Estate of the Red-Dragon Clan
Lucil steps out of the bathroom. His black school uniform, piped with fine lines of crimson, fits him neatly; a stitched rose on the lapel finishes the look with a quiet air of arrogance.
He crosses the living room—only to find Rei blocking his path.
"What were you doing there for so long?" she asks, arms folded.
"Just bathing," Lucil replies, voice steady. "See? No sweat. Even the acidic smell—my so-called signature—is gone."
A low chuckle escapes Rei. "Lucil, I'm not stupid." She locks eyes with him, searching for something he chooses not to reveal. Then her expression softens. "Whatever. You're still my son."
Lucil reaches for the door handle. "Even if I've become someone else."
"I gave birth to you and to Mai," Rei counters, her tone unshakable. "Even if the world ends, you'll always be my son."
A faint smile tugs at his lips. "Honestly, Rei, you're a good mom—to Mai and to me. See you later."
Rei responds with a playful wink as he slips outside.
Mai waits on the step, tapping her foot against the stone, her features darkened by irritation.
"Thirty freaking minutes, brother," she growls.
Her frustration falters when she notices something different about him. Mana flares in her eyes—just enough to sharpen her vision—and a soft glow ripples through her blue hair.
"Your eyes," she breathes. "Your pupils are roses."
Circling him like a curious spectator, she adds, "And your tattoo's glowing through your clothes." A mischievous laugh bubbles up. "He-he-he… maybe I should get a tattoo too."
Lucil laughs at her curiosity, then falls into step beside her as they head toward the station.
Shinjuku Station
Shinjuku Station heaves with midday commuters, neon reflections flickering across polished tiles. Amid the shifting sea of uniforms and briefcases, Mai spots a tall girl weaving her way through the crowd. Long blond hair cascades over the uria high uniform, sapphire-lacquered nails flash with each step, and crystal-clear blue eyes—framed by thin glasses and bold blue lipstick—lock onto Mai like a beacon.
Recognition sparks; they sprint the last few meters and collide in a fierce hug. A little off to the side, Lucil stands motionless, hands in his pockets, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
The blond girl—Riel—turns to him and loops her arms around his neck before he can react.
"Hey, Riel," he says, monotone.
"Cold as ever," she sighs, cheeks warming even as she presses closer.
Mai gives a teasing laugh. "Ooh, I see how it is, you two."
"What do you mean?" Lucil asks, feigning indifference, though a faint color touches the tips of his ears.
Riel clears her throat, suddenly shy. "Lucil, do you have any plans for the summer holidays?"
He doesn't answer; a guarded shadow slips across his expression.
With a quick hand to her stomach—as if steadying fluttering nerves—she blurts, "Then meet me on the rooftop this afternoon, okay?"
"Yeah," he replies at last.
A cluster of girls down the platform waves and calls, "Riel, hurry up!"
She jogs toward them, tossing a smile over her shoulder. "See you!"
"See you, Riel," Lucil echoes.
Mai exhales, annoyance settling over her again. "You're in love with her. It's obvious."
"I can't be," he says.
"Why not?"
"Our worlds are different. That's why I need to—" His eyes linger on the spot where Riel vanished. "—distance myself."
"You've known her since childhood," Mai whispers.
Lucil only lifts one shoulder in a helpless gesture.
She studies him, frustration softening into uneasy concern. "Sometimes it feels like you live in more worlds than just the one of mages. It's… complicated."
The screech of steel interrupts them as the train pulls in, wind whipping loose strands of Mai's blue hair. They squeeze aboard with the crowd. Pressed chest-to-back, Mai rests her head against him.
"So crowded," she mutters. "Incoming sister hug."
"Incoming? You're already hugging me," he murmurs, bemused.
"He-he," she replies, eyes closed. "That wasn't a real hug, brother."
The carriage lurches forward, swallowing their words in the rumble of rails and the hum of lives in motion.
St. Uria Academy
Lucil and Mai arrive at Uria Academy—a private school in Tokyo whose vast campus sprawls behind high gates. Football and baseball diamonds, tennis courts, and a bright running track stretch out beside clusters of shade trees; everywhere, the rose-shaped crest of the academy gleams against the school's clean, modern lines.
Classroom 3-E
Lucil takes his seat by the window. Sunlight washes across his desk, and he lets his eyes half-close.
The classroom is simple: pale walls lined with windows on one side, rows of wooden desks, and the faint hum of the ceiling fan cutting through late-morning stillness. Chalk dust lingers in the air like a spell that never quite settles. For a brief moment Lucil closes his eyes.
Flames bloom behind his lids: a colossal city burns, smoke blotting out the sky. A mage stands before him, pistol raised. The magician is perceived as nothing more than a dark anarchist silhouette.
"Even if you try and try again," the figure shouts, "people like me exist! If you refuse radical steps, nothing will change—understand, Lucil?"
"Jake—" Lucil whispers as he jerks upright.
Mr. Sakurai pauses mid-lecture. "Jake? "Who is that?"
Lucil forces a crooked laugh. "Sorry, Mr. Sakurai. I was daydreaming—holidays are close."
"Holiday or not, stay focused." The teacher turns to the class. "And this time you won't escape the question. Amanagi!"
