The day after the Guardian Bond ceremony, Lyria woke to the faint, rhythmic pulse beneath her ribs—the soft echo of the connection she now shared with Kairo. It wasn't intrusive or loud. More like a background warmth, comforting but unfamiliar, like waking up in a room with a window newly opened to the sunrise.
She blinked into the morning light streaming through the dorm window and sighed.
Teamwork.
Connection.
A Guardian.
All of it still felt surreal.
And today, they were expected to begin practicing as a pair.
No pressure, of course.
She forced herself out of bed, brushed her hair, straightened her uniform, and tried—really tried—not to think about how completely unprepared she felt. Her Link Spark flickered in sympathetic agreement.
"Yeah," she muttered under her breath. "This is really going to be a mess."
Her Spark pulsed as if saying: Absolutely.
---
Kairo was already waiting outside the eastern training dome when Lyria arrived. He stood with his arms crossed, posture disciplined, wearing an expression halfway between focused and amused.
"You're late," he said.
"I'm exactly on time."
"Which is late."
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm pretty sure that's not how punctuality works."
"Pretty sure it is," he replied casually.
She huffed. "You volunteered to be my Guardian, not my timekeeper."
"Same thing, sometimes."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes so hard they'd launch her off the planet. Her Spark flickered indignantly, echoing her mood. Kairo gave her a knowing look.
"Your Spark's loud today."
She blushed, crossing her arms. "It's adjusting."
"It's complaining."
"I can complain," she shot back. "It can't."
Kairo smirked. "It already did."
Before she could come up with a response, Instructor Vael appeared from inside the dome, looking far too awake for this hour.
"Good," Vael said. "You're both here. And on time."
Lyria shot Kairo a pointed, triumphant look.
Kairo took the loss with surprising grace and exactly zero commentary.
"Today," Vael continued, "we test your early synchronization."
"Like a dual exercise?" Lyria asked hopefully.
"Like several," Vael corrected. "We need to see how stable your Bond is in motion. But don't worry—this won't be as intense as yesterday."
Lyria exhaled in relief.
"Because it will be worse," Vael added.
Her exhale turned into a choked cough. "Worse?!"
Kairo muttered under his breath, "Called it."
Vael gestured them into the dome.
---
The training dome was massive inside—wider than any gymnasium Lyria had ever seen, with floating platforms, spark-reactive panels, and drones orbiting lazily near the ceiling like bored mechanical pigeons.
The moment they stepped in, the sparkrunes along the walls shifted in color, reacting to their presence.
"Since this is your first day working as a pair," Vael said, "we start with something simple."
Lyria relaxed slightly.
"Obstacle synchro-run."
Lyria un-relaxed instantly.
Kairo sighed. "Of course."
Vael clapped once, and the floor shifted—panels tilting, sliding, rising to form a sprawling, uneven path filled with shifting slopes, rolling spheres, hanging rings that swung erratically, and glowing pads that sparked at random intervals.
"This looks awful," Lyria said honestly.
"It is," Vael confirmed. "But it will reveal how well your Bond functions under pressure."
"Oh great," Lyria muttered. "Pressure. My favorite."
Vael continued as though he hadn't heard. "Your task is simple. Run from that end"—he pointed to the far left—"to the platform on the opposite side. Together."
"That's it?" Kairo asked.
"Yes," Vael said.
"Too easy," Lyria whispered.
Vael raised a brow. "Did I mention that if either of you loses contact with the other's spark field, the course resets?"
"…What?" Lyria squeaked.
"And that some obstacles respond specifically to emotional instability?"
"…What?!"
"And that your Link Spark may attempt to fuse your energy outputs if you panic?"
"VAEL!"
The instructor smiled, utterly unfazed. "Begin whenever you're ready."
Lyria took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. We can do this. Right?"
Kairo shrugged. "It can't be that bad."
Famous last words.
---
They started at a light jog.
The first obstacle was a ramp that tilted under their feet. Lyria slipped immediately and had to grab Kairo's arm to avoid face-planting. The moment she touched him, her Spark flared.
Kairo jerked as the pulse hit him. "Careful—your Spark's spiking."
"I'm aware!" she snapped, wobbling as the ramp tilted again.
"Stop panicking!"
"I'M NOT PANICKING!"
The ramp sensed her emotional spike and tilted to nearly vertical.
She definitely panicked.
They both slid backward, tumbling into a heap at the bottom.
Vael called from the sideline: "Course reset!"
The ramp flattened again.
Lyria groaned. "This is going to be horrible."
Kairo stood, dusting himself off. "Round two?"
She forced herself up. "Yeah. Let's try… walking this time."
They tried walking.
The ramp still tilted.
Lyria managed to stay upright for four seconds before her foot slipped on nothing—absolutely nothing—and she flailed wildly, grabbing Kairo again.
Her Spark flared.
Kairo's Spark answered.
The ramp shot straight upward like an elevator with a grudge.
They clung to each other for dear life as gravity casually betrayed them.
They slid all the way down, again, into a tangled pile of limbs and frustration.
"Course reset!" Vael called cheerfully.
Lyria lay face-down on the floor. "I hate this."
"You hate walking," Kairo corrected.
"I hate you."
"You don't."
"Today I might."
