The knock came just as the sun began to rise. Soft. Then firmer.
Himari stirred, her body aching from sleep, her mind still tangled in the embers of last night. She blinked against the light, sat up slowly, and shuffled to the door.
DJ stood there, holding two paper cups of tea. Her curls were slightly frizzy from sleep, her eyes bright but unreadable.
"Morning," she said simply.
Himari opened the door wider, confused. "You're up early."
DJ shrugged. "Figured you'd need this."
She handed Himari a cup, then leaned against the hallway wall, sipping her own.
Himari hesitated. She expected questions—about Arclight, about the lenses, about why she hadn't said anything.
But DJ just looked at her, calm and steady.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Himari blinked. "You're not... mad?"
DJ tilted her head. "Why would I be?"
"I didn't tell you," Himari said quietly. "About my background. About my magic."
DJ took a slow sip. "You didn't owe me that. You're allowed to have your own timing."
Himari's throat tightened. "I thought you'd ask why I lied."
DJ smiled gently. "I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. I'm not here to interrogate you, Hima. I'm here to make sure you're okay."
The hallway was quiet. Students were still asleep. The dorm felt suspended in early light.
Himari looked down. "They said I looked like a black magic user."
DJ snorted. "They say a lot of things. Doesn't mean they know anything."
Himari glanced up. "You really don't care?"
DJ leaned in, voice firm. "I care about you. Not their comments. Not their assumptions. You're Himari. That's enough."
And just like that, the weight in Himari's chest loosened—not gone, but lighter.
She nodded slowly. "Thank you."
DJ grinned. "Now drink your tea before it gets cold. We've got a big day ahead."
She took another sip, then paused, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Okay," she said, voice light and teasing. "Want to hear something fun?"
Himari raised an eyebrow. "What?"
DJ leaned in, grinning. "Today's our first day at uni. And we're going together. So go freshen up, meet me at the canteen in twenty minutes, and—plot twist—we're not walking."
Himari blinked. "We're not?"
DJ winked. "They're sending cars. Fancy ones. Because Aetherford doesn't do ordinary."
Himari laughed softly. "Of course they don't."
DJ turned to leave, already bouncing on her heels. "See you soon, Hima. And wear something that makes you feel like you."
Himari nodded. "Thanks, DJ."
DJ paused at the end of the hallway, turned back, and gave a dramatic salute. "Let's go make some elite chaos."
And with that, she disappeared into her room, leaving Himari standing in the quiet corridor—tea in hand, heart a little steadier, and the day ahead waiting to unfold
Himari didn't smile. "I'm ready."
DJ hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Let's go."
As they turned toward the stairs, DJ glanced at her again—and for a moment, she missed the silver. Not because it was beautiful. But because it was real.
They were halfway down the hall when Himari suddenly stopped.
DJ turned, confused. "Hima?"
Himari looked down, then up—her honey-colored eyes steady but shadowed. "DJ... I didn't mean to hide anything."
DJ stepped closer, her expression softening.
"That look you saw earlier—silver hair, crimson eyes—that's my real self. I swear, it's nothing suspicious. I just... I don't like attention."
Her voice trembled slightly. "From the moment I arrived, people stared. Some looked afraid. So I started hiding. That's all."
DJ studied her for a long moment. She could feel it—Himari wasn't telling everything. But she didn't push.
Instead, she nodded. "Okay. I understand."
Himari blinked. "You do?"
DJ smiled gently. "I do. And we need to hurry. You know they're sending cars to pick us up, right? Most of the students are probably already gone."
They started walking again, footsteps echoing softly.
Himari glanced sideways. "Where's Dean? I need to thank him."
DJ rolled her eyes. "Forget about Dean. He's just being stupid."
Himari raised an eyebrow.
DJ grinned. "He said you're trouble. I say he's boring. Let's go, Hima. We've got a university to conquer."
Himari nodded, her pace quickening.
And as they stepped out into the morning light, her chestnut hair catching the sun, DJ's words lingered like a promise.
We've got a university to conquer.
The driveway was nearly empty now—most students had already been picked up. Only one sleek black car remained, its tinted windows gleaming, the university crest etched into the side like a quiet promise of prestige.
A suited driver stood beside it, checking a list.
DJ waved. "We're here!"
The driver nodded. "Jane Darselle and Himari Tsukihara?"
"That's us," DJ chirped, then glanced at Himari. "Ready?"
