The brutal morning sparring was finally over. The harsh glare of noon had softened into the warm gold of late afternoon that cast long shadows across the clearing.
Lying on his back in the damp grass, Yukio's body ached in places he didn't even know existed. Above him arced a sky so brilliantly blue it was almost mocking. How much longer? he thought, the idea weighted with fatigue. He tried to remember how many times he had been thrown or kicked or flattened-but the hours long since blended into one interminable haze of pain.
A silver-haired face suddenly filled his vision, hovering just inches above his own. Michibiki's sharp eyes sparkled with playful energy, and a grin tugged at her lips.
"Get up, Mister,"
She said brightly.
"The next round starts now."
Yukio groaned, despair washing over him like a second wave of fatigue. He let out a sigh-long, dramatic, and entirely defeated.
RUMBLE.
His sigh was no sooner out than the loud protestation of his stomach became audible.
Michibiki blinked, then laughed—a soft, melodious sound that somehow took the sting from the day's bruises.
"Well, well,"
She teased,
"looks like someone's hungry."
She straightened, reaching into her pocket inventory—a shimmer of faint magic trailing her motion—and pulled out two neat, square containers. With an almost maternal calm, she handed one toward him.
"Alright, you get a quick lunch break,"
She said, a gentle smile flickering across her face.
"After that, we start on the basics of magic."
Her tone softened somewhat.
"You've probably had enough bruises for one morning."
At the word 'magic', the exhaustion vanished from Yukio as if it was smoke. His eyes lit up instantly, hope replacing pain.
"Yahoo,"
He sighed, half-grinning,
"I'm finally gonna learn magic."
Michibiki rolled her eyes but offered her hand, pulling him upright.
"Go wash your hands in the stream. No training dirt in my food."
They settled beneath the spreading branches of a sturdy oak. The shade was cool, the soft rustle of the leaves a lullaby after hours of struggle. For the first time that day, Yukio felt peace creep back into his bones.
"Hmm, this is nice,"
He muttered, letting himself relax as he opened the container. He was expecting dry rations or some flavorless stew-fantasy worlds weren't known for good food.
Instead, a rich aroma hit him first. Steam rose from a gleaming mound of curry and rice; the scent instantly triggered nostalgia.
His eyes widened.
"W-wait, curry and rice?!"
He exclaimed, holding on to the box as if it were treasure.
"How does a fantasy world even have this?!"
Michibiki was already eating, a smug smirk tugging at her lips.
"Oh, come on, Yukio. Gaelora isn't that primitive. Some of the food here puts your world to shame."
He didn't need more convincing. He took a massive bite—and his whole face lit up.
"Yum! This is amazing!"
He said between mouthfuls.
"Who made this?"
Michibiki froze mid-bite, her eyes darting sideways as a deep blush climbed up her neck.
"I… did,"
She said quietly.
Yukio blinked, his spoon halfway to his mouth.
"Eh?"
"I borrowed Miyato's kitchen this morning,"
She said hurriedly without raising her eyes to his face.
"I'm not a great cook, but it turned out fine. Hope you like it."
"Like it? I love it!"
Yukio said, grinning so wide it almost hurt.
His usual sarcasm had vanished, replaced by genuine warmth. He looked down to the meal, then back up at her.
"It kinda reminds me of home."
He paused.
"Can you make it again?"
Michibiki's blush deepened until her silver hair seemed to shimmer pink.
"Just—just finish it before it gets cold!"
She snapped, hiding her face behind her spoon.
Lunch was over too soon. Michibiki stood, brushing off her robes with practised precision.
"Alright,"
She said briskly, tone shifting back to teacher mode.
"Up. We've got daylight to use."
Yukio groaned, dragging himself upright.
"Time for more torture,"
He muttered—but there was curiosity in his eyes now, not dread.
Michibiki tilted her head with a smirk.
"What happened to that confidence of yours, huh?"
Yukio faced her again, his feet a little wider apart. The afternoon breeze carried the faint scent of river water and curry spice, grounding the moment in quiet anticipation.
Michibiki's tone calmed again, precise-the instructor returning.
"We'll start with the basics of mana. All living things have mana inside their body—that's internal mana. But the world is full of it. That's external mana, and it can be shaped, drawn, and woven."
With each word spoken, it was as if the air stirred around her. Water gathered in her open palm, swirling into a perfect sphere that caught the light like glass.
She raised her hand, focus narrowing. The orb shot forward, slicing through a young tree's trunk with surgical precision. The halves slid apart soundlessly. Not a drop spilled.
"That,"
She said, turning to him with calm authority,
is the power of external mana.
