Chapter Text
Elaine started going to the Ouran library in first grade.
Not because anyone told her to. Not because it was part of an assignment. She went because it was there, and because sometimes she did not want to stay on the playground.
The library was quiet and big. Bigger than the classroom. Bigger than anything in her house except the living room. The shelves were tall, but the bottom rows were within reach, and that was enough.
She did not know how to tell the difference between storybooks and other books.
She picked one with an animal on the cover.
Inside were pictures. Not cartoon ones. Detailed drawings of animals. Their bones. Their muscles. Arrows pointing to parts with long words next to them. Blocks of text explaining how they moved, what they ate, why their bodies were shaped the way they were.
Elaine sat on the floor and started reading.
She did not understand everything. She understood enough to keep going. When something did not make sense, she reread it. When it still did not make sense, she moved on.
She liked that the book explained things instead of pretending they were simple.
She kept coming back.
Some days she grabbed storybooks. Some days she grabbed books about animals or insects or things she could not pronounce yet. If it had pictures and explanations, she read it.
No one stopped her. No one corrected her. The librarians did not care as long as she was quiet.
Diane found out when Elaine casually mentioned something about animal skeletons at dinner.
“Where did you learn that,” Diane asked.
“A book at school,” Elaine said.
“What kind of book.”
Elaine shrugged. “The animal ones.”
Diane told Sebastian later. Not as a concern. As an observation.
“She reads reference books,” she said. “On her own.”
Sebastian smiled. “Of course she does.”
They both remembered being like that. Wandering into libraries. Picking up books meant for older kids. Reading out of order. Reading because they wanted to know.
The shelf appeared in Elaine’s room soon after.
Low. Sturdy. Filled with illustrated science books. Animals. Nature. Machines. Things Diane and Sebastian recognized immediately because they had read versions of them themselves.
Elaine found it without being told.
“These are mine?” she asked.
“Yes,” Diane said. “You take care of them.”
Elaine did.
The collection grew quietly over time.
Seijuro noticed during a playdate.
Elaine went straight to her room after they arrived, pulling a book from the shelf and sitting on the floor. Seijuro followed, curious.
“What are you doing,” he asked.
“Reading,” Elaine said.
He looked at the open page. It was full of diagrams.
“This isn’t a story.”
“I know.”
Seijuro watched her for a moment. Then he stood up, picked a book from the lower shelf, and sat down across from her.
He opened it.
They read in silence.
Elaine turned pages when she finished them. Seijuro copied her pace. Slower, more careful, but steady. Sometimes he paused on one picture for a long time.
When Diane peeked in, she stopped.
“They’re both reading,” she said quietly.
Sebastian glanced in and nodded. “Figures.”
After that, it became normal.
When Seijuro came over, Elaine brought a book. Seijuro followed without being asked. At his house, Shiori noticed him doing the same thing.
“What are you reading,” she asked once.
“A book Elaine likes,” he answered.
She smiled and let him be.
One day, her homeroom teacher noticed. It happened during recess.
Most of the class had already left the room. Chairs scraped. Someone slammed the door on their way out. The bell rang, loud and long.
Elaine did not move.
She was sitting by the window with a book open on her lap, knees pulled up, finger tracing a picture of an animal skeleton. She had reached the part explaining how joints worked and why certain animals could not move the way others did.
The page turned.
Footsteps passed the classroom. Voices faded.
The door slid open again.
“Elaine?”
She looked up, startled.
Ms. Nida stood there, one hand on the doorframe.
“Recess is over,” Ms. Nida said.
Elaine glanced around. The classroom was empty.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
She stood up at once, hugging the book to her chest. “Sorry.”
Ms. Nida’s eyes moved to the cover. It was not a picture book. It was thick, full of diagrams and labels.
“You didn’t hear the bell ring?” she asked.
Elaine shook her head.
Ms. Nida exhaled, not annoyed. More curious. “Come on.”
She walked Elaine back to class herself. Elaine kept reading as they walked, only closing the book when they reached the doorway.
It happened again a few days later.
And then again the week after that.
Sometimes it was recess. Sometimes it was after school, when the room was almost empty and the lights had been turned off. Elaine stayed seated until someone came looking for her.
That someone was usually Ms. Nida.
By then, Ms. Nida had started noticing patterns. The kinds of books Elaine picked. How long she could sit without moving. How Seijuro sometimes waited for her outside, or quietly went back to get her when he realized she was not with the others.
That was when Ms. Nida began thinking about the science competition club.
And about the two students she wanted in it.
A few days later, she asked four students to stay after class.
