an eyebrow. "No, Ava, but it will require simulated feeding and regular maintenance. And yes, it will cry if neglected or worse, malfunction if mishandled."


    Kite couldn’t help but grin at Ava’s comment, but his amusement quickly faded as Ms. Lena’s expression turned serious. "Here’s the catch," Ms. Lena said, pacing slowly in front of the class. "If your baby’s health drops below 30% or if it sustains any serious damage, you and your partner will fail this project."


    The classroom erupted into protests. "Fail? That’s not fair!" one student exclaimed. "What if my partner messes up?" another chimera child groaned, glancing nervously at his assigned teammate.


    Ms. Lena held up her hand again, silencing them. "That’s the point of the exercise. You will need to communicate and work together. If one of you makes a mistake, it’s up to both of you to fix it. Think of it as a crash course in teamwork under high stakes."


    She set the robotic baby gently back on her desk and tapped a button on her tablet. A list of partner names and baby IDs appeared on the holo-board. "Each pair will receive their baby and app credentials at the end of class, along with special watches to keep in touch. Take care of them like you would a real infant. That means feeding schedules, monitoring their energy levels, and addressing any errors or maintenance issues promptly. If you’re confused or have questions, the app has a detailed manual, and I’m available for guidance."


    Rad scowled as he slouched further into his seat, muttering, "Great. Just what I need." Kite felt a wave of nervous energy, knowing how much work this project would require, and how tense things were likely to get between him and Rad. Ava, sitting a few seats over, watched the pair carefully, her sharp eyes flicking between Rad’s clenched jaw and Kite’s uneasy fidgeting. She leaned over to her partner, Lira, and whispered, "This is gonna be a train wreck."


    Ms. Lena’s voice broke through the low buzz of murmurs. "One last thing, your performance on this project will be reviewed weekly. That means you don’t get to slack off. If your baby’s health is at risk at any point, you’ll be given a warning. Any questions?"


    No one raised their hand, though the tension in the room was palpable. "Good," Ms. Lena said briskly. "Now, let’s get started."


    Ms. Lena strode up and down the aisles, carrying the white robotic babies in protective cradles. Each pair of students waited in anticipation, or dread, as she carefully placed the lifelike androids onto their desks. The robotic babies, painted in pale white, looked startlingly real, with jointed limbs, softly glowing eyes, and subtle whirring sounds as they occasionally shifted in their cradles.


    One by one, she made her way down the rows. Ava and Lira received their baby first, a standard model with violet-glowing eyes. Ava smirked as she poked its synthetic cheek. "Cute. Looks like it’s going to start quoting Shakespeare or something," she joked, earning a chuckle from Lira.


    As Ms. Lena approached Kite and Rad’s desk, she paused, glancing down at the baby she held. It was distinctly different from the others. Its body was painted in onyx black pain, its glowing emerald-green eyes scanning the room with a curious flicker. Thick, curly brown hair framed its face, giving it a uniquely lifelike appearance. Ms. Lena frowned slightly, tilting her head as if puzzled by its design.


    "Huh," she muttered, more to herself than to the students. "This one’s... unique." She turned her gaze to Kite and Rad. "For some odd reason, this one bears a striking resemblance to you, Kite."


    Kite’s eyes widened as he leaned forward, inspecting the baby. "Whoa! It does!" he exclaimed, a broad grin spreading across his face. "That’s so cool!" Rad leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face a mask of irritation. "Creepy," he muttered under his breath, though his eyes darted to the baby with a flicker of unease.


    Ms. Lena placed the baby in its cradle on their desk with utmost care. Its emerald eyes blinked slowly, turning to Kite as if recognizing him. A soft, mechanical coo escaped its lips, causing Kite to grin even wider.


    "See? It likes me!" Kite declared triumphantly. Rad rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because it’s a robot. It’s programmed to like you."


    Ms. Lena straightened up, brushing her hands off as she addressed them. "This model is slightly more advanced than the others. I’m not sure why it was included in this batch, but its programming is identical. The only difference is its appearance. It’ll still need the same care and attention as the rest."


    She gave them both a pointed look. "You two need to work together. No squabbling, no excuses. This project is about teamwork. Got it?"


    "Got it," Kite said eagerly, already leaning toward the cradle to study the baby up close. Rad muttered a half-hearted "Yeah," his arms still crossed as he glared at the baby like it had personally offended him.


    Ms. Lena moved on to the next pair, leaving Kite and Rad with their new charge. Kite leaned closer to the baby, his emerald-green eyes meeting the robot’s glowing counterparts. "Man, this thing is so detailed. Look at its hair! It’s almost exactly like mine!" He reached out to gently brush a curl on the baby’s head, grinning when it cooed again.


