A week had passed since Kaito began attending Min Academy.
Each day moved with perfect symmetry — lessons, observation, calculation.
He spoke little, smiled never, and yet somehow his silence made the loudest noise.
In the training courtyard, golden morning light cut across the marble floor. The air shimmered faintly with thread energy as students practiced minor weaves. But the usual chatter had turned into whispers.
"That's him… Kaito Fei."
"He barely talks, but Professor Lian praised his control."
"He's… kinda different. Look at those eyes."
The whispers floated around him like dust.
Kaito ignored them, his red eyes fixed on the practice threads in his hands.
He didn't crave attention. He simply didn't care.
But the world always reacted to indifference.
It despised silence that didn't bow.
At the edge of the courtyard, a tall boy in dark robes watched him. His name was Ren Kurogane, son of a high-ranking Virtue Weaver from the Northern Sect. Rank 1—like Kaito—but loud, arrogant, and used to being adored.
A group of girls gathered near the practice rings, their eyes darting between Ren and Kaito. One of them, a slender girl with silver hair, had been staring at Kaito since the first day.
Her name was Aria Lei — brilliant, graceful, and far too curious for her own safety.
Ren noticed. And that was enough.
He strode across the courtyard, his steps loud, deliberate. His aura flared — faint golden threads rippling behind him.
The noise of practice faded as students turned, sensing the growing tension.
Kaito remained still.
He already knew what was coming.
Ren stopped two meters away. "Fei," he said, voice low and mocking. "I heard you think you're special."
Kaito didn't look up. His fingers adjusted the thin thread between them, his focus unbroken. "You heard wrong."
Ren smirked. "Then why do you act like it?"
No response.
He took a step closer, his voice louder. "You think you're above the rest just because Professor Lian praised you once? You're just another adopted whelp living off the Fei Clan's name."
That word — adopted — made the crowd murmur.
Even Aria flinched slightly.
Kaito looked up then, eyes glowing faintly red in the sunlight. Not anger, not emotion — just an unblinking stillness that made Ren's voice falter for half a second.
"I don't act," Kaito said calmly. "You just think too much."
The simplicity of the reply was like a knife—clean and cutting.
Ren's jaw clenched. "You—"
He turned to the onlookers, forcing a laugh. "See this? He thinks silence makes him strong. Girls fall for this kind of fake calm."
The crowd chuckled uneasily.
Aria frowned. "Ren, stop it—"
"Stay out of this," Ren snapped.
He turned back to Kaito, threads sparking at his fingertips. "If you're that confident, prove it. Duel me."
Kaito tilted his head slightly. "For what purpose?"
Ren sneered. "To remind you where you stand."
The courtyard held its breath.
Professor Lian's rule was clear — no unsanctioned duels during training hours. But neither seemed to care.
Kaito stood slowly, his uniform fluttering in the light breeze. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, yet every step radiated quiet power.
"If that's what you need to feel alive," he said softly, "I'll indulge you."
---
The crowd formed a circle. Threads flickered in anticipation, forming barriers to absorb excess energy.
Ren cracked his knuckles, golden threads swirling around him like serpents.
Kaito simply stood, hands at his sides, eyes unreadable.
Ren's grin widened. "When I win, you kneel and apologize."
Kaito's tone was flat. "When you lose, you'll understand silence."
---
The air snapped.
Ren lunged forward, golden threads shooting from his palms — fast, bright, aggressive. They slashed toward Kaito like whips, cutting grooves in the marble floor.
Kaito didn't move. Not an inch.
At the last moment, his fingers twitched — and a black thread shimmered into existence, nearly invisible. It caught Ren's attack mid-air, bending the golden light before dissolving it completely.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Ren's smile faltered. "You—what was that?"
Kaito said nothing. His eyes glowed faintly crimson.
Ren snarled and wove faster, threads now forming blades of light. He slashed again, faster, harder.
Each strike met the same end — vanishing inches before Kaito as if swallowed by nothingness.
Inside, Kaito was calculating.
He's a speed-type Vital Thread user. Predictable. Loud patterns. No layering. Too linear.
Ren's frustration exploded. "Stand still and fight!"
"I am standing still," Kaito said.
Then — he moved.
One step.
A faint shimmer.
His thread—black with a faint red pulse—shot forward, threading through Ren's golden weave like a needle through silk.
Ren felt something tighten around his neck — cold and weightless.
He froze.
Kaito stood a few feet away, hand slightly raised. His expression hadn't changed.
"Yield," he said quietly.
Ren's face reddened as he tried to move, but the thread constricted just enough to make him stop breathing for a heartbeat. His aura flickered, unstable.
Sweat trickled down his temple.
"Yield," Kaito repeated, his tone colder.
Ren's pride screamed, but his body knew better. "I—yield."
The thread dissolved instantly, vanishing as if it had never existed.
Kaito lowered his hand, gaze already shifting away.
The crowd erupted in shocked whispers.
Ren staggered back, gasping, clutching his throat. His threads flickered weakly, the golden light dimming.
Kaito turned to leave. "You talk too much," he murmured.
---
Aria stepped forward as Kaito walked past, eyes wide. "That was… incredible," she whispered.
He glanced at her briefly — just a flicker of red beneath his lashes — then kept walking.
"Don't mistake strength for peace," he said quietly. "It's just silence before the next noise."
She wanted to say something — anything — but the words died on her tongue.
There was something about him — not warmth, not kindness — but gravity.
A quiet void that pulled hearts without meaning to.
---
Later that evening, in the solitude of his dorm room, Kaito stood before the window, staring at the glowing threads that danced faintly in the night air.
The stars themselves looked like a woven tapestry — fate's mockery painted in light.
He remembered Ren's last expression — fear disguised as arrogance — and the way the crowd stared. Admiration. Curiosity. Desire.
He sighed softly. "Humans mistake distance for mystery. Mystery for beauty. Beauty for love."
His reflection stared back, eyes glowing faintly red.
"They fall for what they can't reach," he whispered. "And I'm fine being unreachable."
The Karma Thread pulsed once within him — soft, rhythmic, like a heartbeat echoing through eternity.
Let them chase illusions, it whispered. You only chase destiny.
Kaito smirked faintly, the moonlight painting his face in silver and shadow.
Tomorrow, the academy would whisper about him again.
But it wouldn't matter.
Because while they admired his silence —
he was already planning how to rewrite their fates.
---