"Understandable."
---
Obstacle after obstacle went just as terribly—no, worse.
They reached the swinging rings.
"Jump together," Kairo said.
"I can do that," Lyria said confidently.
They jumped.
Lyria caught the ring.
Kairo did not.
The Bond tugged violently the moment his spark pulled away, and the ring Lyria clutched spun like a demented carousel horse, launching her into a padded wall.
She slid down in silence.
Kairo approached awkwardly. "…You good?"
"No."
"Want a minute?"
"No."
"Want ten?"
"Maybe."
Vael: "Course reset!"
---
Then came the spark-reactive platforms.
Kairo stepped on one. It stayed stable.
Lyria stepped on one. It glowed gold—beautiful.
Then both Sparks reacted to each other.
The platform shot into the air like a cork.
They screamed.
They landed in a net higher above.
The net tipped.
They fell.
"COURSE RESET!"
---
By the eighth attempt, Lyria was laughing hysterically, partially from exhaustion, partially from mental collapse.
"Why—ha—why does it hate me?" she said between gasps.
"It doesn't hate you," Kairo said, panting. "It hates both of us."
She laughed harder.
Her Link Spark pinged wildly, causing the floor tiles around her to flicker.
"See?" she wheezed. "Even my Spark thinks this is ridiculous."
Kairo sank to the floor beside her. "We're a disaster."
"A spectacular disaster."
"The instructors are probably placing bets."
Vael coughed suspiciously.
Kairo glared. "Are you betting on us?"
"Of course not," Vael said.
Someone in the instructor seats shouted, "Ten credits on another fall!"
Lyria buried her face in her hands. "This is the worst day of my entire life."
Kairo gave a helpless chuckle. "Nah. This is just training. Wait until missions."
She stared at him with betrayal. "There's more?"
"Oh yes."
She groaned and let herself flop dramatically onto the floor.
Her Link Spark buzzed like it was laughing at her.
She glared at her own chest. "You're supposed to HELP me."
The Spark pulsed sweetly.
Completely unhelpfully.
---
Finally, Vael called out, "Last attempt before break!"
Kairo stood and extended a hand. "Up."
She took it.
Their Sparks pulsed—soft, warm, and surprisingly calm this time.
She blinked. "That felt… different."
"Yeah," Kairo said slowly. "Maybe the Bond's settling."
"Maybe we're finally not a disaster."
He snorted. "Don't get your hopes up."
But when they returned to the start of the course, something shifted.
Not magically—emotionally.
They were tired, humbled, and weirdly united in their mutual suffering.
"Okay," Lyria said, inhaling deeply. "New plan. Don't overthink. Don't panic. Don't slip on invisible air."
Kairo nodded. "Just stay close. Match my steps. If you feel your Spark spike, tell me."
"And if you sense mine spike," she said, "don't yell at me."
"I don't yell."
"You yell."
"I talk firmly."
"You bark."
"…Fair."
She smiled despite everything. "Let's go."
This time, when the ramp tilted, they leaned together.
When the platforms sparked, they matched steps.
When the rings swung, they jumped at the same rhythm.
They still stumbled—twice.
They wobbled—several times.
Kairo almost tripped on a rolling sphere.
Lyria absolutely tripped on a rolling sphere.
But they didn't fall.
Halfway through the run, Lyria felt her Spark flicker.
Instinctively, she whispered, "Spike incoming."
"I've got you," Kairo answered immediately.
His Skyblade Spark steadied, grounding hers before it surged.
For the first time, the Bond didn't misfire.
It worked.
Lyria's breath caught—
not from panic,
but from relief.
"Kairo," she whispered, "I think we're actually doing it."
"Don't jinx it," he muttered.
"I won't jinx it."
"You absolutely will."
She absolutely did.
Because less than thirty seconds later, she jumped to avoid a spark pad—only to collide directly into Kairo, knocking them both into a hanging rope, which swung wildly, smacked into a platform, and dumped them into a pile of soft spark-resistant foam.
They lay there in silence.
Vael slowly raised a hand. "Course reset…"
Lyria groaned into the foam. "Please don't say it."
"…after break!"
She sighed loudly in relief.
Kairo didn't move. "I hate everything."
"Same."
"But," he admitted after a moment, "we actually made progress."
She lifted her head. "Really?"
"Yeah. We failed slower this time."
Lyria laughed so hard her stomach hurt. "Progress!"
Kairo's tired grin appeared. "The tiniest amount."
Their Sparks pulsed gently between them—warm, supportive, exhausted.
And for the first time, failing didn't feel humiliating.
It felt… like learning.
Messy.
Chaotic.
Hilarious.
But learning.
---
As they sat on the edge of the dome during break, sharing a bottle of electrolyte water and catching their breaths, Lyria finally said,
"Kairo… thanks. For not giving up on me."
"I won't," he said simply. "Guardian duty."
She raised a brow. "Just duty?"
He shrugged. "And choice. Don't forget that part."
Her chest warmed.
The Bond pulsed softly, almost proudly.
They weren't perfect.
They weren't coordinated.
They weren't graceful.
But they were trying.
And somewhere between falling, slipping, swinging, crashing, and failing spectacularly…
A team had begun to form.
One disastrous step at a time.