Morning light slipped quietly through the hospital curtains, pale and careful, as if it didn't want to wake them. Rein lay still beneath the thin sheets, his breathing slow and uneven, the rise and fall of his chest finally calm after a night of broken tears and whispered fears. Stella slept beside him, curled close without hesitation, one arm draped over his chest as though daring the world to take him away. For the first time since Chaos had shown himself, Rein did not feel watched. The machines hummed softly. The city outside moved on. And in that fragile pocket of peace, two hearts rested together—unaware that judgment had already been passed, and that the storm had only learned how to wait.
The door opened without a sound.
Principal Wilson stepped into the room slowly, his presence deliberate, as though even the air might shatter if he moved too quickly. His eyes went first to the monitors, then to the bed.
And there, beneath the thin white sheets, he stopped.
Rein lay asleep, his expression softer than Wilson had ever seen it—no tension in his jaw, no shadow clinging to his eyes. Stella was pressed close against him, her head resting over his heart, fingers lightly curled into his shirt as if holding on even in sleep. One of Rein's arms had found its way around her, protective, instinctive.
Wilson felt something tighten in his chest.
So this was what anchored him.
For a long moment, Wilson said nothing. He simply watched, memories stirring—of wars fought too young, of children asked to carry things no one should survive. He had seen soldiers sleep like this before, clinging to warmth before being sent back into hell.
Carefully, he stepped closer.
"Rein," Wilson said softly, his voice low and steady. "My child."
Rein stirred almost immediately, brows knitting as if pulled from a dream he hadn't finished. His fingers tightened slightly around Stella before he realised where he was. His eyes opened, unfocused at first—then sharp.
"P… Principal Wilson?" he whispered.
Stella shifted, murmuring faintly, but didn't wake.
Wilson raised a hand gently. "Easy," he said. "You're safe. I won't keep you long."
Rein swallowed and glanced down at Stella, then back up. "Did something happen?"
Wilson's gaze softened. "No," he replied. "In fact… yesterday's meeting went well."
Rein froze.
"…Well?" he repeated, almost afraid to believe it.
Wilson nodded. "Better than expected."
Relief passed through Rein so suddenly that it left him breathless. His shoulders sank into the pillow, a quiet exhale escaping him before he could stop it.
"And your ribs," Wilson added, voice calm but certain. "The pain should be minimal now. You healed faster than projected. You'll be able to stand soon."
Rein let his eyes close for a second.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Wilson looked once more at Stella, still asleep against him, unaware of how close the world had come to tearing them apart.
"Get ready," Wilson said quietly. "When you wake properly, we'll talk about what comes next."
Then, with one last measured glance, he stepped back—leaving the room as gently as he had entered, and leaving Rein with the calm before the storm.
Rein shifted carefully, the faint ache in his ribs pulling him awake. He glanced toward the door—and then down at the warmth still curled against his side.
"Hey…" he whispered.
Stella stirred instantly, as if she'd been waiting for a reason to wake. "Mm…?" Her eyes fluttered open.
Rein leaned closer. "Principal Wilson's here."
Her body tensed.
"…What?" she breathed.
Before she could sit up fully, a composed voice spoke from the doorway.
"Good morning, my children."
Stella sat upright at once, instinctively moving closer to Rein, her hand gripping his sleeve like she might lose him if she let go. "G–good morning, Principal Wilson," she said, trying—and failing—to hide the edge in her voice.
Wilson noticed. Of course he did.
"I apologise for the early intrusion," he said gently. "But we must leave soon. The Board is waiting."
Stella's grip tightened.
"The Board?" she repeated, eyes flicking to Rein. "Is he—does he have to go right now?"
Rein opened his mouth, but she spoke again, faster this time. "He's barely healed. His ribs—he hasn't even had a full night without pain."
Wilson studied her for a moment, not coldly, not critically—only thoughtfully.
"You care for him deeply," he said.
Stella didn't deny it. "I'm not leaving him."
A faint smile touched Wilson's lips.
"I wouldn't ask you to," he replied. "In fact…" He paused, then nodded toward her. "I was going to invite you to come along."
Her breath caught. "Me?"
"Yes," Wilson said. "This concerns Rein's future. His choices. And the strength that steadies him." His gaze softened. "You are part of that now."
Stella looked at Rein, uncertainty warring with determination in her eyes.
"If I go," she said quietly, "I stay with him. The entire time."
Rein squeezed her hand. "I want you there."
Wilson inclined his head. "Then it's settled."
The room grew quiet again—no longer peaceful, but heavy with what was coming.
Stella didn't let go of Rein.
Not for a second.
Rein excused himself and went to the washroom to freshen up. Stella was already ready, standing near the window, arms folded tightly like she was holding herself together.
The fluorescent light flickered softly as Rein leaned toward the sink. He turned on the tap, splashed water onto his face, then lifted his head.
He froze.
The reflection wasn't his.
Chaos stared back at him from the mirror—his own face twisted into something crueller, sharper. The eyes weren't glowing this time. No crimson flare. Just deep, endless red, staring straight through him, as if Rein were nothing more than glass.
His breath hitched.
The reflection smiled.
Then—
SNAP.
The world jolted.
The mirror showed Rein again. Pale. Shaken. Human.
