10:47 JST — Daelic Crucible, House Varnen Dorm C
The elevator chimed softly as it reached the third floor. Nishiyama stepped out first, still humming whatever off-key tune she'd been butchering since the second level.
She gave a short wave down the hall. "C-wing. End of the hall. Your new kingdom."
Most Crucible dorms were keyed to cadet ID bands. Nishiyama stepped up to the doorplate first and tapped it twice, then glanced back at Sekhmet with a lazy wave. "It's your room. You gotta claim it."
Sekhmet hesitated, then raised her wrist.
A soft chime.
The light on the door flashed blue, then green.
ACCESS GRANTED
There was a short hiss of pressure as the lock disengaged. Nishiyama pushed the door open with her foot.
"Voilà. Your little corner of hell." She breathed in deeply, "Yup, still smells like polymer."
Shirogane peeked in from behind, "It smells like a new phone."
"Same thing," Nishiyama muttered as she ushered the two in.
The dorm room was smaller than they'd imagined. Two beds. Two desks. Two drawers.
A tiny mirror flickered over the sink, cycling between ambient lighting modes.
Nishiyama stepped in and dropped onto one of the beds. "Ahh. Brings me back. These dorms always smelled like bleach and disappointment."
Shirogane leaned against the frame, visibly wilted. "Do they all look like this?"
Nishiyama kicked her feet, "Pretty much. Unless you rank up or transfer to the Specialty Dorms. Then you get a water heater and a soundproof wall."
Sekhmet, who'd been trailing her fingers along the edge of the desk, paused. She glanced up, "…Am I allowed to put up soundproofing?"
Nishiyama blinked. "You planning to start a band?"
"No," Sekhmet said evenly. "I just don't want people hearing me."
Nishiyama sat up, "As long as it doesn't interfere with the dorm comms, no one's gonna stop you. Just don't cover the vents or the safety equipment."
Sekhmet gave a small nod. "Understood."
"Why though? You embarrassed? Got a weird snore?"
Sekhmet's gaze drifted toward the mirror. "…It's my voice, when I sing or hum… people stop what they're doing. It's like they get pulled in."
Nishiyama blinked. That wasn't what she expected.
"My apartment back in Shinjuku was soundproofed, floor to ceiling."
"You think it's a bad thing?" Nishiyama asked.
Sekhmet's fingers tensed on the desk edge.
Shirogane had gone still, standing halfway between the bed and the bathroom. "Sin… You really think your voice is that strong?"
Sekhmet nodded silently.
Nishiyama exhaled and leaned back, arms folded behind her head. "Well. You're at the Crucible now," she said simply. "If something breaks people that easily, we train it. So it stops breaking them."
She opened one eye and gave a small smile. "Soundproof the room if it helps."
Shirogane slowly walked over to her bed and sat down with a faint whump. "…You know, when you sang on the train… it felt like a warm hug."
Nishiyama's expression froze. Slowly, her head turned toward Sekhmet. "During the fight… there was this… calm. It devoured my panic before it could finish forming. I thought it was some kind frequency interference at first. But even the Spiral responded. Do you have any idea what that thing was rated?"
Sekhmet looked at her confused. "What was what rated?"
"That Spiral was classified as a B-Rank type by Command."
She folded her arms, "Three A-Rank agents were already on-site. We were holding the line, but we couldn't crack its defense again after Miki landed a clean blow."
She took a slow breath.
"Until it stopped attacking. Like it was listening to orders. Then it started clawing at the roof like it was trying to get to something it couldn't see."
Nishiyama's gaze landed squarely on Sekhmet. "It had to be your voice that reached it."
Shirogane looked up, stunned.
"Whatever it was… it shook the Spiral's focus. That's what gave me the opening to kill it. You saved that train car, Sekhmet. Probably saved the whole train. So don't talk like your voice is some… burden."
Sekhmet's eyes widened. "No… I…" Her voice trailed off. "Didn't mean for it to affect anyone."
Nishiyama didn't budge. "Intent doesn't change the result."
Sekhmet looked away. "I was just trying to stay calm."
Shirogane brushed her hair back. "And you did. You also calmed others Sin."
Sekhmet looked away.
Nishiyama studied her in silence.
Then, sighed, "You've been treating your voice like contraband. At the Crucible, that's called an asset."
Sekhmet pulled her scarf over her mouth.
Nishiyama exhaled, "Might wanna start figuring out how to use it. It's prolly your Spira ability."