    Rad groaned, looking away. "Are you seriously geeking out over this? It’s just a machine." Kite shot him a playful smirk. "Oh, come on. You’ve gotta admit, it’s pretty cool. Look how real it is!"


    Rad didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the corner of the desk. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the class to end so he could escape this uncomfortable pairing. From across the room, Ava watched the interaction closely, her sharp pink eyes narrowing as she nudged Lira. "They’ve barely started, and Rad already looks ready to bolt," she whispered.


    Lira chuckled softly. "Poor guy. He’s probably just annoyed that the baby doesn’t look like him." Ava grinned but kept her focus on Kite and Rad, clearly curious, and slightly worried about how this partnership would play out.


    Meanwhile, Kite was still marveling at the baby. He pressed a button on the tablet Ms. Lena had handed out, bringing up a diagnostic menu. "Okay, let’s see. It needs food every four hours, diaper changes every six hours, and some kind of... playtime interaction? Huh, that’s interesting." Rad groaned louder this time. "Great. We’re stuck babysitting a glorified doll. Can’t wait."


    Kite’s grin didn’t falter. He nudged Rad with his elbow. "Oh, lighten up. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be fun." Rad shot him a glare but didn’t reply, his jaw tightening as he stared at the strange, robotic baby in its cradle.


    Kite leaned over the cradle, a curious and gentle smile on his face. He studied the robotic baby''s serene expression, his gaze lingering on its delicate features. The baby’s onyx black surface was pristine, its intricate details almost uncanny.


    Was so lifelike that for a fleeting moment, Kite forgot it was just a machine, captivated by the softness in its face and the faint hum of its inner mechanisms. “So... you gotta name, little guy?" Kite asked in a soft voice, a glimmer of warmth lighting up his eyes he gently reached toward the cradle, as if an affectionate touch might bring it to life. Beside him, Rad rolled his eyes, slumping further back in his chair.


    "Come on, Kite'' he muttered under his breath, his irritation plain as he observed the robotic baby with barely concealed disdain. "It''s just a glorified toaster with a diaper." But Kite didn''t hear him. His focus was locked on the baby, fascinated by the craftsmanship that went into its creation, from the intricate details of its eyes to the gentle curl of its hair.


    For a long, silent moment, the baby stared off into the distance, its unblinking gaze unsettling. The robotic baby remained silent, its small, polished fingers twitching subtly, almost as if calibrating its response. Its gaze seemed unfocused, staring into the distance with an unsettling intensity, a moment of eerie quiet that stretched just a bit too long. Then, the faint glow of its eyes shifted, pulsing from a muted green to an ethereal, almost haunting purple hue.


    Sending out a bright, purple cosmic pulse throughout the room that only it could see. The transformation was subtle yet profound, casting faint shadows that made its rounded, metallic like face appear both wise and ancient, like an artifact unearthed from another world. Kite''s breath caught. Rad shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a nervous scoff escaping him, but he, too, couldn''t tear his eyes away.


    The baby''s stare shifted, its gaze locking onto Kite''s with a quiet intensity, as if it were seeing something beyond the room, beyond the present. "I... have no name," it responded, its voice a soft monotone that sounded distant, almost hollow. Each word it spoke seemed to carry strange weight, an unnatural precision.


    “My Creator, however, Ray Cooper, has designated me with the temporary mission of protecting this universe''s Henry Cooper." As it spoke, its glowing eyes refocused with startling clarity, further locking onto Kite with a gaze that felt far too intelligent, too piercing, for such a small machine. Its expressionless face, although cold and synthetic, somehow conveyed an unsettling sense of purpose, as if it were seeing through Kite, not just looking at him.


    Kite''s smile faded, his eyes widening in a mix of shock and confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came, his mind racing to process the bizarre declaration. He felt a chill run down his spine as the Words sank in, the name Ray Cooper repeating in his mind.


    The robotic baby''s eyes remained fixed on him, as if watching for a reaction, assessing something in his gaze. the baby continued, its eyes unwavering, unblinking. "It would appear death and tragedy run deep in your bloodline, no matter the universe, Henry Cooper."


    The baby''s robotic voice carried an unnerving finality, its cold tone contrasting with the weight of the words. There was no acknowledgment of Rad''s presence, indication that anyone other than Kite existed in that moment. Its attention, laser-focused and eerie, was reserved solely for him.