His hands gripped the sink so hard his knuckles whitened. His heart thundered against his ribs, pain flaring faintly where he'd been injured—but he didn't care—not compared to the cold dread settling in his chest.
After a moment, he steadied himself and stepped back into the room.
Stella looked up immediately. "Rein?"
He swallowed. "I saw him," he said quietly. "In the mirror. Chaos."
The air shifted.
Wilson's expression didn't change—but his eyes sharpened. He stepped closer, resting a steady hand on Rein's shoulder.
"Do not let him shake you, my child," Wilson said calmly. "You are awake now. That means he is watching—but he does not control you."
Stella moved beside Rein without thinking, her hand slipping into his. "You're not alone," she said firmly, like she was daring the universe to argue.
Wilson nodded. "Come. We shouldn't keep the Board waiting."
They exited the hospital together, the morning air cool and unnaturally still. Waiting by the entrance was a sleek black car, polished to a mirror shine, its windows dark and unreadable.
A driver stepped out and opened the door without a word.
Rein hesitated for half a second—then Stella squeezed his hand, and he stepped forward.
As the car door closed behind them, the city blurred past the tinted glass.
And somewhere, far beyond sight—
Chaos watched.
The car glided through the city in near silence, only the soft hum of the engine and the occasional distant siren breaking the quiet. Rein stared out the tinted window, watching the buildings blur into streaks of steel and glass. His fingers curled against his thigh, nails digging into his palm.
"Principal Wilson," he said quietly, almost to himself, "could you tell me what happened in yesterday's meeting?"
The car moved for a few seconds longer before Wilson answered, his voice low and measured, like he was choosing each word with care.
"It was… divided," he said.
Stella leaned forward, her shoulder brushing Rein's. "Divided how?"
Wilson exhaled slowly, the sound heavy in the confined space. "Three major factions. Each one sees you differently."
Rein's grip tightened until his knuckles whitened. "Go on."
"The first group believes Chaotic energy should never be touched by a human," Wilson said. "To them, you are an anomaly—one that threatens the balance of the world. They argued for isolation. Permanent monitoring. In extreme cases…" He paused, letting the silence finish the sentence. "…erasure."
Stella's eyes flashed. "They don't get to decide that."
"They tried," Wilson said calmly. "They failed."
Rein swallowed, the word "erasure" still echoing in his skull like a gunshot. "And the second group?"
Wilson's expression darkened, just a fraction. "The second group is far more… polite. They see you as a breakthrough."
"A breakthrough?" Rein echoed, voice flat.
"Yes," Wilson said. "They believe Chaotic energy should be studied. Tested. Understood. They proposed allowing you to use it freely—under controlled conditions—for scientific purposes."
Stella's heart dropped. Her voice came out sharp. "Freely… as in experiments?"
"As in observation," Wilson corrected, though the distinction sounded hollow even to him. "Measurements. Stress tests. Exposure trials."
Rein felt the cold settle in his bones. "So I become a lab."
Wilson didn't deny it. "They argue that understanding Chaos is the only way to prevent future catastrophes. And in their eyes, you are the safest door into that research."
Stella's fists clenched so hard her nails bit into her palms. "That's not freedom. That's exploitation."
"They would disagree," Wilson said softly. "They call it progress."
Rein let out a hollow laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course they do."
"And the third group?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Wilson looked at him more gently now, almost like a father. "The third group believes you are neither a threat nor a tool."
Silence filled the car like smoke.
"They believe Chaotic energy can be wielded responsibly," Wilson continued. "That your will matters. That forcing control—or unrestricted experimentation—would only accelerate disaster."
Stella exhaled, shoulders easing slightly. "Someone sane, finally."
"They are the smallest group," Wilson added. "But influential."
Rein leaned back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. "So what did they decide?"
Wilson folded his hands in his lap, the gesture deliberate. "A compromise. You are allowed to exist freely. You may use Chaotic energy—but only in emergencies, or under supervision approved by the Board."
Stella's jaw tightened. "That's still a leash."
"Yes," Wilson agreed. "But it is not a cage."
The cityscape began to shift as the car approached the inner district—taller buildings, cleaner streets, the faint glow of holographic seals marking government territory.
"The scientific faction will push you," Wilson warned, voice dropping even lower. "They will tempt you with answers. With power. With the promise that if you cooperate, the world will finally understand Chaos."
Rein closed his eyes.
"And the others?" he asked.
"They will watch," Wilson said. "And wait for you to fail."
The massive structure of black stone and glass rose ahead of them, its edges sharp against the sky.
Rein opened his eyes.
"So no matter what I do," he said quietly, the words tasting like ash, "someone wins except me."
Wilson met his gaze through the dim light of the car, unflinching.
"Not quite, my child."
The car slowed to a smooth stop.
"You still have something they don't."
Rein frowned, voice barely audible. "What's that?"
Wilson opened the door, letting in a rush of cool morning air.
"Choice."
The word hung between them, simple and heavy, as a key dropped into Rein's hand.
He stared at Wilson for a long moment.
Then he stepped out of the car—Stella's hand still locked tightly in his—into the shadow of the building that would decide the rest of his life.
They passed through one door after another, each heavier than the last, until the corridor opened into a vast circular chamber.
The final set of doors slid open with a low, mechanical hiss.
