The First Division classroom felt quieter than usual. The laughter and bragging that often followed training exercises were absent today, replaced by the dull shuffle of boots and the sound of chairs creaking under the weight of sore bodies.
Bandages peeked from under sleeves, frost burns still tingled, and the faint smell of ointment clung to the air. The twenty cadets sat scattered, each carrying the weight of bruised egos and aching muscles from the week's grueling matches. For once, they looked less like prodigies destined to be the nation's future, and more like a group of battered recruits who had been chewed up by reality.
At the head of the room, Solarius stood like a sun frozen in place. His golden eyes swept the room, unblinking, radiating an authority so absolute that no one dared speak out of turn.
"Yesterday's matches proved one thing," Solarius said, his voice sharp, "power is plentiful. Control is scarce. If you cannot master yourselves, then you will never master the battlefield."
A hush followed, heavy enough that even Renji, who usually tapped his fingers against his desk, stayed still.
---
It was Haruto who finally broke the silence, leaning forward with a cocky grin that poorly disguised his trembling hands.
"Tch. If Daigo hadn't slowed Mei down, that fight wouldn't even have been close. We'd have wiped them in minutes."
Daigo's chair screeched as he turned, his stone-plated arms crossed tightly across his chest. "Better a wall than a lightning rod. You almost fried your own partner. Don't talk like you carried anyone."
Ayaka's soft voice cut between them, calm but edged with frost. "You both nearly cost the match. That isn't teamwork."
Mei, still limping from her frozen leg, snapped back with fire in her eyes. "And you think you were perfect, ice princess? If you weren't hiding behind him, you'd have shattered halfway through."
The air thickened. Eyes darted between them, waiting for Solarius to intervene, but the Number One Hero said nothing. He only watched, arms crossed, as if daring them to burn themselves out.
Across the room, Rina tried to lift her voice, shielding her timid teammate Tsubasa. "At least none of you broke your partner's wings in the middle of a match…"
"Ha!" Kaito barked, sparks flickering at his knuckles. "That's because you barely landed a hit at all. Glass shards and feathers—what a joke."
Tsubasa's face flushed scarlet. He half-rose from his seat, wings twitching, before tripping on the edge of his desk and collapsing in a heap. The laughter that followed only deepened the rift.
The class, once bonded by shared awe, was splintering into factions—louder, prouder voices clashing while quieter ones tried to stay unseen.
---
Akihiro sat in the front row, posture perfect, pen gliding across his notebook with mechanical precision. His golden aura flickered faintly in the classroom's dim light, a natural brilliance that made him look untouchable. The others rarely addressed him directly—admiration and envy kept them at a distance.
Beside him sat Yuna. She leaned back casually, her long hair veiling part of her face. While others bickered, her pale eyes followed Akihiro as if the noise didn't exist. The air around her felt strange, unsettling. Nobody could place it—why she always seemed calm, why she never joined in, why her presence felt heavier than her words.
"She's creepy," someone whispered from the back. "Always staring."
Yet neither Akihiro nor Yuna reacted. They didn't need to. Their silence spoke louder than any insult.
Even Solarius' gaze lingered on them longer than the others, though his expression revealed nothing.
---
The silence broke when Solarius asked, "What lessons can be drawn from yesterday's chaos?"
For a moment, no one dared answer. Then a single hand shot up. Emi's.
The room blinked.
"Yes," Solarius said, arching a brow.
Emi pushed her glasses up nervously, but when she spoke, the words poured out in a stream of sharp precision.
"Haruto wasted too much energy early, destabilizing his partner. Ayaka was effective but overly reactive, failing to anticipate Mei's mobility. Mei showed adaptability, but reckless overconfidence made her predictable. Daigo was sturdy, but his lack of speed left him vulnerable once immobilized. In conclusion—Team A won, but barely. Their synchronization was accidental, not intentional."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Even Solarius paused. For the first time in memory, he seemed caught off guard—not by power, but by clarity. His lips curved in the faintest ghost of a smirk.
"Eyes sharper than the battlefield itself," he murmured. "Remember this, cadets. Strength is useless without someone who can see the field."
Murmurs rippled through the class. Some students looked at Emi with newfound respect. Others with envy. Haruto, his pride pricked, glared daggers her way.
Emi sank back in her seat, cheeks flushed, whispering, "I-I didn't mean to say that much…"
---
The tension cracked when Renji, fiddling with his Idol, accidentally released a low sonic pulse. The entire row of desks rattled violently, books and pens scattering to the floor.
"Ah, crap! Sorry!" Renji yelped.
Kaede facepalmed, muttering darkly as her shadows gathered the fallen papers. "Every. Single. Time."
Across the room, Tsubasa, trying to be helpful, spread his wings to lift scattered notebooks—only to smack Haruto across the head.
"Watch it, featherbrain!" Haruto snapped, rubbing his scalp.
A ripple of laughter spread across the room, easing the pressure if only for a moment. Even Ayaka allowed herself a small, fleeting smile.
---
The golden hero let the laughter die before stepping forward. His voice carried no warmth this time.
"Hit the showers. Tomorrow, no training. And remember—the day you fail to control yourselves out there, will be the day where civilians will die because of your mistakes."
A heavy silence followed. His words pressed down on them like a weight none could shrug off.
---
That night, the academy dorms glowed faintly under the moon.
In one room, Haruto trained alone, sparks crackling painfully along his arms. Across the hall, Ayaka pressed frost against her palms, muttering to herself about control. Mei sat on her bed, scowling at her frozen leg, while Daigo silently patched his stone-plated hands.
Emi sat at her desk, staring at her notebook, unsure whether to feel proud or terrified of her outburst.
And in the quietest dorm room of all, Akihiro sat by the window, his golden aura flickering faintly, a halo in the dark. Yuna was there too, seated calmly in the corner, watching the moon with unblinking eyes.
Neither spoke. Neither needed to.
Far away, whispers stirred in the city below, unseen by the cadets. Villains were restless. The peace Solarius had built was beginning to quiver.