04/13/2012, Velvet Room, Morning
A soft, weary yawn escaped Makoto Yuki's lips as he slung his satchel over his shoulder. The eternal blue twilight of the Velvet Room seemed to soak up the sound, leaving only the faint, melancholic melody that always underscored the silence here. He stood waiting by the large, ornate door, his grey eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Are you tired, dear Guest?" Elizabeth inquired from the small, elegantly set table where she was finishing her breakfast. She held a delicate porcelain cup, her movements graceful and precise.
Before Makoto could offer a reply, a blur of blue and black streaked past him. Ryoji slung an arm around Makoto's shoulders with practiced ease.
"He's always tired! Come on, slowpoke, we gotta go! Can't be late for the thrilling world of quadratic equations!" he joked, his voice a bright, cheerful counterpoint to the room's somber atmosphere.
Without giving Makoto a chance to properly brace himself, Ryoji began pulling him towards the door, forcing the blue-haired boy to stumble into a hurried pace to keep up.
Elizabeth simply smiled serenely, offering a small wave. "Do have a pleasant day, both of you."
As they stepped out of the door and into the familiar backstreets of Kuoh, the early morning air was crisp and carried the scent of dew and blooming flowers. The transition from the timeless Velvet Room to the mundane reality of a school day was always slightly disorienting.
Ryoji fell into step beside Makoto, his hands shoved in his pockets, a hopeful look on his face. "So, hey, after school today... you wanna do something? Maybe grab some ramen?" His tone was light, but there was a genuine longing beneath it, a desire for normalcy.
Makoto shook his head slightly, a faint pang of regret in his chest. "Sorry, Ryoji. Club activities today. The music club," he explained, his voice quiet. "Maybe another time."
Ryoji's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly, but his smile never fully vanished. He was a master of masking disappointment. "Alright, no worries. It seems I'll have to find someone else to spend time with," he said with a forced cheerfulness. "Catch you later, then!"
They reached the gates of Kuoh Academy, a river of students flowing around them. With a final, casual wave, Ryoji split off, heading towards his own homeroom, his vibrant presence absorbed by the crowd. Makoto watched him go for a moment before turning to navigate his own way through the bustling hallways.
04/13/2012, Music Club, After School
The final strains of their practice piece faded into the quiet of the music room. For the first time since Makoto had become club president, the sound hadn't made him subtly wince. It wasn't professional, it wasn't perfect, but it was coherent. It was music.
The driving force behind this minor miracle was, without a doubt, Irumi Ito. Seated at the piano, her fingers still resting on the keys, she radiated a fierce, infectious energy.
The grief that had shrouded her just days before had been funneled into a raw, determined passion that she had imposed on the other club members with the force of a natural disaster. Her eyes had burned with a light that brooked no argument, and through a combination of sheer will and what Makoto suspected was a hint of her newfound devilish charisma, she had whipped them into shape.
"Good work," Makoto said, his voice flat but sincere. It was high praise coming from him.
A collective, relieved sigh passed through the room. Watanabe lowered his violin, Jin set down his bass guitar, and Inoue carefully placed her flute back in its case. They looked at each other, then at the sheet music, and small, genuine smiles broke out on their faces. They were proud. They had made something together that didn't sound like a cacophony.
"Senpai, I have a suggestion!" Irumi announced, her hand shooting into the air. The other members' smiles instantly became looks of mild apprehension.
"Why don't we ask the Student Council if we could be in charge of the music for this year's graduation ceremony?" she proposed, her voice brimming with ambitious excitement.
The reaction was immediate. Watanabe, Jin, and Inoue gasped in unison, their eyes wide with horror. It was clear this was the first they were hearing of this audacious plan.
"Isn't it a bit... too early to be talking about that?" Watanabe ventured, his voice hesitant. "The ceremony isn't until March. And... we just managed to play one song without messing it up. The graduation ceremony is a huge deal!"
