The sunlight spilled across the sprawling fields of the eastern training grounds, casting long shadows beneath the rows of trees that bordered the perimeter. The clang of steel, the barked cadence of instructors, and the heavy thuds of fists meeting flesh filled the air. The atmosphere was one of order and discipline—at least in most corners of the grounds.
Toki stepped onto the dusty terrain, his gaze scanning the horizon. Across the field, Bernard stood at the helm of his division—his posture proud, his knights marching in synchronized drills. The Second and Third Divisions, led by Bernard's brothers, were no less impressive—formations tight, movements fluid, every soldier a testament to discipline.
A breath escaped Toki's lips, half admiration, half pressure.
"So," he murmured. "That's what leadership looks like."
Beside him, Ozvold cracked his neck lazily. "Careful, Captain. You might be setting yourself up for disappointment."
Toki raised a brow. "Oh?"
Ozvold nodded to the right with a smirk. "Take a look for yourself."
Toki turned his head slowly—and blinked.
There, sprawled across the lush grass under the shade of a few oaks, was the Fourth Division. His division. At least two hundred armored men , laid out like villagers at a summer festival—some half-asleep, some laughing with their mouths full, others guzzling tankards of frothy beer. A few were playing cards, while one bold soul was roasting meat on a makeshift spit.
"Unbelievable," Toki muttered under his breath.
"Hard at work, aren't they?" Ozvold chuckled. "A fine image of knighthood."
Toki's boots crunched over the grass as he approached them without a word. The laughter and chaos continued, no one even noticing his presence. One burly soldier with a greasy beard and armor half-unstrapped slapped another on the back as he let out a booming laugh.
"You think the pretty boy commander of ours survived his first ritual?" he roared between bites of roast boar.
"Who knows?" said another, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head. "Don't think that frilly-haired noble brat had it in him. But hey, as long as he ain't here, it doesn't matter."
A chorus of laughter followed. It was careless, loud, and utterly devoid of discipline.
Toki was standing directly behind them now, arms folded. His shadow loomed over the revelers, but still—no one noticed.
Not until a familiar voice rang out, breaking the illusion.
"Master Toki! I made it! Am I late for training?"
All heads turned.
Kandaki came running across the field, his black training robes a size too large for his slender frame, hair wild from the wind. He stopped in front of Toki, panting heavily, one hand raised in salute.
The revelers looked between the boy and the unfamiliar man standing beside him.
"Wait… master?"
"Who's he talking to?"
Then they heard it—Toki's calm, cutting voice.
"You're right on time, Kandaki."
The temperature of the air dropped.
One by one, the soldiers of the Fourth Division turned their heads and stiffened as they saw Toki standing in their midst. His posture was relaxed, his smile even pleasant—but his eyes were sharp as shattered glass. An unspoken silence overtook them, and several dropped their mugs in panic.
Toki stepped forward slowly, voice steady.
"To answer your question…" he said, tapping the round belly of the man who'd mocked him, "Yes, your handsome commander did survive his ritual."
The man swallowed hard.
Toki turned and paced before them, now raising his voice so all could hear. "Let's skip the formalities. I'm Toki Ikaru, the new commander of the Fourth Division."
He gestured to the others behind him. "This is Ozvold. He's my right hand and second-in-command."
Ozvold gave a deep, exaggerated bow with a theatrical flourish. "A pleasure to serve, gentlemen."
Toki then placed a firm hand on Kandaki's shoulder. "And this is Kandaki. My student. You probably recognize him… since you stole his coin purse two nights ago."
A collective shudder rippled through the group. Eyes widened in horror. Faces turned pale. Cold sweat broke out on the brows of seasoned warriors as they remembered that night at the inn—when a seemingly harmless stranger had thrashed the division without breaking a sweat.
Their heads bowed low in guilt, some even shaking.
Toki sighed and raised his hand. "Relax. Heads up."
They obeyed slowly, shame still etched into their expressions.
