The morning sun filtered down through cherry blossoms just past full bloom, casting petals across the school's front walk like some overzealous anime opening. Sam exhaled slowly as he stepped through the academy gates, the worn strap of his book bag cutting lightly into his shoulder. His body felt whole again, finally—repaired, reassembled. No more bandages. No more aching lungs. Just skin, bone, and blood running hot and ready.
Thirteen days since the attack. And finally… back.
Students milled about in the courtyard ahead, but more than a few paused mid-step when they saw him. Their gazes lingered a moment too long. Conversations dipped, and from the corners of his hearing, he caught it—soft whispers, barely restrained.
"Is that the guy both Sona-sama and Rias-sama visited?"
"I thought he was just some transfer student."
"They went to his apartment, right?"
"What's so special about him?"
Sam exhaled again, slower this time. Jaw tight.
How the hell do they even know that? he thought. Are people following Sona and Rias now? Who's keeping tabs that hard?
He didn't look around. Didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing it get to him. But the attention pressed down on his skin like humidity before a storm.
Just keep walking.
The tension snapped when a familiar voice called out to him, casual and unbothered.
"Morning!" Momo Hanakai offered a little wave as she fell into step beside him. "You're kinda famous now. You know that, right?"
"Fantastic," Sam muttered, "just what I always wanted."
She gave a sympathetic smile. "Rias and Sona don't exactly make house calls. You're basically a school cryptid now."
Before he could respond, another presence slipped in.
"Hey."
Yura. Cool-eyed and confident, hands tucked into her jacket pockets as she matched their pace.
"You back to full strength?" she asked.
"Close enough."
"Good. You're sparring after classes. No excuses. I want to see how that lightning stuff of yours really moves."
Sam raised a brow. "Do I get a say?"
"Nope."
And then, without warning, Koneko was suddenly just… there. Hovering a few steps behind him. Close enough to catch his scent.
He glanced back at her. She said nothing. Just stared.
"…Morning?" he offered.
She nodded. Didn't move.
He frowned slightly but didn't ask her to leave.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Not in the way a good day breezed by—but more like walking underwater while everyone around you took notes. Sam sat through his classes, half-tuned in, half-counting how many times he caught someone looking at him.
It wasn't paranoia. It was math. Akeno glanced his way more than once during morning lectures. Rias only did it a couple of times, but her presence felt louder somehow, like heat on the back of his neck.
Even lunch didn't follow routine.
He'd meant to find some quiet corner, eat alone, decompress. That plan lasted all of three minutes before Yura appeared, slung an arm over his shoulder, and dragged him—smiling and impervious to protest—across the courtyard.
"You're eating with people today," she said simply, like it was a doctor's prescription.
Before he knew it, he was surrounded. Yura, of course. Momo, already halfway through her rice. Tsubaki, polite and perfectly composed. And then Akeno and Rias, settling in like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And then there was Koneko.
She didn't say a word. She just… appeared. Tray in hand, face neutral, and sat right next to him. Too close. Not technically touching, but easily within his peripheral.
Sam shot her a sidelong glance. The same kind he'd given her three times earlier that morning.
You good?
You need something?
Are you tracking me by scent or just vibes now?
She didn't look at him. Just ate a rice ball, very deliberately, like this was the most casual thing in the world.
Sam exhaled slowly and turned back to his meal. He wasn't going to fight it. He didn't have the energy or the strategy to outmaneuver whatever game she was playing.
The rest of the table carried on like this was normal.
He just kept eating.
The final bell rang like a sigh—long, drawn, and oddly anticlimactic.
Sam blinked at the clock, then down at his half-packed bag. A part of him still wasn't used to full days of school again. Not after a near-death experience and two weeks of rotating supervision like he was in witness protection.
He slung the bag over his shoulder and looked around.
Sona's peerage was gone.
No sign of Momo, Yura, Tsubaki—or even a trailing glance. Just empty desks and the soft scrape of chairs being pushed back elsewhere.
Cool. Great. Amazing.
He hadn't actually asked where they trained.
Sam rubbed the back of his neck, eyes narrowing slightly as he moved toward the hallway. If they were like any other organized club, the most likely spot would be the gym… or whatever counted as a club training area in this bizarrely under-labeled school. A room with mats? A practice field? A hidden basement arena?
He didn't know. It was a guess. A vague one.
Whatever. It was a place to start.
He made it halfway down the breezeway before he spotted someone else heading the same way.
Blond. Broad-shouldered. Spiky hair like he'd walked out of a shounen side panel.
Saji.
They locked eyes.
Both of them slowed—just slightly—like two animals realizing the other one wasn't prey.
Sam had seen him before, obviously. Student Council lapdog. Background presence. Irritable, over-serious, kind of a hall monitor vibe.
But now…
He felt different.
There was a thrum of power under his steps, almost imperceptible. Subtle. Not quite polished—but familiar. He moved like someone who'd been training. Someone who'd seen things recently.
And apparently, Saji noticed something too.
The other boy's brow furrowed.
His eyes dipped ever-so-briefly to Sam's chest. Not the bandages, long gone, but something deeper. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face.
Holy energy.
It was faint, but unmistakable.
Sam stopped walking.
So did Saji.
For a moment, there was just silence between them. Shared tension. Recognition.
The hallway felt a few degrees colder.
Neither of them said anything.
Not yet.