Kurota woke alone the next morning, the dorm quiet except for the soft hum of the academy's ventilation system. Tokinada and Promto had vanished sometime before sunrise. Promto had left a note on the table, scrawled in his neat handwriting:
"We're out on a field mission with our third teammate. Self-study today. Don't destroy anything."
Lucien let out a dry, unimpressed breath inside his head. Wonderful. They leave you alone for one day and assume you won't set anything on fire. Admirable optimism.
Kurota ignored him, lazily stretching as the morning sunlight cast its rays upon him. The marks from the merge still glowed on his right chest and upper arm, a daily reminder of what he and Lucien had become.
"Guess I'll go find something to read," he murmured.
Look at you, Lucien teased, becoming a scholar. I'm proud.
Kurota threw on his uniform and left the dorm, wandering through the quiet corridors. Most students were in class or on missions. The academy felt strangely hollow without voices, but not in the casual way—more like a hibernating bear, conserving its strength.
The Valcorian Library sat near the center courtyard, a towering structure of obsidian stone and gold-lined windows. It was bigger than any building he'd seen at the academy so far, and when he stepped inside, the scent of aging pages and ink washed over him.
Shelves rose in spirals, branching like enormous trees of knowledge.
Lucien hummed softly. Ugh, Boring.
Kurota moved deeper into the main aisle, scanning titles he didn't recognize. It was quiet enough that he could hear the sound of the outside, the chirping of birds, the soft creak of wood.
Then someone appeared beside him with no warning.
"You're new," a voice said rapidly, bright and breathless. "Like super new."
Kurota nearly stumbled. A girl stared back at him—blonde hair tied into messy twin braids, blue eyes so vivid they almost sparkled. Round glasses perched crookedly on her nose. She wore the academy uniform but somehow made it look chaotic: her sleeves rolled unevenly, collar bent, and a piece of her shirt cut.
She beamed at him, overly excited.
"So? Are you? You gotta be. I've never seen your face. And trust me, I memorize everyone. All of them."
Kurota blinked. "Uh… yeah. I'm new."
Her grin widened to almost unnatural proportions. "Knew it! Chloe. Resident genius. Resident everything, honestly." She stuck her hand out so fast he barely caught it. "And you are?"
"Kurota," he said, shaking her hand carefully.
Lucien snorted. Ah. You're quite the lady magnet, amuse me.
Kurota ignored him and forced a polite smile. "Nice to meet you."
Chloe leaned forward, eyes narrowing with mock seriousness. "Wait. Kurota? The Kurota? The one Natsuko brought in?"
He exhaled. "Yeah… that one."
She gasped dramatically, then started rambling before he could blink:
"Ohmygod okay okay, so you're literally perfection—like in the scientific way, not the weird way. I mean your body—WAIT—not like that—I mean your biology—AH, I did it again—okay OKAY— I'm gonna restart—"
Kurota just nodded slowly.
Lucien laughed with a smug hum. She's entertaining.
Chloe took a deep breath, slapped her cheeks, and continued in a torrent of words:
"So—Maryoku. You know Maryoku, right? No? Kind of? A little? Great, so basically everything breathes it out. Every living thing leaks it. All the time. It's like spiritual sweat but prettier. And when emotions go sour—like super rotten, hate-and-despair-level rotten—the Maryoku twists into what we call Yōryoku. All the worst feelings congealed into energy. Ew. Gross."
She wrinkled her nose dramatically.
"And that's where yokai come from! Negative emotions mixed with free-flowing Yōryoku until they manifest into something—well—something murderous and usually sticky."
Lucien hummed in mild offense. Sticky? Really? I do take showers y'know..
Chloe continued, gesturing wildly, nearly hitting Kurota with her hands.
"But Yokai hunters? They can shape Maryoku consciously. And the academy tests everyone to see what they can do, before actually sending them out. Every hunter is born with a unique Maryoku art etched into their soul. Some people can grow limbs, some move through shadows, some breath fire, some whatever. And you—" She poked his chest suddenly. "—you're just so amazing, im so jealous."
Kurota stepped back. "Uh… thanks?"
"I mean it!" she chirped. "You're the first hybrid that has to step foot in these halls. If I could take you apart—NOTLITERALLY—I mean metaphorically dissect your entire spiritual structure—I'd learn SO MUCH. But they won't let me."