"I hold no grudge," Toki said. "And Kandaki, in his boundless kindness, forgives you all as well."
Kandaki smiled nervously. "It's okay. Really. I just want to train."
Toki's expression darkened slightly. "That said… I don't think I left a very good first impression. I don't like being violent. But I hate injustice. I hope none of you were too scared."
He paused—then broke into a wry grin.
"Because we're going to be spending a lot of time together."
He motioned for them all to sit, and the division gathered on the grass once more—this time in silence. Toki moved to a large flat stone beneath a massive oak tree and perched upon it like a teacher preparing for a long lecture.
"I've got a few reforms," he began. "New rules. They go into effect today. I'll say them once—so listen closely."
He lifted a single finger.
"One. No more eating or drinking before training. And especially no more alcohol."
A few groans escaped, but no one dared speak up.
"Two," he continued. "Rations will be clearly distributed and balanced. If you want seconds, you earn them."
"Three. Training begins at noon, sharp. You'll be following a new program—eight hours a day. No exceptions. You will get back in shape."
"Four. Aggression among members is forbidden. You fight outside—never inside your ranks."
"Five. If I catch any of you abusing your status as knights—especially toward civilians or children—I will personally deal with you."
His voice turned to steel.
"And you won't enjoy how I do it."
The air tensed like a drawn bow.
"Six," Toki said more gently. "This division controls the outer districts. That means you have power—and power must be used responsibly. So starting today, twenty percent of your salaries will go to rebuilding efforts, hospitals, shelters, and orphanages."
Several men bristled at that, but a single glare from Ozvold silenced them.
"Seven. Volunteer work is now part of your weekly schedule. I don't care if it's clearing rubble or teaching children how to hold a sword—you give back."
"Eight. The lives of civilians take priority over your own. In combat, that's not negotiable."
"Nine. Hygiene. Wash your bodies. Trim your hair. Brush your teeth. Some of you smell like a dead wyvern left in the sun."
There were a few chuckles—then gasps, as Toki pulled a small pair of scissors and a straight razor from his pocket.
"And finally," he said with a smile, "Ten. Everyone wears a smile. Encouragement is mandatory."
One knight whispered to another, "Is he serious?"
Another hissed back, "He's friends with Bernard, the king likes him, and he survived a divine ritual. What do you think?"
"He's also Gerald Smith's student."
A third knight paled. "And he's courting a royal candidate."
The first one swallowed hard. "Right. Let's smile."
Toki stood and clapped his hands once. "Line up."
They obeyed.
For the next several hours, the field became a makeshift salon. Toki moved down the line with a quiet efficiency—cutting unruly locks, trimming sideburns, dusting off grime. Ozvold followed behind, shaping beards and removing wild patches of stubble. Kandaki handed out combs, brushing through tangled hair with innocent focus.
"You have a surprising amount of split ends," Kandaki told one gruff soldier with a blush.
"My wife says the same…" the man muttered, embarrassed.
Time passed slowly, the sun dipping lower and lower. By twilight, the entire division looked… human. Less like brigands and more like men worthy of knighthood.
Toki surveyed them all from the base of the tree. His chest swelled slightly with something unspoken. Not pride, exactly—but potential.
"Alright," he called. "You're dismissed. Bathe, eat a light breakfast, and be back here by noon tomorrow. Don't be late."
They saluted in unison—some stiffly, others still unsure—but the gesture was there.
As the knights dispersed, murmuring among themselves, Toki sat back on the stone and watched the fading sky.
Ozvold leaned against the tree beside him. "That went smoother than I expected."
Toki chuckled. "That's because they're not hopeless. Just… unled."
Kandaki plopped down beside him, beaming. "They listened to you."
Toki looked at the boy and ruffled his hair. "We'll see if they keep listening. One good day isn't enough."
But even as he said it, a quiet satisfaction settled over him.
This division wasn't perfect.
But it was his.