Himari nodded, her scarf tucked neatly around her neck. She looked composed. Controlled. Like someone who had never panicked in a hallway or hidden behind a friend.
But DJ saw the tension in her shoulders.
Just before Himari slid into the car, DJ noticed a small, practiced motion—Himari slipping a few pills into her mouth and swallowing them without a word.
DJ didn't ask. She understood. Some things weren't secrets. They were just private.
They slid into the back seat, the doors closing with a soft click. Inside, the car was warm, silent, luxurious. The kind of silence that made thoughts louder.
DJ leaned back, watching the city blur past the window. "You know," she said softly, "you didn't have to change."
Himari didn't look at her. "I did."
DJ hesitated. "You looked like ice. Like something rare. I mean, you still look beautiful now, but... I just hope you didn't change for them."
Himari's voice was quiet. "I changed for me. To survive."
DJ didn't push. She just nodded, fingers tapping lightly against her knee.
Outside, the gates of Aetherford University came into view—towering, ornate, and gleaming in the morning light. Students were already gathering, dressed in tailored uniforms, their laughter echoing like distant bells.
The car slowed.
Himari exhaled.
DJ reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "Let's go make some noise."
Himari glanced at her, a flicker of a smile breaking through. "Just a little noise," she said.
DJ grinned. "Deal."
The car door opened. And together, they stepped into the world that was waiting to test them.
Among the scattered students stood Dean.
He spotted them instantly and walked over, posture straight, tone brisk.
"You two brought your documents, right?" he asked. "We need to report to the Headmaster's office first. Since we're transfer students, not new admissions, we have to complete orientation before joining classes."
DJ gave a casual salute. "Thanks for the info, Dean. We've got everything. Right, Hima?"
Himari nodded, voice calm. "Yes. All set."
Dean glanced at her, eyes lingering for a moment—as if searching for something beneath the surface.
But Himari's expression was unreadable.
DJ stepped between them, tone light. "Let's go, then. Headmaster's office first. Then we take over the classrooms."
Dean turned, leading the way.
And behind him, DJ walked beside Himari—still thinking about the pills, still wondering if Himari ever let anyone in.
But she didn't ask. Because sometimes, respect meant silence.
They walked in silence through the marble corridor, footsteps echoing against polished stone.
Himari trailed behind. Not by accident—by choice.
She didn't want to go.
DJ glanced back once, worried, but couldn't say anything. One of the professors was walking beside them, tall and unreadable, and DJ knew better than to break protocol.
Himari kept her head down, doing her best to stay last. She didn't want to be seen. Not today.
They had to wait. First, the new admissions were called in—one by one. Then it was their turn.
Only three transfer students this year: Dean Ravel from Eryndore. Jane Darselle from Varneth. And Himari Tsukihara from Cyprus.
As they stood outside the office, Himari's thoughts spiraled. How could I forget the magic stone?
She never forgot to use it—the small enchanted charm that helped mask her true appearance. It was routine. A habit. A shield.
But today, she'd forgotten.
Before she could sink deeper into panic, DJ nudged her gently, bringing her back to the present.
Their names were called. They entered.
Dean and DJ stepped forward, already engaged in conversation with Headmaster Virell — an older man with silver spectacles and a voice like parchment.
Himari stayed back, quiet, unnoticed.
The room felt heavy with formality. Headmaster Virell asked about their previous institutions, their reasons for transferring, their magical specializations.
Dean answered with precision. DJ with charm. No one asked Himari.
She stood there, hands folded, her presence like a shadow. Invisible.
After DJ and Dean were dismissed, Himari remained behind.
She stepped forward quietly, presenting her documents to Headmaster Virell — a man whose voice carried the weight of tradition.
He read through the papers slowly, then looked up.
"Ah," he said. "Miss Himari Tsukihara. From Arclight Academy, Cyprus."
He paused, a faint smile forming. "Of course. Your elder sisters studied here as well, didn't they?"
Himari nodded once, silently.
Virell's eyes softened with nostalgia. "Aika Tsukihara and Rin Tsukihara. Brilliant minds. Always top of their class. I still remember their names — sharp, elegant, driven. It was a pleasure to teach such gifted students."
Himari said nothing.
He continued, flipping through the pages. "And your father, Mr. Tsukihara, is one of our sponsors. A generous man. I trust you'll uphold the family's reputation."