Lucien whispered, amused. A shame. She seems enthusiastic enough to try.
Chloe snapped her fingers. "OH. Ranks! You gotta know that too, don't want you getting into fights with people clearly stronger. People can climb through stages based on how good they are at not accidentally blowing themselves up, and how good they are at blowing others up!."
Kurota nodded slowly as she spoke.
He understood maybe a third of it, but her enthusiasm filled in the gaps.
She paced in a circle around him like a scientist inspecting a newly discovered species.
"So you've got this extra layer—your body outputs Maryoku but you can't control the Maryoku you output since you started off as a human and not a hunter. It's like you're a walking paradox. If I could just explore more of your body—Ohhhh I'd die happy."
Lucien whispered smugly. Isn't she cute.
Kurota mentally muttered, Can you shut up for once?
Lucien refused to answer, out of pure pettiness.
Chloe clapped suddenly, startling him.
"Come on! I have to show you something!"
She grabbed his wrist and dragged him deeper into the library, through aisles of sorted sections until they reached a dim corridor far quieter than the others. A golden plaque hung above the archway:
Yokai Fiction
Kurota frowned. "Fiction?"
"Ohhh yes," Chloe nodded rapidly. "This is where all the myths, legends, and probably-real-but-we-don't-talk-about-it stuff lives. I read everything in here three times over. Except this one."
She reached onto a high shelf and pulled out a massive book bound in cracked leather, edges singed as if touched by fire.
"The Sun and the Moon," she said softly.
"An Unprovable Yokai legend on record.. Until now."
She motioned him to sit. They took a seat on a cushioned bench near a stained-glass window, dust motes dancing in the beam of light.
Chloe opened the book reverently.
When she read, her voice changed—slower, deeper.
"'And lo, from the union of human soil and yokai seed, a prince was conceived. His eyes were cast in the likeness of the heavens—one bearing the blaze of the sun, the other the calm of the moon.'"
Kurota swallowed, glancing instinctively at his reflection in the window—left eye glowing purple, right a still brown.
Chloe continued.
"'From infancy he bent the world to his will, for power overflowed from his spirit beyond mortal measure. Kingdoms rose beneath his feet, and time bowed to his breath.'"
Her tone dropped lower
"'But the sun within him burned too fiercely, and the moon within him swayed with tides of madness. His heart waged war upon itself. His mind cracked beneath the weight of duality.'"
Lucien went silent. Completely.
Chloe read on:
"'He perished not by blade nor poison nor betrayal. Nay—his downfall came from within. For when his inner sun dimmed and his moon surged, primal hunger devoured reason. And so he was sealed beneath the earth, fallen by his own hand. Thus the prince of sun and moon sleeps, awaiting the day his sun awaken.'"
She closed the book with a trembling exhale.
For once, she looked almost… serious.
"I always thought it was fake," she whispered. "A bedtime story for yokai hunters. But you—" She pointed at his glowing eye. "—you're real. And hybrids are real. And if hybrids exist…"
Her voice cracked with awe.
"Then maybe… the sun and moon exist too. Maybe he's really sealed somewhere."
Kurota felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. He didn't know why, but something in that story tugged at him—like déjà vu from a dream he couldn't remember.
He stood slowly. "Thanks, Chloe. Really. That… helped."
She blinked, surprised by his calm reaction.
"Uh—yeah! Sure! Come back anytime! Seriously, come back..."
Kurota gave her a polite nod and left the library, letting the calm hallway air steady his scattered thoughts.
He walked aimlessly through the academy, thinking hard.
"If I can find the fallen king…" he muttered to himself, "maybe he could guide me."
Lucien chuckled, his voice soft for once.
Inspiring.
Kurota stopped walking.
That tone—quiet and thoughtful—it was rare. Almost unsettling.
"Are you truly inspired," Kurota whispered in his mind. "By that story?"
Lucien refused to answer.
Kurota continued down the hallway, the myth repeating in his mind like a broken record.
A hybrid prince.
Eyes like his.
Power beyond logic.
Devoured by his own duality.
He wasn't sure why
but the story felt less like fiction,
and more like a warning.
And Lucien is thinking.
Something he rarely ever does.