*The Last Echo of Brotherhood***
Morning in Ardenia always began like a soft overture.
Birds trilled in perfect scales.
The sun climbed like a slow golden crescendo over the hills.
And in the orphanage courtyard, children stirred awake with sleepy hums and half-formed melodies.
But for Bungo, this morning was silent.
Not peaceful—
**Empty.**
The events of last night clawed at him: Kairo's sudden collapse during practice, his pale lips, the faint tremor in his hands, and the way his eyes widened for a split second before the world drained from them.
He had told himself it was exhaustion.
Overtraining.
A fainting spell.
But then the bell rang.
Then the whispers began.
Then the warden came running.
And suddenly the courtyard was flooded with panic.
---
### **The Discovery**
Bungo sprinted across the hallway barefoot, the cold stone stabbing up his legs, his breath slicing the air.
"Kairo!" he shouted, pushing past two caretakers.
The door to the music room hung open—cracked, crooked, almost hesitant to reveal the nightmare inside.
He stood at the threshold…
and the world stopped.
Kairo lay on the polished wooden floor, tiny streaks of light pooling around his motionless body as if the sun itself was trying to wake him.
In his still hands:
a broken drumstick.
On his chest:
a single **black feather**.
Bungo's heart plummeted through his ribs.
"No… no, no—Kairo! Get up!" He lunged forward, slipping on the glossy floor as he reached his friend. "Kairo, please—wake up! Wake up!"
He shook him.
Harder.
Harder—
But Kairo didn't move.
Not even a twitch.
Not even a flinch.
Just a terrible, impossible stillness.
Bungo screamed until his voice cracked, his throat raw, but his friend didn't answer.
And somewhere behind him, someone whispered:
"…He's gone."
The world shattered.
---
### **The Shattering**
Caretakers tried to pull Bungo back.
He fought them like a wild animal.
"LET ME GO! HE'S NOT DEAD!"
"He's breathing—I swear he's breathing!"
"He never gives up—Kairo never—"
But reality was merciless.
Kairo was cold.
Bungo collapsed beside him, forehead pressed to his friend's chest, tears soaking the fabric.
Every beat of his heart asked the same question—
**Why?**
No sickness.
No injury.
No battle.
Yet here he was.
And that feather—
black like spilled ink—
lay upon him like a cruel signature.
---
### **The Rumor of Nobles**
By afternoon the news spread like wildfire.
"A noble was seen near the forest this morning."
"They say Soren Blackfall visited the Conservatory secretly."
"No one knows what his Aural Art truly is."
The whispers stung Bungo like needles.
Blackfall.
A family known for their ruthless mastery of Sonic Illusion.
A lineage of cold pride and colder politics.
A house that considered commoners disposable noise.
Why would one of them come near the orphanage?
A terrible thought flickered in Bungo's mind—one he tried to crush instantly.
*No… Kairo wouldn't be connected to them. He couldn't be.*
But the whispers formed a circle around him, tightening like a noose.
A boy approached cautiously.
"Um… Bungo? They… um… they think your friend was… targeted."
The world turned to static.
Targeted.
Murdered.
Hunted.
He bolted.
---
### **The Room of Echoes**
Bungo ran back to the music room, slamming the door shut behind him. The air still smelled faintly of Kairo—drum wax, pinewood, and a hint of mint from the candies he always chewed to stay awake during long practice sessions.
Bungo dropped to his knees.
His palms pressed against the floor where Kairo had lain.
His forehead touched the wood.
His shoulders shook—no rhythm, no beat, just raw, broken grief.
He cried until his tears formed a small pool beneath him.
Then…
as the last tear fell—
**the room shook.**
Not physically.
Not like an earthquake.
More like…
**a heartbeat.**
Something thumped through the floor.
Through the walls.
Through Bungo's bones.
*Boom…*
*Boom…*
*——Boom.*
His breath froze.
He knew that rhythm.
Knew it in the marrow of his soul.
"Kairo?"
The air vibrated.
Dust rose.
And in a faint ripple of golden light, the broken drumstick near the corner rolled toward him on its own—just an inch, but enough to break reality.
Bungo stared.
His tears dried.
A single thought stabbed him:
**This isn't over.**
And something inside him—something ancient and sleeping—stirred for the first time.
A pulse.
A warmth.
A rhythm.
---
### **The Vow**
That evening, after the body was taken away, after the sun sank in bleeding shades of red, after the orphanage settled into its muted sorrow…
Bungo stepped outside alone.
No noise.
No comfort.
Just the ghost of a heartbeat echoing in his chest.
He looked up at the darkening sky.
"Kairo… I don't know how… I don't know why… but if you're still here, even a little—"
His voice faltered.
Then hardened.
"I won't let them silence you. I won't let them bury what you left behind."
His hands curled into fists.
"I swear—
I will find who did this.
I will tear the Noble walls apart if I must.
And I will make them hear your rhythm—
the rhythm they tried to kill."
The wind stirred.
And for a split second—
the faintest echo of a drumbeat tapped against the stones beneath him.
*Boom.*
*…Boom.*
*——Boom.*
Bungo closed his eyes, tears falling silently.
This wasn't the end of their bond.
It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.