The academy had already begun whispering about him.
Some saw him as a joke—an underachiever who coasted through lessons without care,
his uniform perpetually wrinkled and his dark hair eternally disheveled.
Others saw something… unsettling. A shadow where there should be light. A silence where there should be sound.
How could someone so careless never truly fail?
How could someone so indifferent never seem surprised?
And why, no matter the situation, did it always feel like he was watching everything with those slate-gray eyes that seemed to absorb rather than reflect the light around them
Professor Viren was a man of logic and reason. His emerald robes, always impeccably pressed, matched the precision of his mind.
He expected discipline, respect, and serious participation from everyone who entered his hallowed classroom.
Unfortunately for him, today's class included Arashi Kurobane.
"As we've discussed extensively, mana follows the principle of flow. Every spell must have a guiding intent," Viren explained,
his slender fingers gesturing toward a glowing blue sigil on the board that pulsed with gentle light.
"Now, who can tell me why poorly structured magic collapses? This is fundamental to understanding advanced applications."
Several hands shot up, eager students with pristine notes and hungry minds.
Viren ignored them all.
His piercing gaze locked onto the one student who seemed utterly disconnected from the moment. "Kurobane."
Arashi, who had been staring out the window at a falcon circling above the academy grounds, slowly turned his head.
The movement was so deliberate it seemed almost mechanical.
'Why does he look like I just pulled him from another dimension?' Viren thought, feeling a chill despite the warm classroom.
Viren sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of countless similar interactions.
"Explain why unstable spells collapse, if you would be so kind as to join us in this lesson."
Arashi yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth.
"Because they want to."
Silence descended like a blade.
Viren's eye twitched, a tiny movement that every student recognized as the harbinger of a storm. "Excuse me?"
Arashi leaned back in his chair until it balanced precariously on two legs.
His posture a mockery of the proper sitting positions outlined in the academy handbook.
"Magic is alive, right? You keep saying that. So maybe weak spells don't collapse because of bad structure or flawed sigils." He gestured lazily toward the board.
"Maybe they just… don't feel like working. Like people who are forced to do things they hate."
The room fell silent. Even the usual creaking of the ancient academy building seemed to pause.
Some students looked at him like he was insane, their expressions a mixture of horror and secondhand embarrassment.
Others… frowned, their brows furrowing as they considered his words with reluctant curiosity.
A few even subtly jotted notes.
Even Viren hesitated, his prepared rebuke dying on his lips as an uncomfortable thought wormed its way into his mind
'What if there was some bizarre truth to this absurdity?'
"That's— That's ridiculous," he finally managed, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.
Arashi shrugged, the gesture so minimal it was almost imperceptible. "I dunno. Just a thought. Probably nothing."
Viren took a long breath, his nostrils flaring slightly. "Perhaps I should assign you extra reading, Kurobane. Since you seem to have so much... creative energy to expend."
Arashi tilted his head, like a predator considering something curious but ultimately insignificant.
"Perhaps you should give me an award for creative thinking. Isn't that what the academy claims to value?" His voice remained even.
almost bored, but his eyes—for just a moment—flashed with something sharp and knowing.
Someone choked back a laugh, the sound quickly smothered but still enough to crack the tension.
Viren rubbed his temples, where a headache was rapidly forming.
The veins there pulsed visibly beneath his pale skin.
"You know what? Just— Just stay quiet for the rest of class. That would be a creative contribution I might actually appreciate."
Arashi's lips curved into the barest hint of a smirk. 'Mission accomplished,' his expression seemed to say, though he spoke no words.
Around him, students shifted uncomfortably in their seats, suddenly unsure which teacher they should be learning from.
Instructor Reynard was one of the academy's most respected warriors—a master assassin who specialized in tracking and concealment.
His face bore three diagonal scars that no student had ever dared ask about, and rumors claimed he could move through solid walls when the moon was full.