A vast chamber stretched before them—circular, cold, unforgiving. Walls of polished black stone reflected the harsh overhead lights like a mirror designed to show every flaw. The air was sterile, heavy with the faint hum of Astral barriers woven into the very structure. It felt less like a meeting room and more like a courtroom where fates were decided long before anyone spoke.
At the far end, elevated on a curved dais, sat the fourteen members of the Astral Oversight Board.
Eight men. Six women.
They were arranged in a perfect arc behind a long, seamless table—no gaps, no weakness. The left flank wore crisp military uniforms, medals glinting like warnings. The center group sat with data slates and pens at the ready, faces clinical and detached. The smaller cluster on the right watched with quiet intensity, their expressions unreadable.
The man in the exact center rose slightly as they entered. Tall, silver-haired, his charcoal suit bearing a subtle golden Astral insignia. His voice carried effortlessly across the chamber—smooth, authoritative, impossible to ignore.
"Good morning, Principal Wilson."
Wilson inclined his head. "Good morning, Chairman Clain."
Clain's gaze shifted to the two youngest figures in the room. For a moment, his sharp steel-gray eyes softened—just enough to seem kind.
"Please, don't be alarmed, Mr. Seethoshi… Ms. Yukishiro." He gestured toward the two empty chairs facing the dais. Simple. Unadorned. Cold. "Come in. Have a seat."
Rein felt every pair of eyes lock onto him.
Fourteen in total.
Fourteen judgments have already passed.
His heart slammed against his ribs, the ache from his injury flaring with every beat. Chaos's whisper from the mirror that morning echoed in his skull—soft, amused, inevitable.
Stella's fingers brushed his as they stepped forward. A fleeting touch. A silent promise.
Wilson's hand settled lightly on his shoulder—steady, grounding.
"Remember," the principal murmured, voice low enough for only Rein and Stella to hear.
"Choice."
Rein drew a slow breath.
He walked forward.
The chamber doors sealed behind them with a final, resonant thud.
The trial had begun.
Clain settled back into his chair, the faint creak of leather echoing in the silence. His eyes never left Rein.
"Principal Wilson has briefed us on the incident," Clain said, his tone even, like a judge reading charges. "The appearance of this… entity. Chaos."
Rein's throat tightened. He nodded once, forcing the word out. "Yes."
A woman on the left flank leaned forward, her military uniform starched to perfection. Her voice was sharp, accusatory. "And you claim no control over it? This thing that uses you as a door?"
"It's not a claim," Rein said quietly. "It's the truth."
Murmurs rippled through the Board. A man in the center tapped his data slate, his expression clinical. "Fascinating. A human bridge to the Void Realm. The scientific implications alone—"
"Implications?" Stella cut in, her voice steady but edged with fire. "He's not an experiment."
The room stilled.
Clain raised a hand. "Ms. Yukishiro, your loyalty is admirable. But we must verify."
Wilson stepped forward slightly. "Verify how?"
Clain's gaze shifted to a burly man on the right—broad-shouldered, with a scar tracing his jaw. His eyes gleamed with something darker than curiosity. Boredom, perhaps. Or eagerness.
"Simple," the man said, his voice gravelly. "A demonstration."
Rein's heart skipped. "Demonstration?"
The man stood, his chair scraping back with a harsh grind. "Fight me, boy. Show us this Chaotic power you wield."
Stella's eyes widened. "No. He's still injured. His ribs—"
"I disagree," Rein said firmly, cutting through the rising tension. "I'm not here to perform."
The man's lips curled into a smirk. "You think you have a choice?"
Energy flared around him—silver-blue lines igniting across his arms. Quad Vein. The air hummed with pressure.
Wilson's voice dropped low. "Stand down, Board Member Kane. This isn't a coliseum."
Kane ignored him. His hand snapped forward, a wave of Astral force slamming toward Rein like a tidal wall.
Rein moved on instinct.
The world slowed. His shadow twisted beneath him, Chaotic energy surging unbidden—red lines burning to life on his right hand.
He raised it.
The wave shattered against an invisible barrier, crimson sparks exploding outward.
The chamber erupted in chaos.
Kane laughed—loud, triumphant. "There it is!"
Rein staggered, pain lancing through his ribs. Chaos's whisper slithered into his mind: Promising.
Stella grabbed his arm. "Rein!"
The Board rose as one, auras flaring.
The fight had begun.
Kane's laugh echoed off the stone walls, low and mocking.
The silver-blue wave of Astral force shattered against Rein's instinctive barrier, crimson sparks scattering like blood across the floor.
Rein staggered back a step, pain exploding in his ribs. His right hand burned—red Chaotic lines pulsing wildly under his skin.
Chaos's voice slithered through his mind, soft and amused.
Good boy.
Stella was on her feet in an instant. "Stop this!"
Wilson's aura flared—gold and silver lines igniting across his arms as he stepped between Rein and Kane. "Enough. This is not a sparring ring."
Kane smirked, energy coiling around his fists. "The boy needs to prove he can control it. Or are we just taking his word?"
Clain raised a hand. The room quieted instantly.
"Member Kane," Clain said coolly. "Sit down."
Kane hesitated, then shrugged and dropped back into his seat. The energy around him faded, but his eyes stayed locked on Rein—hungry.
Rein's breathing came ragged. The Chaotic lines on his hand slowly dimmed, but the ache in his chest lingered.
Clain turned to the Board. "We've seen enough. The power is real. Unstable. But present."
