The whispers didn't stop.
If anything, they got louder when Mao returned.
"Thought he disappeared."
"He's done for."
"Trying too hard again."
But this time, Mao didn't flinch.
He wasn't chasing their approval anymore.
He was building something for himself—and those like him.
---
It began with a table.
In the old library wing no one used.
He sat there during lunch. Alone at first.
Then Kenji joined him. Then Mika. Then two underclassmen who had lost motivation.
Then a boy who'd failed twice but kept showing up.
"What is this?" someone asked.
"A place for people who feel like they've lost," Mao replied. "But aren't done yet."
---
He called it The Ember Circle.
A group for students who had fallen.
Burnt out.
Broken down.
Rejected.
Embarrassed.
Mao didn't promise to fix anyone.
He just made space for them to breathe.
And slowly, it grew.
---
One day, as Mao wrote on the whiteboard in the room, Arisa walked in.
Everything paused.
She looked around the circle, then back at him.
"Still pretending to be the good guy?"
Mao looked her dead in the eye. Calm. Clear.
"No. I'm just done being the broken one."
She scoffed. "You think this makes you better?"
"No," he replied. "It makes me whole."
Silence.
Arisa's mouth opened, but no words came.
And for the first time, she walked away from him—and Mao didn't feel a thing.
---
That night, Mao stayed late, cleaning the board.
Rika joined him.
"You look... different," she said.
"Maybe I finally stopped performing."
She smiled. "You started creating."
---
The Ember Circle became more than a table.
It became a voice.
A movement.
Students who had been discarded found fire again.
And Mao—no longer a king or ghost—became a guide.
Not by force.
Not by title.
But by example.
The final term of the year began with a chill, as if the school itself sensed a shift. The once fading boy, Mao, was now the quiet center of something powerful. Not a storm. Not a crown. But a flame—one that refused to die.
The Ember Circle had grown. From a table of the forgotten, it had become a sanctuary. Students no one listened to now found voice. Those who had once mocked Mao now watched in silence, unsure whether to cheer or stay out of the light.
Mao stood at the heart of it, not as a savior, but as a mirror of their struggles. He didn't command. He listened. He taught. He learned.
And he rose.
---
It began with a project—a school-wide mentorship initiative created by The Ember Circle. It paired students across years and ranks, building bridges no teacher had managed before. The staff watched, surprised. Some were skeptical. Others saw potential.
When the council elections came around, Mao didn't campaign. He didn't make promises. He simply kept working.
But then the unexpected happened: he was nominated.
By Rika. By Mika. By Kenji. By dozens more.
Even some of the very teachers who once dismissed him cast their votes.
And when the results were announced, his name echoed louder than it ever had before:
**"Academic President: Mao