ax_main | Sunny and T'Challa, backdated to mid-July

Sunny's first day involves meeting a prince, somehow not making a fool of herself, and finding out maybe it won't be so bad here.

Even up to the moment she’d left the campus, Aunt Chinwe had reminded Sunny that she didn’t have to do this. School didn’t start until September and she and her husband were happy to keep her until them. But Sunny remained steadfast in her decision. She wasn’t supposed to stay with them as long as she had, let alone remain with them through the entire summer. No matter how much her auntie assured Sunny that she wasn’t a burden, she was welcome, Sunny could not square it in her own mind. So even though the school had to be a ghost town—it would almost be more depressing if it wasn’t—she decided on going to Xavier’s as soon as possible.

Chinwe had sighed and kissed her again and again, finding excuses to linger. They were so alike in some ways, the third child of their generation, the one who had never fit. Sunny looked up to Chinwe, Chinwe was protective of Sunny. But they both knew it was time when she said the one thing they’d both been dancing around.

“Your mother should be here. It’s not right. You know she loves you, yes?”

Not her father, though. Chinwe might have said that she had no place speaking for her brother-in-law, but everyone knew.

So the girl had sat in her new dorm room for twenty minutes, texting her brothers to let them know she wasn’t dead while giving her aunt plenty of time to get well clear of campus. If they saw each other, Sunny knew what nerve she had was going to crumple.

And then she stepped outside to go exploring and the reality of everything—no parents, no brothers, no friends, no relatives, no anybody—crashed in and she very nearly crumpled anyway.

Which was stupid, so after a moment she squared her shoulders, settling the umbrella she didn't actually need but made her feel more secure for the familiarity of it. At the very least she refused to look like a scared little girl.

It was Xavier's idea that T'Challa should introduce himself to Sunny. Shuri would have been the better choice, but Shuri was not on the grounds, and T'Challa would not be surprised if she had satisfied her curiosity for the place already. Even Ororo might have done better, and T'Challa had no doubt that she would be welcoming in her own time. Xavier had asked for T'Challa to meet him in his office, the man had explained, because T'Challa spoke Igbo and because he was familiar with Nigeria. Xavier told him that he thought Sunny would do very well here, soon enough, and she had grown up in New York before moving to Nigeria and then back again. It would not be so great a culture shock as it could have been. But perhaps someone who understood where her family had come from better than most here would be a welcome sight. And yes. Someone black, T'Challa understood without Xavier speaking those words, in a school with very few black faces, would perhaps be a welcome sight.

T'Challa had agreed to look for the new girl on the day she was set to arrive, quietly minding the irregular passage of cars to and from the grounds, and then the emergence of an umbrella from the dorms with a very pale girl sheltered beneath as he looked up from some light reading on his phone. He watched her, or the back of her, for some minutes before sliding his phone into his pocket and deciding to approach.

"Ehihie ọma," he offered once he was close enough to speak properly. The dark, fit young man in a silver-gray collarless button-down shirt and immaculate white slacks with shining black accessories did not reach for her, but he smiled in a genuine if reserved way. There was a glint in his eye that acknowledged a certain amount of pleasure in having the opportunity to speak Igbo in this place, but he would not want her to think of it as being at her expense. "Are you Sunny Nwazue?"

If there was one thing Sunny had never expected to hear after her auntie had left was the sound of literally anybody speaking Igbo, not to mention pronouncing her surname correctly on the first try. Her head whipped in that direction almost in shock.

Oh. Oh, wow. Wow. She didn't think any guy that beautiful had ever approached her, not with a smile on his face. Reflexively she tucked one of her braids behind her ear, prayed that she wouldn't start blushing... and tried not to look wary. Tried.

Family, Orlu, and Sasha aside, most any guy who got anywhere near her only did it to spit on her. If she was lucky.

"Ndewo," she answered softly. No, she was not going to make herself look weak. She went on more clearly. "Yes, I'm Sunny."

Much of Africa had old superstitions surrounding albinism, casting such people as 'ghosts' or 'cursed' even in this day and age. Here in America, children and fools could also be cruel. While he remembered the old superstitions, T'Challa would not be the one to continue them.

"Ọ dị m obi ụtọ izute gị. Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Sunny. I am Prince T'Challa, son of King T'Chaka of the Kingdom of Wakanda. I am also an upperclassman here." Isolationist Wakanda was not known to be wealthy, and it was only one third the size of Nigeria. But the strength of pride in his introduction was unmistakable.

About a year ago, Sunny had gone with her friends on a trip to Abuja. She still couldn't believe Mama hadn't found out about the truth of it, but it was one of the many minor miracles that she'd learned to just not question. It had been educational. Among other things she'd been introduced to Junk Man, someone Chichi had been very excited to see. His market stall had been interesting, but advice he hadn't meant to give had been more so.

