Ninety-Nine stepped forward. "I can be a rectangle," he rumbled, and he neatly arranged himself as 9 blocks wide and 11 blocks tall.

Ninety-Nine looked at his own blocks. Nine rows of eleven. Suddenly, he had an idea. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Instead of staying as a solid rectangle, he split his top row of eleven into 10 and 1. Then he shifted the 1 down. He took another row and did the same.

He made the tens form a staircase: 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90. And the nine leftover ones? He sprinkled them like droplets over the staircase.

The result was a shimmering waterfall of blocks—a "Rainbow of Ninety-Nine." The tens glittered like a ramp, and the ones tumbled down like glowing rain.

Ninety-Nine sighed. "I think I only have those two arrangements: 1x99, 3x33, 9x11... and that’s it. I’m not very flexible." He felt a bit plain compared to the dancing, shape-shifting smaller numbers.

From that day on, Numberblock Ninety-Nine didn't worry about being a simple rectangle. He knew he was the bridge to One Hundred, the master of elevens, and the only Numberblock who could make it rain math. And every time he did, the others would shout, "Look! It's Ninety-Nine—making a hundred feel just a splash away!"

"Rain?" Ninety-Nine blinked.