The workshop thrummed—Arcane Crystals on benches hummed, copper conduits glowed faintly, and the scent of heated metal mixed with the sweet tang of crystal dust. Students leaned over workbenches, lining sticks of wood with Arcane Circuits, eyes bright with the kind of wild focus that made the room feel alive.
"Hey, do you think we could turn a sword into an Arcane Device?" one boy asked, leaning on his bench as he balanced a made-up blade on his hands.
"What? Why would you—" his friend answered, eyebrows going up.
"Come on, imagine it! A blade that channels spells."
"Yeah, and imagine getting killed while drawing it," another voice chimed in. Laughter rippled across the table.
"Gloves or gauntlets make way more sense. Like Professor Kazuki's device."
"Hm-hm. Free hands, faster casting. Practical and badass."
Sagiri peeked from behind the table, white hair catching the light like a banner.
"What's this? Planning on taking on Professor Kaz next semester?" she said, resting her arms and flashing that trademark grin.
The students jumped; pens scattered as heads turned.
"P-Professor?? We were just wondering about what we can turn into devices.." the first boy stammered.
Sagiri tilted her head, amusement softening into something almost thoughtful.
"Pretty much anything can be turned into a device. It's personal preference," she said, stepping lightly over a stray coil to examine their sketch.
"Then, what's your device, Professor?" a girl asked, eyes wide.
"Well, it's a battle axe," Sagiri replied, as if that settled anything.
"Wha— Seriously?! I thought you'd choose something more practical."
"I don't use it all the time, y'know. Only in some situations. Plus, it's flashy and cool! Don't you think?" She tapped the edge of a schematic with a finger, making a deliberate little flourish.
"Then, what would you recommend for us?"
"Obviously wands," Sagiri said, almost reflexively.
"What about accessories? Like necklaces and stuff." a timid hand offered.
"Again, personal preference," Sagiri shrugged, nails flashing metallic pink. "But making Devices smaller is its own challenge. Like Kazuki's gloves? It took me years to perfect. He kept breaking them." She made a face, the memory plainly entertaining.
She gestured to one of the benches cluttered with tiny crystal cores.
"So for starters, use wands. Then you can work your way into making something more personalized."
A sharp pop cut the air like a snapped string.
"Ah—" someone hissed as a hairline fracture crawled across a small Arcane Crystal. It spidered out and the crystal sighed into dust, a faint blue spark fading.
"P-Professor.. I'm sorry I—" the student blurted, eyes wide and instinctively backing away.
"Alright, alright. It's just a crystal," Sagiri said, already moving. She crouched, plucked the ruined shard up, and examined the fracture with a practised frown.
"But… aren't they expensive?" he asked, worry edging his voice as he glanced between the fractured crystal and Sagiri's calm expression.
"These are low-density Arcane Crystals. Compared to the real ones, they're dirt cheap. Come to the front, get yourself another one. Failure's part of the process." She offered the student a grin that meant she truly meant it — it was safe to fail here.
"Professor, you're really easy to talk to huh?" the boy said in a half-laugh, relief leaking through.
"Hmm~? What? You catching feelings?" Sagiri teased, leaning on the bench with a flirt of an eyebrow.
"N-no— It's just… Professor Kazuki is… really hard to approach."
"Hmm, hmm." Sagiri nodded, looking temporarily serious for the first time in the hour. "I get you."
"Professor, is he… okay?" a quieter voice asked.
"Hmm? Who knows," Sagiri said, then shrugged with a small, guarded smile.
"I've known him a long time, but I still don't know what's going on in his head."
Silence fell, the kind that moves like a soft wave across a room full of people who suddenly think their voices too loud.
A girl stood up, bright-faced and slightly trembling from nerves.
"P-Professor! Do you know Professor Kazuki's favorite food?" she asked, too loudly, and then went red.
"Hee~ What's this?" Sagiri leaned forward, mischief returning like a tide.
"N-no.. I just.. When I see Professor Kazuki alone, he always has this.. expression.. I thought I could make something to help him relax.."
"Hee~ Is that so~ Hmm... Should I spill~" Sagiri sangonged, savoring the role like a cat with a ribbon.
"Curry and cutlets."
The voice came from the middle of the room, smooth as silk and cold as a river. Heads snapped toward the sound.
Saki. The Headmistress.
Nobody had seen her enter — it was as if she'd been there all along.
"His favorite food is curry and cutlets. Preferably spicy," Saki added, voice amused and slicing.
"Wh-! Headmistress?!" the girl squealed, half delighted, half mortified.
"Saki?! Since when did you—" Sagiri began.
"Hm? Since class started."
Saki pointed casually to the beam like she'd been lounging there the whole morning, which, to her, was certainly the case.
"You really didn't notice me up there?"
"Headmistress.. Why are you here?" someone else asked, incredulous.
"Curiosity." Saki gave a soft grin.
"Well then, I've got papers to sign," she said, her tone light and teasing as she turned toward the door, her steps unhurried—almost like she owned the very air around her.
Saki turned, fixing the nervous student with a grin that made it clear she approved of the gesture.
"Thank me later." She winked, and with that little sign, she left the room. Disappearing as untraceably as she'd come.
The workshop was left in stunned silence.
"Curry and cutlets…" the girl murmured, her shoulders loosening, eyes gleaming with relief as if she had just uncovered a sacred truth.
Sagiri approached, resting both hands on the girl's shoulders with a grin that could melt steel."Make sure it's spicy enough to knock the seriousness out of him," she said, her tone equal parts teasing and approving.
The girl nodded with renewed determination."Yes, Professor!"
Sagiri straightened, clapping her hands once. "Alright! Back to Arcane Devices! Let's see what you've all been working on!"
The room came back to life in an instant—students scrambling, crystals humming, circuits flickering with faint light.
