CM Dormitory Wing — late afternoon.
Mana lamps hummed softly overhead.
And Room 217 looked like a storm had decided to live there.
Clothes drifted near the ceiling in slow circles. Papers fluttered like trapped birds. A chair spun lazily, upside down.
A half-open bag rotated in midair, spilling snacks into orbit.
At the center—
Kijin floated horizontally, wind swirling around him, silver-black hair whipping wildly as he shoved objects into a compressed air sphere.
"WHY DO I OWN SO MUCH STUFF?!"
The wind spat a boot back into his face.
Across the room—
Tsuramo sat perfectly still on his bed.
Book open.
Back straight.
Red hair falling neatly around his shoulders, barely moving despite the chaos. Crimson eyes scanned the page, ignoring the hurricane two meters away.
Kijin twisted midair, hair flailing.
"OI! HELP ME, ROOMMATE!"
Tsuramo turned a page. "You made the mess."
A floating pillow smacked Tsuramo's shoulder.
Silence.
His eyes lifted slowly.
The temperature in the room dropped.
Kijin froze upside down.
"...Uh."
Footsteps echoed outside.
Inspectors.
Kijin panicked.
Wind surged.
Everything shot upward at once.
Bedsheets flapped. Drawers burst open. Even Tsuramo's curtain lifted slightly.
Kijin yelled, spinning helplessly, hair whipping around his face.
"THIS WIND! WORK PROPERLY!"
Tsuramo stood.
Walked over calmly.
Grabbed Kijin by the ankle.
And slammed him into the floor.
WHUMP.
Everything crashed down.
Dust filled the air.
Knock knock.
"Inspection!"
Kijin shot up, hair completely wrecked now.
"WE'RE DEAD!"
Tsuramo walked past him and opened the window.
Cold wind rushed in, ruffling his red hair slightly.
Kijin blinked.
"You want me to jump?"
Tsuramo stared at him.
"You float."
Pause.
"...Right."
Knock. Louder.
Kijin scrambled out the window—
—and immediately smacked into the barrier field.
BONK.
He slid down outside the building, three floors up.
"...Itai…"
The window opened.
Tsuramo looked down calmly.
Wind tugged at his hair.
"...Idiot."
Window closed.
Minutes later.
Inspectors left.
Room spotless.
Tsuramo resumed reading.
Outside the dorm.
Kijin floated down painfully—
—and landed directly on Nihon passing below.
CRASH.
Bushes exploded.
Nihon slowly pushed branches off his face.
"...Why do you keep falling from buildings?"
Kijin groaned.
"Dorm inspection."
Nihon stared.
Then sighed.
"You share a room with the demon lord's son now, idiot. Stop living like a fugitive."
Kijin lay on his back, wind gently lifting fallen leaves around him.
"...Too late now."
Nihon crouched, serious now.
"Listen, fool. Running every year is getting old."
Kijin looked away.
Wind rustled his messy hair.
Nihon continued.
"You finally met people you don't run from."
Pause.
"...That CM guy," Nihon added. "Tsuramo."
Kijin scratched his cheek.
"...He's scary."
"Yeah."
"But… kinda steady."
Nihon snorted.
"So go back."
Kijin blinked.
"Back?"
"To your room. To class. Stop escaping every time things get serious."
Kijin stared at the sky.
Wind curled lazily around his fingers.
"...What if I get caught again?"
Nihon stood, offering a hand.
"Then we deal with it."
Beat.
"And if you run again," Nihon added, smirking, "I'm personally tying you to your bed."
Kijin grabbed his hand and stood.
Grinned.
"You'd miss me."
Nihon scoffed.
"Arrogant idiot."
Dorm wardens appeared nearby.
Both boys froze.
Wind stirred.
Kijin glanced toward the dorm window above.
Then back at Nihon.
"...Guess I should go clean the rest."
Nihon smirked. "Finally using your brain."
Kijin started walking back—
Hair messy.
Uniform wrinkled.
But steps lighter than before.
Up in Room 217—
Tsuramo turned a page.
And, for just a moment—
A faint smile touched his lips.
The dorm corridor was quiet when Kijin finally slipped back into Room 217.
He pushed the door open slowly—
—and immediately tripped on the threshold.
THUD.
Silence.
From the lower bunk, Hikaru's sleepy voice drifted out.
"...You fall more inside rooms than outside, you know."
Renji groaned from the opposite bunk. "He probably fought the floor again."
Kijin lay face-down.
"...The floor started it."
A book closed softly.
Tsuramo sat on his bed, crimson eyes lifting calmly toward the mess on the ground.