And it had just taken its first real step forward
The late afternoon sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, casting long golden shadows across the training fields. The ground was quiet now, the noise of drills and barking orders replaced by a hush of weariness. A soft breeze stirred the trees nearby, rustling the leaves like whispers of the day's efforts.
In the distance, two figures made their way from the inner compound. Bernard had released his division earlier, and the ever-meticulous Mr Gerald Smith had finally stepped away from his paperwork.
Bernard's booming laugh rang out before he reached Toki.
With his usual confidence and easy posture, he strolled across the field and clapped Toki on the shoulder with a grin.
"Not bad for your first day, my friend," Bernard said in a jovial tone. "But be careful—if you turn every day into a spa retreat, your knights will be strutting around in skirts instead of plate armor!"
Toki chuckled softly, brushing some sweat from his brow. "They'd have to earn the right to wear skirts first," he replied dryly.
Gerald Smith approached with a more reserved air, but there was warmth in his gaze. He gave a respectful nod.
"Well done, Captain Toki. You've made quite the impression."
He glanced toward the fourth division barracks in the distance—now quiet after the long day.
"You've brought discipline, vision… and hygiene," he added with a faint smirk.
Toki bowed his head. "Thank you, Lord Smith."
Gerald stepped forward, offering a gloved hand. "I'd like to invite you all to share a drink with me this evening. A proper toast to your first successful day."
Toki hesitated, then shook his head gently. "I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. My division is still adjusting. If they see me celebrating now, it might undercut the example I'm trying to set."
Gerald looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "A man who leads with thought. I respect that."
Toki's gaze drifted toward the city in the distance, eyes tinged with longing.
"It's been a full day since I last saw Utsuki," he said. "And two days since I left the estate of Lord Leonard. The triplets, Yuki and Suzumi… they're probably wondering if I'm ever coming back."
Bernard folded his arms, grinning. "Then no more delay. Utsuki, Tora, and Hana are all still staying at Elizabeth's estate. I think it's about time you went home."
Toki let out a breath of relief. "Yes… I think so too."
Gerald gave them both a small bow. "I'll take my leave here. May your evening be restful—and may your dreams grow roots."
Bernard raised two fingers, and moments later a sleek black carriage pulled by two towering Lumma birds came gliding into view. Their plumage shimmered like polished obsidian, feathers rising like crests of fire and dusk. The creatures let out soft, guttural coos as they slowed.
"These two are in a good mood today," Bernard said, patting one on its muscular flank. "They like you, Toki."
The carriage opened. Toki stepped up, followed by Ozvold, Kandaki, and finally Bernard himself.
The birds stirred only slightly as the doors closed behind them, their black wings folding inward with graceful calm.
The late afternoon sun dipped lazily toward the horizon, casting golden streaks across the towering white walls of Lady Elizabeth's estate. The wrought-iron gates, once intimidating in their stillness, now stood open like arms waiting to embrace the return of something precious.
As the carriage wheels came to a soft halt near the courtyard, a strange silence lingered for just a breath—before erupting into joyous voices.
To Toki's surprise, everyone was waiting outside.
Utsuki stood front and center, hands on her hips and an expectant smirk curling on her lips. The children—Haru, and Tora—gathered behind her, fidgeting with impatient excitement. Even the servants nearby appeared subtly celebratory, as if they had sensed that something important had occurred.
Toki stepped down from the carriage, brushing off his coat and adjusting the golden bronze revolver holstered at his side. The moment his feet touched the stone path, Utsuki hugged him.
"Well?" she asked, tapping one foot. "How was your first day playing noble?"
Toki blinked, caught off guard by the phrasing. Then, a soft laugh escaped him.
"Exhausting," he admitted. "But... insightful."
Before he could say more, Haru squealed and rushed forward—completely bypassing Toki—and leapt into the arms of her older brother, Kandaki.
