(CONTINUED FROM CHAPTER 9)
The rain continued to pour outside Mounagiri Gakuen, streams of water racing down the lush green hills. Eiroh moved out of Sector 7G toward the classroom as the bell rang and students hurried inside.
As he hurried, the words of his earlier conversation with the Commander echoed through his mind."Yes, sir. I've confirmed the signal. The daughter of House Anukan lives—she's started resonating."
A pause. Then the Commander's voice crackled through the obsidian comm‑sigil, flat and absolute, "DO NOT ENGAGE. Her stormline is dangerous. Don't let her out of your sight and observe. Got it? Observation only."
Eiroh's jaw tightened. Observation only.
That echoed and made his crimson threads pulse. His eyes drifted toward the courtyard, where rain pooled into a trembling mirror.
He clicked his tongue. "Observation only," he muttered. "I wonder what her memory threads taste like. If I win against her, maybe the Commander will make me his main man."
Tamara and Kodo entered the classroom, supporting their drowsy classmate. The moment they stepped into the class, a symphony echoed through the classroom. Students swarmed them, concerned for their fallen classmate. Some tugged Kodo aside, eyes blazing with fire. The boys close to Tom radiated red‑hot threads, sharp with fear and anger.
Kodo could feel the heat ripple through the room. He tried to calm it—his wobbling white threads fluttered weakly, failing to douse the blaze. The red threads burst apart like sparks, and the boys lunged like a tiger pouncing at its prey. Jabs, kicks, all the karate and kung fu moves started flying towards Kodo.
Kodo didn't strike back—he only raised his hands to defend himself, confusion and panic pulsing through his weave. From the corners, others threw shadow‑punches, their threads flaring red‑violet, feeding the chaos. They thought he was the cause of Tom's collapse. Kodo knew he was out of bounds with their judgment at the moment.
Across the room, Tamara placed the fainted boy down on a desk. As soon as she placed him, a few classmates fanned him, kept a moist cloth on his forehead, and sprinkled water. He still lay drowsy. Meanwhile, the barrage continued for Kodo in the class. Few just spectated the barrage.
Seeing the assault, her breath caught—Kodo's words on the footpath replayed in her mind: "I was always made to feel like I didn't exist." Now she understood the gravity of his statement.
She forced her way through the crowd, but their fury shoved her back. She fell hard on the floor. Kodo lay curled on the floor, arms over his head, the barrage relentless.
Something inside her snapped. Her golden threads throbbed and pulsed. She could not witness this any longer. Not only was Kodo in danger, but they were in danger too of doing something dreadful. She realized she had to do something.
Golden‑green threads surged from her palms, spiralling outward like new roots finding their way in the ground. They wrapped around the unconscious Tom, amplifying his dormant resonance until the air itself trembled. Suddenly, he awoke, a little dazed, shaking his head a little. Tom stirred, eyes flashing open.
Then he saw Kodo getting battered on the ground, he gritted his teeth, grabbed the desk for balance, and screamed with every thread in his body—
"STOP IT! PLEASE STOP IT!"
A blinding wave burst from him—his golden‑green resonance, magnified by Tamara's weave.
The shockwave rippled through every student's pattern, quenching their flames. The red threads dimmed; the room silenced and froze. Tom's friends rushed toward him in relief, but he broke free, stumbling to Kodo. He knelt, offered his hand. Kodo hesitated—then clutched it, tears trembling in his eyes. Tom pulled him up and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," he whispered.
Then Tom turned to Tamara, lifted her from the floor gently, bowed, and raised both their hands."They saved me," he said quietly, voice cracking. "If that makes them enemies… then I am too."
Thunder rolled across the sky.
Kodo looked at Tamara, realizing she'd helped, though she only smiled faintly, letting Tom's empathy carry the resonance. The other students stood frozen—shame threading their limbs—before, one by one, they stepped forward. Apologies spilled out."We were just worried for Tom…" Their threads flickered blue‑green, the color of remorse.
Kodo, bruised but smiling, placed his hands on his hips. "You stood up for your friend. That's what matters, but don't do this again. See, it doesn't help anyone, even Tom, or even you."
Tamara watched as faint golden threads rose from him again—gentle, steady—and soothed the entire room. At the doorway, Eiroh entered, his crimson threads hissing softly. Only Tamara and Kodo sensed it—the true cause of Tom's collapse now lingered among them, unseen.
The teacher stepped into the classroom. Everyone scrambled to their seats and greeted in unison.
But she saw Kodo's battered state and froze."Kodo, what in the heavens happened to you?" He smiled faintly, still catching his breath." I just fell down the stairs while running during the break."
She saw through the lie but respected it. "Go to the infirmary. Take someone with you."
Tamara rose instantly from the adjacent bench. Tom also stood to volunteer. The teacher nodded in agreement.
As the three walked the silent hallway, Tamara nudged Kodo with a small smile. Tom chuckled and gave him a playful shoulder punch. For a brief moment, laughter returned to their world.
Behind them, crimson threads slithered unseen along the walls—watching, whispering. Laugh while you can, fools…
Far away in Noolzai, a cryptic crimson scroll arrived at the Commander's Kumisabai. He unrolled it in silence, eyes like cold stone. "So, the girl remembers the storm. The boys are awakening." "Let the KAZAN Trials test their threadmarks. Let the KYORU Harmonic unravel what still sleeps."
The war had not yet begun. But the threads had already started weaving it.