The sun slipped behind the lush green hills of Mounagiri Gakuen. Gentle dusk light washed over the campus, yet the leaves stood still — like soldiers at attention, motionless.
By the time Kodo, Tamara, and Tom stepped out of the Assembly doors, Kodo felt as though the cosmos rested on his shoulders. The corridor seemed narrower than before, pressing in from all sides. Even Tamara and Tom felt the air around them grow heavy, suffocating.
As they walked, whispers followed.
Students clustered along the walls, mumbling to one another, glancing sideways. Purplish-blue threads flared from their bodies, sharp and restless.
"Hey… did you see them?"
"They came out of the Assembly!"
"What? During the Kazan announcement?"
"Then they must be responsible for all this chaos."
Kodo shrank inward. Thin, white threads wobbled around him, unstable. He felt small, like he should disappear into the stone beneath his feet.
Tom noticed first. He gave Kodo's shoulder a firm pat.
"Snap out of it, man," he said quietly. "Let's prove our worth in the Kazan Trials."
Kodo nodded, but the doubt clung to him.
They descended the silvery-threaded stairs toward the courtyard, heading for the Shokumandram — the hall where weary souls of the Gakuen usually recovered their strength through shared meals and quiet laughter.
They never made it inside.
At the intersection outside the Shokumandram, they stopped short.
A wall of students blocked the entrance — braided threads flaring, arms crossed, faces half-hidden behind shoulders. Bluish threads radiated from the crowd with the harsh glare of neon, pressing outward with such force that Kodo and Tamara both staggered back a step.
The crowd surged closer.
"Did you do this?" someone shouted.
"Why would you bring Kazan early?" another hissed, scarlet threads flashing. "You made the Assembly panic!"
The words piled up — traitor, reckless, unstable, attention-seeker.
Kodo's chest tightened. He tried to step aside, to shrink into the wall, but there was no space. The circle closed.
Tom stepped forward, unable to take it anymore.
"Listen— it wasn't our plan—"
His voice cracked. Too raw. Too close to the memory of falling.
Tamara moved instinctively, placing herself in front of them both. Her golden threads lifted — not blazing, not threatening — just steady. She rested one hand on Kodo's shoulder, not to support him, but so the crowd could see he wasn't alone.
"Please… stop," she said.
Her voice wasn't loud. It was gentle, like a nightingale cutting through noise.
"Can't you see he's scared too?" she continued. "We're all afraid of this trial. It isn't fair to blame only him."
A boy near the front laughed bitterly. Her gentleness only seemed to fuel the hostility.
"Fair? We're the ones who'll get branded. We're the ones who'll have to answer at home. You started this with your hero games."
"Yes! Exactly!" someone shouted.
"You three are responsible!"
A girl, Tamara recognised from poetry class stepped forward, fear sharpening her words.
"Do you know what happens if Kazan marks someone VARKH? Families don't recover from that."
Kodo swallowed. The bruise along his ribs buzzed painfully.
"I… I didn't mean—"
"It's always 'I didn't mean,'" someone said, annoyed.
Kodo lowered his head, biting his lip. His trembling white threads couldn't soothe the crowd's blue-hot ferocity.
"Kodo saved me," Tom snapped. "He didn't—"
The mob drowned him out.
Collateral damage.
Risk.
Selfish.
Even Tamara's steady golden threads strained under the pressure.
Then, from the back, a younger student whispered — barely audible.
"Maybe… maybe they were attacked first."
His friend grabbed his sleeve.
"Are you serious? Look around. You'll get burned. Be quiet."
Suddenly, pinkish threads spread through the space.
The noise fell into pin-drop silence.
Kodo felt his shoulders loosen. Tamara exhaled without realising she'd been holding her breath.
Two figures stepped forward in grey robes, their presence like cool water on heated stone. The Inimainashi Sisters lifted their palms. A soft stillthread flowed outward, calming without force.
"Enough," one Sister said gently. "This is not how the Gakuen learns."
The hostility thinned, though it did not vanish completely.
"I didn't ask for Kazan," Kodo said quietly.
"And wasn't Kazan supposed to happen later in the year anyway?" Tom added, jaw tight.
The crowd bristled.
"It's not about the event," a student said coldly. "It's about the timing. Most of us are still shaken. If your threads caused this chaos, then own it."
The Inimainashi Sisters lowered themselves to the students' level.
"Dear children," one said softly, "trials are overwhelming — yes. But the Council moved forward because they believe in every thread within Mounagiri Gakuen. Supporting one another will help us far more than throwing stones in the dark. We can do better. Can't we?"
The stillness held.
Slowly, the crowd receded — not convinced, not forgiving — leaving a narrow path.
As Kodo, Tamara, and Tom walked away, Kodo caught fragments of trailing whispers:
"What if he's Varkh?"
"…Or what if they were the ones who stood up?"
The halls swallowed both.