You can always tell a man's nature by his voice, a woman's nature is more in the eyes.

It had never occurred to her before then, but she'd found it to be pretty accurate since. Her head had tipped slightly to the side as though she was trying to listen better, though she didn't notice she'd done that. And then it took her a beat to process, because what had he just said to her? "Oh my God, you're serious." He meant it. And she wasn't sure whether the welcome or the prince part was the more unbelievable. And then of course hearing the stupid thing that had just popped out of her mouth and Sunny felt the heat blooming in her cheeks with not even a scrap of melanin to disguise it. Sunny hated blushing. Everyone did it, she knew everyone did it, but what she wouldn't give to be too dark for it to show.

His voice said he was kind, but the reflex to take control of any possible mockery had been ingrained over a decade of dealing with her peers. She grinned and lowered her eyes, shaking her head. "I've been on my own for thirty minutes and I've made myself look like an idiot in front of a prince, good job, me." Wakanda might not be as wealthy or large as Nigeria, but it was a good sight more stable. She was already braced for all manner of dumb questions from white kids about Boko Haram.

When she lifted her gaze she was still pink but she was going to ignore it. "Can I ask why of all the thousands of languages on the continent you know Igbo?"

His smile widened a touch, and he did not appear to take any offense at her disbelief. He did spare a glance to observe the warm flush to her cheeks, though not unkindly. "I speak several other languages," he conceded. "But I speak Igbo for the same reason that I speak English - to communicate with our neighbors." Both the literal, it would seem, and the figurative.

He glanced down the path where Sunny had been walking before he had distracted her, gesturing ahead of them to see if she would like to continue. "May I join you on your walk?"

Even after so long of watching Chichi's example, Sunny was still never quite at ease with male attention. She'd had very little opportunity to get used to it, regardless of the kind of attention it was.

It was supposed to be easy. You smile, you say yes, you keep walking and start making small talk.

And yeah, that was simple, but that didn't make it easy.

"Yes. If you'd like, but..." she cast a glance down at her almost glaringly white arm. Then she raised her eyes and straightened. It was a medical condition and there was nothing wrong with her; she had no reason to shrink over it. "You don't have to. I know what I am." It wasn't shame or self-deprecation toward herself or accusation toward him. Just probability. Rejection was so close to being a certainty in her life that if her color was at all going to be a problem and this was just exceptionally good manners, she'd prefer to just know.

And hey, she wasn't screaming like she had at poor Orlu that first time he'd walked her home, but in her defense she had just been punched. A lot.

T'Challa considered this for a long moment. "I know what I can see with my eyes," he agreed at last. "But those things do not tell me who you are."

He glanced around the grounds before adding, "if being white-skinned is a reason that I should not show you common courtesy, I will have to tell all of the other white-skinned students about this new policy. It sounds like a great deal of trouble."

That startled Sunny into giggling, and unlike her previous self-defense laughter, she relaxed when she did it. That wasn't what she meant, but of course that was the point. She grinned. "Yeah, okay."

He smiled back, for the first time taking on a look more boyish than composed, and started to continue down the path. "What is your first impression of the school?"

That I'm basically living in exile, Sunny thought as she fell in step beside him, but she didn't voice aloud. It couldn't be a new story around here. Sunny could say the obvious things--that the campus was pretty, that Professor Xavier seemed nice enough, or she could say what she was actually thinking to someone who might have an idea what she meant. "It reminds me of gated neighborhoods in Lagos. The sort of place that's very nice, but can become a bubble if you try hard enough to ignore what's outside." Though immediately outside the campus wouldn't be filth and crushing poverty.

He sucked his teeth, thoughtfully whisper-soft. "You are right that it can be tempting to live in this place as if it is the only place." T'Challa could not deny he had enjoyed it as a brief refuge from his responsibilities at home, and for allowing him to experience a whole community of mutants from different backgrounds. "Particularly with the addition of the graduate housing. But it is for each student to decide where they will go from here. It is my hope that most students will go back out into the world, this generation of mutants making the way easier for the next."

Sunny could barely comprehend where her life would be in a couple of months, let alone a couple of years; she didn't want to think about the future. "Is it rude to ask what gift brought you to this place?"

"It is a personal question, but I don't think it is rude." Some of the students were very sensitive about their abilities. But if all of them were here at least in part because of those abilities, and if there was great variation in their mutations, it was only natural to be curious about their fellow students. "My abilities are physical. I am stronger, faster, tougher and more agile than a human could be."

Sunny nodded her understanding. "I've only ever known two extremes. Either nothing said at all, or..." she smiled a little, fond and a little annoyed all at once, "well, my friends have no sense of shame. Or boundaries." Well, Orlu did, but Chichi and Sasha sure as hell didn't. Still, they kept few secrets from each other, and none when it came to their powers.

