The principal rubbed his temples as he walked through the academy gates, the night air cool against his skin. Behind him, trailing with the enthusiasm of a child who had just been promised a trip to an amusement park, was Zik.
"You don't have to follow me," the principal muttered, already exhausted.
"I wanna see my new house," Zik replied, hands casually behind his head. "Gotta check out what I'm inheriting one day."
The principal stopped dead in his tracks, turning slowly. "Can you not make my eventual death sound like a positive thing?"
Zik smirked. "Oh, I'll miss you, Dad. Don't worry."
The principal recoiled like he'd been slapped. "Don't. Call. Me. That."
Zik just grinned. "We'll see."
As they walked through the dimly lit streets, the principal was already running calculations in his head—how to back out of this, how to undo whatever bizarre series of events had led to him acquiring a teenage orphan. He was a principal, not a parent. He barely had time to manage students during school hours; how was he supposed to raise one?
Zik's voice broke through his thoughts. "Reyes said you always wanted kids."
The principal stiffened. "That is none of your business."
"Why say that if you don't want me calling you Dad?"
He sighed. "Because wanting something in theory and dealing with it in reality are very different things."
Zik shrugged. "Sounds like you're just scared."
The principal shot him a glare but didn't argue.
"Also, won't the orphanage get worried?" he asked, trying to shift the conversation.
"Nah," Zik waved him off. "I left a message. As long as you're not missing, dying, or causing problems, they don't really care."
The principal frowned. That shouldn't have surprised him, but hearing it out loud still left a bad taste in his mouth.
Zik stretched, looking up at the stars. "Man, I hope the house is big."
The principal sighed. "What have I gotten myself into?"
As they pulled into the driveway, Zik leaned forward, practically pressing his face against the window. The house wasn't as massive as his imagination had made it—no castle, no towering mansion—but it was still big enough to impress him. Two stories, clean modern design, a neatly kept yard. Definitely a step up from the orphanage.
The car hadn't even fully stopped before Zik was already unbuckling. "Not bad. I was hoping for a pool, though."
The principal shot him a look. "You're not moving in."
Zik ignored him, stepping out and stretching like he already owned the place. "Alright, first order of business—gimme my key."
The principal scoffed, locking the car. "Absolutely not."
Zik looked genuinely offended. "Why not? I live here now."
"You don't live here."
"I will live here."
"You won't."
Zik crossed his arms. "So what, I gotta knock every time? That's humiliating."
The principal massaged his temples. "You're not getting a key, Zik."
Zik exhaled dramatically. "Fine, fine. But I will figure out how to get in without one."
"That is exactly why you're not getting a key."
The principal rubbed his temples. "Look, I ordered pizza. It'll be here soon."
Zik raised an eyebrow. "You didn't even ask what kind I liked."
The principal let out a long sigh. "I didn't think I needed to."
Zik shrugged. "Fair. Food is food."
As he made himself comfortable on the couch like he'd lived there for years, the principal sat across from him, feeling a headache creeping in. This wasn't how his life was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to be responsible for a kid. Especially not this kid.
He glanced at Zik, who was now flipping through channels on his TV. This is illegal, right? He had no legal documentation. No paperwork. No official anything. And yet, here Zik was, acting like he had already inherited the house.
"You do realize you can't just be here without proper documentation," the principal said.
Zik looked up. "Yeah, yeah. We'll handle that. Eventually."
The principal sighed again. "I am way too tired for this."
Zik, still sulking over not getting his own key, crossed his arms. "You're tired? I had to fight for my life today. You just sat there and almost killed me."
The principal rolled his eyes. "That was hours ago. Get over it."
Zik scoffed. "You're the worst dad ever."
The principal immediately pointed at him. "No. Stop that. We are not doing that."
Zik smirked. "Too late, old man. You're stuck with me now. Legally or not."
The principal rubbed his temples. "I swear, I will leave you at a gas station."
Zik ignored the threat and stretched his arms. "Anyway, let's train."
The principal looked at him, exhausted. "Now? Here?"
Zik grinned. "Ohhh, do we have a secret training room? That's so awesome!"
The principal cut him off immediately. "Of course, we don't. Don't be an idiot."
He grabbed the TV remote and flicked through a streaming app, landing on some anime about hunters or something. Then he pressed play.
Zik stared at the screen, then back at him. "Wait… what is this?"
"Training," the principal said casually.
Zik narrowed his eyes. "You're joking."
The principal didn't even look at him. "Nope. Aura is all about imagination. And anime is peak imagination. You wanna get stronger? Open your mind."
Zik blinked. "You're actually insane."
"Keep talking, and I'll make you watch the filler episodes too."
Zik immediately shut up.
As the episode started, the principal leaned back, completely serious. "Pay attention. You're gonna learn something."
Zik watched for a few moments, then side-eyed him. "Okay, but… when do they start talking about aura?"
The principal didn't even flinch. "I dunno. Somewhere in Season 2, I think."
Zik's eyes widened. "SEASON TWO?!"
"Shut up and watch."
After finally getting to season 2, Zik leaned back on the couch, arms crossed. "You know… I feel like you just wanted some father-son bonding time, and honestly, that's okay."