A woman in the center—sharp features, data slate glowing—leaned forward. "And controllable?"
Wilson answered before Rein could. "With training. With trust. Not with force."
Murmurs rippled again.
The military flank exchanged glances. The scientific group tapped furiously on their slates.
Clain let the silence stretch, then spoke.
"The vote was close. But the compromise stands."
He looked directly at Rein.
"You are granted freedom, Mr. Seethoshi. You may use Chaotic energy in emergencies—or under Board-approved supervision."
Stella's hand found Rein's under the table. He squeezed it once.
Clain continued. "However… the scientific division requires a sample."
Rein's stomach dropped.
"A sample?"
"Non-invasive," the woman in the center said quickly. "A small extraction of Chaotic residue. For research. To understand. To protect."
Wilson's jaw tightened. "He is not a specimen."
Clain's gaze didn't waver. "It's the price of freedom. One sample. Today. Or the leash tightens."
The room waited.
Rein felt Stella's grip tighten—her silent question.
He looked at Wilson. The principal's eyes held steady: Choice.
Rein exhaled slowly.
"Fine," he said. "One sample."
Clain nodded once.
"Then the trial is concluded."
The heavy doors hissed open behind them.
Rein stood, legs steady despite the pain.
He was free.
For now.
But the cost had only just begun.
The heavy doors sealed behind them with a final, echoing thud that seemed to linger in the corridor like a verdict.
The chamber's sterile chill clung to Rein's skin long after they'd left it behind. His legs felt unsteady—not just from the lingering ache in his ribs, but from the weight of what had just happened.
Freedom.
But at what cost?
Stella walked close beside him, her presence a quiet anchor. Her fingers brushed his sleeve every few steps—a fleeting touch, a silent reminder that he wasn't facing this alone. Wilson led the way, his footsteps measured and unhurried, coat swaying slightly with each stride.
The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, lined with cold glass panels that reflected their fragmented images—three figures walking out of judgment, but not unscathed.
Rein exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest uncoiling just a fraction. He glanced at Stella, then at Wilson's back.
"I think that went well?" he said, voice quiet, almost testing the words aloud. Hoping someone would confirm it.
Wilson glanced over his shoulder, a faint, knowing smile touching his eyes—warm, but tinged with the weariness of someone who'd fought too many battles like this.
"(exhales) My child," he said, voice rich and reassuring, "for now… You are free to use Chaotic Energy."
The words hung in the air.
Free.
Rein's heart skipped, a rush of relief flooding through him so suddenly it left him lightheaded. His shoulders sagged slightly, the invisible weight lifting—just a little.
Stella's hand slipped fully into his now, fingers intertwining. She squeezed once, her touch steady.
"But," Wilson continued, tone shifting to something graver, "we must train you to use it responsibly. Uncontrolled, it will consume you. And those around you."
Rein nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. The sample extraction still burned in his memory—the cold device pressed to his skin, the painful pull as Chaotic residue was drawn out. A piece of him, given away.
"So… you'll train me?" he asked, hope flickering despite everything.
Wilson chuckled softly, the sound echoing down the empty hall like a rare comfort.
"Not me, my child." His eyes glinted with something almost mischievous. "My Master will."
Rein blinked. "Your… Master?"
Wilson stopped walking, turning fully to face them both. The corridor lights cast long shadows behind him, making him seem even taller— a guardian between them and the storm ahead.
"And not just you," he added, smile widening. "Your friends, too."
Stella's steps faltered beside Rein. Her grip tightened.
"All of us?" she asked, voice steady but laced with surprise.
Wilson's chuckle deepened, warm and genuine.
"Hmm?" He tilted his head playfully. "You, Rein, Zen, and Valkyrie, of course."
Stella's cheeks warmed slightly, a faint blush creeping up despite her composure. The idea of training together—of fighting side by side—sent a quiet thrill through her.
"Principal Wilson," she said, curiosity winning out, "what do you mean by all of us?"
He laughed now—a low, rich sound that filled the corridor and eased the lingering tension.
"When you all finish your first year and enter the holidays," he explained, eyes sparkling, "I'll send the four of you to my Master's place."
Rein felt a spark ignite in his chest—something new, something almost like excitement. Training. Real training. Not alone. With the people who'd already proven they'd stand with him against the world.
Zen's chaotic energy. Valkyrie's fierce protection. Stella's steady light.
Together.
Wilson's gaze sharpened, playful but knowing.
"I can already feel a fight brewing."
The words landed with promise.
Not just against Chaos.
Not just against the Board's watchful eyes.
But for something worth protecting.
For the family they'd found in each other.
Rein squeezed Stella's hand back, a small smile breaking through his exhaustion.
For the first time since the nightmare began…
He felt ready.
The city streets felt different as they walked—wider, brighter, as the world had exhaled after holding its breath too long.
A cool evening breeze brushed their faces, carrying the faint scent of rain and distant street food. Rein pulled his hoodie tighter, the fabric still familiar armor against everything. Stella walked beside him, close enough that their arms brushed occasionally. Wilson led a step ahead, his presence steady and reassuring.
The nearby restaurant came into view—a cozy Italian place Zen had raved about, warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk.
Principal Wilson glanced back, his voice gentle but curious.
"Rein, will you be returning to the hospital tonight?"
