The training chamber buzzed with quiet electricity. The room stretched wide like a metallic courtyard, its smooth black flooring veined with glowing lines of purple light that pulsed in rhythm with every surge of Tenebris. The air smelled faintly of steel. Holographic projectors flickered near the edges of the room, showing ghostlike silhouettes of combat data, while faint drones hovered along the ceiling to record readings.
Seijuro stood at the center of the open field, the trainee's cloak draped over his shoulders. His dark-brown hair was tied back, sweat already clinging to his skin. Beneath the cloak, his combat uniform clung to him fitted for movement, sleeveless, the color of deep ash. His sword rested against his shoulder, the small toy tied to its hilt swaying as he walked.
Across from him, Frank stood. The dark purple aura of his advanced state pulsed faintly around his left arm. The blackened flesh shimmered with Tenebris, the spike rising from his shoulder catching the light like polished obsidian. His usual calm smile was replaced by the faintest trace of seriousness, "When you're ready, young Seijuro," Frank said, voice echoing through the quiet, "You're being graded today on your Tenebris efficiency. Wait for the buzzer."
Seijuro gripped his sword tighter, eyes focused, "No holding back?"
Frank smirked, "I hope you don't."
The moment stretched, a heartbeat, a blink, and then the buzz. Frank moved,
For someone who had once been bound to a chair, his speed was inhuman…
Seijuro barely caught the first strike, the clash of steel ringing across the arena. The shockwave made the air crack, and Seijuro's boots dug deep into the metal.
His arms trembled under the impact, but he managed to push Frank back. "You weren't kidding!"
"The examination lasts 10 minutes," Frank said, lunging forward again. "Show me everything!"
Their blades collided again, sparks of violet Tenebris scattering through the air. Seijuro dodged the next swing, rolling to the side and coming up with his own strike,
"Dragon Stance: Ryū's Breath!" A clean, horizontal slash. Frank twisted his wrist, parrying the attack effortlessly.
Seijuro gritted his teeth, pushing forward, but the next clash sent him sliding back several feet, boots scraping against the floor. Then, Frank planted his sword into the ground and stepped back, "Again. I can't aid you in this battle."
Seijuro charged in, lunging forward "Dragon Stance: Ryū's Breath!" Frank leaned his head back, then, he raised a leg, landing a front kick on his chest.
Spit flew out of Seijuros mouth. His back slammed against the metal floor so hard it dented. The ground creaked. Frank was already in the air, the tip of his blade pointed at Seijuros chest. He rolled forward, plunging his blade deep into the ground, "Dragon Stance: Azure's Protection!" His blade bounced off the shield.
Seijuro glanced at the holographic clock above them,
Six minutes left…
They clashed again, other students turned their heads towards them. The air rippled, sweat dripped from Seijuro's chin,
Four minutes
He slid back, his boots grinding against the metal. His hands clenched his blade harder. Frank only stood there, his face unreadable, unresponsive. Seijuro's breaths came out in heavy pants,
Just a few more minutes…
The thought replayed after every interval. Frank raised his sword, swinging it horizontally. A huge shockwave rampaged itself towards Seijuro. His eyes widened, his body tensed and then, he moved. Planting his sword firmly in the ground again, "Dragon Stance: Azure's Protection!"
Franks attack pressed against his barrier. Seijuro gritted his teeth, grasping the hilt tighter to steady himself. Then, his shield cracked slightly,
This is it… I have to stay… composed!
He closed his eyes. Tenebris emerged from his chest, gliding towards the damaged part of the shield in ribbons. Frank's attack dissipated into the air, Seijuro let go of his blade, collapsing onto his stomach with a soft thud. His eyes moved upwards, meeting Frank's expressionless gaze,
"Sorry… Captain… I'm spent…" he let out a weak chuckle, "did I pass?"
Frank smirked, lifting his sword up, to rest on his right arm, "You did. 78%. Feedback will be given by the end of the week. Can you stand?"
"Not really…"
His lips curled into a full smile, "Lieutenant Tenma! Take my student to the medic wing."
A man, mid-twenties, leapt down from the platform above. Even in his advanced state, was almost a head taller than Frank. His style was striking. A dark blue sleeveless top hugged his lean frame, the fabric laced with faint silver threads that shimmered under the light. Twin bands of white fabric wrapped around his forearms. His dark trousers were loose but tucked neatly into shin-high boots, and two daggers were strapped on his waist. His hair, a light purple and was tied in a half-ponytail. He lifted Seijuro over his shoulder, "Cmon, kid. I got ya."
He walked through the Foundation's glowing corridors, transparent walls pulsing with data and faint silhouettes of trainees in different chambers. The further they went, the hum of activity faded, replaced by a soft, sterile stillness.
Finally, the corridor opened into the medic wing, a vast, tranquil space humming with gentle energy. The floor gleamed like polished glass, faint red and blue lines running beneath it like veins of light. Transparent pods and hovering monitors lined the walls, and a faint floral scent hung in the air, clean, calming.
Near the far end, tending to a patient's monitor, stood a young woman.
She turned as the doors opened, and the soft light caught her features, warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair with copper highlights, and deep hazel eyes that were sharp yet kind. She wore a white coat trimmed with faint lilac light, open over a soft grey turtleneck and dark trousers. A belt carrying small crystalline vials was fastened at her waist, and sleek medical gloves shimmered faintly under the light. Despite the clean precision of her uniform, she carried herself with a natural grace efficient, calm, and faintly maternal. Seijuro's face began to burn slightly. She sighed,
"Another student, Tenma?"