Her silver eyes shone.
"And you, All-Elementalist, are going to learn all of it."
Yukio swallowed hard, his awe written plain across his face.
"Yeah,
He muttered under his breath,
"no pressure."
Yukio's eyes lit up like twin stars.
"Sounds complicated,"
He said, grinning despite his aching body.
"So… how do I get started?"
Michibiki stepped a little closer, her footsteps muffled by the soft grass. As she stopped just in front of him, her silver hair danced in the breeze. In complete silence, she laid her hand flat on his chest.
Yukio froze. The warmth of her touch seeped into the thin fabric of his shirt, steady and pulsing. A faint blush crept up the column of his neck, betraying him.
"You already have mana continuously flowing through your body,"
Michibiki said softly, her eyes rising to meet his.
"It's always been there—waiting to be used."
Her hand drifted lightly across his chest, tracing the air above his heart.
"Focus. Feel it moving inside you. The rhythm, the pulse, isn't only blood. It's energy. Listen to it."
Yukio swallowed hard, then cracked his neck as if to shake off nerves.
"Alright,"
He said, voice steadier than he felt.
"Let's give this a shot."
He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. The whole world fell away around him in a silent whisper of wind and leaves, even the quiet presence of Michibiki.
He looked inwards.
At first, there was nothing. Just his heartbeat, faint and irregular. Then, like a current beneath calm water, he felt it-a hum, soft and electric, thrumming beneath his skin.
His chest tightened. His heart skipped once, then steadied.
Suddenly, his veins were filled with heat. Skin glowed faintly, radiant shades of blue-green with hints of gold, in a swirl and pulse of living light.
Michibiki tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Huh,"
She whispered, almost to herself.
"Your mana signature. it's odd, almost inhuman."
A mixture of curiosity and admiration widened her grin.
"Lord Fukui really did spoil you rotten, didn't he?"
The glow faded as Yukio exhaled sharply, releasing the energy. The moment it left him, exhaustion rushed back. He gasped for air, his body trembling.
"Whoa,"
He panted,
"I'm not so bad after all, huh? Guess I can finally do something with these hands."
He flexed his fingers with mock pride before flashing her a half-smile.
"So when do I learn spells? Don't tell me you tossed me around all morning for nothing."
Michibiki let out a soft chuckle, eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of amusement and approval.
"Of course not,"
She said.
"You can't stay defenseless forever."
With a playful flick, she tapped his forehead.
"Consider that your graduation from 'ragdoll class.'"
Then, in a single smooth movement, she raised her right hand toward a nearby tree.
"Now,"
She said, her tone sharpening with focus,
"Let's see what that mana of yours can really do."
The air around her shifted-subtle but undeniable-as if the world itself leaned in to listen.
The gathered wind began to swirl faster and faster before her outstretched hand, building up into a tight, pulsating sphere of air. Leaves rustled and grass bent as her silver hair fluttered with the pressure.
"Wind Spell: Wind Sphere."
The ball hovered above her palm, shimmering faintly as currents twisted within it. Michibiki looked at Yukio, a teacher's spark in her eye.
"Alright,"
She said.
"We'll start with the wind magic. Draw from the mana inside you, shape it with focus, then say the incantation."
Yukio nodded, attempting to mirror her stance. He pointed toward a nearby tree, closing his eyes for just a heartbeat. Come on… mana, mana… he thought, feeling the now familiar hum return to his chest.
"Wind Spell: Wind Sphere!"
Nothing happened for a moment. Then a faint ripple of air shimmered before his hand, forming into a small, trembling sphere.
His eyes flew open.
"It worked!"
He yelled, not able to help but grin. He jabbed his hand forward, releasing the spell.
The tiny sphere of wind zipped through the air and thunk! barely nudged the bark of the tree before dissipating with a soft puff. Not even a leaf fell.
Michibiki exhaled softly, already stepping forward to console him—but before she could speak, Yukio threw his hands in the air.
"Yeah! I actually cast a spell!"
He shouted, laughing breathlessly.
"Did you see that? It moved!"
He ran toward her and, without thinking, scooped her into a quick, joyful spin.
"Best teacher ever!"
He declared.
"Y-Yukio—hey!"
Michibiki stuttered, half startled, half laughing. When he set her down, she smoothed her robe, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.
"Well,"
She said, pretending to sound strict,
"Your control is awful and your aim is worse. But…"
She crossed her arms, her eyes softening.
"For a first spell? Not bad."
Yukio grinned.
"So… next I learn how to make it explode, right?"
Michibiki groaned, but there was laughter in her voice.
"Let's just work on not blowing yourself up first, alright?"