She nodded again, her voice caught somewhere between her throat and her heart.
He handed her a slip of paper with instructions. "You'll find your class schedule here. Orientation is complete. You may go."
Himari bowed slightly, murmured a polite thank you, and turned to leave.
But inside, she felt smaller. Not because she wasn't brilliant. But because no one had asked. Not about her magic. Not about her goals. Not about Himari. Only about the people who came before her.
They bowed respectfully to Professor Arata, introduced themselves briefly, and followed him through the corridor.
Dean walked just behind the professor, DJ beside him. Himari trailed behind them all, her steps slow, deliberate.
DJ glanced back, then quietly fell into step beside her. She didn't speak, just raised her brows in silent question.
Himari gave a small smile, the kind meant to reassure. "Nothing's wrong," she whispered.
DJ didn't believe it, but she didn't push.
They reached the classroom door. Professor Arata turned to the students inside.
"From today," he announced, "three transfer students will be joining your class. They come from different countries and very prestigious institutions. I expect you all to welcome them properly."
He gestured toward the door. "They'll introduce themselves shortly."
Outside, DJ and Himari waited for their turn.
DJ leaned closer. "What happened in there?"
Himari kept her voice light. "Nothing. Headmaster Virell just mentioned that some of my family members studied here before. That's all."
DJ placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Himari... are you feeling okay? You need to put some confidence in yourself, alright? We're all new here. You're not alone."
Himari nodded, her smile tight.
Professor Arata called them in.
Dean stepped in first, posture straight, chin lifted.
He spoke clearly. "Good morning. I'm Dean Ravel, from Eryndore Academy, located in the northern province of Elthar. I specialize in elemental magic, particularly wind and kinetic control. I look forward to working with all of you."
He bowed slightly and stepped aside.
Next came DJ — bright-eyed, confident, her curls bouncing as she walked.
"Hi everyone!" she said with a cheerful wave. "I'm Jane Darselle, but you can call me DJ. I transferred from Varneth Institute in the western region of Lirael. My focus is enchantment and charm-based magic — and a little chaos, if I'm honest."
A few students chuckled.
DJ winked and moved to stand beside Dean.
Then came Himari.
She stepped forward slowly, her chestnut hair tucked neatly behind her ears, honey-colored eyes scanning the room without lingering.
Her voice was soft, almost too quiet.
"I'm Himari Tsukihara. I transferred from Arclight Academy in Cyprus."
She bowed and smiled, then simply stepped back.
As Himari finished her soft introduction, a ripple moved through the classroom.
Several students leaned toward each other, whispering.
"Tsukihara?" "Wait… is she related to—?"
Even Professor Arata paused, his gaze sharpening. "So you're also a Tsukihara?"
Himari nodded, her smile faint and practiced. "Yes, sir."
He gave a small nod — not of approval, but recognition. "I see."
It was the signal. They could take their seats.
Dean moved first, settling beside a boy named Jiro, already deep in his notes. DJ followed, sliding into the seat next to a girl with bright eyes and a curious smile — Namise.
Only Himari remained standing.
She scanned the room. One seat left. Next to Shouta. And directly across from Kiro's group — five students sitting together, their presence loud even in silence.
Himari hesitated. She didn't want to sit there.
But DJ turned, saw her frozen, and reached out with a grin. "Come on, Hima. Sit with me."
Himari stepped forward, but DJ's seat was already taken. The only spot left was beside Shouta.
She sat down quietly, her posture composed, her eyes lowered.
DJ winked at her, then turned to the class with a mischievous smile. "By the way, we're not first-years."
A few students blinked. One whispered, "Wait, what?"
DJ leaned back, voice light but clear. "We're seniors. Transfer seniors."
The room fell silent. Shock rippled through the class. Even Kiro's group looked up, surprised.
Himari didn't speak. But for the first time, she felt the shift — not just in attention, but in power.
As Himari sat beside Shouta, her posture composed but guarded, DJ leaned forward and winked at her — not just playfully, but with purpose.
It was a signal. They're about to find out.
The classroom buzzed with quiet curiosity. Most students still believed the three transfers were first-years — just like Kiro had introduced them at the dorm bonfire last night. Maishe, the class rep, had nodded along. Laila had smiled politely. Even Jiro, who had helped Himari clean her dusty room on her first night, had assumed she was a newcomer.
