Rain fell in sheets against the cracked windows of the Tanaka apartment, tracing jagged paths down the glass like veins of regret. Inside, Kazuki sat motionless on the threadbare couch, the envelope in his hands growing damp from the sweat of anticipation. His knuckles whitened as he stared at the emblem stamped in black wax on the front.
Sakuragaoka Institute of Supernatural Advancement—the twelfth and final academy on his list.
Please, not another no.
The air was still. Not even the leaky faucet in the kitchen dared to drip.
He broke the seal.
"We regret to inform you that your application has been declined due to lack of measurable affinity. We encourage you to seek alternative vocational training programs suited to non-gifted individuals. We wish you all the best."
Kazuki didn't blink. Didn't curse. Just folded the letter along the crease it had been mailed with and laid it on the table beside the others.
Twelve rejection letters.
Twelve formal ways of telling him he was nothing in a world where nearly everyone was something.
It hadn't always been like this. Before the Awakening Shift, back when magic was myth and monsters were fiction, someone like Kazuki would've been normal. But that was thirty years ago.
Now, eighty percent of humanity manifested supernatural gifts by age thirteen—telekinesis, elemental control, dimensional threading. Even in high school, kids were summoning weapons from thin air or floating down hallways like it was just another Tuesday.
And then there was Kazuki. Null. Untouched. An evolutionary hiccup.
He glanced at the digital clock on the wall. 11:58 PM.
He should go to bed. He had work tomorrow—early shift at the ramen shop, extra prep because of the lunch rush. But sleep wouldn't come. Not with his ears ringing and his chest hollowed out like a grave waiting to be filled.
He wandered over to his desk, pulled open the drawer. Under the textbooks and rejection letters lay a small, unmarked envelope.
He hadn't told anyone about this one.
It had arrived yesterday with no return address, no postmark. Just his name written in elegant silver ink across black parchment.
He opened it.
"To Kazuki Tanaka.We have observed your repeated rejection by institutions blind to true potential.The Midnight Academy awaits.Gate opens at midnight.Gate closes at 3:00 AM.Enter if you dare.Location: Shinjuku Ward, beneath the old Ikebana Library."
He blinked.
Was this… a prank?
He flipped the card. No more words. Just a symbol etched in silver—an hourglass suspended in a crescent moon.
It pulsed faintly under the light.
Kazuki exhaled. It was probably some elaborate joke from the upper-year pranksters at Minato Academy. He'd been the target before. Set up on fake interview panels, tricked into thinking he'd been "pre-selected" for special programs, only to find a banana peel on a stool and cameras hidden in the lockers.
But something about the card felt… different.
Alive.
He glanced at the clock again.
12:01 AM.
The silver ink shimmered.
What if it's real?
Fifteen minutes later, Kazuki stood in front of the decaying facade of the Ikebana Library, its rusted gates sagging on twisted hinges. The building had been condemned for over a decade, ever since the incident that leveled three blocks during an illegal spirit duel.
No lights. No sounds. Just the faint hum of Tokyo in the background and the moonlight slanting through the clouds.
He held the card in front of him. Nothing happened.
Then, just as he turned to leave—
Crrrnnk.
The ground beneath him shifted.
A section of stone cracked open like a puzzle unlocking itself. Mist rose from the gap, swirling with faint motes of blue light. Stone stairs descended into darkness.
At the edge, a shimmer—barely perceptible—like heat rising from pavement.
A gate.
Kazuki stepped forward, heart pounding like a war drum.
As he crossed the threshold, the world snapped inside out.
The first thing he noticed was the silence.
Total, absolute silence. No city noise. No night wind. Just a deep, dense stillness that pressed on his ears.
Then his vision adjusted.
He stood in a grand marble foyer lit by floating crystal lanterns. Arched ceilings soared overhead, lined with obsidian script that seemed to shift when stared at. Black banners embroidered with the hourglass-moon insignia hung along the walls.
A figure appeared at the far end. Robed in midnight blue, face obscured by a silver mask.
"Welcome, Kazuki Tanaka," the figure said, voice echoing unnaturally. "You are late."
Kazuki stared, mouth dry. "What… is this place?"
The figure raised one hand, and a scroll unfurled in the air between them.
MIDNIGHT ACADEMY ENROLLMENT FORMStatus: AcceptedClassification: Null-PotentialEligibility: Conditionally ConfirmedSystem Assignment: AdaptationActivation Pending...
A small orb of black light floated from the scroll and settled against Kazuki's chest.
For a moment, nothing.
Then—
Pain.
White-hot fire lanced through his veins. Symbols etched themselves into his skin, flickering, shifting, burrowing into his nervous system.
He fell to one knee.
His vision blurred.
Then cleared.
A soft chime sounded in his ears.
[Adaptation System Activated]Stage One – Copy Protocol InitializedTime Remaining: 2h 59m
Kazuki gasped, air rushing into his lungs like he'd never breathed before.
The figure stepped forward.
"From this moment," it said, "you walk the Midnight Path. You will learn to adapt… or be unmade."