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The moment the professor left, an announcement echoed through the arena.
Announcer: "Ahem... By order of the academy's leadership, both Lucien Valehart and Shiro Asahina have passed the entrance exam."
The declaration made Lucien feel utterly humiliated. To be placed on equal footing with some nobody was unthinkable. Without a word, he stormed from the arena, his pride in tatters.
As days passed, whispers about the fight spread like wildfire among the students.
Student 1 (whispering): "Did you see how that Shiro moved? That wasn't normal technique."
Student 2: "The guy who fought without his own katana? He's definitely hiding something."
Student 3: "But Lucien completely lost his composure. When has that ever happened?"
Student 4: "Some say Shiro was chanting something during the fight. What was that about?"
Student 5: "I didn't see him fight but whatever it was, I wouldn't want to face him in combat."
The rumours cut deeper than any blade. Lucien seethed in silence.
Lucien (muttering through clenched teeth): "That worthless peasant... How dare he make a fool of me? Next time, I'll make sure he regrets ever crossing my path."
Meanwhile, Shiro had vanished from public view.
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Shiro's Solitude
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Standing before a fogged mirror, Shiro studied his reflection.
Shiro: "'Disgrace to every man on the planet,' huh?"
He ran fingers through his unruly hair, considering.
Shiro: "Hmm... Maybe it's this mop. But cutting it seems like such trouble."
After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled to himself.
Shiro: "Well, it's not like I'll die if I trim it."
With careful strokes of his knife, he sheared his hair to shoulder length.
Shiro: "There. Much better. Not too short, not too long."
The weight lifted - both literally and figuratively. Though still longer than most boys wore theirs, the change felt freeing.
Shiro was, by all accounts, a consummate slacker. His priorities never extended beyond sleeping, eating, and sleeping some more. The prestige of Shikai Academy - renowned for its mana-rich environment and elite combat training - meant little to him.
The academy's first day dawned, bringing with it a flood of students. Most came from wealthy noble families; only a handful of commoners managed to pass the grueling entrance exams. Shiro paid this no mind as he wandered the halls, searching for his classroom.
The academy taught two distinct combat styles: Short-Range (SR) and Long-Range (LR). While students could study both, mastering them simultaneously was nearly impossible. Shiro was clearly SR-oriented, while Lucien specialized in LR techniques.
As Shiro turned a corner, a voice called out behind him.
???: "Um... excuse me? Could you help me find the first-year SR classroom?"
Shiro turned to see a girl with striking crimson hair cropped short. Her eyes shone like morning frost - pale blue and clear. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the dim hallway. She wore the same standard-issue uniform as Shiro.
His first thought: "Why is she wearing the same clothes as me?" (Typical of Shiro - he'd barely registered receiving the academy uniform.)
Where others might notice her beauty, Shiro's next thought was: "Why is she talking to me?"
Hopeless, truly.
Shiro: "Hmm... I'm looking for that room too." (He offered a faint smile.)
Crimson-haired girl: "Oh! Then... shall we look together?" (She returned the smile.)
Baffled but agreeable, Shiro nodded. After thirty minutes of wandering, they found the classroom - only to discover the lesson had already begun.
They hesitated at the threshold. The girl froze upon hearing the professor's voice inside. Recognizing her distress, Shiro - despite his slacker nature - pushed the door open and entered without thinking anything what's gonna happen after, the girl following close behind.
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