DJ's voice rang out, light and clear. "By the way, we're not first-years."
The room stilled.
A few students blinked. Kiro's group looked up sharply. Maishe's brows furrowed. Laila leaned forward. Jiro's eyes widened.
DJ smiled sweetly. "We're third-years. Just like you."
The silence cracked.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Wait, what?" "They're seniors?" "But Kiro said—"
Professor Arata didn't react. He simply nodded once, confirming it. "Yes. They are third-year transfers. Treat them accordingly."
Himari didn't speak. But she felt it — the shift in how they looked at her. Not just as the quiet girl with the strange aura, but as someone who had already walked through two years of magic and survived.
She glanced at DJ, who gave her a subtle thumbs-up.
And for the first time that morning, Himari felt something close to power. Not loud. Not flashy. But hers.
—
After a relentless string of lectures, the final class before lunch was practical magic. No rest. No pause. Just movement.
Professor Arata dismissed them with a nod, and the students followed the path toward the training gardens — a wide, open field bordered by enchanted hedges and shimmering wards.
The air was crisp, the grass edged with frost — winter's breath lingering across the field.
Waiting for them was a tall, stern-looking man with sharp features and a coat that looked like it had never dared wrinkle.
"I am Professor Livent," he said, voice clipped and cold. "I will be overseeing your practical magic sessions this term."
No smile. No welcome. Just command.
He scanned the group. "One by one. State your name and magical specialization."
The students began:
Kiro: Fire magicMaishe: Earth and bindingLaila: Water and healingReian: Shadow manipulationLune: Ice magicShouta: Healing magicJiro: Light magicNamise: Fire magicJane Darselle: Enchantment and charmDean Ravel: Kinetic magicHimari Tsukihara: Wind and illusion
Professor Livent's eyes flicked to Himari for a moment longer than the others. His gaze lingered, unreadable — but not kind.
Then he turned away.
"Based on your affinities, I've divided you into groups. Group A: Kiro, Maishe, Laila, Reian, Lune, Shouta, and Himari. Group B: Jane Darselle, Dean Ravel, Namise, Jiro, and others."
DJ glanced at Himari, eyebrows raised. They were separated.
Himari said nothing.
Professor Livent stepped into the center of the field and raised his hand. A glowing mana circle formed beneath his feet — intricate, precise, pulsing with energy.
"This is a basic mana circle," he said. "You will replicate it. No instructions. Just observation."
The students exchanged glances. No guidance? No theory? Just do it?
Professor Livent folded his arms. "Begin."
One by one, students tried. Some succeeded. Some faltered.
When Himari stepped forward, her wind magic shimmered faintly around her fingers — soft, translucent, harder to shape than flame or stone.
She focused, drawing the circle slowly — but it flickered and collapsed.
Professor Livent's voice cut through the air. "Sloppy."
Himari flinched.
She attempted once more. The circle formed — unstable, trembling.
"Unacceptable," he snapped. "Do you even understand the basics of control?"
She nodded quietly. "Yes, sir."
"Then show it. Or don't waste my time."
DJ, watching from the other group, clenched her fists. Dean looked away. Maishe glanced at Himari, unreadable. Kiro said nothing. Shouta shifted slightly, his expression softening. He didn't speak, but his eyes held quiet concern.
Himari gave it another try.
The wind swirled, delicate and precise — but the circle refused to stabilize.
Professor Livent stepped closer. "Wind magic is no excuse for weakness. If you cannot shape it, you should not be using it."
Himari's hands trembled.
But she didn't speak. She didn't cry. She simply bowed her head and tried again.
She simply bowed her head, summoned her magic one more time, and tried again — even as her fingers burned and her breath came in shallow bursts.
Because she refused to break. Not here. Not yet.
Himari stood trembling in the cold, her fingers red, her breath shallow.
Professor Livent's voice had cut through her like ice, loud enough that every third-year student turned to look.
She felt it — the sting of embarrassment, the heat of being watched, judged, dismissed.
But she didn't run.
She stepped forward, voice quiet but steady. "Sir… may I try one last time?"
He didn't answer. Just nodded.
Himari reached up and unclasped her coat, letting it fall to the side. Then, with deliberate care, she removed the charm stone from her wrist — the one that masked her appearance.
In an instant, her illusion dissolved.
Chestnut hair turned silver. Honey eyes deepened into crimson. Her skin paled, glowing faintly in the winter light.
