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"...By the way, why do we have to do this in the middle of the night?" March 7th asked, her voice hushed as the reality of the situation finally settled in.
Kenta, with a face of absolute, unblinking seriousness, didn't even look up. "Don't you think doing something like this at night is more... exciting?"
"..."
March 7th decided it wasn't worth the energy to argue. The initial shyness of having a guy in her room was slowly being replaced by the sheer absurdity of Kenta's personality. She took a breath, refocusing. "So, the plan is: you use your Path energy to communicate with the shard, and I stand by with the Six-Phase Ice to keep you from overheating. Right?"
"Hmm," Kenta nodded, finally offering a small smirk. "A teachable student indeed."
"Stop teasing and let's just start!" March pouted, already beginning to condense the shimmering blue energy of the Six-Phase Ice in her palms.
Kenta closed his eyes, his breathing becoming rhythmic and deep. He drew the Shard of the Void and placed the jagged fragment exactly against the broken edge of his saber.
Om—
A low-frequency vibration rippled through the air, centered on the blade. Suddenly, a wisp of Black Flame ignited at the joint. The temperature in the pink-hued room spiked instantly, the air Beginning to shimmer with a localized heat haze.
March 7th didn't hesitate. She activated her power, sending waves of crystalline cold to wrap around Kenta's hands. The temperature stabilized. Seeing Kenta's brow furrow and sweat begin to bead at his temples, March instinctively shuffled closer, pressing her shoulder against his to ensure the ice was as effective as possible.
To her astonishment, the jagged edges of the metal began to soften and flow like dark mercury. Under the flicker of the black fire, the shard and the blade fused. The saber was still incomplete, but it was now significantly longer—a lethal, reconstructed fang of black steel.
Kenta's eyes snapped open.
"That's great, Kenta! Did you succeed?"
Kenta turned to her, but he didn't answer. A flash of abyssal black flickered behind his crimson pupils, and for a second, the heat in the room didn't feel like fire—it felt like hunger.
"...Kenta?"
March 7th sensed the shift, but the "instinct" of the Black Flame was faster. Before she could pull away, his hand was behind her head.
Mmph!
Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Her mind went completely blank, her hands still frozen in the gesture of channeling ice.
Inside Kenta's mind, there was only a void of suffocating heat. He was drowning in an ocean of fire, unable to find the surface. But just as he felt his consciousness beginning to evaporate, a pillar of pure, soothing ice appeared in the center of the darkness.
He didn't think. He didn't reason. He simply lunged for the coolness, desperate to extinguish the burning in his soul.
As the "ice" touched him, the world of shadows shattered. Kenta's awareness rushed back into his body, and the first thing he realized was the soft, frantic warmth against his lips.
"...March...?"
The realization hit him like a physical blow. He quickly pulled back, his hands trembling as he let go of her. He scrambled to get some distance, his face pale with guilt. "I'm sorry, March, I just—the flame, it took over—I didn't—"
He didn't finish.
March 7th, who had been a statue moments ago, suddenly reached out. Her face was a shade of red that rivaled Kenta's eyes, but her expression wasn't one of anger. She grabbed his head, pulling him back toward her before he could escape.
"..."
Kenta froze, utterly at a loss. Outside the window, the Astral Express drifted through the silent, glittering tapestry of the cosmos. No moonlight reached them here, only the cold, silver light of distant stars.
In the Adjacent Data Bank
Dan Heng was awake. In fact, he had been awake since the moment Kenta's door had clicked shut hours ago.
"Alas—" He sighed into the darkness of his bunk.
He knew. He heard the footsteps; he sensed the shifts in Path energy. He felt like an exhausted roommate watching a disaster in slow motion, yet he chose silence. With a flick of his wrist, he used his Cloud Weaving Art to manifest a sound-isolating barrier around March 7th's room—partly to protect their privacy, and mostly to protect his own sanity. He then closed his eyes and tried to force himself back to sleep.
In Stelle's Storage Room
The gray-haired girl was tossing and turning on her makeshift pile of blankets, trapped in a vivid, bizarre nightmare.
"Hello, dear audience! We are at the grand finale of the 'Kenta Capture Battle'!" a voice boomed in her dream. A tuxedo-clad owl was holding a microphone on a glittery stage. "Contestant Stelle is miles ahead! She's held hands! She's gotten head pats! She even slept in his bed!"
Dream-Stelle walked onto the podium, a smug, triumphant grin on her face. She reached for the golden trophy.
"And the winner is... MARCH 7TH!!!"
"???"
March 7th appeared out of nowhere, snatching the trophy from Stelle's fingertips.
"Impossible!" Dream-Stelle shouted. "Her progress shouldn't be faster than mine!"
Suddenly, the Dream-March turned, her eyes narrowing with a sharp, assertive dominance Stelle had never seen in real life. She let out a haughty scoff.
"You think you're ahead?" Dream-March pointed a thumb at herself. "Have you... 'loved' him? No? Then remember this, Stelle. Kenta's first time isn't yours. Kono March da!"
"!!!"
Stelle snapped awake, sitting bolt upright with a look of pure terror. "That was... horrifying. Please tell me that was just a dream."
She walked downstairs uneasily, stopping outside March 7th's door. She leaned in, straining to hear a sound. Nothing. The sound-isolating barrier Dan Heng had placed was perfect.
"Phew—it seems I was overthinking it. March is probably just snoring."
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