"Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook," the teacher hisses, tapping the board impatiently. The whole class angles their head backwards to stare at the two sleeping boys, who are leaning against the back of their chairs, a book draped over each of their faces. A loud snore issues from under Jimin's book.

The teacher sighs, walking over to the two boys and rapping loudly on their desks, simultaneously pulling the books off the boys' faces. Jungkook wakes up with a start, and upon seeing the teacher towering over them, quickly gives Jimin a rough shove.

Loud whispers fill the class, punctuated by the occasional girly swoon.

Jimin was back in dance class, watching a group of girls pull off a y dance, and does not in the least appreciate Jungkook interrupting such a pleasant dream. With his eyes still closed, he mutters, "What?"

"Jimin-ssi."

Jimin jumps and sits up quickly, hastily wiping the drool off the corner of his lips and grinning guiltily at the teacher. "Sorry, ssem."

"I'll let you off, since it's your first day. Don't do it again," the teacher says, clearing and turning back to face the rest of our class. "These two boys are our new students. Namjoon, can I entrust you with showing them around?"

"Yes, ssem," Namjoon drawls, aiming an irritated glare at the two boys. He fingers the class president badge on his chest with growing impatience. Maybe he really should let Taehyung try it on just for one day—

"Look at the guy on the left! That one!" Taehyung squeals quietly, attacking Namjoon in a spate of barely contained excitement, who flinches and leans out of range of the boy's flailing arms. "What about him?"

"He is so handsome," Taehyung sighs dreamily, shamelessly staring at the newcomer, who notices his gaze and gives him a quick, shy smile.

"You think everyone is handsome, Tae," Namjoon sighs, pushing Taehyung back into his seat.

"No, only Jin hyung, you're ugly," Taehyung says matter-of-factly. Seokjin, who is sitting a row in front with Yoongi, twists back to flash Namjoon a triumphant smirk.

"Taehyung, be quiet," the teacher snaps. "As I was saying, since we have new students today, you'll be free to socialise. At the end of next week, when—"

There's a knock on the door. "Sorry, ssem, may I come in?"

The teacher looks up and sighs, retiring behind her laptop. "It's free period, I'm letting them do what they want. Come on in."

Jimin's eyes flicker upwards, coming to rest on the girl who has just walked through the door and is heading their way. She's not wearing the crisp yellow-and-maroon uniform that everyone in class has on; she's decked out in a blue cheerleader outfit that sticks to her skin tightly and just exposes the layer of muscle over her stomach. There's a rebellious blue streak in her hair that almost matches her outfit. Jimin gulps as she nears and stops, right in front of him.

She doesn't glance his way. "Taehyung-ssi."

Taehyung, who has migrated from his place beside an annoyed Namjoon to sit in front of Jungkook, looks up from his conversation about flying rats. "Wow, a smurf!"

The girl's brows furrow. "That's my chair."

"But—"

Nudging him out of her seat, she slides into it and flashes a slight smile at the quiet boy beside her, whose eyebrows raise into a delighted expression. "You're back from the competition?"

"It hasn't started," she mutters, rummaging through the drawer under her desk.

The boy's face falls. "You won't be in class today?"

"No."

Jimin watches with interest as the girl pulls out a bulging paper bag filled with shimmering material. The boy beside her laughs. "Did you forget your pompoms again?"

"Nearly," she says briskly. "See you, Hoseok."

His eager wave is lost on the girl as she turns her back to him and walks out of the classroom to a few wolf-whistles and shouts of encouragement.

"What is the smurf competing in?" Taehyung asks.

"Cheer," Jungkook replies patiently.

"Oh. I thought it was Halloween."

"What's her name?" Jimin asks in interest, leaning in. The boy named Hoseok looks up, surprised at being addressed.

"Sam. Sam Lee."

"Greetings, Sam," the man says as she walks in. She inclines her head towards him. "Mr Jung."

"You look tired."

"School," she says dismissively, and he laughs. "Always the problem, isn't it?"

"Can we start?"

"Oh—yes, of course. If you'll take a seat," Mr Jung turns around and hits a button on a remote control. "You know the protocol."

Sam perches herself on a beanbag as the wall behind him lights up. A whirring noise starts up, and a smooth, metallic voice intones, "This is a recorded tape. Viewers are required to memorise and put into action the contents of, with application to real life situations, the following speech. The tape will be screened at every race-change lesson, to be stopped at the instructor's discretion."

The Enceladean crest flashes once across the wall, then fades out. A kindly, smiling face slowly comes into focus. "Samantha Lee."

