Kyoukai Academy looked nothing like Kouji's old school.
No faded posters, no cracked tile floors, no broken electronics left for him to fix. The buildings were sleek and rectangular, all connected by thin walkways that stretched above an open courtyard. Everything was too clean. Too precise.
The classrooms ran on rotating shifts, with some students training at dawn and others at midnight. There were no bells, only distant chimes. And instead of a principal, there were handlers — all Association agents in civilian clothes, eyes sharp, voices dull.
Kouji hadn't seen a single smile since arriving.
His dorm room sat on the third floor, overlooking the central training ground.
Two beds. Two desks. One tiny closet. The walls were a sterile gray, and the floor was too smooth, too cold. At least the window opened. That helped.
Kouji dropped his bag beside the bed that didn't look like it had ever been used and sat on the mattress. It barely dipped under his weight.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"So this is home now."
Later that afternoon, he stood in the Association's Support Division lobby, arms folded awkwardly.
A receptionist with dyed green hair and a custom metal gauntlet was flipping through request forms.
"You want a uniform?" she asked without looking up.
"Yeah. One I can customize."
She paused. "Combat use or cosmetic preference?"
"...Both."
"Heh" She made a satisfied noise. "Nice. Finally, someone with taste."
"Oh, and—" Kouji hesitated. "Do you guys do room modifications, too?"
That got her attention.
"Restyle?" she said. "What, you want mood lighting? A music system?"
"Just... something less sterile."
The woman nodded, smirking. "Add it to your order form. We've got contractors for it."
As he turned to leave, she called after him.
"Pick a color scheme that won't make you look like a cult leader!"
That night, Kouji stood alone on the training field.
The sky was dark, stars swallowed by the Association's tall buildings. Most lights inside the windows were off — except for a few flickering in the upper floors. The field was silent.
He placed two metal rods on the ground in front of him.
Earlier that day, one of the instructors had told him to "test the limits of your Plus — understand it like a second language."
He took a breath, then reached out and touched one of the rods.
Familiar sensation. Internal blueprint. He saw its shape, weight, structure.
Analyzing Blessing, he reminded himself. It's just analysis.
Then he touched the second rod with his other hand — and thought about combining them.
For a moment... nothing happened.
Then the air between his hands shimmered. The metal bent inward, ever so slightly. A thread of fused steel stretched between them — like a scar formed midair.
Kouji blinked.
He pulled his hands back. The rods were still separate — mostly. But he could tell: something had changed. They'd touched in a way that shouldn't have been possible.
He tried again.
This time, the rods twisted slightly. Not much — but enough to merge for a moment before snapping apart again.
Unseen, several floors above, a figure passed by a long hallway window.
Ryo stopped walking.
His eyes drifted to the training field, where a faint shimmer pulsed around Kouji's hands. Just for an instant, the aura rippled — and in its shadow, a flicker of deep black threaded through the energy.
Subtle.
Invisible to most.
But Ryo noticed.
He stayed for two heartbeats longer than necessary.
Then walked on.
Kouji finally stopped, breathing harder than he expected.
He turned around, because he felt like he's being watched.
Nobody was there.
He sat down on the field, staring at the rods. His thoughts swirled.
It's not just analysis, he realized. I'm not just reading them... I'm shaping them. Or connecting them? But how?
The logic didn't line up. But he couldn't deny what he'd felt.
Something was forming — and he didn't understand it yet.
Back in his room, Kouji pulled the sheets over himself and stared at the ceiling in the dark.
His bed creaked slightly. A breeze brushed through the cracked window.
Outside, somewhere down the hall, someone laughed. Yuusuke, probably sneaking back from wherever he'd gone.
Kouji let his eyes close.
So this is it. A new life. New rules. New enemies. And...
New questions.
That night, he dreamed.
A corridor. Stretching endlessly. Walls that pulsed like lungs. A mirror that didn't show his reflection, only a cracked mask floating in red water. A whisper he didn't understand. A garden of swords, blooming from broken earth.
He reached out toward something — something calling his name.
Before he touched it, he woke up.
Eyes wide. Skin cold. Chest rising and falling too fast.
The room was silent and dark.
Still his shadow felt a lot darker.