Tora, leaning casually against the stone rail, raised an eyebrow at Toki. "So? Did the mighty ritual go well, or did you fall asleep halfway through the ceremony like a bored priest?"
Toki smirked. "I'll have you know I nearly died."
Tora blinked, then laughed. "Well, that sounds like a proper ritual."
Toki glanced around at the group—each person caught in their own small moment of reunion or reflection. A tight knot of warmth coiled inside his chest.
He turned then, stepping toward Lady Elizabeth.
She was watching everything with a quiet grace, her gloved hands folded neatly in front of her, the edges of her white and gold dress fluttering gently in the wind. Her expression was soft—motherly, almost.
"Lady Elizabeth," Toki said, lowering his head respectfully. "Thank you for your hospitality... and your trust."
"You may call me Elizabeth," she replied with a light smile. "You've earned that much. But I'll accept your thanks—graciously."
Her eyes lingered on him for a second longer, then on the children behind him.
"I see you've made your choice."
"I have," he nodded. "I believe they deserve more than survival. They deserve a future."
Elizabeth's gaze darkened slightly, her voice barely audible. "Just be careful, Toki. The further you climb, the lonelier it becomes."
He met her gaze, the wind tossing strands of hair across his eyes. "Then I'll bring others with me."
A small chuckle escaped her lips. "That sounds like something Bernard would say."
Toki turned his head slightly, looking toward the palace. Bernard stood atop the stairs, arms crossed, watching them from afar. He gave a single wave—subtle but steady. Elizabeth mirrored the gesture, and together they stood like statues from another era, sending off a new generation.
Toki took a breath, then addressed his group.
"It's time," he said, "to go home."
As the group began to gather, Toki turned toward Ozvold and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"You're not just my right hand anymore," he said. "You're family."
Ozvold blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then a slow, solemn nod followed. "Thank you, Toki"
Toki moved to Kandaki next, then looked down at Hana who clung to her brother's sleeve with wide, uncertain eyes.
"You'll live with us now," he said gently. "
Hana looked up at him. "Do we have to fight monsters?"
Toki chuckled. "Only if they pick a fight with us first."
The group headed toward the gates, where Toki's carriage stood waiting at the cobblestone path's end. The bird stamped lightly, eager to return to the road.
Lumma—its feathers sleek black with streaks of starlight silver—cocked its head and gave a low, affectionate croon. When Toki approached, Lumma leapt down , licking his cheek like a happy dog.
"Missed me?" Toki whispered.
Lumma purred in response.
He climbed into the carriage first, holding the door for the others. Ozvold helped Hana and Haru inside, followed by Kandaki and Tora. Utsuki lingered outside the door, her expression unreadable.
Toki glanced at her.
"You coming?"
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
"About how long it took us to get here... and how much further we've got to go."
Toki leaned against the doorframe. "We're not there yet, no. But this—this is the first step. The first real one."
Her eyes finally softened. "Then I'll ride with you."
She climbed in, and the door clicked shut.
As the carriage rolled forward, wheels groaning softly against the old road, Bernard and Elizabeth stood waving behind them—two ghosts of a world they were slowly outgrowing.
Inside the carriage, silence reigned for a moment—peaceful, heavy, but warm.
Hana leaned into Tora, who grumbled but didn't move her. Ozvold sat across from them, fiddling with the end of his glove.
Utsuki stared out the window.
Toki's thoughts wandered as he looked at each of them.
These faces… they were no longer strangers or soldiers. They were his family. His dream.
He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled deeply.
This road was long, full of shadows. He had taken the Division of Darkness—walked willingly into a fate most people ran from.
But now, he wasn't walking alone.
Utsuki glanced toward him again, catching the way his lips curled into a faint smile.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
Toki opened his eyes.
"That the first step toward making our dreams real has already been taken."
Outside, the sun dipped behind the hills. And ahead of them, the road stretched endlessly—winding, broken, beautiful.
But for once, none of them were afraid.
They were going home.