Sekhmet didn't respond. Her hands moved instead, unclipping her satchel and opening it. "You make it sound like I'm some kind of weapon," she said.
Nishiyama raised a brow. "You're at the Crucible. Everyone is."
Sekhmet pulled out a neatly folded sweater and set it on the desk. "Then I guess I better 'act' the part." She turned away slightly.
"Figure out how to blend in. Keep the singing to showers and dreams."
Nishiyama opened her mouth to say something more—but her phone rang. She pulled her phone out to see "Mitsuki" on the screen.
She clicked her tongue and stood. "Duty calls."
Shirogane looked up. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Probably." Nishiyama flicked a quick salute with two fingers. "I'll check in later. If a Spiral shows up, don't 'sing' them to death."
Nobody laughed
Nishiyama scratched the back of her neck, awkwardly. "Right. Sorry. That was… too soon." She gave a tight smile, then turned and stepped out, letting the dorm door hiss closed behind her.
Sekhmet exhaled through her nose and reached into her duffel bag. She pulled out folded clothes, a couple sealed canisters of hair products, a rolled up poster and a couple plushies.
Shirogane shifted her weight on the bed and got closer to Sekhmet. "You okay?"
Sekhmet unfolded a blanket and smoothed it over the mattress like it was something fragile. "…I'm used to being alone," she said finally. "But this place is… louder than I thought."
Shirogane looked at her, "But you're not alone now. You got me Sin!" Sekhmet didn't look back, but her fingers stilled on the blanket's corner.
"I'm serious," Shirogane went on. "You sang once on a train full of strangers and pulled everyone's attention without even trying. You think you won't stand out here?"
"I don't want to stand out." Sekhmet set a folded jacket a little too hard on the dresser.
"That's when they start watching you. Measuring you. Figuring out what you're worth—or how to take it from you."
Shirogane flinched. "I get that,"
Sekhmet turned, "do you?"
Shirogane didn't blink. "I wore nail polish and glitter and neon earrings every day in middle school. You think that didn't come with a price?"
She gave a small, crooked smile. "But I still wore them. Because hiding just means they win."
The small mirror above the sink shifted modes again, casting the room in a gentle sunset-gold hue.
Shirogane let out a slow breath. "I get it, we're not the same," she said. "But… if you need someone to sit with while you figure out how to be you without it hurting anyone? I'm here."
Sekhmet blinked, once. Then nodded.
Shirogane leaned back, "Besides, I call top bunk."
"…There are no bunks."
"Shhh… we can fabricate one."
Sekhmet ignored her.
Outside, the training bells chimed, marking the hour.
11:00 JST.
The first day was beginning.
11:12 JST — Daelic Crucible, House Varnen - Southern Access Corridor
The air in the corridor still held a faint ozone smell. Boots echoed on the floor as Mitsuki approached, coat fluttering slightly behind him. Nishiyama leaned against the stairwell railing just ahead.
"Took you long enough," she muttered, pushing off the rail.
"You said 'urgent,' didn't think you meant 'shake off paparazzi and sprint across the campus to House Varnen,'" Mitsuki replied dryly.
She walked past him without slowing. "You had ten minutes."
"And you forgot to take into account that people don't know when to stop," he pointed out before following after her.
Nishiyama's boots clipped briskly down the hallway while Mitsuki matched her pace.
"So… I made a discovery after dropping off two cadets," she said evenly.
Mitsuki tilted his head, "Really? What's this grand discovery, Ava Nishiyama-sama?"
Nishiyama didn't smile. "Remember how the Spiral on the train stopped moving?"
That got his attention.
"Of course I do. We thought it was stunned or it was taking orders from the Hive."
"Wrong," she said flatly. "It stopped because it was listening."
Mitsuki blinked.
"…Listening?"
She glanced over at him, "it was listening to one of the cadets."
Mitsuki stared at her for what felt like Eternity.
He burst out laughing.
The sound echoed down the corridor. "A cadet?" he managed between breaths. "You're telling me a first year pacified a B-class like it was some stray dog?"
"Yes."
"That's the dumbest thing I've heard all week."
Nishiyama kept walking.
He jogged a step to catch up. "You're saying it stopped… because it heard a cadet?"
Nishiyama nods.
Mitsuki stopped mid-step. His face went blank. "...You're serious."
She doesn't stop.
He ruffled his hands through his hair, "that's not possible."
"Exactly," she replied back.
He caught up again, "Spirals don't listen, Ava. They don't have emotions or social skills. They act on pure predatory impulse. To aggression, Ichi. Threat levels. They don't evolve mid-fight to counter."