Rein shook his head, staring at the ground for a moment. "No. I'll ask for discharge and head home. It's probably a mess anyway—been empty for weeks."
Wilson nodded, understanding in his eyes.
Stella's steps slowed slightly. She looked at Rein, cheeks warming just a touch under the streetlights.
"I could… stay a night," she said softly, voice steady but laced with quiet hope. "If you're okay with that."
Wilson's lips curved into a knowing chuckle—low, warm, the sound of someone who'd seen young love bloom before.
Rein froze.
Color flooded his face, turning him redder than a ripe apple. His mind blanked, his heart slamming against his ribs like it wanted to escape.
"Uhhh… iiii… suuuureeee," he stammered, voice cracking halfway. "Why not?"
He immediately second-guessed himself, panic rising.
"Wait—are you actually sure?" he asked quickly, eyes wide. "It'll be a total mess. Dust everywhere, probably no food, and—"
Stella cut him off with a soft smile, stepping closer. Her hand brushed his arm—reassuring, unwavering.
"I don't care," she said firmly, eyes meeting his without flinching. "I'll help clean. And I'll stay the night."
Rein's blush deepened, but a small, helpless smile tugged at his lips.
Wilson's chuckle grew a little louder, eyes twinkling with amusement.
The breeze picked up again, carrying the scent of garlic and fresh bread from the restaurant ahead.
For the first time in a long while…
Things felt almost normal.
The restaurant's warm lights spilled onto the sidewalk, promising garlic bread and normalcy after the cold judgment of the Board.
Rein pushed open the door, the bell jingling softly. The scent of fresh pasta and herbs wrapped around them like a comfort they hadn't earned yet.
But then—
"What the!?" Rein froze mid-step, eyes wide.
At a corner booth near the window sat three familiar figures—Zen waving like a maniac, Valkyrie with her usual composed smile, and an empty seat waiting like it had been planned.
"Don't worry, my child," Wilson said calmly, placing a reassuring hand on Rein's shoulder. "I called them here."
Rein blinked, tension easing from his shoulders. "Oh… okay."
Stella's grip on his hand loosened, but her eyes still scanned the room warily.
From the booth, Zen's voice boomed across the restaurant.
"HEY! You three, over here!"
Heads turned. A few patrons chuckled.
Valkyrie sighed, standing gracefully. "They can see us, Zen. No need to shout."
Zen grinned wider, leaning back with arms crossed. His gaze landed on Stella—and lingered.
"Oh wow," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've never seen you in a crop top before, Stella. You look good. And… fat."
"HEY!" Stella's face exploded in red, one hand flying to cover her midriff.
Rein choked on air. Wilson's chuckle rumbled beside them.
Stella stormed over, but instead of punching Zen (though her fist twitched), she veered straight to Valkyrie. Her big sister stood, arms already open.
Stella crashed into the hug, burying her face in Valkyrie's shoulder. Her voice came out small, a little scared despite everything.
"Hey… big sis."
Valkyrie wrapped her arms tight, one hand stroking Stella's hair gently.
"Hey, hey," she murmured, voice soft but strong. "Everything's okay. It's all over… for now."
Stella nodded against her, holding on a second longer.
Zen rubbed the back of his neck, his grin turning sheepish. "Uh… sorry, Stella. Meant it as a compliment. You look great."
Wilson stepped forward, clearing his throat with amused authority.
"Oh, my apologies, Rein and Stella," he said warmly. "I couldn't arrange breakfast earlier with the trial, so allow me to treat you all to this meal, for the disturbance."
Rein and Stella exchanged a glance—grateful, exhausted, but smiling.
"Thank you, Principal Wilson," they said in unison, voices overlapping.
Zen pumped a fist. "Sweet! Pasta on the old man!"
Wilson's eyebrow twitched, but his smile didn't fade.
The group settled into the booth—laughter starting to bubble up, the weight of the day lifting just enough to breathe.
For the first time since Chaos stepped out of the shadows…
They felt like a family.
The plates were cleared, the table a battlefield of empty glasses and crumpled napkins. The restaurant's warm glow had softened the edges of the day, but the conversation lingered on heavier things.
Zen leaned back, arms crossed, curiosity burning in his golden eyes.
"So how was it?" he asked again, grin fading into something more serious.
Rein poked at a stray breadcrumb. "Uhh… it went okay, I guess. They took a part of me, too."
"Whaaaaaat?" Zen bolted upright, nearly knocking over his glass.
Stella's fork paused. Valkyrie's gaze sharpened.
Wilson chuckled softly, raising a hand to calm the storm.
"Don't worry, my child," he said warmly. "They only extracted some Chaotic Energy and residue. For research."
Zen slumped back, dramatic as ever. "Research? Like poking and prodding my bro's chaos juice?"
Rein managed a weak smile. "Pretty much."
Zen scratched his head, frown deepening. "Hmm? Wait—why didn't they take the Chaotic residue that was on me? Back in the hospital, after Chaos stabbed me?"
Wilson's expression turned thoughtful, the warmth tempered by old wisdom.
"Well, many reasons, my child," he said gently. "First, it had infused too deeply with your human tissue. Separating it would have been… dangerous. Possibly fatal. It dissipated naturally as you healed."
Zen whistled low. "Lucky me."
Valkyrie leaned forward, voice calm but probing. "And what about the residue from the war? The Shadow King battle. Why wasn't that studied?"