Tenma chuckled as he gently lowered Seijuro down onto the bed, "Busy day for ya, Ruma?"
Ruma smiled, her face bright, "Yeah. More and more people showing up injured," she turned her head to look at Seijuro, "My name's Ruma Quinn. I'll be looking after you for today."
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat, his voice breaking slightly, "Seijuro Yoshiki. Nice to meet you, Ruma Quinn."
She nodded and activated the floating console above Seijuro's bed. A soft blue field enveloped him, scanning his vitals. Lines of data scrolled upward:
Severe Tenebris depletion. Muscular instability. Neural Fatigue.
"Honestly, you're lucky you didn't tear your lattice completely," Ruma muttered, "You can't just keep pushing your output like that."
"I just need to get stronger," Seijuro said quietly.
Ruma's tone softened. "You will. But strength without control breaks faster than it builds."
Tenma stretched and smirked. "He's got the control of a hurricane right now."
"Tenma," Ruma said, eyes still on the console, her smile sweet, but a vein in her forehead popped out, "leave please, before I test this defibrillator on you."
He raised his hands. "Alright, alright. I'll grab you both some tea."
Once he was gone, the medic wing dimmed slightly. Ruma placed her hands over Seijuro's chest. His cheeks tinted pink, "Erm…"
"Shush, you need to relax." A violet light blooming between her palms, soft and pulsing like a heartbeat. The energy seeped into him, warmth spreading through his limbs. His breathing steadied; the shaking in his hands stilled,
"There. All patched up," she glanced at the holographic screen, "Your core is stabilised, but you need sleep. Sorry for cutting you off before by the way."
"It's alright," he scratched the side of his face, "Thanks again."
"You're free to go, and I hope I don't see you here again." Ruma ordered, he couldn't tell if she was joking or being serious. Seijuro chuckled nervously, walking out the chamber, boots thudding softly against the marble floor.
The next three days, the sun dipped beneath the treeline, the day's warmth lingered in the air. Seijuro sat on top of the medic wing roof. His sword rested beside him. The blossoms drifted lazily around him. Every petal that landed on his sleeve or hair reminded him of how still the world could be, even after hours of noise and strain. His breathing steadied. Inhale. Exhale. He let his Tenebris settle, no longer trying to control it, only listening,
"You've been sitting here for two hours," a voice said next him, teasing but soft.
He jumped, turning his head in direction of the voice. Lisa sat next to him, the fading light painting her hair. She wore a black jacket with the Foundation insignia, her sleeves rolled up,
"Captain Lisa?! I didn't hear you…" Seijuro said with a tired smile,
"Sorry for startling you, Seijuro-san," she replied, scooting slightly closer. She watched the stars slowly begin to blink into existence, "78%. That's an incredible score."
"Thanks," Seijuro said quietly. "I just didn't want to waste another month."
Lisa tilted her head. "You've been here for two. You're allowed to breathe, you know."
He exhaled, eyes still on his hands. "When I breathe, I remember why I'm here."
For a moment, she didn't say anything. The air between them hummed softly with energy, the kind that didn't need words. Then she sat down beside him fully, legs stretched out, boots brushing the edge of the roof,
"Why are you up here?" she said at last,
"Practising my control. Captain Frank said, being in a peaceful environment helps." He turned to face her, his eyes widen,
Her aura… green…
He spoke, blunt and curious, "Why are you always happy?"
Lisa's expression shifted, her eyes moving to the skyline, "I made a promise, little brother."
"Sorry for being blunt," He followed her gaze, "It's just… everyone has a mix of different colors in their aura, but yours… it's always the same."
Lisa's smile faltered slightly, "I had three sisters. I raised them like they were my own kids. They lit up every room they were in. Before they died, I promised them to always be happy." Then, Seijuro saw it.
A hint of blue emerged out of her, but that's not what shocked him. The green was replaced by a dark red, bleeding out of Lisa,
"I guess I don't need to ask what happened to them."
Lisa clutched her knees to her chest, "We're not so different you and I, let's put it that way," her smile returned, her aura shifting back to green, "You have a beautiful soul, Seijuro-san, but you're always acting like stopping for one second means you're going to lose everything."
Seijuro frowned slightly. "I know. I don't want to risk it."
"You won't lose anything," she said with a laugh, "Strength doesn't always come from fighting harder. Sometimes it's about knowing when to stop fighting yourself."
He stayed quiet, letting her words sink in. The wind picked up, carrying the faint scent of baked bread from the kitchens, Maki's doing, probably. For a second, the Foundation didn't feel like a fortress. Lisa rose and brushed off her jacket,
"You did much better in your practical than your written exam."
His ears perked up, "What did I get!"
"43%."
He sighed, "Barely a pass. Sorry."
She chuckled, "You don't need to apologise. Go eat something before you pass out."
He looked up at her, the smallest smile breaking through his fatigue. "Thanks, Captain Lisa."
She gave him a light tap on his forehead. "Keep training, Seijuro. But don't forget to live in between. The Tenebris listens to your heart, and your heart doesn't beat for war. No one's should."
And with that, she vanished. Not even a footstep, or a shift in the wind. Seijuro remained staring at where she stood,
Her speed is no joke.
He glanced down at his hands again, then at his sword. The petals kept falling, soft and endless, landing across the cracked marble like snow. He reached out, catching one between his fingers. He closed his eyes and exhaled once more, slow and steady.