From the next row, Amanagi rises, shooting Lucil a devilish grin. A typical student—brown eyes, brown hair, and a slouched posture that suggests a deep familiarity with not knowing the answer.
"I don't know the answer, Mr. Sakurai!"
A ripple of laughter rolls through the room.
Lucil scans the faces around him. For a heartbeat, the classroom feels peaceful—almost serene—yet a faint melancholy lingers, as though the crackle of that burning city still echoes at the edges of his mind.
St. Uria Academy | Rooftop
The rooftop feels forgotten—just a spread of dry soil, nothing in bloom, the city wind skimming over it like a sigh. Riel perches on the railing, one leg dangling, gently swinging to an unheard rhythm while Tokyo's late-afternoon skyline glows beyond her.
The door creaks open.
Lucil steps through.
Riel rises, balancing cat-light on the thin metal bar before dropping to the rooftop in one fluid motion. Dust flares around her shoes. She walks toward him, each step deliberate.
"So you wanted to talk," Lucil says.
Riel doesn't answer right away. Her gaze drifts to Tokyo Tower, and memory slips in—a bright fragment from childhood: Lucil, small and serious, sitting beneath a library window, a book propped on his knees.
How can you read? she had asked, pouting.
Because I can, he'd replied.
Teach me toooo, she'd whined.
Fine, little girl.
I'm not little—hrrr! Fierce cat noises, tiny fists.
The scene dissolves. She is back on the barren roof, heart banging against her ribs.
"It's time," Riel whispers. "You're leaving."
Lucil's shoulders lift, fall. "Yes. Today's my last day here."
"You're impossible," she says, voice cracking. "My… friend."
A ragged breath shudders through her. Anger, grief, and something wilder knot in her throat. "Argh!" The cry breaks loose; tears follow.
"I wanted more time," she sobs.
"Riel—?" Lucil's hand hovers, unsure.
Courage gathers in a single, trembling beat. She steps forward, rises on tiptoe, and kisses him. The world stills around the press of her mouth to his, the salt of her tears between them. When she wraps her arms around his neck, Lucil freezes—then melts, returning the embrace as though it hurts to let go.
Magic hums into the air. From the dead soil, scarlet buds spiral upward, unfurling into roses. A deep, luminous bloom etches itself onto the back of Lucil's hand.
"I love you." Riel breathes, voice shaking. "Truly—deeply."
Petals whirl around them like silent fireworks.
"Do you love me?" she asks.
Lucil closes his eyes, gathering the answer like something fragile. At last he lifts a single perfect rose, places it gently in her hair, and kisses her forehead.
"In another world, without these fates," he murmurs, "I would fight—kill, if I had to—for your heart. But in this one… I can't stay by your side."
Riel nods, though her whole body quivers. They sink to the dusty ground together, roses blooming in a circle of living red.
"This rose will never wither," Lucil promises. "It will stand against all time."
"I've always loved your roses," she whispers, stroking the glowing petals.
With a wavering smile, Riel begins to sing, voice soft yet clear, the melody wrapping around them like dusk:
Deep red, carved in pain, so true,
You're my bleeding light, my view.
Roses bloom with thorny grace,
Cutting deep, yet I embrace.
In my chest, your petals close—
You remain my eternal rose.
Tears spill anew. "Come back someday," she pleads. "I'll wait, Lucil. I swear."
"I'll try," he answers, throat tight.
The roses rustle in the rooftop breeze, holding their color as if daring the future to dim them.
Red Dragon Clan | Dojo
Dust motes swirl beneath the naked rafters as Rei drills strike after strike with a scarred wooden sword. Each blow cracks the air like a rifle shot; splinters pepper the worn tatami.
The door slides open. Ryujin enters alongside the clan's eldest. His gaze skims the ruined floorboards and hooks on Rei with thin contempt.
"Women," he scoffs, "do not train."
Rei lowers the bokken just enough to meet his eyes—hers aflame with challenge.
"Oh, right. You were supposed to protect us." Her tone drips ice. "And now you're chasing war plans you can't even finish. Maybe I train because someone here refuses to make a sane decision."
Ryujin's mouth twitches, but he presses on.
"Lucil won't fight for us—and if he does, it'll be against our clan. None of us could match him. Mai? Useless. A girl. But your bloodline, Rei… that might be a fine catalyst for an entity."
The words land like poison darts. Rei's jaw tightens.
"That's ridiculous," she snarls.
The eldest steps forward, voice as dry as parchment: "Akai—Rasi—Tag."
Red chains rip through the air, clinking into existence from a storm of scarlet dust. The dojo quakes.
Rei's lips curl into a razor smile.
"My clan fell to the White Dragons, Ryujin—but weakness never lived in my bones."
She raises one hand, blood humming, and speaks her own command: "Chord—Sin—Novus."
Crimson light bursts along every strand of her hair, whipping it into a fiery banner. A red katana coalesces at her right side, edge shimmering like molten glass. She flips the bokken aside, fingers wrapping the new blade with lethal calm.
The chains rattle. Rei steps forward, eyes burning.
"Now," she says, voice low and dangerous, "tell me again who doesn't train."