Elaine was already seated, book open, when Ms. Nida tapped her desk lightly. “Elaine. You too.”
Elaine closed the book at once and nodded.
Seijuro stayed without comment. He had expected it. Ray looked confused but curious. Hani looked mildly alarmed, like she was about to get scolded.
They gathered near the windows, where the light was better.
Ms. Nida pulled a chair over and sat facing them. “You’re not in trouble,” she said first.
Hani visibly relaxed.
“I’ve noticed something,” Ms. Nida continued. “All four of you read during free time. Not just stories. Other things too.”
Ray straightened. “I read at home a lot.”
“I know,” Ms. Nida said. “You ask good questions in class.”
She looked at Elaine next. “Elaine reads when she’s supposed to be somewhere else.”
Elaine lowered her head. “Sorry.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” Ms. Nida said. “It means you’re focused.”
She turned to Seijuro. “You don’t wander. You stay. You observe.”
Seijuro nodded once.
“And Hani,” Ms. Nida said, “you finish your work early and get bored.”
Hani blinked. “Oh.”
Ms. Nida folded her hands. “There’s a science competition held every year. It’s organized by Quark Science. They publish those science comics you sometimes see in the library.”
Ray’s eyes lit up. “I have those.”
“So do I,” Hani said quickly.
Elaine looked up. “They make the animal ones.”
“Yes,” Ms. Nida said. “They do.”
She let that settle.
“I want to start a small club,” she said. “Not for grades. Not for show. To prepare for that competition. It will be extra work.”
Elaine did not hesitate. “Okay.”
Seijuro nodded. “I’ll do it.”
Ray raised his hand halfway. “Do we have to compete?”
“Eventually,” Ms. Nida said. “But first, you learn.”
Hani hesitated, then said, “Can I quit if it’s too hard?”
Ms. Nida smiled. “You can try first.”
They all stayed quiet for a moment.
Then Elaine asked, very seriously, “Do we get to read more books.”
Ms. Nida smiled wider. “Yes.”
That settled it.
The science competition club began with four students, or so she thought.
The next week, the club was bigger.
Ms. Nida brought them into the science room instead of staying after class. The long tables were already arranged, chairs pulled out.
Elaine stopped when she saw it.
There were other kids there.
Not many. Three, maybe four. All from the class next door.
Ray leaned closer to her. “Did you know about this?”
Elaine shook her head.
Ms. Nida clapped her hands once, gently. “Everyone, settle down.”
When the noise died, she gestured to the unfamiliar students. “These are students from Class 1-B. Their teacher noticed similar habits.”
One of the boys waved awkwardly. A girl near him was already flipping through a notebook.
“This is not a large club,” Ms. Nida continued. “And it won’t be. If you’re here, it’s because you like learning on your own.”
Elaine took a seat near the end of the table. Seijuro sat beside her without asking.
The first activity was simple. Ms. Nida placed a stack of comics.
"Read it, then explain to us all what you learnt from this comic, one by one."
Elaine picked the comic, it had animals on the cover again. This time, the drawings were brighter, cleaner, with speech bubbles mixed between diagrams. The title mentioned movement and balance. She sat down immediately and opened it without waiting for instructions.
Around the table, chairs scraped. Someone whispered. Someone else flipped pages too fast.
Elaine barely noticed. She read from the beginning. Not skipping this time. The comic explained how animals stayed upright, how tails, claws, and muscle placement mattered. It simplified things, but not too much. There were jokes she ignored and explanations she reread.
When she reached the end, Ms. Nida cleared her throat. “Alright,” she said. “Who wants to go first.”
Elaine looked up, surprised. She had forgotten other people were there.
Ray raised his hand halfway. “I can.”
Ms. Nida nodded. “Go ahead.”
Ray talked fast. He summarized the story, mentioned the main idea, then trailed off when he ran out of things to say. Ms. Nida listened patiently, then filled in the gaps. She explained the real terms behind what the comic simplified. She drew a quick diagram on the board.
Elaine watched closely.
Next was Hani. She focused more on the story part, the characters, the jokes. Ms. Nida redirected her gently. “What was the science behind it.”
Hani thought, then tried again.
Then Ms. Nida looked at Elaine.
Elaine straightened. She did not stand. She held the comic open and pointed instead.
“This part,” she said, tapping a diagram. “It says animals don’t just use legs. They use everything to balance. Like tails or claws. And the bones aren’t straight. They curve so they don’t break.” She paused, then added, “It didn’t say this clearly, but I think it’s why they don’t fall when they turn fast.”