Wilson's chuckle faded. The table grew quieter.
"As I said before," he replied, gaze distant, "it all vanished in the blink of an eye."
He paused, letting the weight settle.
"No fallen soldiers left behind. No Chaotic residue. No Cinsics. Nothing."
His eyes met each of theirs—Rein's haunted violet, Stella's steady blue, Zen's curious gold, Valkyrie's piercing gaze.
"Everything was gone. Except the alive."
A heavy silence fell.
Zen swallowed, grin faltering for once. Stella reached under the table, finding Rein's hand again.
Wilson exhaled, then straightened, his voice shifting to something brighter—purposeful.
"But enough of old ghosts for tonight."
He looked around the table, eyes twinkling with that familiar mentor warmth.
"Now… about your training."
Rein blinked. "Training?"
Wilson nodded, smile widening.
"Yes. You'll need it—to wield Chaotic Energy responsibly. To stand against what's coming."
Zen pumped a fist. "Hell yeah! When do we start?"
Wilson laughed—a rich, genuine sound.
"Not me, my children. My Master will train you."
Stella tilted her head. "Your Master?"
Wilson's eyes gleamed with quiet pride.
"A legend even among Hex Veins. The one who taught me everything I know."
Valkyrie's interest sharpened. "And us too?"
"All of you," Wilson confirmed. "Rein, Stella, Zen, Valkyrie."
Zen's grin returned full force. "The whole squad? LET'S GOOOO!"
Rein felt a spark ignite in his chest—hope, mixed with nerves.
"When?" he asked quietly.
Wilson leaned back, folding his hands.
"When you finish your first year and enter the holidays. I'll send the four of you to my Master's place."
Stella squeezed Rein's hand under the table.
"Away?" she asked, voice soft.
Wilson nodded. "Secluded. Intense. But necessary."
He paused, gaze sweeping the group.
"I can already feel the fights brewing."
The words carried promise—and warning.
Not just training.
Growth.
Bonds forged in fire.
And perhaps… the strength to face Chaos when he came again.
Zen raised his glass. "To kicking ass!"
Glasses clinked.
Laughter followed—tentative at first, then real.
For tonight, the storm could wait.
The restaurant's warmth lingered on their skin as they stepped back into the cool night air. The city lights flickered overhead, distant and indifferent.
Zen stretched dramatically, arms high. "Man, that pasta hit different. Thanks for the treat, old man!"
Wilson's eyebrow twitched, but his smile stayed warm. "You're welcome, my child. Though 'old man' might earn you extra laps in training."
Zen grinned. "Worth it."
Valkyrie stood, coat draped over her arm. She glanced at Stella, then Rein—a silent check-in.
Wilson nodded to the group. "I'll call a car for Zen and Valkyrie. It's late."
Zen saluted. "Roger that. Gotta get home to my little sis—she's probably blown up my phone by now."
Valkyrie's expression softened at the mention. "I'll drop by tomorrow," she said to Stella, pulling her into a quick, fierce hug. "Text me when you're settled."
Stella nodded against her shoulder. "I will."
Wilson placed a gentle hand on Rein's back. "And you two—hospital first for discharge and your things. Then home."
Rein swallowed. Home. The word felt foreign after everything.
Zen clapped Rein on the shoulder—careful of the ribs. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said with a wink.
Rein's face heated. "Shut up."
Zen laughed, waving as he and Valkyrie headed toward the waiting car. Wilson followed a step behind, casting one last reassuring glance.
"Rest well, my children," he called. "The real work begins soon."
The car pulled away, taillights fading into the night.
Leaving Rein and Stella alone under the streetlights.
The hospital lobby was quiet, fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead. A nurse at the desk looked up, surprised but smiling.
"Mr. Seethoshi? Discharge already?"
Rein nodded, signing the forms with a steady hand. "Yeah. Feeling better."
Stella stood beside him, bag slung over her shoulder—their few belongings from the room packed quickly.
The nurse handed over the paperwork. "Take it easy. No heavy lifting."
Rein managed a small smile. "Got it."
They stepped back into the night, the cool breeze brushing their faces again.
Rein's apartment wasn't far—a short walk through quiet streets. Stella stayed close, her hand finding his as they walked.
"You sure about this?" Rein asked quietly, glancing at her. "It's really gonna be a mess."
Stella squeezed his hand. "I told you—I don't care. I want to be there."
He didn't argue.
The building loomed ahead—simple, unassuming. Rein keyed in the code, the door buzzing open.
They climbed the stairs in silence, the echo of their footsteps the only sound.
Rein's hand hesitated on the doorknob.
"It's… not much," he muttered.
Stella smiled softly. "It's yours. That's enough."
He pushed the door open.
Dust motes danced in the faint hallway light. The place was exactly as he'd left it—sparse, lived-in but empty. A single photo frame on the shelf: his mother smiling.
Rein exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders.
"Welcome home," Stella whispered.
He looked at her, eyes soft.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"Welcome home."
The apartment door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the city's distant hum.
Rein flicked on the light, the bulb buzzing faintly to life. Dust motes danced in the air, but the place wasn't the disaster he'd imagined—books scattered on the shelf, a forgotten mug on the table, shadows pooling in the corners like old friends.