Today's lesson? Remain hidden in the training grounds while he tried to find them.
Simple in concept. Nightmarish in execution.
Most students relied on spells, cloaking themselves in shadows or bending light around their bodies.
Others used enchanted cloaks or clever positioning behind columns and statues.
Arashi?
He simply… stood in plain sight, in the center of the graveled courtyard, hands in his pockets.
Rey prowled through the training grounds like a panther, his footsteps silent despite the loose stones underfoot.
His amber eyes narrowed as he caught one student after another. "Some of you are decent," he announced, voice barely above a whisper yet carrying to every corner. "Most of you are failures who would be dead in a real mission."
Then he turned—
And locked eyes with Arashi, who hadn't moved an inch from his exposed position.
Rey frowned, the expression deepening his scars. Something flickered in his eyes—confusion, quickly masked by irritation.
"What are you doing, Kurobane?" The question held a dangerous edge.
Arashi blinked, the motion slow and deliberate. "Hiding." The word hung in the air between them, almost tangible in its absurdity.
Rey stared at him, his gaze intensifying as if trying to peer through a disguise that wasn't there.
"You are standing in the middle of the field. Under direct sunlight." Each word was precise, clipped.
Arashi nodded, as if confirming a mundane observation. "Exactly."
Rey exhaled sharply, a sound like a blade being unsheathed. "You're not even using a spell. I can sense no magic from you at all."
Arashi shrugged, the movement almost imperceptible. "But you hesitated, didn't you? When you first looked this way."
Silence descended, heavy and uncomfortable.
A few students gasped, the sound barely audible but damning in its implication.
Because they had all seen it.
For just a second—just a fraction of a second—Rey gaze had passed over him, scanning the area where Arashi stood as if it were empty.
As if, for a moment, he wasn't there at all.
Rey's expression darkened, the shadows beneath his scars seeming to deepen.
His hand twitched toward the dagger at his belt—a movement so small only the most observant would notice.
"…Interesting." The word fell like a stone into still water. "Very interesting indeed, Kurobane."
And though nothing in his stance changed, something in Arashi's eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction.
Dorm Room – House of Shadows
As night fell, Arashi sat by his window, one knee drawn up to his chest, watching the moon rise over the academy's spires.
Its silver light painted shadows across his sparse room—a bed, a desk, shelves with books that appeared untouched.
No personal items. No mementos. Nothing to suggest who Arashi Kurobane was beyond a name and a presence.
The whispers were growing.
The rumors slithering through corridors like serpents.
The curiosity that prickled at the edge of conversations whenever he passed.
People were starting to notice him, their gazes lingering a beat too long when he entered rooms.
Some with admiration, their eyes wide and wondering.
Some with fear, their postures stiffening slightly when he approached.
And some… with dangerous intent, calculating gazes following his movements, measuring his worth, his weakness, his potential threat.
He smiled, the expression barely visible in the moonlight that caught the sharp angle of his cheekbone.
'Good. Let's see what happens next.' The thought wasn't voiced, but it hung in the air of his room, a silent challenge to the academy and all its secrets.
The academy was changing.
No one could ignore it anymore—the subtle shift in the atmosphere, like the charged air before a lightning strike.
At first, Arashi Kurobane was just another nobody—a lazy, unremarkable student who occupied space without filling it.
A curiosity at best, a disappointment at worst.
But then things started happening. Small things. Disquieting things.
A teacher with twenty years of experience hesitated while looking directly at him, as if seeing through mist.
A seasoned assassin, legendary for his tracking abilities, failed to notice him in broad daylight, standing in plain view.
He spoke nonsense in class, lazy contradictions to established magical theory, and yet… people kept thinking about his words, turning them over like strange coins found on familiar paths.
It was unnatural.
Unsettling.
And the worst part?
He didn't seem to care.
Or rather…
He knew exactly what he was doing, each action placed with the precision of a master playing a game only he understood.