The corridor was quiet, carved from cold stone and sealed tight with silence. Lantern light pooled dimly upon the floor, catching the edges of a worn carpet that stretched from wall to wall.
A wind stirred faintly through the hallway's cracked windowpanes.
And yet, none of that reached him.
Tatsuya stood still.
He stood still because his legs wouldn't move.
He stood still because his thoughts wouldn't stop.
He stood still—because the door in front of him belonged to Ruza.
His fingers clenched reflexively. The crumpled purple flower he held in his hand, torn from the edges of the courtyard garden, drooped pitifully in his grip. Its petals, soft as whispers, had been crushed in his short in counter with Misuki.
"…It looks pathetic now," he muttered to himself, staring down at the flower as though it had betrayed him.
He could turn around, go back. Throw the flower into the hedge, pretend none of this happened, and return to being a useless coward who waited for life to destroy him one step at a time.
It'd be simpler that way but instead, he stood there.
The door before him remained closed and yet, on the other side of that door was a girl who had saved his life.
Ruza.
Tatsuya let out a slow exhale as he drooped his shoulders.
He didn't know how to thank people.
He didn't even really understand what it meant to be grateful.
Every time someone had tried to show him kindness before, on Earth, in that other life.
It had been a prelude to a punchline, or a trap. People pretended to help so they could watch you fall. People smiled so they could better twist the knife when you let your guard down.
So then why…?
Why did this feel different?
Why did Ruza's smile feel like something he wasn't supposed to defile with silence?
"…You saved my life," he whispered to the door. His voice cracked.
"You stayed. You didn't run away. You didn't leave me alone."
His knuckles whitened around the stem of the flower.
"I don't know why. I don't know why someone like you… would do something like that for someone like me."
The silence gave him no answer.
Maybe it didn't have to.
He had spent so much of his life waiting.
Waiting for help.
Waiting for someone to care.
Waiting for the pain to stop.
And when it never did, he convinced himself the world was full of enemies. That people were weapons dressed as flesh, and he had to kill before being killed.
But now…
Now there was this strange warmth inside him. This tight, uncertain ache in his chest that made it hard to breathe.
Was this what it felt like to be seen?
Was this what it meant to matter?
"…Even if it's just a lie," he said, his voice low. "Even if I'm wrong. Even if I don't deserve this…"
He placed the crumpled flower against his chest. His heart thumped beneath it, louder than ever.
"I still want to believe… no I trust to believe."
The boy who had once killed his bullies in silence was now trembling at the thought of saying thank you.
He inhaled sharply.
"Okay. Come on. Just knock. Just knock. It's just a door. It's not going to kill you. It's just a door, Tatsuya…"
And then, before he could think himself into retreat, he raised his hand.
The wood was cool beneath his knuckles.
A single knock echoed softly down the corridor.
He waited, fear twisted his body. Then—his hand touched the handle.
He turned it.
And opened the door.
Part 2
Tatsuya looked upon the room, the light that shined through the room this morning now caused a shadow.
A soft breeze brushed through his hair and then he saw her.
A girl with long blond hair that went somewhat pink at the bodem was sitting on the windowsill with her back to Tatsuya.
She wasn't wearing her usual two red ribbon-like hairpins but she still looked elegant.
Like a princess in her tower, looking over the horizon wondering if she could ever be free.
Tatsuya called out to her.
"uhm.. Good evening Ruza."
Her head jerked slightly up, like she was awoken from her thoughts and turned around.
Her face was as beautiful as the pink, orange sky behind her.
"Oh, hey Tatsuya. Good evening to you too."
Her voice was a little dreamy and she looked tired.
Tatsuya held the flower behind his back, too embarrassed to show it yet.
"I.." Tatsuya's voice hesitating but he pushed forward. "I came here to thank you for what you did for me on the roof top."
He said bowing his head.
He stared at the wooden floor, wondering if what he said was enough.
Is this the right way to apologize or do I need to do more?
He closed his eyes and held the flower in front of him, like someone was about to confess his feelings in a shōjo manga.
That was actually his inspiration for showing his appreciation. He didn't know how to properly express his feelings so he thought this was the only way.
Ruza looked surprised and her dreamy expression completely faded away.
She blinked, clearly caught off guard, and fumbled with her words before settling on a simple, "Thank you very much, Tatsuya."
She said as she accepted the flower.
She looked at it and let out a little chuckle.
"What's wrong?" Tatsuya asked.
"No, No nothings wrong." She said quickly, "It's just… May I ask where you are from?"
"Where I am from?" Tatsuya questioned.
"Yes, the place where you're born"
"Yeah, I understand what you mean. But why ask it now?"