"Hey… It's not as messy as I thought it was," Stella said, glancing around with a small smile.
Rein raised an eyebrow, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is that a compliment?"
She tilted her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe?"
He chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the day's tension from his chest.
"Make yourself at home while I clean up," Rein said, already moving toward the closet.
Stella crossed her arms, stepping in front of him. "You're not cleaning alone… I'll kill you if you do."
Rein blinked, caught off guard. "Uhh… okay? Make yourself useful then. Vacuum's in that door."
He nodded toward the hall closet, a teasing grin creeping onto his face.
Stella's lips curved into a playful smirk. "Ah… okay. Bet."
They dove in—Stella wrestling the vacuum to life with a laugh, Rein wiping down surfaces, their banter filling the small space like light chasing shadows.
"Hey, watch the cord!" Rein called as she nearly tripped him.
"Watch your feet, clumsy," she shot back, sticking out her tongue.
Dust flew. Jokes landed. For a while, the Board, Chaos, the sample extraction—it all faded.
The apartment was finally clean—dust gone, surfaces gleaming, the faint scent of lemon polish lingering in the air.
Rein leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. "Oof, finally."
Stella set the vacuum aside, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Her crop top shifted slightly with the movement, but her eyes were already drifting toward the small shelf in the living room.
"You only have one bed here, right?" she asked softly, glancing toward the bedroom door.
Rein's throat tightened. "Y-yeah… Will you be comfortable with that?"
Stella didn't answer right away.
Instead, she stepped closer—close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her. Her hands lifted, cupping his face gently, thumbs brushing his cheeks. Her touch was soft, but her eyes held a spark of mischief.
"Obviously," she whispered, voice low and teasing. "I'm fine with it. Just don't… You know."
Her fingers trailed lightly down his jaw, lingering just long enough to send a shiver racing through him.
Rein's breath hitched, face flushing hot. His hands found her waist on instinct, fingers grazing bare skin—warm, smooth, electric.
"I-I… I won't. Promise," he stammered, voice cracking.
Stella leaned in, lips brushing his ear. Her breath was warm, sending goosebumps down his neck.
"Best of luck with that… hehe," she murmured, playful heat in her tone.
"STELLA!" Rein yelped, turning redder than a tomato, pulling back to cover his burning face.
She laughed—bright, fond, the sound filling the small apartment like sunlight.
But then her gaze drifted past him, landing on the shelf.
The laughter faded softly.
Stella stepped away, walking toward the single framed photo sitting there—dust-free now, thanks to Rein's quiet care earlier.
She picked it up gently, eyes widening.
It was Rein—maybe six or seven years old, white hair already messy, violet eyes bright and innocent. He was grinning widely, missing a front tooth, arms wrapped around a beautiful woman with the same white hair and warm smile. She held him close, one hand ruffling his hair, the other holding a small ice cream cone they were sharing.
Stella's fingers traced the edge of the frame, voice barely above a whisper.
"This is… You and your mom?"
Rein's teasing blush faded. He walked over slowly, standing beside her. His gaze softened, pain flickering behind the violet.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "The last photo we took together. Before…"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
Stella set the frame down carefully, then turned to him. Her hand found his again, intertwining their fingers.
"She's beautiful," Stella whispered. "You have her smile."
Rein swallowed, eyes glistening just a little.
"Thanks," he murmured. "I… try to keep it clean. So it doesn't fade."
Stella leaned her head against his shoulder, silent for a moment.
"She'd be proud of you," she said softly. "For surviving. For letting people in."
Rein's grip tightened on her hand.
He didn't reply.
But he didn't pull away either.
The photo watched over them—quiet, warm, a piece of the past that no longer hurt quite as much.
Not tonight.
The apartment settled into a comfortable quiet, the faint hum of the city filtering through the window. Rein glanced at the clock—late, but not too late. His stomach rumbled softly.
"You hungry?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can cook something."
Stella looked up from her phone, mid-text to Valkyrie, one eyebrow raised in surprise. "You know how to cook?"
Rein shrugged, a sad note creeping into his voice as he turned toward the kitchen. "Well… yeah. I live alone, after all."
The words hung heavier than he intended.
Stella set her phone down instantly. She stood, crossing the room to him, her hand finding his arm.
"Hey," she said softly, voice warm and firm. "I'm here now. No need to be sad."
Rein met her eyes, the ache easing just a little. He managed a small smile.
"And no," she added with a light laugh, "I'm not hungry."
He nodded, relief mixing with something warmer.
"Tomorrow's Monday, right?" Rein asked, changing the subject.
"Yup," Stella replied, picking up her phone again. "School day after a whole week away."
Rein frowned slightly. "What about your uniform?"
"I texted Valkyrie to send it here," she said casually, thumbs flying across the screen. "It'll arrive in five minutes."
"Oh… okay," Rein said, impressed despite himself.
A comfortable silence fell for a moment.
Then Rein glanced toward the window, eyes lighting up.
"Hey… want to see the stars?"
Stella's face brightened. "Sure. Let's go."
The rooftop wind carried a sharp chill, but the view made it worth it. The Milky Way spilled across the sky like scattered diamonds, the city lights twinkling far below in quiet answer.
Rein sat on the weathered bench, Stella right beside him—their shoulders brushing, her warmth chasing away the cold.
