As the carriage rumbled along the dirt road, its wheels creaking with every dip and rise, the countryside stretched wide and endless on either side—rolling farmland, golden grass swaying in the breeze, and the last light of the day painting everything in soft amber. In the rear of the open wagon sat three boys, their backs resting against the wooden panels, weary but quietly alert.
The driver, a stout man with a weathered voice, called out over his shoulder, "Division 4 base up ahead, kids."
Kenji, sixteen, stirred at the sound. His crimson hair was messy from sleep, and his sharp orange eyes blinked toward the horizon. He leaned forward, squinting through the fading sunlight.
A tall building stood in the distance, its sides kissed by the last rays of dusk. The structure was imposing—eight stories tall, built of stone and reinforced timber, and surrounded by open fields. It didn't look welcoming, but to Kenji, it was something close to hope.
"Hey, Taka. Wake up. We're here," he said, nudging the boy beside him.
Takahiro, also sixteen, sat up slowly. His hair, a rich golden blond, caught the light in soft waves, complementing the sharp angles of his jaw and the smooth curve of his features. His eyes—an intense, emerald green—blinked against the sun's glow as he yawned and stretched. Even groggy, he had a poised, almost graceful look to him.
"Already?" he murmured. "That was fast..."
Kenji grinned and pointed ahead. "Look! That's it."
Across from them, Yushiro, the youngest at fifteen, remained quiet. His short silver hair fell gently across his brow, and his pale skin almost seemed to catch the fading light. His features were delicate—too delicate for most to pin him down as boy or girl at first glance. But what stood out most were his violet-purple eyes, which flicked up from the book in his hands, briefly acknowledging the Division building in the distance.
He showed no change in expression—no excitement, no curiosity. Just a glance.
Kenji didn't press him. Neither did Takahiro. They were used to it.
The carriage creaked to a stop before the base. Up close, the building loomed even larger. Though plain in design, it was well-maintained, with sturdy walls and narrow windows facing the fields. The place felt quiet—too quiet.
The boys climbed down, slinging their bags over their shoulders. Their boots hit the dry earth with soft thuds as they approached the heavy double doors.
There was no guard at the gate. No officer to welcome them. Just the distant hum of crickets and the rustle of grass in the breeze.
Kenji knocked twice. Then again. When no one answered, he tried the handle. The door creaked open slowly on its hinges, revealing a dim, quiet interior.
The sun slipped below the horizon, casting the world in deepening blue.
And just like that, their new life begins.