Ruza smiled, like she already knew the answer she was looking for.
"The way you apologize, it's something we don't do here in Montisora. Or rather any where in the Western continent as far as I know."
Tatsuya face when serious. "I am sorry was I rude? I didn't meant to come off as rude, you know I once read this book where…"
"No, no don't worry." Ruza quickly interrupted Tatsuya's apology. "What you were doing was something greater than showing your appreciation."
Tatsuya tilted his head slightly. "What??"
"The way you apologized, is actually the way you propose a marriage to someone…"
The room went silent.
Darn it, the culture barrier!!
Ruza spun around, facing the windowsill she sat on earlier, her face was turned slightly red.
"Thank you Tatsuya."
Tatsuya looked surprised, "why do you feel the need to apologize?"
"You remember when I first met you?" She asked. "You know that time when you mistook me for a Mountain Goat…"
"Yeah, yeah. I know."
Ruza smiled.
"I ran away from home because of an argument I had with my dad."
So that's why she was so distant with Yatsu when I first arrived here.
"But because of you, you brought me back." She continued still facing the windowsill. "I still couldn't look my dad in the eyes, I still was mad at him."
"Do you remember when we had breakfast together, alone?"
"Yes, that was the day before you saved me." He responded.
"You taught me that loneliness wrapped in pride may feel powerful for a moment… but it leaves you emptier in the end."
Running away was Ruza falling into Pride, showing that she didn't need her father. But Tatsuya made Ruza realize what she was doing wrong.
She practiced pride instead of showing humility and humbling herself to apologize.
"You made me realize the importance of humility and because of you I was able to apologize." She said, as she turned around.
Her ruby red eyes shining like the color of love. "So, Thank you Tatsuya."
The words lit up his eyes, his heart filled with a warmth he couldn't explain.
Is this… what it feels like to be thanked?
The room went quiet again, not because of awkwardness but with acceptance.
Knock
Knock
The door opened and a maid walked in.
It took Tatsuya a second to realize who it was, star hair pin.. No. Tsundere attitude, No. than it must be!
"Welcome Nisuki." Ruza said.
Nisuki responded with a bow, "dinner's ready, miss." Her voice was soft and hesitant.
Tatsuya's finger snapped up like an overenthusiastic courtroom witness.
"Nisuki!!" he declared, louder than any rational person would consider appropriate.
"Ahhh!!" She screamed like a squirrel caught in a lightning storm, she flailed backwards, barely avoiding smacking her head on the open doorframe. Breathing like she'd just been chased by wolves.
"Yes, I had it right." Tatsuya said proudly to himself.
Nisuki, however, was currently frozen in place, her entire soul visibly leaving her body and taking a polite vacation somewhere above the ceiling. Her hands trembled, her tray rattled like a windchime, and her knees wobbled like they were contemplating quitting their job as knees.
Seeing this he quickly apologized. "I am sorry Nisuki I didn't mean to scare you."
"No…No, it alright, s..sir."
"No… No, it's alright," Nisuki said, mechanically, like someone who had been trained to accept trauma as a part of daily life.
She tried to smile but failed.
It looked more like a grimace wearing a fake mustache labeled 'Smile'.
Tatsuya took a slow step back, like one might when realizing they'd just stepped on a landmine made entirely out of human emotions.
"Really, I didn't mean anything by it," he added with a sheepish grin. "Your name just has a really nice sound, you know? Kinda gentle. I like that."
"Tatsuya," she said with a tone that walked the line between curiosity and amusement, "are you harassing my maid?"
"Absolutely not!" he said quickly, arms flying up in a flurry of innocence. "I was being friendly. Which may have come across as… ah, death-inducing."
Ruza raised an eyebrow.
Nisuki, for her part, gave one more shaky bow and vanished out the door like a ghost politely excusing itself from a dinner party.
Part 3
Around one week has passed since Tatsuya's training started at the mansion.
When he gets woken up by Itsuki, the first thing he does is start his daily training regimen.
He has been putting all his training into mastering earth magic.
Why?
Because on the second day of training, he slipped on a wet patch of grass while trying to look cool in front of Ruza, fell flat on his face, and muttered, face buried in mud.
"If the ground's gonna betray me, I'll just learn to control it."
thus, a petty vendetta was born.
Since then, Tatsuya had waged war on gravity itself.
Call it childish. Call it absurd. But I was humiliated, and that mud patch is lucky I didn't declare it a sentient enemy.
Micah also followed him in earth magic, or rather it was the other way around.
Tatsuya saw Micah as his superior.
He respected him.