Ms. Nida smiled slightly. “Good. That’s exactly it.” She took the marker and expanded on it. Used proper terms. Explained force distribution and joint structure in a way that made sense without talking down to them.
Elaine listened without blinking.
Seijuro went last. His explanation was clean and structured. He did not add guesses. Only what the comic clearly showed. Ms. Nida nodded, then challenged him with a follow-up question. He answered after thinking for a moment.
The session ended like that. Reading, explaining, correcting.
Elaine liked that.
From then on, the club followed the same pattern. Read first. Think first. Talk first. Then Ms. Nida explained properly.
Elaine was late to class twice more that month because she stayed too long in the library before club days. Each time, Ms. Nida came to get her herself.
“You really don’t hear anything when you read,” she said once, walking Elaine back.
Elaine shook her head. “No.”
Ms. Nida sighed, amused. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Seijuro started waiting for her near the library door on club days. He did not rush her. He just stood there until she noticed him.
“You forgot again,” he said once.
Elaine blinked. “Oh.”
He held the door open. “Come on.”
At home, Diane noticed Elaine talking more. Not louder. Just more. She talked about animals, about balance, about why things were built certain ways.
Sebastian listened with interest. He asked questions. Sometimes he corrected her gently. Sometimes he let her talk herself into the answer.
At the Akashi house, Seijuro started asking Shiori for books instead of toys.
“Elaine reads these,” he said, holding up a science comic.
Shiori smiled. “Then you can read them too.”
By the end of first grade, the science competition club was small but steady. Kids came and left. Elaine and Seijuro stayed.
They did not talk much during meetings. They did not need to.
They read. They learned. They sat side by side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Neither of them knew yet that this habit, sitting quietly together while learning something difficult, would be one of the few things that stayed the same no matter how much everything else changed.
The next comic had a boat on the cover.
Inside, the drawings were simpler than last time. A smiling kid dropped rocks into water. They sank. Then the kid dropped a piece of wood. It floated. The comic explained it with big letters and arrows and very round characters.
Elaine read it upside down at first, then flipped it the right way. “Huh,” she said out loud.
Seijuro glanced at her. “What.”
“The rock is heavier,” she said. “But the boat is bigger.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Ray said from across the table. “Bigger things should sink.”
Hani nodded seriously. “Yeah. Like elephants.”
Elaine frowned at the page. She pointed at a picture. “But it says… um… it says the water pushes back.”
Seijuro leaned closer. He squinted. “It says… buoy… buoy-an-see.”
Ms. Nida laughed softly. “Buoyancy,” she said. “Good try.”
They all tried saying it at once.
“Boy-an-see.”
“Boo-yancy.”
“Bouncy?”
Ms. Nida let them struggle for a moment before correcting them. She didn’t write formulas. She drew a big rectangle on the board and filled it with wavy lines. “This is water,” she said. “When you put something in it, the water pushes up. If the push is strong enough, the thing floats.”
Ray raised his hand. “What if I jump in.”
“You sink,” Ms. Nida said.
Ray looked disappointed.
Elaine raised her hand too. “What about ducks.”
“Ducks float,” Hani said confidently. “I saw them.”
“Why?” Ms. Nida asked.
Elaine flipped back through the comic, scanning the pictures. “Because… they’re light?”
Seijuro shook his head. “They’re not light. Ducks are fat.”
Elaine stared at him. “They are not fat.”
“They are.”
Ms. Nida interrupted before it turned into a fight. “Ducks float because of their shape and because of air trapped in their feathers.”
Elaine’s eyes widened. “They’re cheating.”
Ms. Nida smiled. “In a way.”
After the club, Elaine tried it at home. She dropped a spoon into the sink. It sank. She dropped a sponge. It floated. She stared at it for a long time. At the next playdate, she dragged Seijuro to the bathroom.
“Look,” she said, dumping toys into the tub. “The dinosaur sinks. The cup floats.”
Seijuro crouched beside her. “What if you turn the cup over.”
They tried it. Water filled the cup. It sank.
They both gasped like something illegal had happened.
"What in the world are you kids doing?!" Sebastian gasped in shock when he walked in the bathroom with them.
"Doing experiments...?" Elaine said hesitantly
"Do it in the swimming pool or the birdbath! Get out!" Sebastian urges, dragging Seijuro out
At basketball practice later that week, Seijuro kept glancing at the ball when it bounced.
Elaine noticed. “What.”
“It’s like the water,” he said slowly. “It pushes back.”
Elaine tilted her head. “But the floor isn’t water.”
“But it still pushes,” he said, then paused. “I think.”