Sam scowls.

"You have bravely volunteered yourself to be part of the pioneer batch of Operation Recolonise. We hope, that as the years go by, people back on Earth will see the success of living in outer space and slowly become more open to the Operation. One day, we hope to move all of Earth's inhabitants out into space and away from our home planet to leave it to fallow. As you know, conditions back on Earth are very," the lady in the video pauses, wonderingly, to search for an appropriate word. "Toxic. Which explains the necessity of Earth serum, that immunises the human body against the hazards of high-level radiation, mercury, carbon dioxide, and what-have-you, all accumulated over the centuries, contributed to by our ancestors.

"Sam, your test results were surprisingly accurate. 100% suitable for human, 98% Guardian, 62% Elemental, 36% Aquarius, and 0% for the rest of the races. You chose to undergo the surgery to become Guardian—a wise choice, and one we hoped you would make. The Guardian is the rarest of all races, and we believe that as of now there are only three in Enceladus, compared to the rest of the races, which are typically in the hundreds, or in the case of nonsurgical humans, thousands.

"The role of the Guardian is based on the old belief of guardian angels. You're designed to protect those around you. It isn't as glorious as it might sound. It's a risky manoeuvre; you have to throw yourself out there to protect others. To be a Guardian, you have to throw away your sense of self-preservation. Give up everything that you have, that you are. You live for other people now. If it means entering a battle arena recklessly, do it. You have the smarts for that.

"However, you have to be aware of the two percent Guardian that you are not, and we would like to advise you to tread carefully, especially when it comes to glory and attention. Everyone likes attention, but as a guardian, you need to fade out and become a wallflower in times as such. We only have one rule: never reveal your identity.

"Being a Guardian comes with its advantages. You have an in-body communication device, a pair of wings, and most importantly, an invisibility function. You are required to turn this on anytime you are fufilling your duty as a Guardian. Let no one know of your race, or a memory wipe will ensue. Abuse your abilities, and they will be revoked.

"Do not question others' races. Discrimination cannot occur if we are seen as one."

The seal of Enceladus flashes over the wall again, and the room is plunged into darkness.

Sam stands up, unfurling her wings.

"Heads up!"

Jimin slams himself onto the floor as a ball goes shooting over his head. Rolling over quickly, he stands and watches, eyes wary, as Yoongi smirks and twirks the ball around in his hands.

"One more minute!" The teacher calls, and there's a whoop from Jimin's left.

"We're going to make it, Jimin!" Yi En whoops, effortlessly dodging an incoming ball with a backflip. "We're gonna win this thing."

"Quit showing off, Mark Tuan—"

Slam. Yoongi aims a ball at Jimin's chest (the teacher blows a whistle. "Foul!"), which takes him off guard and hits him so hard that he doubles up. A girl lets out a triumphant yell as she manages to get Jimin's leg with another hit.

"Aw, man, thought you'd make it, pro dancer," Yoongi teases when Jimin walks out of the arena, chortling as he deflects his punch. "I thought dodgeball wasn't that hard, your words."

Jimin scowls at the older boy and turns back to watch Yi En, alone on the arena, dodge poorly aimed balls (or maybe his acrobatic skills are just too quick for the opponent) for the few, remaining seconds before the teacher blows another whistle to signal that the match is over.

"We still won," Jimin says smugly to Yoongi. "Your team didn't have any players left."

Yoongi shakes his head as they walk out of the sports hall. "I just didn't want to go for the dance module."

"There you are!"

The two boys spin around as Namjoon hurries to catch up, with Seokjin trailing behind. He's drenched in sweat. "Let's go get food, I'm starving."

"Where's Jungkook?" 

"With Taehyung. They're still dancing. More like playing around, actually. Taehyung's just bugging Jungkook while he dances."

Seokjin shakes his head. "Taehyung's obsessed with the maknae."

"You're just jealous," Jimin laughs, and Seokjin turns red. "No, I'm—"

"Jin!"

They turn around as a girl comes hurrying up to them, carrying a pink towel. Her face is flushed and sweaty. She holds out the towel, panting slightly. "This is yours, right?"

"How did you know—?"

"It's pink," she replies blankly.

Seokjin scratches his nape sheepishly. "Right. thanks, Sam."

"Welcome," she says, giving him a lopsided smile, then nods at the rest of the boys curtly and steps past them. Jimin's heart skips a beat as she brushes past him lightly, and he turns to watch her make her way through the throng of students that now line the corridors.

"Crap, hyung," Jimin murmurs to Seokjin. "Can you give me her number?"