"Again," came the calm voice.
He groaned. "You just want to see me eat dirt again."
Micah smiled.
It wasn't a smug grin or a teasing one. It was the kind of smile that didn't judge, didn't compare. A gentle, persistent, annoying kind of smile.
"I'd never wish such a thing," Micah said, raising his wooden training sword and sliding into a defensive stance. "But if you keep overextending, the ground's going to keep making intimate contact with your face."
"Thanks for the poetic warning, Master Earth Mage," Tatsuya muttered.
Then, he charged.
The training swords clashed again—wood against wood. Tatsuya stepped in with raw aggression, relying on speed and intent. He aimed high, then ducked low, predictable, but forceful.
Micah countered without breaking his stance, parried the downward swing, and stepped around him like he was water avoiding a stone.
Tatsuya's balance broke.
The dirt rose up to meet him with all the affection of a long-lost lover.
"Ow."
"Again."
Micah offered a hand. Tatsuya took it. He was yanked up with surprising strength.
He's not flashy, Tatsuya thought. But he's sturdy. Like a wall that doesn't need to shout about being there.
They stood in silence for a moment. The cicadas had finally gone quiet. Even the birds seemed to hush as the sun dipped behind the hedges.
"You're not bad," Micah said, patting the dust from Tatsuya's shoulder. "But you're impatient."
Tatsuya exhaled. "You always this calm?"
Micah tilted his head, thoughtful. "Not always. I just don't see the point in flailing around when things get rough. It doesn't help you hit back."
Tatsuya stared at him for a beat. "Are you always full of wisdom, or is this just a today thing?"
"It's stored in my shoulder blades," Micah said with a straight face. "You gain +2 wisdom every time you get knocked on your back."
Tatsuya chuckled, surprising even himself.
He laughs like someone who hasn't been hurt, he thought. But that's never true, is it? No one laughs like this unless they had to learn how to.
They trained until the sky turned from gold to violet.
When they finally sat down near the stone edge of the well, sweat clinging to their clothes, Tatsuya asked the question that had been sitting in his mouth for days.
"Why do you want to get stronger?"
Micah blinked. "That's a bit sudden."
"I'm nosy."
"That, or emotionally constipated."
Micah looked up at the sky. The stars had started their slow crawl across the canopy.
"I want to protect the people I care about," he said simply.
Tatsuya snorted. "That's… noble. Like out of a children's book."
Micah didn't react. "Maybe. But that doesn't make it less true."
"And what if you can't?"
Micah turned toward him.
"What?"
Tatsuya looked down at his hands. "What if the people you want to protect are beyond saving? What if they've changed so much that protecting them means enabling them?
Micah didn't answer.
But then.
"They can always come back," Micah said.
Tatsuya looked at him sharply.
"I mean it," Micah continued. "People get lost. That doesn't mean they're gone forever."
No. That's wrong.
"Micah," Tatsuya said, voice low, "there are people who don't come back. People who get worse, who hurt others, who keep choosing the wrong path."
"And?"
"And if you keep trying to pull them back, they'll drag you down with them."
Micah didn't flinch. "Then I'll go down fighting."
Tatsuya stared at him.
And in Micah's calm, unwavering gaze, he saw it—not recklessness, not naivety—but certainty. The kind that was dangerous. The kind that made people walk into fire for the people who lit the match.
He's going to die like this. Not because he's weak. But because he refuses to let go.
"Has it happened before?" Tatsuya asked, tone quieter now. "Have you had someone like that?"
Micah's smile dimmed.
"My older brother," he said. "He used to be someone I looked up to."
Tatsuya didn't breathe.
"He left. Joined something dangerous. Said it was for the 'greater good.' I told myself he was lying. That he was still my brother. That he just needed someone to believe in him.
A pause.
"I tried to bring him back but it didn't work."
There it is.
"And now?"
"I still think I could've saved him."
Part 4
The long oak table groaned under the weight of roasted meats, bowls of spiced potatoes, baked breads, glazed root vegetables, and a suspiciously perfect-looking pumpkin pie.
Despite the feast, the dining hall felt oddly quiet.
Micah, seated between Tokagame and Luna, reached eagerly for a slice of chicken and nearly dropped it onto his lap.
"Misuki, you're trying to kill me with flavor again," he declared, holding up the dripping leg triumphantly like he'd just defeated a monster.
Misuki, standing behind him with a ladle in one hand and judgment in her eyes, muttered, "You'll die by overeating, not flavor."
Tatsuya hid a chuckle behind his cup.
Across from him, Ruza was cutting her food with methodical elegance. She hadn't looked at anyone since sitting down. Not because she was mad—but because, as Tatsuya had learned, she observed everything before speaking.
