Kairo Enys woke to silence.
No voices from the kitchen.
No clatter of breakfast.
Just the hum of the ceiling fan and the soft buzz of his phone alarm, blinking 6:45 AM in pale blue light.
He stared at the ceiling a moment longer.
Let the buzz go one more time before dragging himself out of bed.
> His apartment was small — a single room, barely enough for a mattress, a desk, and a half-size fridge that growled like it was mad at him.
But it was his.
Three hours from home.
Far enough to breathe.
Close enough to pretend he wasn't running.
He dressed on autopilot — plain shirt, dark hoodie, the same sneakers he'd been wearing since spring.
His school uniform hung off the back of his chair like an accusation.
He stared at it for a second… then gave in and pulled it on.
Keys. Wallet. Earbuds.
And finally—
the die.
> It sat on his desk in a cheap black tray — his birth-die, the same one he'd had since he was born.
Just like everyone else.
Most people carried theirs like a charm. A comfort.
They rolled it before meals, before dates, before job interviews.
Kairo carried his like a secret.
A six-sided die.
One and Two etched in faint silver.
The other four sides?
Blank.
He didn't need to touch it to feel the cold.
Still, he picked it up.
Slipped it into his pocket.
Didn't look at it once.
> He never rolled it.
---
The sky outside was a dull, washed-out grey — the kind that made everything feel slower.
Morning traffic buzzed.
Students moved in small clusters. Some chatting, some half-asleep, others flicking their dice into their palms as naturally as breathing.
At the vending machine on the corner, a girl in a green scarf let hers roll on the sidewalk.
Click.
5.
She smiled.
Pressed the apple tea button.
> A little luck to start the day.
Further down, two boys argued in front of a breakfast cart.
"Just roll, man—"
"I'm not wasting a six on rice and beans!"
"You said that yesterday!"
> Kairo passed them, hoodie up, headphones in.
He didn't roll for food.
Or for choices.
Or for anything.
He crossed to the familiar street stall tucked between two buildings.
Steam curled up from foil-covered trays, thick with spiced oil and roasted peppers.
A handwritten sign flapped from the top of the vendor's umbrella:
TODAY ONLY: Roll a 6 — Get a Free Special!
The vendor — grey-bearded, with deep smile lines and a loud voice — was already teasing the early crowd.
"Step up, step up! First six gets the double meat!"
A girl ahead of Kairo dropped her die onto the counter.
Clack.
3.
She groaned.
The vendor chuckled and handed her a regular plate.
Kairo stepped up next.
The man blinked at him, then grinned.
"You still not rolling?"
Kairo offered a half-shrug. "Nah. I'm good."
The vendor raised an eyebrow. "Come on, kid. Might be your lucky day."
Kairo pulled out exact cash. "If luck's involved, it's not my kind of breakfast."
The vendor laughed, handing over the warm foil container. "You know, you might be the only student in this whole zone who's never once rolled here."
Kairo just smiled, quiet and unreadable, and backed into the moving tide of students.
---
> Behind him, another die hit the counter.
Someone cheered.
Kairo kept walking.
Kairo finally reached the school gates.
The buzz of early morning voices, backpacks slung carelessly, and dice flicking against lockers filled the air.
He stepped inside just as someone waved at him from across the hall.
"Yo! Kairo!"
It was John — his best friend since Year One. Tall, loud, and dangerously confident for someone who failed half his rolls.
Kairo gave him a tired nod. "What's got you all brimming with joy this morning? Don't tell me you're asking Jessica out again."
John grinned like he'd already won.
"Don't worry, I rolled a six."
Kairo raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? That's what you said last week."
"That wasn't my fault," John said quickly. "The weather turned bad. She left before I could say anything."
"And the week before that?"
John scratched the back of his neck. "Okay, that was because the class pet peed on my shoes."
"And the week before that—?"
"Alright, alright, I get it." John threw up his hands. "It never goes successfully. Man, you really know how to kill the mood."
Kairo shrugged. "Just saying. Maybe stop leaving it to fate."
John grinned wider. "Nah. This time's different. I even checked the weather report."
Kairo chuckled, already walking past. "Okay, man. Whatever you say."
John called after him, mock offended. "Hey! Don't ignore me! I'm telling you — today's the day. Just wait and see!"
Kairo just laughed as he pushed into the classroom.
Class hadn't started yet.
---
The room buzzed with early chatter, the scrape of chairs, and the occasional clack of a die rolling on a desk.
Then the door slid open—
—and shut just as fast.
John walked straight to his seat beside mine. His steps were slower this time, his usual grin replaced by a slouch and a sigh.
I glanced at him. "She rejected you, huh?"
He nodded, groaning. "Aha… She said if I'd asked her last week, she might've considered. But David already beat me to it."
I winced. "Sorry, man."
"But…" He frowned. "Why did the die give me a six then?"
That made me pause. I looked at him. "Wait. What exactly did you ask the die?"
He blinked. "Oh. I asked if I'd finally be able to ask her out."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Not whether she'd say yes?"
He stared at me, eyes widening with slow realization. "Wait—so the six was just saying I'd manage to ask her, not that she'd… y'know… say yes?"
I nodded. "Exactly. You rolled fate's version of: 'You got the courage, not the result.'"
John slumped forward onto his desk. "Man… that's actually kind of messed up."
I patted his shoulder. "There you go. Don't overthink it."
He groaned again. "Can we hit the arcade after school? I need to punch something."
I chuckled. "Sure. My treat."
John rolled his head sideways to look at me. "Easy for you to say. You've got Jane as your girlfriend. Even if she kind of terrifies me a little."
I waved it off. "Nah. Jane forced me into it. It's not like we hang out or anything."
John blinked. "Wait… forced you?"
I didn't answer. Just unzipped my bag and pulled out my notebook.
> Some silences feel safer than the truth.