"Oh wow," Stella breathed, eyes wide as she took in the expanse. "It's such an amazing view. The city… the stars… so much better than the hospital."
Rein hummed softly, but his gaze wasn't on the sky.
It was on her—the way the starlight caught in her silver hair, the soft curve of her smile as she stargazed.
She noticed eventually, turning with a teasing glint in her electric-blue eyes.
"What?" she asked playfully. "Want a kiss?"
Rein's face heated instantly. "Uh—nooo!"
Stella leaned in swiftly, cupping his cheek and pressing her lips to his—soft, sudden, lingering just long enough to steal his breath. The wind swirled around them, but the world narrowed to her warmth.
When she pulled back, eyes sparkling, she chuckled.
"Still a no?"
Rein touched his lips, breathless, face burning. "Stella…"
She laughed again—light and fond—leaning her head on his shoulder as they turned back to the stars.
Silence settled, comfortable and deep.
After a moment, Rein's voice came quiet, almost lost in the wind.
"I used to come up here a lot," he said. "When I was younger."
Stella didn't push. She just waited, her hand finding his under the bench.
Rein stared at the sky, eyes distant.
"I've been living alone for… almost ten years now."
The words hung heavy.
Stella's grip tightened slightly.
"Since I was seven," he continued, voice soft but steady. "After the crash. After Mom…"
He trailed off, swallowing.
"No family visits. No one to cook for. Just… me."
The wind brushed their faces, cold and honest.
"I got used to it," Rein said, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "Cooking for one. Cleaning for one. Coming up here alone, looking at the stars and pretending she was watching."
Stella turned to him fully now, her expression gentle—no pity, just understanding.
"You're not alone anymore," she whispered.
Rein met her eyes, the violet softening.
"I know," he said quietly. "Because of you."
She leaned in, resting her forehead against his.
The stars kept shining.
And for the first time in almost ten years…
The rooftop didn't feel empty.
The rooftop wind whispered around them, cool and crisp, as the stars glittered like scattered promises overhead.
Stella's phone buzzed softly in her pocket, vibrating against her thigh.
She pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A text from Valkyrie.
Your uniform's here. Go get it.
"Hey," Stella said, turning to Rein with a small smile. "The uniforms arrived. Let me go grab it."
Rein shook his head, standing up and offering his hand to help her. "Mmm, no need. I'm here—I can get it."
Stella blinked, tilting her head. "Really?"
"Yeah," he said, a gentle chuckle escaping him. "Let's head back down so I can bring it up to the apartment instead of leaving it on the roof."
She laughed lightly, the sound bright against the night. "Yeah, okay."
As they made their way down the stairs, Stella's hand slipped into his—natural, warm, fingers intertwining without a word. Rein's heart skipped, but he didn't pull away. He squeezed back, the simple touch grounding him more than the stars ever could.
The building hallway was quiet when they reached the entrance. A small package waited by the door—neatly wrapped, Valkyrie's efficient touch evident even from afar.
Rein picked it up, balancing it carefully. "Got it."
They climbed back up to the apartment, the uniform tucked under his arm.
Back inside, the warm light felt cozier after the rooftop chill.
"Well, here it is," Rein said, handing the package over with a soft smile.
Stella took it, her fingers brushing his. "Thanks, Rein."
"No problem," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Glad I could help."
She set the uniform aside on the table, then stepped closer—close enough that the faint scent of her shampoo wrapped around him.
"You always do," she murmured, eyes soft.
Rein's cheeks warmed again, but this time… he didn't look away.
The night stretched ahead—quiet, theirs.
And for the first time in years, the apartment didn't feel empty.
The uniform package sat neatly on the table, forgotten for now.
The apartment lights were dimmed low, casting soft shadows across the room. The rooftop chill still clung to their skin, but inside, the air felt warmer—charged.
Stella stretched, letting out a small yawn. "It's getting late… time for bed?"
Rein nodded, heart picking up pace. "Yeah."
He led her to the bedroom—simple, sparse, but theirs for the night. One bed. Queen-sized sheets fresh from the closet.
Stella slipped off her jacket, laying it over a chair. Her crop top hugged her figure, the bare strip of skin at her waist catching the low light.
They climbed under the covers, the mattress dipping as they settled side by side. Close. The space between them felt electric.
For a moment, they lay in silence, the only sound their breathing syncing slowly.
Then Stella shifted, turning toward him. Her hand rested lightly on his chest, fingers tracing small patterns over his shirt.
"You okay?" she whispered, voice soft in the dark.
Rein's breath caught. "Yeah… just…"
His hand moved instinctively—sliding to her waist, palm pressing against bare skin. Warm. Inviting.
Stella inhaled softly, arching just a fraction into his touch.
Encouraged, Rein's fingers traced higher—gliding up her back, slow and deliberate, feeling the curve of her spine. Then to her neck, tangling gently in her hair, thumb brushing the sensitive skin there.
She let out a quiet sigh, eyes fluttering closed, body relaxing into him—clearly enjoying every second.
"Rein…" she murmured, voice breathy.
He pulled her closer, their legs tangling under the sheets.
The kiss that followed was slow, tender—deepening gradually, full of the day's relief and unspoken promises.
When they finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together, Stella smiled.
"Goodnight," she whispered.
Rein's arms stayed around her.
"Goodnight."
The night wrapped around them—safe, warm.
No shadows.
Just them.