"Come on!" Irumi exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "We have to dream big! We can do it—no, sorry... we WILL do it!" Her declaration was filled with such absolute, unwavering conviction that it seemed to momentarily bend the reality of the room.
Her clubmates instinctively looked to Makoto, their eyes silently pleading for him to be the voice of reason, to veto this terrifying proposition.
"Will you go ask President Shitori if it's possible?" Irumi pressed, turning her intense gaze fully on Makoto.
"Only if everyone agrees," Makoto answered, his own gaze sweeping across the other three members.
The trio opened their mouths to voice their unanimous dissent, but the words died in their throats. Irumi was looking at them. It wasn't a threatening look, not exactly.
It was something far more potent: a look of utter, unshakeable belief, mixed with the faint, unnerving glow of someone who could probably bench-press a bus. It was a look that very politely, very insistently, suggested that agreeing was the only logical option.
"Ehm..." Jin stuttered, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her expectation. "I, uh..."
"If you don't want to do it, it's completely fine," Makoto reiterated, giving them an out.
Emboldened by his support, they found their voices. "We don't want to!" they shouted in ragged unison, immediately shrinking back as if expecting Irumi to transform then and there.
"Traitors..." Irumi muttered under her breath, crossing her arms with a disappointed pout. The ambitious dream was, for now, shelved.
With the meeting officially adjourned, the other members practically fled the room, leaving Makoto and Irumi alone. As Makoto gathered his things, Irumi approached him, her earlier bravado replaced by a more vulnerable, serious expression.
"Hey, senpai? Can we talk for a second?" she asked, her voice quieter.
Makoto nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
She took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the floor before she looked up, meeting his gaze with a determined glint. "Please," she said, her voice firm but laced with a hint of desperation. "Help me become stronger." She bowed her head slightly, a gesture of sincere plea.
Makoto frowned, his head tilting in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I became a devil to get justice for my parents," she explained, the words tumbling out. "President Gremory explained the duties, the hierarchy... Yesterday, I did my first devil job. Senpai Himejima started teaching me the basics of demonic magic. But... the problem is this."
She held up her right arm, where invisible presence of the Boosted Gear resided.
"They can't teach me how to use it. They don't understand it. And Ddraig..." She sighed in frustration. "He's a terrible teacher! All he says is 'hit things harder' and 'feel the power!'"
'I heard that,' Ddraig's voice grumbled indignantly within her mind.
'Sorry! I didn't mean to offend you!' Irumi shot back mentally, flustered.
"I don't think I can help you either," Makoto said honestly. "I don't know anything about Sacred Gears."
"I have to disagree, Makoto Yuki," Ddraig's voice emanated into the room as the crimson gauntlet of the Boosted Gear materialized on Irumi's arm, the green jewel glowing.
"Even if the technical mechanics are a mystery to you, the essence of a dragon's power is not. Training with another dragon is the most efficient, the most natural way for a dragon to grow stronger."
'Iii can go! I'll gladlyyy help good old Ddraiiig and the Magiciiiaan!' Fafnir's metallic screech echoed in Makoto's mind, followed by the sound of straining hydraulics.
'You are certainly a worse teacher than anyone else here, lizard,' Odin grunted dismissively.
'I agree with the gilded one. Dragons wield fire, do they not? The Great Apollo would surely be a far superior instructor,' Apollo declared, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction.
'Spare me your narcissism, sun god,' Odin retorted.
'My companions, we are forgetting we have another dragon among us! Our wise and noble friend, Kohryu!' Robin Hood proclaimed cheerfully.
'I would not be opposed to imparting some discipline upon the young Magician,' Kohryu's calm, resonant voice stated, though a hint of eagerness to mentor the younger generation lay beneath his serene tone.
"Senpai," Irumi pleaded, her eyes locking with Makoto's. "Can you help me?"
After a moment's internal consultation, Makoto gave a single nod. "Yes. We can."