Gasps echoed across the field. Even Professor Livent paused.
But Himari didn't care.
She stepped into the center again, raised her hands, and summoned her magic.
This time, the wind obeyed.
The mana circle formed — clean, stable, precise. No flicker. No collapse. Just quiet power.
DJ, watching from the other group, spoke up. "Dean… why didn't it work before?"
Dean hesitated, but Kiro answered first, standing among the students who had already completed their circles.
"She was using half her magic," he said. "Illusion suppresses wind. She was holding herself back."
Maishe frowned. "Illusion? What illusion?"
Kiro gestured toward Himari. "Can't you see? Her hair and eyes — this is her real form."
Maishe scoffed. "No, I think the silver's fake. She's just showing off."
Before Kiro could respond, DJ stepped in, voice sharp. "Oh really? I think you're just being dumb, Maishe. It's true. She's beauty and brains."
Maishe's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
Dean quickly stepped between them, hands raised. "Alright, alright. Let's not turn this into a duel."
He pointed toward Himari's group. "Kiro, I think your whole group's completed their circles. You should head back."
The tension eased slightly.
But the silence around Himari remained. Not hostile. Not admiring. Just stunned.
Because for the first time, they saw her. Not the illusion. Not the legacy. Just Himari.
—
As soon as Professor Livent dismissed the class, Himari moved quickly.
She grabbed her coat, wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, and walked away before anyone could speak to her. Her fingers were still red from the cold, her body aching from the strain of magic, but she didn't look back.
She just wanted to leave.
Behind her, Professor Livent remained in the center of the field, speaking to the rest of the group.
"I taught both of her elder sisters," he said, voice firm and proud. "Aika and Rin Tsukihara — brilliant minds. In their first demonstration, they showed such control, such elegance, I was genuinely impressed."
He didn't notice Himari was already gone. He didn't ask where she went. He didn't speak about her — only about the legacy she carried.
"I expect the same from her," he continued. "Intelligence. Precision. Discipline. It runs in the blood."
The students listened in silence.
Maishe folded her arms. Laila glanced toward the path Himari had taken. Shouta looked down. DJ clenched her jaw. And Dean, standing quietly at the edge of the group, exhaled — not in agreement, but in something closer to regret.
Because brilliance wasn't always loud. And sometimes, the ones who trembled were the ones trying hardest not to break.
—
Himari left the training field quickly, coat clutched tight, her fingers still burning red from the cold. She didn't wait for anyone. She didn't want to hear another word.
"Hima!" DJ called, rushing after her. "Wait up!"
Himari slowed, just a little.
DJ caught up, panting. "What's wrong?"
Himari smiled — the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "Nothing."
DJ didn't push. "Then let's eat. You need something warm."
They reached the dining hall. DJ read the menu aloud: "Rice, curry, soup, rolls, fruit salad. I'm grabbing soup and rolls. You?"
"Same," Himari said softly.
They picked their trays and sat by the window, sunlight casting soft patterns across the table.
Halfway through the meal, DJ leaned in. "So… you okay now? With showing your real hair and eyes?"
Himari paused, spoon halfway to her mouth.
DJ continued gently, "If you're not feeling comfortable here, we can eat in the garden next time. It's quieter. Less staring."
Himari looked at her, surprised. Then nodded. "I think… I'm getting used to it."
DJ smiled. "Good. But you get to choose, okay? How much you show. How much you hide. That's yours."
Himari didn't reply. But she took another bite of soup, her shoulders just a little less tense.
And for the first time that day, the warmth wasn't just in the food. It was in the friendship.
—
Lunch had started peacefully.
But as Himari and DJ sat near the window, warmth slowly returned to their fingers, and the quiet hum of the dining hall turned into something sharper.
Himari noticed it first — the stares. Mostly first-years. A few second-years. Boys and girls alike.
Two second-years approached, polite but curious. "Are you both first-years?"
Himari replied in fluent German, her tone calm. "Ich bin im dritten Jahr." (I'm in third year.)
They blinked, startled by the foreign language, then walked away.
But the attention didn't stop.
A group of boys from their own year approached next, casual smiles masking something else.
One of them stepped forward, tray in hand, and sat directly beside Himari without asking.
"If you need help with anything," he said, voice smooth, "feel free to ask. By the way… do you have a boyfriend?"
Himari didn't flinch.
