The corridor after history was a river of noise, students flowing in currents of chatter and clicks of holo-tablets. Leo let it carry him, easing the pressure of Blythe's lingering gaze. A familiar tug at his sleeve anchored him.
"Still alive?" Lisa's voice broke through the din, her grin a mix of amusement and sympathy.
"Barely. He's got a permanent mark next to my name now."
"You earned it. 'He unified the world by… unifying it.' Poetic."
Leo shoved her shoulder lightly, but the smile that broke through was real. With Lisa, the weight of the world always felt lighter.
They drifted toward the glass-walled overlook, the sprawl of their sector gleaming beneath the afternoon sun. The hum of the ambient crystal filaments embedded in the walls resonated faintly under their feet—a constant reminder of the Wavebound world they inhabited.
"You're doing that thing," Lisa said, nudging him. "The quiet stare. Step-mom again?"
Leo didn't answer. It was easier to retreat into his mind than deal with her carefully cheerful probing.
"Forget her," Lisa said, voice softening. "I'll be your new mom. Raisins included."
He wanted to laugh, but the memory snagged—a tug at the edges of longing. His real sister, Mira, had left months ago for Aries Academy of Medicine, promising calls that stretched thinner with time.
"You'd be a terrible mom," he said finally, sharper than intended. "You'd forget the lunch entirely."
Lisa's eyes flicked to his face, reading him like a resonant frequency, then she let it go. "Fine. Then be my son. Anyway… school choices are next week. You decided?"
"Royal Aegis Senior High. The Spire." He said it with measured weight. "Father insists"
Lisa blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "The Spire? S Grade Academy. That's… serious."
"And you?" he asked, shifting the focus. Her lips curved in a secretive smile, her eyes on the distant shimmer of the capital skyline.
"One of the academies there. Different. Feels right. Values things differently."
"Different how?"
"Less about dominating a frequency," she said, thoughtful, "more about cultivating it. Understanding its source. True resonance."
As if on cue, a booming laugh rolled down the corridor. "There they are! The dream team!"
Ramsey Tows bounced forward, all limbs and energy, with Jens Raie following at a steadier pace. Their usual foursome: thinker, heart, creator, pragmatist, reunited in perfect orbit.
"We were plotting the future," Lisa said, slipping seamlessly back into camaraderie. "Leo's aiming for the Spire."
"The military track?" Jens whistled, impressed. "Your dad's opening his wallet, huh? Good. Business is built on connections, and that's the best network on the continent."
"Boring!" Ramsey declared, throwing an arm around Leo's shoulders. "Come with me to the Central Tech Institute! We'll build resonant projectors that can blast music across the district. Useful waves."
"You'd get cited for public disturbance in a week," Jens sighed.
"Progress requires noise!" Ramsey shot back.
They fell into their familiar rhythm, leaning against the railing. Below, the city thrummed with crystalline filaments, the hum of utility waves vibrating faintly through Leo's shoes.
But the soft prelude of the next bell. The laughter faded, replaced by something quieter, fragile.
Ramsey's grin softened. "Seriously… wherever we land, we find a frequency. We keep in touch. No matter what."
Leo met their eyes—Lisa's determined, Ramsey's earnest, Jens' solemn—and nodded. "No matter what."
The final bell shattered the moment, a sharp sonic pulse resonating through the glass and crystal. Leo's gaze lingered on Lisa's silhouette for a heartbeat longer, the promise hanging in the air like a fragile, spinning soap bubble, already vulnerable to the thorns of the world ahead.
Even as they hurried toward the dueling hall, Leo's mind traced the distant outlines of the Spire, the Church's academy, and the competitions yet to come. He could feel it: the tug of rival frequencies waiting to clash, of monsters and simulations and political games, all resonating in the path he had chosen—and the one Lisa might walk.
This was growing up. And nothing about it was gentle.