"They respond to stimuli, Miki." she glanced over, "it stopped. Not because it was threatened. But because something in her voice... unnerved it."
Mitsuki exhaled slowly, 'you're not hearing yourself. You're making it sound like the cadet cast charm. That thing was a B-rank. Command doesn't hand those out lightly."
She stopped. Turned fully to face him.
"And it froze. On a train full of first-years, Mitsuki."
He stared at her for a long moment.
"You don't actually believe she pacified it."
"I don't," she said. "But you're telling me seeing those Cadets unfazed when we came wasn't weird to you?"
Mitsuki didn't answer immediately.
He frowned, eyes flicking to the floor as if retracing something. He saw it again in his head: Twenty-something cadets sitting there in the train car, extremely calm. Like they were never attacked.
That wasn't normal.
"They should've been in shock," he muttered. "A Spiral attack should've rendered half of them catatonic." He chewed the inside of his cheek. "I thought it was… suppressant haze. Maybe the lockdown protocol kicked in and auto-released stabilizers, but that wasn't in the report."
"It wasn't in the air," Nishiyama replied. "I checked."
He folded his arms tightly across his chest. "So… you're saying one cadet tamed a B-rank Spiral, within the train car?"
"That's what I'm saying. I know you felt that warmth during that pause in combat."
Mitsuki closed his mouth. "…I did feel the gap," he admitted. "But I was more focused on the Spiral." He looked over at her. "You think that something was her?"
"I don't know yet." Her voice was low now as she opened the door to the mess hall. "Let's just think it over during lunch," she said, tired of thinking about the morning.
Mitsuki scoffs, "I'm not thinking about it during lunch. Sounds fantastical and unreal, food sounds more appealing and real to me."
21:43 JST — Shibuya Ward, Just outside Jojoen
The air outside was cooler than Sekhmet expected. Not cold—but crisp. The kind of night where the sky seemed bigger than usual.
She had decided to take a late-night walk to unpack what happened today. She stepped out of the Crucible with her hoodie down and scarf wrapped around her face. The security guard at the gate barely glanced up, waving her through when she mentioned she needed air and would be back soon.
She hadn't meant to walk this far.
The vending machine's glow buzzed faintly in the quiet. A soft blue halo lit up the pavement, highlighting the scuff marks on her boots.
Sekhmet stood in front of the machine, hands buried in her hoodie pocket, scanning rows of drinks that blurred together.
So many choices.
She let out a small breath through her scarf.
Hot yuzu tea…?
She tapped her IC card against the panel. The machine hummed and spat out a can with a familiar thunk.
She held it between her hands. The tin radiated warmth into her palms.
"Late night for a cadet."
The voice came from behind.
Sekhmet stiffened. She hadn't sensed anyone.
She turned slowly.
A man stood leaning against the vending machine's far side, arms crossed, half in shadow. His coat bore the faint sigil of the Crucible on one shoulder.
He's gotta be an Instructor. But I've never seen someone like him. Half-lidded eyes, pale hair, slouched. Might be a researcher.
A coffee can sat in his hand, unopened.
"I didn't mean to startle you, though your face says I did."
Sekhmet's grip on the can tightened.
He didn't step closer.
"Looks like you've got something on your mind."
She exhaled through her scarf.
"…Just needed air," she muttered.
"Air's free. So is silence, but they come with things we don't always expect. Memories. Doubt. Fear."
She flinched, just a little. Her eyes scanned him.
Why hadn't he asked for my name? Or my badge ID?
The man caught the shift in her posture and gently raised his open hand. "Sorry—didn't mean to come off strong. Just want to make sure a cadet's safe, is all."
He stepped back from the vending machine and gestured to a nearby bench under the lamp-lit awning.
"Let's talk there," he offered, pausing mid-step like he'd just remembered something. "Ah—where are my manners? I'm Professor Ienari Kuga. Chair of Spiral Psychology. And you, ma'am?"
I was right…But why would someone like him be out here?
She studied him from beneath her scarf.
His posture isn't aggressive. He's open… but I feel like he's doing that purposely…
"…Isshin-Namikaze," she said at last. "Sekhmet. First Year, House Varnen."
Kuga gave a polite nod, "thank you Miss Namikaze."
She stepped toward the bench and sat with the can cradled between both hands.
Kuga didn't sit too close. Just enough to share the bench and the night air.
They sat in silence for a moment. The hum of the vending machine softened behind them. A pair of moths circled the overhead lamp.