She answered in Turkish, her voice cool. "Hayır, yok. Ve ilgilenmiyorum." (No, I don't. And I'm not interested.)
The boy blinked, confused. "You speak well. Why use another language with us?"
Himari switched to English, her tone clipped. "Sorry. But I'm not interested."
She stood up, fast, grabbing her coat and tray.
DJ rose with her instantly, her eyes sharp. She didn't say a word — she didn't need to.
They walked away together, leaving behind the noise, the stares, the entitlement.
Because in this university — rich, elite, polished — people didn't care how you felt. They cared about status. About beauty. About control.
And when the boy saw Himari walking away without a second glance, his ego flared.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist.
—
But before Himari could respond, another hand intervened.
Kiro.
He stepped in fast, his grip firm as he pulled Riken's hand away.
"That's enough," Kiro said coldly. "It's lunch break. Everyone's trying to eat in peace, and you're disturbing the whole hall with this behavior."
Riken blinked, caught off guard.
Kiro didn't flinch. "Keep your hands to yourself."
The room went quiet. A few students looked up. DJ's eyes narrowed, protective. Himari didn't say a word — but her wrist, now free, trembled slightly.
Kiro turned to her, voice softer. "You alright?"
She nodded, barely.
Then she and DJ walked out together, leaving behind the noise, the stares, and the boy who didn't understand what dignity looked like.
—
As soon as they stepped outside the dining hall, DJ set her tray aside and turned to Himari, eyes sharp with concern.
"Hima, are you okay?" she asked quickly. "Show me your wrist."
Himari hesitated, then lifted her hand.
The pale skin of her wrist was marked — five red fingerprints, stark against her cool tone. The pressure had left more than just color. It left a sting.
DJ's jaw tightened. "That idiot left bruises."
"I'm fine," Himari said softly. "Let's go. I'm done eating."
DJ didn't move. "You sure? You want me to finish my food? Dean's still over there."
Himari pointed toward him. "Go. Finish your lunch. I'll head back to class."
DJ frowned. "I'm not leaving you alone."
"I'm okay," Himari insisted, her voice calm but distant. "Just come later."
Before DJ could argue, Himari turned and walked away — fast, coat swinging behind her.
But she didn't head toward
The stares. Necks turning. Whispers trailing behind her like threads.
She kept her gaze low, trying not to meet anyone's eyes. Her steps were quiet, deliberate, but the weight of attention pressed against her like wind against glass.
Then she stopped.
A boy and girl stood near a classroom door, glancing at the schedule posted outside.
Himari approached them gently. "Excuse me," she said, voice soft but clear. "Do you know which room is for the magic combat class?"
The boy turned, surprised. "Oh—yeah. We're in that class. It's just down the hall, second door on the left."
The girl smiled. "We can walk you there, if you'd like."
Himari nodded, smiling faintly. "Thank you."
As they walked together, the girl glanced at her again. "Are you new here?"
Himari shook her head. "Actually… I'm third year. I just came to meet someone. My brother's in this class."
The girl blinked, surprised. "Oh. You don't look like a third year."
Himari smiled again — not offended, just quietly amused. "I get that a lot."
As Himari walked with the two first-years toward the magic combat classroom, the boy glanced at her curiously. "So… who's your brother?"
"Suo," Himari said with a soft smile.
The boy blinked. "Ohh. You're Suo's sister?"
She nodded. "You know him?"
"I mean… not really," he admitted. "He's kind of cold. Doesn't talk to anyone. Always top of the class, but he keeps to himself."
The girl chimed in, "He doesn't even have a girlfriend. Ever."
Himari smiled politely, feeling like she was listening to children complain about a storm they didn't understand. "I'll talk to him," she said gently.
The bell rang.
The two students hurried inside, calling toward the back of the room, "Suo! Someone's here to meet you!"
Suo didn't look up. "Why?" he said flatly. "What do you mean?"
"Someone," the boy repeated. "She's waiting outside."
Suo's voice sharpened. "Who?"
But then he saw her. Just a glimpse — Himari's silver hair peeking through the doorway.
His entire posture changed.
He stood up fast, eyes bright, smile wide. "Hey, Hima!" he called, walking toward her with a warmth no one in the room had ever seen.
The first-years stared. The boy blinked. The girl whispered, "That's… Suo?"
Himari smiled, stepping forward. And for a moment, the coldest boy in class looked like sunlight.