    The words hit him like a wave, each syllable landing with an inexplicable weight. The baby''s unblinking eyes held his, piercing into him with a stare that was almost human, almost knowing. Kite felt a strange sensation, as if the baby could see straight into his soul, into the very fabric of his being, beyond anything he understood. His throat went dry, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.


    It was as If the room had fallen silent, as if even Rad''s presence beside him had faded into the background. The robotic baby made no acknowledgment of Rad, who sat there slack jawed, muttering something inaudible, frozen as he stared at the strange sight unfolding before him. Kite''s mouth went dry, and he could feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his fingertips, his hand instinctively gripping the edge of the cradle. Every detail of the baby''s face, its luminous purple eyes, the subtle sheen of its black casing, the way its tiny mechanical mouth had formed words meant for him alone, etched itself into Kite''s mind, as if branding him with a strange and unexplainable destiny he couldn''t yet fathom.


    Kite’s breath hitched, confusion flickering across his face as he instinctively leaned closer to the robotic baby. The world around him felt like it had slowed, the murmurs and rustles of the classroom fading into a muffled hum. “What… what did you just say?” he asked, his voice trembling just above a whisper.


    The baby''s glowing purple eyes locked onto Kite''s, unblinking, as if assessing him. For a long, unnerving moment, the classroom noise faded into the background, the faint hum of the robotic baby''s internal mechanisms filling the silence between them.


    Rad, who had been lounging in his chair moments ago with a bored and dismissive expression, now sat upright. The usual slouch in his posture disappeared as unease crept into his demeanor. His dark eyes darted between Kite and the baby; his irritation replaced with a nervous energy. “Okay… what the hell is this thing talking about?” he muttered, his voice low but edged with tension, as though speaking louder might provoke the strange machine.


    The baby didn’t so much as glance in Rad’s direction. Its expression remained unchanged, mechanical and yet unsettlingly purposeful. “Your existence, Henry Cooper, is not bound by coincidence,” it intoned, its voice eerily calm but heavy with a weight Rad and Kite could feel in their chests. “Your bloodline is a thread woven across countless universes, each marked by sacrifice, loss, and the weight of responsibility.”


    Kite’s heart pounded like a drum in his chest, the words hitting him with an inexplicable force. A bead of sweat formed on his temple, trickling down as he leaned away from the cradle, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. His voice cracked when he spoke, more a reflex than a conscious effort. “Henry Cooper? My name is Kite… not Henry.”


    The baby tilted its head ever so slightly, the gesture almost human but entirely mechanical, as if attempting to process his words. The glow in its eyes intensified, a brief flash of vivid purple radiating across its smooth, black face, before it dimmed back to the familiar green. “Names are but constructs,” the baby replied, its tone steady, its words deliberate. “Your identity transcends the moniker given to you in this time period. My mission is clear, to protect you and ensure your fate, my fate, remains intact.”


    Rad’s expression twisted into one of disbelief, his unease morphing into frustration as he tried to reassert control over the bizarre situation. “Okay, this is nuts,” he snapped, a nervous laugh escaping him despite himself. “What kind of malfunctioning junk is this? Ms. Lena said these things were programmed for basic care simulations, not… not this weird destiny nonsense.”


    Yet again, the baby ignored him completely. Its gaze remained fixed on Kite, unyielding, its glowing eyes reflecting the boy’s wide, stunned expression. Its voice softened, but the gravity of its words only deepened. “In every universe, the burden falls to you. Tragedy and death shadow your path, but so too does the potential for greatness. Your future choices will ripple across the multiverse, shaping the fate of all who stand within your orbit.”


    The room seemed to grow colder, and the tension in the air was palpable. Kite’s stomach churned, his mind racing to comprehend the cryptic proclamations. What does it mean? Universes? Burdens? Why me? His hands trembled as he forced himself to meet the baby’s gaze, a strange mix of fear, confusion, and something he couldn’t yet name twisting inside him. For the first time, he felt truly seen, but by something far beyond his understanding.


    Rad, meanwhile, could feel a simmering anger rising within him, a defensive reaction to the eerie focus the robot had on Kite and its complete disregard for him. He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he fought the urge to shout. Yet even he couldn’t deny the inexplicable weight in the baby’s words. The atmosphere in the classroom pressed down on both of them, even as the rest of the students chattered away, unnaturally oblivious to the strange drama unfolding between the three.


    Rad, tired of being ignored, finally snapped. His voice rose sharply, cutting through the thick tension that clung to the air. “Oh yeah? If you know so much, what about me then, huh? Since you seem to know everything!” His words were laced with frustration, the heat of his temper bubbling over as he leaned forward, fists planted on his knees. His dark eyes narrowed, glaring at the robotic baby with a mix of anger and challenge, as if daring it to acknowledge him.