Sekhmet didn't look at him when she spoke again. "…Do you always approach students like that? In the dark?"
Kuga gave a soft exhale, "only the ones who look like they've seen too much and said too little. And only when I'm not grading papers."
That earned him a glance from her.
A closet pervert?
"I don't sleep much," he said, lightly. "The campus feels clearer at night. Like the thoughts settle where the noise doesn't reach."
Sekhmet nodded slowly, "you said you teach Spiral Psychology," she said quietly.
"That's right."
"…Sounds made-up."
Kuga gave another half-laugh, "I'd be worried if it didn't. Most of it still feels made-up. There aren't enough books in the world to explain what the thought process of a Spiral is. All we know is that they respond to a Hive Mind."
He leaned back, eyes briefly searching the night sky. "Although it's like looking for a needle in a haystack, someone has to try and research these monsters."
Sekhmet looked up from her can.
"Does it help?"
"Sometimes," he slowly said. "Other times, I think I'm just giving people the wrong answers."
Sekhmet finally popped the tab on her drink and took a sip.
"It's hard to breathe in there sometimes," she murmured.
"The dorms?"
"No. The Crucible."
Kuga nodded.
"…Yeah," he said eventually. "It is."
Sekhmet took another sip.
"…I wasn't trying to get noticed," she said after a while.
"Did you?"
She nodded, faintly. "Unintentionally."
"Those are the loudest kinds of echoes."
She glanced at him, "what?"
Kuga smiled faintly, "Accidental impressions. People remember them longer. They leave marks you didn't mean to make."
"…That's what I'm afraid of." She looked back down at the can. "I don't want to be seen as something I'm not. I don't want people thinking I meant to do harm."
Again…
Kuga didn't say anything for a few seconds. "But you did do something."
Her silence didn't deny it.
"I heard from the medics, something about a presence on the train."
She didn't answer.
"I see."
Another pause.
He… tightened his jaw? I dunno, it feels like he didn't expect the answer
"Then let me ask something simpler," he said, tilting his head. "Did it help you?"
Sekhmet stopped drinking.
"Whatever you did, did it help you at that moment?"
She nodded.
"Then it mattered."
"I don't want people to think I meant to—" She stopped herself, fingers tightening around the can.
Kuga nodded slowly, watching the streetlamp blink once overhead. "If you weren't trying to change anyone," he said eventually, "then maybe what they felt… wasn't control."
Sekhmet looked over at him, unsure.
"Maybe it was something honest." He gave a small, tired smile. "Those are rare. Even rarer when they come from instinct."
A long silence passed between them.
Then he added, almost offhand: "Spirals don't respond to honesty. But people do."
Sekhmet brought the can down from her face, "So you think my voice reached this one?"
"I don't know," he said. "But if you really want something to think about, think about how your peers felt when they heard your voice during the crisis."
…Shinomia did say that she felt calm. I did see how others looked calm when the lockdown was over.
He stood slowly, brushing a bit of lint off his jacket sleeve. "Don't let it continually eat at you until you give up. Just take each day slowly, and enjoy every moment." He gave her a small nod and turned to walk back toward the academy.
He stopped walking
"Spirals follow the Hive the way iron filings follow a magnet. But people… people follow accidents." He waved before continuing.
Sekhmet sat there a moment longer with the warm can in her hands, listening to the quiet after he left.
She took a deep breath in.
And out.
The city smelled different now—faint metal from the vending machine's coil, leftover ozone, a trace of damp concrete.
Moments like these, I need more of it
A laugh rang out far too casually.
Sekhmet turned her head.
"Yo, did you see the look on the third one's face? Popped like a balloon."
Two upper-year cadets passed by across the street. Blood stained one's sleeve. The other had his weapon holstered against his hip.
"Dumbasses didn't even try to run away. You'd think a Spiral nest like that would scatter. Guess the low-ranks don't get the memo."
"Or the instinct," the other replied with a grin.
"Easier that way."
They kept walking as their voices trailed off into the night.
Sekhmet just sat there, watching their backs disappear around the corner. Sekhmet's fingers tightened around the warm can in her hands. Her throat felt dry.
Would they even notice if someone stopped them the way I did? Would anyone even believe me?
For a moment, she imagined herself standing in their place, weapon in hand, blood on her sleeve. The thought made her stomach twist.
She took a slow breath, letting the warmth of the can seep back into her palms. The street was quiet again. Sekhmet let her eyes drift upward to the faint glow of the city skyline.