Kijin pushed himself up, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head.
"...Okay, that one actually hurt."
A faint bump was already forming where he'd smacked into the barrier earlier.
Hikaru leaned over the bunk edge, eyes widening.
"Whoa, you really hit it."
Renji squinted. "Your skull okay?"
"My pride isn't," Kijin muttered.
Tsuramo stood.
No rush. No noise.
He crossed the room, opened his drawer, and pulled out a small metal tin.
Kijin blinked.
"...You carrying medicine now?"
Tsuramo crouched in front of him.
"Sit still."
Kijin hesitated.
"...Why do I feel threatened?"
"Because you move too much."
Before Kijin could dodge, Tsuramo grabbed his chin and tilted his head.
Cool fingers brushed his hair aside.
Hikaru and Renji both froze.
Dead silent.
Tsuramo opened the tin and applied dark herbal ointment to the swelling.
Cold spread instantly across Kijin's scalp.
He jolted.
"AH—COLD!"
"Stop moving."
"I AM MOVING BECAUSE IT'S COLD!"
Tsuramo ignored him, finishing calmly and sealing the tin again. "There."
Kijin blinked. Pain already fading. "...Fast."
"Ancient remedy," Tsuramo replied, standing. "Works on idiots who fall off buildings."
Hikaru choked trying not to laugh.
Renji buried his face in his blanket, shoulders shaking.
Kijin scowled. "Traitor roommates."
He climbed onto his bunk, hair messy, pride bruised.
Below, Hikaru whispered to Renji, "Did you see that?"
Renji whispered back,
"Room mom."
Kijin peeked over the edge. "I heard that."
Tsuramo returned to his bed without comment, red hair settling neatly around his shoulders as he sat.
Lights dimmed.
Silence settled.
After a moment, Kijin spoke into the darkness.
"...Thanks."
A pause.
Then Tsuramo replied simply,
"...Sleep."
And for once—
Kijin did.
--
Evening wind swept across the upper terraces of Shadowreach Academy, cold air rolling off the outer cliffs.
A ripple of shadow peeled away from the darkness below—
—and Luna rose with it.
Her shadows lifted her like invisible wings, curling beneath her boots and along her back.
They didn't flap or surge; they flowed, carrying her upward in a smooth glide as if the night itself refused to let her fall.
She landed lightly on the stone terrace railing, balance effortless.
Her blue-black hair fluttered around her shoulders before settling, tips catching faint silver in the moonlight.
Shadows pooled at her feet again, stretching lazily across the stone.
"Man," she muttered, chewing gum, "I needed air."
The academy lights glowed below, students shrinking into dots as curfew crept closer.
Behind her—
Soft footsteps approached.
Measured. Calm.
Takara Ayame stepped onto the terrace, violet hair sliding gently in the wind, her uniform coat shifting like a blade hidden in silk.
She stopped beside Luna.
"You got here first."
Luna didn't turn. "Shadows are faster than stairs."
Ayame allowed the smallest smile.
They stood in silence a moment, wind tugging at their uniforms.
Then Ayame spoke. "The Wolf Realm mission has been finalized."
Luna tilted her head slightly. "And?"
Ayame looked at her directly. "This time, you're coming."
Luna blinked once.
Then grinned. "About time."
Ayame crossed her arms lightly. "You move well in unstable environments. And you adapt quickly."
Luna hopped down from the railing, shadows cushioning her landing.
"So who's the muscle?"
Ayame answered without hesitation.
"Tsuramo."
Luna nodded slowly.
"Yeah… that checks out."
A pause.
Then realization hit.
"Wait."
She looked back at Ayame. "Doesn't he have a brother?"
Ayame's eyes sharpened slightly. "Masakiro."
Luna snapped her fingers.
"Yeah, him. Angel-demon dude. Quiet but scary."
Wind lifted Ayame's hair, violet strands sliding across her shoulder.
"He lacks combat experience compared to Tsuramo," Ayame replied.
Luna shrugged. "So bring him anyway."
Ayame studied her.
Luna smirked.
"Tsuramo handles monsters. Masakiro handles people. Different strengths."
Silence stretched as Ayame considered.
Finally—
"I'll observe him tomorrow."
Luna grinned, satisfied.
"Good."
She turned toward the dorm wing, shadows already lifting behind her heels.
Ayame watched her go.
Half walking, half floating away on darkness like it was second nature.
Quietly, Ayame murmured,
"Interesting people gather around chaos."
The wind carried the words away.
And somewhere else in the academy—
Two brothers slept, unaware the next battlefield was already choosing them,