Arata clapped his hands together, the sound cracking through the empty hallway.
"Well, would you look at that? You kids actually survived." He strolled forward, whistling low as his eyes flicked over the cloak hanging on my shoulders and the rusty knife still trembling in my grip. "Not bad. Not clean. But not bad."
He spread his arms wide. "Congratulations. You're officially gravebinders now. First rank: Pale."
Saiko's grin practically split her face. "Hell yeah! We've got ranks? I knew this was gonna be like a game. What comes after Pale? Bronze? Silver? Ultra Rainbow Deluxe?"
I blinked, still woozy from drool and illusions. "Wait—hold on. What are the other ranks?"
Arata smirked, wagging a finger. "Ah-ah. Not story time yet, kid. You'll hear all about that back at the Benikaen."
I groaned. "Of course you're being cryptic again."
But beside me, Genkei's eyes lit faintly, just for a second. "Ranks… so it's not just about surviving. There's a path. A structure."
I raised a brow at him. "Wow. Real passion. First time I've seen you react to anything that wasn't sharpening your sword."
Saiko immediately pounced. "Ooooh, look who finally cares about something! Mr. Brooding Samurai cracked a smile over grades." She elbowed him, grinning. "Maybe next time we'll catch you giggling at a fortune cookie."
Genkei frowned. "…I don't giggle."
"That's exactly what a giggler would say."
"Stop calling me that."
I snorted. "It's funny. You didn't even react when the Head revealed his name. But the second you hear there's a ladder to climb, suddenly you're alive. You've got priorities, man."
"Discipline isn't the same as excitement," Genkei muttered, adjusting his sheath—but the corner of his mouth betrayed the tiniest twitch.
Saiko gasped theatrically. "Oh my god. Was that… a smile? Did anyone else see that? Miu! He smiled!"
From outside the school gates, Miu raised a hand politely but didn't even look up from her notes. "I didn't."
Saiko groaned. "Traitor."
We started walking, Arata leading the way with his hands laced behind his head like this was a casual midnight stroll instead of post-haunting clean-up.
"Anyway," he said lazily, "you've done your trial run. And you didn't completely fall apart. That earns you Pale. Not glamorous. Not powerful. But it means you're not fodder anymore."
"Fodder?" I asked. "That's the baseline?"
He grinned. "What, you thought we start at 'heroes'? Nah, Pale means you've got one foot in the grave and one foot out. Fitting, right?"
Saiko cackled. "Perfect. Pale Saiko. Sounds like a punk rock band."
Genkei's voice was quieter, but firm. "If Pale is the start, then the question isn't what comes after. The question is how far it goes."
Arata glanced back at him, smirking. "Now you're asking the right questions, hood-boy."
Genkei tugged his hood lower, avoiding Saiko's knowing grin.
I sighed. "And of course, you won't answer."
"Nope," Arata said cheerfully.
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Because you're learning," he said, like it was a compliment.
We stepped out into the night air, the school already settling into silence behind us, like nothing had ever happened inside.
Arata stretched his arms wide, then clapped his hands together again. "Alright, kids. Field trip's over. Time to go home."
His grin sharpened, and he muttered under his breath:
"Open the door that was never closed."
The world bent sideways. The ground dropped out from under us. Light folded into shadow, then into lantern-glow, until—
We were standing at the gates of the Benikaen once more.
I stumbled, clutching the cloak tighter around me. "Okay, yeah, I hate that. Every time feels like my stomach's filing a complaint."
Saiko threw her arms up. "Again! Again! That was awesome!"
Genkei just adjusted his hood, steady as ever.
Arata yawned, waving us toward the gate. "Save your energy, rookies. You'll need it."
And just like that, we were back where we started.
Back at the crucible.