"Crap! Mine's not done yet—" one of them blurted, fumbling with their array.
Sagiri's grin turned devilish."Oh? Then you're not leaving this room until it is."
A collective groan followed, half in fear, half in laughter. The workshop pulsed with energy once more—Arcana, chatter, and the faint sound of ambition.
Meanwhile, in the quiet halls of the academy, Kazuki walked alone, his footsteps echoing softly."ACHOO—!"
He blinked, rubbing his nose. "A cold? Me?"
A faint chuckle escaped him as he continued down the corridor."Maybe… I just need something spicy."
Days went by, it's time for Kazuki to taste the students' creations.
Kazuki walked the cobblestone path toward the training field, steam rising from the battered coffee mug in his hand. His coat swayed gently with each step. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and burning mana residue from yesterday's lessons.
"Off to the training field, Kaz?"
Saki's voice cut through the quiet. She stepped in front of him, her mantle flowing with the breeze, golden embroidery glinting in the sunlight.
Kazuki stopped. His eyes softened—something rare in him."I'm curious what the students will throw at me today," he said, sipping from his mug.
Saki smiled, but only for a heartbeat. The grin faded into something heavier."Kaz," she began, her tone losing its playfulness.
He raised a brow, recognizing the shift immediately."What is it?"
"Other schools," she said quietly. "They're talking."
"Talking?" he echoed, lowering his mug.
"They said we're teaching heresy." Her voice was calm, but the weight behind it was sharp.
"They claim magic must follow order—hierarchies, formulas, rituals. Not… whatever this is." She gestured vaguely, to the field, to the academy, to him.
Kazuki chuckled under his breath."I don't blame them. We are a bit… volatile." His tone was almost amused.
"Are they afraid?"
"Perhaps," Saki admitted.
"They're sending people—to observe, to test us."
Kazuki's gaze drifted to the horizon.
"Then let them come," he said simply.
"If they fear what they don't understand, we'll make them understand."
Saki studied him for a long moment, eyes soft yet searching, like she was trying to read something he wouldn't say. Then, a faint smile curved her lips.
"You have a bad habit of challenging the world."
Kazuki looked at her over the rim of his mug, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"And you," he said, voice low and nostalgic,
"enjoyed watching me do it."
Saki's laughter followed him as he walked past her, heading toward the training field—where the next generation waited.
The training field buzzed with tension and heat. Students clutched their wands, some gripping crude prototypes of Arcane Devices, hands trembling not from fear, but anticipation. Kazuki stood in the center of the field, his coat fluttering faintly in the afternoon breeze, his presence calm but daunting.
"Today's target," he began, voice carrying across the courtyard,
"is me."
The students exchanged looks of disbelief.
"What—?"
"Professor, you're serious?"
Kazuki raised a brow.
"If anyone manages to land a hit on me…" He paused, letting the words sink in.
"…everyone gets an early break."
A wave of murmurs spread. Then came the grin, the spark in their eyes—the shared determination of youth who'd been given an impossible challenge.
And so it began.
Dozens of spells flew—missiles of light, blades of wind, searing rays of heat—but none touched him. Kazuki weaved through every attack with effortless precision, sidestepping bolts, dissolving blasts with a flick of his wrist.
By noon, the students were sprawled across the grass, panting and drenched in sweat.
"Damn it!" one groaned, "How is he so fast?!"
"Maybe… I could ground his feet…" a girl muttered between breaths.
"My lightning can't even touch him! How are you gonna do that?" another shot back, exasperated.
Kazuki, not a single hair out of place, brushed the dust from his sleeve.
"Alright. Lunch break." He announced casually.
"We'll start over after."
"Start over?!" one of them wailed.
"I can barely move…"
Ignoring the protests, Kazuki walked to a bench beneath a tree, the shade offering a brief sanctuary. He sat down, and exhaled softly. The world felt momentarily still. He reached for his coffee, took a sip—cold. He grimaced slightly.
Then—
"Um… Professor?"
The voice was quiet, hesitant. He turned. A student stood a few steps away, fidgeting, clutching something wrapped in cloth.
"We'll continue after the break," he said, assuming she needed clarification on the next session.
"No, I… uh…" she stammered, then thrust the box forward.
"I-I made this for you."
Kazuki blinked.
"What?"
"I thought you might need something to help you relax. It's—uh—curry and cutlets!" she said quickly, cheeks flushing.
"I had my friend warm it up, so… please accept it!"
He looked at her, then at the box, and back again—his expression unreadable. Finally, he reached out and accepted it, the weight strangely grounding in his hands.
"You made this… for me?"
"Yes!" she said, eyes shining with nervous pride. "Please enjoy it."
He studied her a moment longer, then gave a faint nod.
"Curry and cutlets…" he murmured, as if recalling something distant.
And for the first time in nobody knows how long, a small, genuine smile curved his lips.
"Thank you. I could really go for some curry."
Her blush deepened.
"W-Well, I should—uh—go!"
And before he could respond, she dashed back to her friends, who erupted in a chorus of whispers and giggles.
Kazuki looked down at the box, still warm in his hands. He unwrapped it, the rich, spicy aroma wafting up to meet him. He took a bite—curry and cutlets, the heat blooms on his tongue.
The spice lingered, sharp yet comforting. For a brief moment, the noise of the field faded. No spells. No expectations. No divine weight pressing on his shoulders. Just flavor, warmth, and quiet.
Kazuki leaned back against the bench, the sunlight cutting through the leaves above. His eyes softened.
Maybe mortals were onto something after all.
He smiled faintly to himself—a rare, unguarded smile.
Even for a warrior of darkness, sometimes the simplest things—the carefully spiced food, the thought behind it—were the most potent catalyst.