    The robotic baby didn’t respond right away. Instead, it remained still, unnervingly so, its glowing purple eyes dimming to a low hum, as if processing the demand. A soft whirring noise emanated from within its sleek black casing, like gears turning or hidden circuits firing as it recalibrated. The pause dragged out, the weight of the silence stretching so long it almost became unbearable. Then, slowly, its head tilted toward Rad, the motion smooth yet mechanical, precise yet unnatural. The soft glow in its eyes flared back to life, intensifying as they locked onto Rad’s with a gaze that felt far too deliberate for something artificial. For a moment, Rad felt frozen beneath that stare, as though the machine was peeling him apart, layer by layer, searching for something it couldn’t find. The baby’s luminous eyes pulsed once, a faint flicker of purple washing over its cold, metallic like features, before it finally spoke.


    “I am truly sorry,” it said, its voice a serene monotone that carried a strange, chilling weight. Each word was delivered with deliberate precision, yet there was an unsettling gentleness in its tone, like an apology given by something that could not fully understand human emotion anymore. The faint hum of its internal mechanisms thrummed softly, filling the silence as it continued. “I have no data of you in my databanks.”


    The glowing purple in its eyes briefly faded to a dimmer hue, almost as if emphasizing the statement’s emptiness. Then, in a tone so soft it bordered on a coo, the robotic baby added, “You appear to be an anomaly that leaves no lasting impact on this universe.”


    Rad’s expression faltered. For a split second, disbelief flickered across his face as if he hadn’t fully processed the words, but then something else surged forward, anger. His wide, dark eyes burned with a sudden intensity, his hands clenching into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “What?” he whispered under his breath, the single word trembling with incredulous fury.


    His voice was low, barely audible, but it carried a dangerous edge. Rad’s chest rose and fell sharply, his breathing uneven as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. The robotic baby remained perfectly still, its violet gaze unwavering and indifferent, as though oblivious to the storm it had just unleashed. It didn’t flinch or falter under Rad’s glare; it simply stared back, unblinking, the faint purple glow still casting faint shadows across its smooth black casing.


    The room felt even colder now, as though the very temperature had dropped in response to the interaction. Kite, still gripped by his own turmoil, glanced between Rad and the baby, his eyes wide with alarm. He could see Rad’s shoulders trembling slightly, the simmering anger threatening to boil over. The boy’s jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful, his teeth grinding together audibly.


    “What do you mean… I leave no lasting impact?” Rad’s voice cracked, louder this time, his tone raw with a mix of rage and disbelief. There was something almost vulnerable in the way he spoke, as if the words had struck far deeper than he’d ever admit. His face contorted, frustration and pain written across his features as he stared at the machine that refused to acknowledge his existence as anything of consequence.


    But the robotic baby offered no further explanation. It remained still, its glowing eyes locked onto Rad but void of expression, of recognition, of care. Its silence felt damning, as if its earlier words had been delivered with a cruel finality.


    Rad stood up quickly as pushed himself up, his chair scraping against the floor with a jarring screech that shattered the oppressive quiet. “You’re wrong,” he hissed through gritted teeth, though his voice trembled slightly. His anger crackled like electricity in the air, but beneath it, there was something else, a flicker of doubt, as though part of him feared the baby’s words might hold some truth. He stood there for a moment, fists trembling at his sides, chest heaving, but the robotic baby made no move, no sound. Its faint, mechanical hum was the only acknowledgment of its continued presence.


    Kite, still frozen in his seat, felt his heart pounding harder as he watched the scene unfold. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, unable to find the right words to break the tension. The baby’s purple glow seemed to pulse softly, a quiet heartbeat of light in the dim space, and for the first time, Kite thought it looked almost sad, as if something without emotions or free will could ever be sad.


    Rad turned away sharply, unable to look at the thing any longer, his face flushed with anger and humiliation. His breaths were heavy and ragged, but he said nothing more, his frustration pouring off him in waves. He stormed out of the room, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the cradle, as if it''s very presence repelled him. And still, the robotic baby laid there in the cradle, unblinking, unmoving, its eerie, glowing purple eyes following Rad for just a moment before turning back to Kite with mechanical precision, as though nothing had happened at all.


    For a while, the baby’s unblinking gaze held Kite’s, as if awaiting his next move. But eventually the robotic baby’s luminous eyes dimmed slightly, their vibrant glow pulsating like a faint heartbeat. Its onyx black face twitched, an almost imperceptible mechanical stutter, as if struggling against some unseen force to form its words.