Suo didn't wait.
He stepped out of the classroom, grabbed her hand gently, and led her down the hallway — away from the crowd, to a quiet corner where no students lingered.
As they walked, a group of boys passed by, their eyes lingering too long on Himari's silver hair, her pale skin, the way she moved.
Suo shifted subtly. He slowed his pace, angled his body between her and the hallway, his posture straightening just enough to block their view.
The boys glanced at him, then looked away.
Himari didn't notice. She was focused on the conversation, her tone calm, her steps steady.
But Suo did. And he didn't like the way they looked at her — like she was something rare, something distant, something they wanted to claim.
So he stood taller. Not possessive. Just protective.
And when they reached the quiet stretch of corridor, he finally let himself breathe.
His grip was gentle, but urgent — his excitement barely contained. But beneath it, something flickered. A quiet tension in his eyes. A softness that didn't match the teasing tone.
"Hima!" he burst out. "What are you doing here? Oh my god, I'm so happy—can I hug you? What happened to your hair and eyes? You look even more beautiful than before! Wait, I need to take a photo—"
"Stop talking," Himari said calmly. "Take a deep breath."
Suo blinked, then inhaled slowly.
"Now," she said, "one question at a time."
"Okay," he nodded. "So… how are you here?"
"I was born in this city. This university is here — that's how I'm in third year."
Suo tilted his head. "When did you come back from Cyprus?"
"A year ago."
He stared at her. "And your hair? Your eyes? When did you become this beautiful?"
She smiled faintly. "It's nothing. Leave it."
But Suo didn't. His gaze lingered — not just on her face, but on the way she stood, the way she didn't flinch under attention. He'd seen her quiet before. But this was different. She looked like someone who'd learned how to disappear and still be seen.
Then she asked, "By the way… how are Uncle and Aunty?"
Suo's grin softened. "They're good. You should come home sometime."
"Yeah, I will," she said.
Then Suo added, "Oh, Neil-bro is here too. And Haru-bro. Did you tell them you're in the city?"
"No," Himari said quietly.
"Not even Haru?"
"No."
"Why, Hima?"
She glanced at the hallway clock. "Look, the bell already rang. I'm going back to class. I just came to ask—can you show me around sometime? I need to buy a few things and I haven't exchanged my cash yet. I could use your help."
Suo nodded quickly. "Of course, Hima—"
"Stop calling me that," she said sharply. "I hate that nickname."
He rubbed the back of his head, sheepish. "Nope. That name was given by us. It's yours."
But his voice softened — like he knew she didn't just hate the name. She hated what it reminded her of. And he didn't want to let go of it.
"Then at least start calling me 'sis.' I'm older than you."
"Only three years," he teased.
"Three years is still older," she replied.
He laughed. "Fine, fine. How's Rin-sis?"
"She's okay. A little sick. You can ask her yourself."
She handed him Rin's number, took his in return, and gave him her dorm location.
Then she turned and walked away, fast.
She didn't notice. But Suo did.
When she took his phone, he saw the red marks on her wrist — faint fingerprints pressed into pale skin.
His smile faded. He didn't speak. But his hand curled slightly, like he wanted to reach for hers again — not to tease, but to protect.
And for the first time that day, he didn't feel like joking.
—
Himari entered the classroom quickly, her steps light but urgent.
She'd gotten turned around. The university was too big, too winding, and she'd underestimated how long it would take to return from the first-year wing.
As she stepped in, a few students glanced up. Professor Livent, already at the front, turned sharply.
"You're late," he said, voice firm.
Himari bowed slightly. "Apologies, sir. I had to deliver something to my younger brother."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Don't let it happen again."
She nodded and moved toward her seat — the one beside DJ.
As she settled down, she noticed something odd.
On her other side, the middle seat was empty. And Kiro was sitting just beyond it.
He'd placed his bag deliberately on the chair between them, blocking it.
Himari blinked, confused. It felt intentional. But she didn't dwell on it.
She opened her notebook and tried to focus.
What she didn't know was what had happened while she was gone.
After she'd left the canteen to meet Suo, DJ had returned with her tray and sat beside Dean.
Dean had asked, "What happened back there?"
DJ told him everything — how some boys had tried to hit on Himari, how she'd refused them in different languages, and how one boy from their own class hadn't taken it well.
"He grabbed her wrist," DJ said, eating faster now. "I saw the marks. She didn't say anything, but I know it hurt."