Elaine considered that. “Maybe.”
They decided to ask Ms. Nida next time.
Elaine forgot the bell again that day. She was rereading the duck page.
Ms. Nida tapped the table lightly. “Elaine.”
Elaine jumped. “Oh.”
“Class,” Ms. Nida said, not unkindly.
Elaine packed up quickly, cheeks warm.
"Ms, why did basketball bounce when i dribble it?" Elaine asked
Ms. Nida smiled at her “The ball pushes the ground, and the ground pushes the ball back.”
"Why?"
"Because the ball is full of air and the material that traps the air inside the ball is flexible. When the ball hits the ground, it gets squished. The air inside doesn’t like being squished, so it pushes back. The floor is hard and doesn’t move, so the push sends the ball back up."
"Ohh..." she nodded as they approached the classroom door.
Seijuro is already waiting for her at the door like usual.
“You were thinking again,” he said.
Elaine nodded. “I found out why basketball bounces.”
Seijuro's eyes lit up "Why? Why? Tell me! Tell me!"
"The ball is full of air and the material that traps the air inside the ball is flexible. When the ball hits the ground, it gets squished. The air inside doesn’t like being squished, so it pushes back. The floor is hard and doesn’t move, so the push sends the ball back up! So it works the same way as water but the difference is the difference is the floor doesn’t move, and the air is trapped,” Elaine finished, a little out of breath.
Seijuro blinked. Then he blinked again.
“So… the ball is like… mad air,” he said slowly.
Elaine frowned. “Not mad. It just doesn’t like being squished.”
He nodded like that made perfect sense. “So if there was no air—”
“It wouldn’t bounce,” Elaine said immediately.
He grinned. “That’s boring.”
They started walking. Seijuro bounced an invisible ball with his hand as they went, testing the idea.
“What if the floor was soft?” he asked.
Elaine thought. She stepped on the grass next to the path and pushed her foot down. “Then it doesn’t push back much.”
Seijuro copied her, pressing his shoe into the dirt. “So the bounce is smaller.”
Elaine nodded. “That’s why it’s bad to dribble on grass.”
He gasped like she had revealed a forbidden rule of the universe.
At the gym later, Seijuro tried dribbling on the rubber mat instead of the court. The ball came back slower.
He looked at Elaine. “It’s true.”
She crossed her arms, very serious. “Technologia.”
At dinner, Diane listened to Elaine explain floating with her hands, pushing invisible water upward.
Sebastian watched, amused. “So what did you learn today.”
Elaine thought hard. “That big and heavy things don’t always sink.”
Sebastian smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Alright,” he said. “So why won’t it sink?”
Elaine frowned. She looked down at her rice, then lifted both hands again, palms facing up like she was holding something invisible. “Because… the water pushes it,” she said slowly. “If the push is strong enough.”
Sebastian nodded. “And when is it strong enough?”
Elaine hesitated. Her brows knit together. “When it’s… spread out?”
Diane perked up slightly. “Spread out how?”
Elaine searched for words. “Like the cup,” she said. “When it’s empty, it floats. When it’s full, it sinks. The water can’t push it the same.”
Sebastian smiled, impressed but not surprised. “That’s close.” He reached for a glass and set it on the table. “Think of it like this. The boat isn’t just heavy. It’s wide. When it sits in water, it pushes a lot of water out of the way. And that water pushes back.”
Elaine’s eyes followed the glass like it was a magic trick. “So if it pushes more water,” she said, “the water pushes more back.” “Yes,” Sebastian said. “If that push is stronger than the weight pulling it down, it floats.” Elaine nodded very seriously, like she had just been entrusted with a secret.
Seijuro, who is eating dinner with the Yui family because they're on a sleepover, sitting quietly beside her, spoke up. “So rocks sink because they don’t push enough water.” “Exactly,” Sebastian said. “They’re small and dense.” Seijuro thought about that. “And balls bounce because the air pushes back.”
Sebastian blinked, then laughed softly. “You two are connecting things already.”
Elaine looked pleased with herself. Later that night, Elaine lay on her stomach on her bed, chin propped on her hands. A science comic was open in front of her, but she wasn’t reading it properly anymore. She was staring at a picture of a boat.
She poked it with her finger. “Push back,” she muttered.
At school the next day, during recess, Ray tried to throw a stone into a puddle and watched it disappear. “See,” he said. “Sink.”
Elaine dropped a leaf after it. It stayed on the surface.
Hani crouched down. “It’s lighter.”
“No,” Elaine said immediately. “It’s flatter.”