"If you are able to talk to your friends from home openly about your abilities, that is its own gift." T'Challa admired that Thor and his brother could so be so open with their own countrymen. He was fortunate enough to have a discrete mutation, and some of the legends surrounding the royal blood of Wakanda would reassure the devout amongst his people, should it come to that. But the outcomes of fear and superstition were dangerous and difficult to predict.

"Just the four of us," Sunny said, "because we all had abilities. And even then it might not have been safe, but we couldn't resist being able to talk to somebody." And Sunny couldn't resist people wanting to talk to her at all. She'd been tolerated sometimes, but wanted rarely.

"I had my younger sister, Shuri, once she came into her power. But very few people know the truth of who we are." T'Challa was grateful for their bond, always, even for the difficulties it represented. "I could not have imagined so many 'gifted students' living together like this successfully until seeing it for myself."

She nodded. The idea that she could be open about who and what she was... it was a little overwhelming in a way. Her powers had always existed alongside the pressure of keeping them secret. She didn't know how to change that.

"I'm not entirely sure my brothers know," Sunny admitted quietly. "I think they do, but... we haven't been direct, and Mama never told me how much the family is aware of." Except her father. Her father definitely knew, which was why he'd been willing to spend money toward making sure she stayed over here. Aunt Chinwe knew, but her other aunts and uncles, her cousins, Yaya... Well, Yaya probably never would, she didn't imagine her father would be telling anybody on his side.

"Not everyone wants to see what is in front of them." His tone didn't exactly approve, but it was what it was. "At least you have some say in who will hear your story and when."

"Well, in their defense I tried pretty hard to keep it from them. Also I'm the girl and the baby, the only time anybody really pays attention to me is when someone needs to present kola and that barely counts. Not to mention," Sunny's lips curled in wry little smile and her tone took on the sort of more-fond-that-willing-to-admit exasperation mastered by all baby sisters for their older brothers. "they're kinda stupid. Well, Chukwu is."

T'Challa could not help but grin, even if he probably should not encourage Sunny in that way. "This is what it must sound like when Shuri tells someone she has a brother." Not that Shuri had to explain who her family was very often, but he knew how she was. "I feel sympathy for Chukwu. I suspect his trouble is not that he is stupid, but that his baby sister is too smart for her own good. A real troublemaker."

"Probably. It's our job. We take it very seriously." Sunny's little smile turned into a mischievous grin. "But oh, you've never met my brother, self-proclaimed God's gift to the world's women. If I didn't poke holes every now and then, even from a distance, his ego would swell his head to the point of exploding. I have to protect him from himself."

He raised his eyebrows as if taking this very seriously, though the effect somewhat spoiled by the slight quirk of his lips and the gleam in his eyes. "Eish," he phrased it as mock frustration in his own Xhosa. "Do you think you will be able to find time for classes and homework?"

Sunny bit her lip against bursting into a fit of giggles and lifted her chin. "I always managed to make do before. I'm sure I can find a way."

"You sound as if you are used to being resourceful." T'Challa escorted Sunny and her umbrella around the side of a building as the path curved. "But if you should need anything, or have any questions, do not hesitate to ask."

These were typical words of politeness and should not have hit Sunny as hard as they did. And yet feeling confident that he wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it, Sunny found herself suddenly feeling shy.

Because yes, she was used to being resourceful. But in the last few years, she'd also gotten used to having Orlu and Chichi and Sasha around. Hell, she was used to having her brothers to fall back on when she was really screwed. Ready as she had to be to take care of herself by herself, she didn't necessarily like being an island. And, of course, she didn't have the first idea how to articulate any of that to a stranger or if she even should, so of course she didn't.

In the shadow of the building, she let the umbrella slacken in her grip and fall back from protecting her face. "You're very kind," she said in a smaller voice than she probably meant to.

His expression softened from his good humor to something more thoughtful as he watched her. "Do you know any of the Yoruba language?" Thirty million Nigerians spoke the language. But he did not mean it to be a test. "There is an old Yoruba saying about anger drawing arrows from the quiver and kindness kola nuts from the bag. If you are still willing to present kola, little sister, I would rather have those than your arrows. ...Not that I have any idea of where you are going to find kola nuts here. You could buy me a Coke in the cafeteria?"

"Some," she said automatically, which was the short version of the most polite answer to that question. 'Some' constituted mostly of 'enough to get by in Lagos' and 'enough to cuss someone out in a soccer match.' The long answer was that she understood more than she spoke and she couldn't read it at all.

The worst of the vulnerability was smoothed away again, and Sunny grinned. "I could do that, sure."

"Good," he said simply, deciding Sunny would do well here. She seemed to T'Challa to be a tough girl - not mean, but determined and resilient. If he reminded her a bit of her homeland, it was true enough that she reminded him of his own. And if they could keep each other company in that way, so much the better for them both. "We aren't far from the cafeteria now. I can show you the way."