Dean's expression darkened.
DJ continued, "Kiro stepped in. Told the guy off. Reminded him he was wrong. Then Himari left for class. I had to hurry too — she'd be alone."
They finished quickly and walked back together.
But when they entered the classroom, Himari wasn't there yet.
Students trickled in slowly.
Kiro came in last, alongside Maishe.
He walked straight to DJ's row, sat down, and placed his backpack on the middle seat — the one between him and DJ.
DJ noticed. Especially how fast he moved when Himari entered and began explaining herself to Professor Livent.
She didn't say anything. But she understood.
Because sometimes, protection didn't need words. It just needed space.
—
The lecture was nearly over.
Students had begun packing their bags, the hum of movement rising softly in the room.
Professor Livent, still standing at the front, glanced toward Himari.
"Miss Tsukihara," he said, voice firm but edged with suspicion. "I believe you only have sisters. So where did this 'brother' you went to meet come from?"
The room quieted again.
A few students paused mid-step. DJ froze beside Himari. Maishe turned her head. Kiro didn't move — but his eyes shifted.
"You do realize," Livent continued, "that lying to a professor is a serious offense. Do you have any idea what you're saying?"
Himari stood up fast, her chair scraping softly against the floor.
Her voice was clear. "I didn't lie."
Livent raised an eyebrow.
"I have a cousin brother," Himari said. "If you still don't believe me, I can introduce you. He's in first semester. His name is Suo. You're welcome to ask him yourself."
The silence that followed was sharp.
Livent didn't respond immediately.
He simply nodded once, curtly. "Very well. Sit down."
Himari did.
But the air in the room had shifted.
Because she hadn't raised her voice. She hadn't flinched. She'd simply stood her ground.
And for the first time, even the students who barely knew her began to see — she wasn't just quiet. She was composed.
—
Himari sat down slowly, her hands clenched beneath the desk.
Her ears were burning red — not from cold, but from anger.
She didn't show it. She couldn't.
Professor Livent had already scolded her too much on her first day. And now, even after she explained herself, he'd questioned her integrity in front of the class.
But out of respect — or maybe restraint — she said nothing. She simply sat.
DJ glanced at her, concern flickering in her eyes, but didn't speak.
Professor Livent cleared his throat. "Now that the groups are formed," he said, "I'm assigning your first collaborative project."
The room quieted.
"This will count toward your midterm evaluation," he continued. "Each group must submit a complete magical analysis and demonstration on one of the following topics."
He waved his hand, and glowing text appeared on the board:
Group Project Topics:
Elemental Synergy — How different elemental magics interact and stabilize or destabilize each other in combat.Illusion vs. Reality — The psychological and tactical impact of illusion magic in battle scenarios.Healing Under Pressure — The limits and ethics of healing magic in high-stress environments.Binding and Control — The role of earth and sound magic in immobilization and battlefield manipulation.Light and Shadow — A comparative study of visibility, concealment, and magical detection.
"Each group will choose one topic," Livent said. "You must submit a written analysis, a practical demonstration, and a mana diagram showing your group's magical coordination. Deadline is two weeks from today. Late submissions will not be accepted."
He looked around. "Work together. I will not tolerate solo efforts or internal conflict. If you cannot cooperate, you will fail."
—
Himari stared at the board.
Her group — Kiro, Maishe, Laila, Reian, Lune, Shouta, and herself — had a wide range of magic types.
Wind. Illusion. Fire. Earth. Water. Ice. Healing. Shadow.
Elemental Synergy seemed obvious.
But Illusion vs. Reality tugged at her.
DJ leaned slightly toward her and whispered, "You okay?"
Himari nodded, still flushed, still silent.
And behind her, Kiro shifted — his bag still guarding the seat between them.
—
As the classroom emptied, Himari quietly left after giving her number to Shouta. DJ and Dean followed soon after, chatting softly. Maishe lingered, still talking to Lune.
Kiro remained seated, casually scrolling through his phone.
Then it buzzed.
Message from Reian: Meet me at Organization Headquarters. Bring your mana notes and the report. We had a meeting with ISR today — it's relevant. This is for core members only
Kiro's expression didn't change.
He simply stood, slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked out without a word.
No one noticed. No one asked.
Because this wasn't part of the group project. This was something else. Something quieter. Something deeper. And only four of them knew.