Luna, sitting beside Tatsuya, quietly stirred her soup. She hadn't touched the main plate.
Huh? Tatsuya blinked.
Usually she was the first to go for the bread rolls. Today, she barely looked at them.
But before he could think more, Micah started talking again, his voice full of fake grandeur.
"I'm telling you, if I had your cooking back at the western outpost, I would've defected from the Corps a year earlier."
Tokagame, chewing slowly, raised an eyebrow. "That's treason."
"It's culinary loyalty," Micah countered.
Yatsu chuckled from the far end of the table. "Then perhaps we should send Misuki to the frontlines. She might win the war by spicing the rations."
"I don't do fieldwork," Misuki snapped.
Everyone chuckled—except Luna.
Tatsuya glanced at her again.
Still nothing. Just her spoon, swirling clockwise, catching nothing but broth.
Micah leaned forward with exaggerated drama, lowering his voice as if telling a bedtime story.
"Once, I ate a field ration so dry I thought I'd swallowed chalk. I genuinely considered writing my last words in sand."
"That's because you burned it," Tokagame interjected dryly.
"Hey! I was trying to cook for everyone!"
"You tried to light a fire during a rainstorm."
"I was innovating under pressure!"
Ruza's fork stopped mid-motion.
Her ruby eyes lifted. Quietly, subtly, they shifted from Micah's face to his hand. The one gripping his fork too tightly, knuckles pale under the skin.
She noticed how, even when he laughed, his shoulders tensed just before anyone praised him.
How when Yatsu complimented him earlier, he didn't smile. He breathed out, like it was relief and not pride.
Strange, she thought. Ruza tilted her head ever so slightly.
"Micah," she said softly.
He paused. "Mm?"
"You mentioned writing before, didn't you? In the study the other day."
Micah blinked.
"Wha—Oh. Yeah. That was a long time ago."
"You said you used to make stories," she said, poking her food idly. "You stopped?"
There was a beat.
Micah scratched his neck. "I guess I thought it didn't matter anymore."
Ruza didn't respond. She only looked at him.
Not accusing.
Just… waiting.
Micah shifted in his chair.
"I mean—it's not like anyone's going to read that stuff. It was silly. Mostly fantasy. You know, made-up heroes and dumb sword fights."
"No one here thinks that's silly," Ruza said quietly.
Especially not you, she didn't say aloud.
Micah froze.
For a second—just one—he looked like a kid caught sneaking snacks at night.
Tatsuya raised an eyebrow, watching from across the table.
Huh. That's new.
The banter slowly resumed.
Tokagame asked Yatsu something about the schedule. Misuki muttered something rude about spoiled nobles. Micah made a joke about desert patrols and sunburned armor.
But Ruza noticed something Micah hadn't.
When he talked about writing, his fingers twitched slightly. When she mentioned it, his smile faltered—not from discomfort, but because something underneath had stirred.
And he hadn't realized it yet.
But she had.
Luna stood up abruptly.
"I… I'm full."
She hadn't eaten more than a few spoonfuls.
"Luna?" Misuki said, surprised.
"I'm just… not feeling hungry," Luna said, voice quiet, trying not to be noticed.
Part 5
The sky had darkened into that deep shade of indigo that only appeared just before true night. The mansion's torchlight flickered faintly behind the hedges, barely reaching the edge of the training field where two silhouettes moved slowly through the grass.
Ruza paused at the edge of the stone path, her footsteps deliberately silent. A soft breeze stirred her hair as she stood there, half-hidden in the shadow of a column, observing the scene from a distance.
Micah was laughing.
It wasn't his usual exaggerated, crowd-pleasing laugh—the one he used around Tokagame, or during meals, or whenever Misuki threatened to hit him with a ladle.
This one was quieter. Smaller.
Genuine.
Tatsuya stood beside him, holding a practice sword lazily over his shoulder, as if they'd just finished sparring. His expression was unreadable as usual—though Ruza had learned by now that even his silences carried weight.
Micah plopped down into the grass, laying back with a long exhale. "Dinner was delicious, the girl without the hairpin cooked right?"
"No." Tatsuya replied. "Nisuki, the shy one, the one with the two hairpins?"
Micah nodded.
"She is the one that cooks."
"Really?"
Ruza watched as Micah reached into his coat and pulled out a small leather notebook. He flipped it open, thumb brushing over the corner of a page, and stared at it for a moment before scribbling something in.
He didn't seem to realize he was smiling.
That was when it clicked.
Ruza's eyes narrowed slightly—not in suspicion, but in focus. She wasn't looking at Micah now. She was looking into him.
