Kazuo's jacket lay crumpled in the dirt, long forgotten. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, chest heaving as he forced himself upright again.
Sora stretched lazily a few paces away, not a hair out of place, tail swaying in slow amusement. "Ready?"
He grit his teeth. His legs already ached like lead, but he nodded. "Let's go."
"Good spirit." Her grin sharpened.
She bolted. A blur of motion, low and quick, weaving between the trees that edged the yard.
Kazuo lunged after her, boots pounding the dirt. He pushed his body harder, harder — lungs burning, muscles screaming. For a heartbeat he thought he had her cornered against the fence. His hand shot forward—
—and she dropped into a split so low she skimmed the ground, sliding clean under his reach before springing back up with catlike ease. By the time he spun, she was already halfway up a tree trunk, flipping off a branch to land lightly behind him.
"Too slow again!" she sang, tapping his shoulder as she darted past.
Kazuo whipped around, chasing her through the yard. She twisted between fence posts, kicked off bark, rolled across the dirt — each movement effortless, fluid, mocking. He was always a step behind, never quite reaching.
By the sixth round his body gave in. His legs buckled mid-sprint and he collapsed onto his back, the world tilting overhead. His chest heaved, arms sprawled uselessly in the dust.
Above him, leaves shifted in the wind. His vision blurred.
Sora's face appeared over him, upside down, ears twitching with amusement. Not a single bead of sweat marked her brow.
"That's six," she said, crouching over him. "You lasted longer this time. But you still couldn't touch me."
Kazuo shut his eyes, breath ragged. "You… move like a damn phantom…"
Sora giggled, straightening. "Phantom, cat — call it what you want. Either way, you can't catch me yet." Her tail flicked once, satisfied. "But don't feel bad. You will soon. Maybe"
Kazuo groaned, dragging an arm across his face. No kidding… she really is fast.Like she said — second only to Aoi. And she hadn't even broken a sweat yet.
She tilted her head, ears twitching. "But your mind wasn't really here, was it?"
She noticed.
"You have to stop thinking and move on instinct. Keep your head empty. Flow, don't freeze and stop overanalyzing everything." Her gaze sharpened on him. "…So, what's bothering you?"
His eyes opened a slit. "…Setsuna," he muttered.
"Hm?"
"He told me something earlier." Kazuo dragged a hand across his forehead. "You remember me and Tetsu learning new spells in the Royal Library?"
Sora nodded. "Yeah, I remember."
"That book we used… it's gone."
"Gone?" Her ears twitched.
"Temporary..But what if it's gone forever?"
Sora stayed quiet, watching him.
"Setsuna said it's possible to invent new spells yourself. But that's not easy. So what do I do if there are no new spells to learn?"
Her grin softened, just a little. "You're thinking about it backwards."
Kazuo pushed himself up to sit, brushing sweat from his brow. Sora shifted as well, settling into a crouch across from him. Their eyes met. "…Backwards?"
"It's not about how many spells you can stack up. It's about how well you sharpen the ones you already have."
He looked at her. "What do you mean?"
Sora's tail swayed. "Think about your Riptide Cutter. You first used it against Kaya, right? But then you coated it differently — it was Resonance. When the magic resonates with you and your weapon. That technique's widespread, but you never even knew about it. And still, in the middle of a fight, you pulled it off. That stunned even me."
Kazuo's breath hitched. He remembered the clash, the blade vibrating with water.
"See? You created that without a book, without a teacher. Just instinct and timing."
She leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing. "And now you're even training with Setsuna on the mid-range variation. Well… you'll resume once you've got a new sword in your hands."
He muttered, "You mean… like when my water shuriken combined into one big shuriken."
She nodded. "Exactly. That kind of creativity. Even if you have a bad habit of gambling everything when you fight."
Kazuo scowled faintly, but the words stuck. He let them sink in.
Then Sora leaned closer. "But your biggest advantage? You haven't realized it yet. Honestly, I thought you knew."
He blinked, confused. "…What are you talking about?"
"It's your water magic."
"Yeah," he said slowly. "It's rare, I know."
She cut him off with a flick of her tail. "No. The fact that it's an element tied to nature itself. Wind, earth, fire, lava, snow — they all exist out there, not just inside us. You get what I mean?"
Kazuo's brow furrowed. "…Not really."
She folded her arms. "If you cast a spell in the middle of the ocean, what do you think would happen?"
He thought a moment. "…It would be bigger. Stronger. Because I'd be summoning water into water."
"Exactly. You can draw water from your surroundings. Air, earth, rivers, oceans. Anywhere moisture exists, you've got fuel."
Kazuo's breath slowed as the idea sank in. His eyes lit up faintly. "…You mean—"
She smirked. "That's your real edge. And once you figure out how to use it…" She tapped his chest with a claw. "…Inventing new spells won't be impossible"
He stared past her for a moment, the words circling in his head. Drawing water… from my surroundings… not just from myself.
The thought pressed against him like a door just beginning to crack open.
Sora stretched her arms and stood up. "Okay, that's enough training for today. You'll collapse if I push you any further."
Kazuo pushed himself onto unsteady feet, swaying as the last of his breath steadied.
She grinned. "Like I said, let's go pay Dr. Veyra a visit. Oh, and let's grab Tetsu on the way — he loves this sort of thing."
He smiled and nodded.
At the same time, the air inside the Royal Palace was heavy, echoing with the quiet thrum of power.
In the throne room, two figures already stood before the dais. Vaskel's hair was still unkempt, as if he hadn't bothered to fix it since the day Rulthan lost against Kazuo. His foot tapped against the marble again and again, a steady rhythm of impatience. Beside him, Idris exhaled a thin stream of smoke.
The great doors creaked open. Setsuna stepped through, brushing a crumb from his sleeve. "Sorry. I'm late for the meeting."
Vaskel and Idris both turned toward him. The silence stretched for a moment before Idris spoke, his voice low. "You call that a meeting?"
The tension in the chamber tightened like a drawn bowstring.
High above them, upon the throne, King Cedric sat with legs crossed, his golden wings folded neatly behind him. The chamber bathed with light, yet it was Cedric's presence alone that pressed against every breath.