The principal, still focused on the screen, scoffed. "I didn't even want the son part, let alone the bonding. And you ate the last slice of pizza, by the way, so shut up."
Zik grinned. "Oh wow, is that regret I hear?"
"No, it's hunger. Now be quiet, it's getting to the good parts."
Zik sighed and looked back at the screen. "This better be worth it."
The next morning, Zik woke up in some random bed, still groggy from the night before. He stretched, yawned, and then suddenly remembered—The anime!
Bolting out of bed, he rushed back to the living room, hoping the principal hadn't watched the rest without him. But as he entered, he stopped short. The TV was off. The principal was sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep, his arm draped over his face.
Zik stood there for a moment, watching. Huh. He's not such a bad person after all, he thought. Weird, considering he technically almost killed me.
But there was no time to get sentimental. He had a mission. He needed to wake the principal up and drag him to the orphanage before he found a way to weasel out of this whole situation.
With a smirk, Zik cracked his knuckles. Alright, old man, rise and shine.
Zik had expected a lot of things from the adoption process. He thought there'd be a quick signature here, maybe a photo-op there, and boom—he'd officially be Zik Trueman. He had even practiced saying it in front of a mirror.
What he hadn't expected was the sheer nightmare of bureaucracy standing between him and his fancy new last name.
The principal—now his reluctant sort-of-dad—dragged himself out of bed, still half-asleep, and drove Zik to the administrative offices of the orphanage. The moment they stepped inside, the smell of coffee and cheap air freshener assaulted their noses. Stacks of paperwork sat on nearly every desk. A tired-looking woman at the front desk blinked up at them, as if she had already seen too many problems that morning.
"Adoption forms?" the principal asked, rubbing his temples. "For him." He pointed at Zik, who grinned proudly.
The woman sighed and slid an entire folder across the counter. The folder landed with a thud.
"Fill these out. And you'll need an interview, a home study, background checks, and training sessions before we can process the request."
The principal groaned. "Wait, training? For what?"
"For being a parent."
"I don't want to be a parent!"
"Then why are you adopting a kid?"
"Good question," the principal muttered.
Zik, meanwhile, was skimming through the forms. "Whoa. You have to take parenting classes? And a home study? Are they gonna come inspect the house?"
"Yes," the woman deadpanned.
"Well, good news!" Zik said, clapping the principal on the back. "Now you actually have to clean your place."
The principal scowled. "You are this close to going back to the orphanage."
But Zik only grinned wider. "You already signed the preliminary paperwork. Too late."
The Endless Checklists Begin
The next few days turned into an obstacle course of endless bureaucracy.
First, they had to prove the principal was financially stable. Zik made a joke about him being a lonely rich guy, which did not help.
Then came the interview process. The social worker asked the principal deep, personal questions like Why do you want to adopt? ("I don't," was his first answer, which Zik quickly covered up with fake coughing.)
A background check followed, where the principal nervously muttered about "a few misunderstandings" on his record.
Then there was the home inspection, where Zik got to watch the principal scramble to hide his unwashed dishes and hastily shove junk into closets.
Throughout it all, the principal looked like he was suffering. Zik? He was having the time of his life.
"Hey," Zik said at one point, flipping through a Parenting 101 pamphlet. "You know some places require a trial period where I live with you before finalizing the adoption?"
The principal paled. "You mean this isn't finalized yet?"
"Nope," Zik said, grinning. "But don't worry. I'm making myself very comfortable."
The principal groaned, rubbing his face. "I really should've thought this through."
Zik just stretched, kicked his feet up, and smirked. "Yeah. But hey, think about it this way—you're about to officially have a son."
The principal stared at him for a long moment, then sighed, defeated. "I need more coffee."
And with that, the adoption process continued—one long, painful step at a time.
Zik had mixed feelings about the adoption process.
On one hand, it was a ridiculous amount of work. They had to fill out endless paperwork, sit through interviews, clean the principal's house (which Zik did not help with, obviously), and even endure a background check. At one point, the principal had to take a parenting readiness course, which he openly scoffed at the entire time.
But on the other hand… it felt like no one actually cared about the outcome.
Sure, the orphanage followed protocol, but they didn't really question why the principal—who had clearly not planned this—was suddenly taking in a kid. They didn't ask if Zik felt like he belonged with him. They didn't even seem worried about whether this was a good idea.
If anything, they looked… relieved.
That's when it hit Zik.
"They're just happy to get rid of me."
If he were younger—cuter, maybe—there would've been more resistance. More concern. More interviews, more careful placements. But he was too old for that now. No one was worried about where he ended up. They had done their part, ticked the right boxes, and now they could wash their hands of him.
Zik sat back in his chair during one of the final meetings, watching the orphanage director stamp the last form without even looking up.
"That's it? After all that work, you don't even care?"
The principal must have noticed something, because as they walked out of the building, he muttered, "You look weirdly quiet. That's not normal for you."
Zik smirked. "Just thinking about how much effort they made us go through for something they didn't actually care about."
The principal frowned but didn't say anything.
And maybe that was for the best.