He sat so casually, so comfortably in the grass. For once, he wasn't trying to impress anyone. He wasn't exaggerating a story, or downplaying his fatigue, or giving Tokagame a salute for show.
He was just… existing.
And for the first time, it looked like he wasn't pretending.
Ruza's gaze shifted to the notebook in his hand.
He carries it everywhere, she thought. Even into training. Even to dinner. I thought it was just for notes. But…
It wasn't a soldier's notebook.
It was a writer's journal.
Micah laughed again at something Tatsuya said—she couldn't hear the words—but then immediately covered his mouth like he'd made a mistake.
There.
That moment.
That half-second.
Ruza's eyes softened.
It wasn't arrogance that made Micah joke so much. It wasn't even confidence.
It was camouflage.
He doesn't realize it yet, Ruza thought.
Her gaze drifted to Tatsuya, who now lay down beside Micah with both arms behind his head, eyes staring at the stars.
But Tatsuya might be the one who shows him.
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched Ruza's lips.
Then, she stepped forward, finally letting her foot fall on the stone with just enough weight to be heard.
Tatsuya looked over his shoulder.
Micah bolted upright, slamming the notebook shut like he'd just been caught reading love poetry.
"Ah—Ruza! I—I wasn't slacking off! We just finished training, and—"
"I didn't say anything," she said smoothly.
Micah flushed. "Y-Yeah, but you were thinking it."
Tatsuya sat up, brushing grass from his hair. "She does that a lot."
Ruza didn't respond to the jab. Her attention shifted briefly to the horizon.
"I didn't come to scold you," she said at last.
She turned to Micah, and this time, her voice softened by the slightest margin.
"I think you fight harder than most people here."
Micah blinked.
"Really?"
"Yes," she said. "But I don't think you're fighting enemies."
Micah opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked down at the notebook in his hand.
"…Huh," he said softly.
It wasn't agreement.
But it wasn't denial either.
Ruza didn't press. She just walked past them, heading back toward the house.
Just before she reached the door, she paused, glancing over her shoulder.
"Tatsuya," she said.
"Hm?"
"Don't let him forget that not all battles need swords."
Then she was gone.
Micah stared after her for a long moment.
"…What do you think that meant?"
Tatsuya shrugged.
But in the back of his mind, something clicked.
Tatsuya plummeted into his bed and fell asleep.
Part 6
Next morning
The garden was quiet.
Not silent, not with wind brushing across the grass or the soft grind of shifting gravel underfoot but quiet in that strange, reverent way people became when they thought they were alone.
Tatsuya wasn't meant to be there.
He'd woken early again, habit maybe. Maybe unease. Maybe the weight in his chest that hadn't left since Luna's injury and seeing her at dinner.
He told himself a walk might clear his head. Instead, it led him to the edge of the open field behind the eastern part of the garden.
I wonder if Sora is already on patrol?
And there, at its center, stood Micah.
The image struck him eerie, almost sacred.
Micah wasn't in his usual green kimono. His jacket was tossed onto a nearby stump, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His normally composed features were pulled tight in focus, eyes narrowed, teeth clenched. His sword lay discarded on the ground.
His hands were raised.
A sigil spun between his palms, mana crackling pale blue, unstable, like lightning trapped in water. It pulsed violently, then fizzled, then surged again, only to sputter like a dying flame. Every few seconds, it collapsed entirely.
Tatsuya frowned.
Micah was a mana-type hybrid, wasn't he? His control was supposed to be flawless. That's what Micah had showed him.
All the spells he had learned up until now here taught by him.
Wait wasn't Yatsu supposed to teach me magic?
He watched as Micah closed his eyes, took in a breath, and tried again. The spell formed. It twisted. Then, with a sudden burst, it snapped, and mana shot outward in a jagged arc, slamming into the dirt a few feet away with a hollow boom.
Micah flinched, stumbled back.
"Damn it!"
His voice, usually level, calm, now cracked.
Tatsuya's breath caught in his throat.
This… wasn't the Micah he knew.
Everyone attempt lead into failure.
Micah was panting now. Sweat dampened his hair. His posture was beginning to collapse, shoulders hunched and arms shaking.
"Why—why won't it stabilize?!"
His voice carried on the wind like a wounded thing. Not in anger, not in rage. Just desperation dressed up in discipline that had finally started to unravel.
Tatsuya took a step forward before he could think better of it. Gravel shifted beneath his foot.
Micah's head snapped toward the sound.
Their eyes met.
For a second their was silence.
Micah's expression hardened but not in strength, but in shame.