The Fading Chant

It had been three days since the perimeter incident.

And somehow, life at Astral Academy didn't collapse into fire, screaming, or emergency evacuations.

Classes resumed. Homework deadlines, unfortunately, still existed. Most students went about their days as if nothing strange had happened—because for them, nothing had. The official story was that the outer grid malfunctioned during weather interference.

Typical.

Kenshin sat in the cafeteria, stabbing a questionable piece of "meat" with a fork like it had insulted his mother.

"I think it's fighting back," he muttered.

Ayame sat across from him, sipping juice and barely hiding a grin. "That's because it's still frozen."

"I miss when danger came from eldritch abominations and not the lunch menu."

Ayame rolled her eyes. "Come on, things are finally calm for once. No monsters, no exploding crystals, no midnight stalker spirits... just you, me, and a tray of mystery food."

Kenshin leaned back. "You say that like it's a good thing."

"It is a good thing. You're not built for high-stakes confrontation. You almost tripped over your own sword during pair training."

"I was distracted! Katsumi had that look in her eyes like she was choosing which organ to bruise first."

"You're dodging," Ayame teased.

"From your cooking-related insults or from reality?"

"Yes."

Across the dining hall, a new voice cut through the buzz of lunchtime chatter.

"I see they haven't improved the food since last semester."

A tall boy with unkempt dark green hair and a satchel full of sketchbooks dropped his tray beside them without asking.

Kenshin blinked. "Uh. Who're you?"

"Oh, my bad." The guy extended a hand cheerfully. "Itsuki Morihara. Art track, dorm 3C. I transferred in last term, but I skipped orientation because crowds are annoying."

Ayame raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you sitting with us?"

"I saw you punch a kid in the hallway last week for spreading rumors about Kenshin," Itsuki said to Ayame with a grin. "Figured anyone with that much violent loyalty is worth knowing."

Ayame blinked. "...It was a light punch."

Kenshin leaned forward. "Okay, you're suspiciously friendly for someone who just showed up. What's your deal?"

Itsuki grinned wider. "Oh, I'm absolutely weird. But I'm also great at drawing people mid-fight, which means you? My new muse."

"Nope," Kenshin said flatly. "Denied."

Too late. Itsuki already had his sketchpad out and was doodling Kenshin with exaggerated angry eyebrows and anime sparkles.

Ayame laughed so hard she nearly choked on her juice.

***

Later that evening, Kenshin found himself alone in the garden behind the library. It had become his go-to place whenever things got too much—which was often lately.

He sat under a large silver-barked tree, tossing pebbles into a koi pond and thinking way too hard.

Yoshino appeared beside him—not fully materialized, just a soft shimmer of light, faint as moonlight on glass.

"I thought we agreed on fewer surprise appearances," Kenshin muttered.

Yoshino's voice was soft. "You seemed troubled."

He didn't reply at first. Then: "It's weird. I feel like everyone's pretending nothing happened… but it's still there, under everything. That thing, Kuro, Seiran's warnings. What if we're just playing at normal until something worse shows up?"

She looked at him, expression unreadable.

"It's okay to want peace, even if it doesn't last. You're not wrong for enjoying moments that feel safe."

Kenshin let that sit in the air for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks."

Yoshino smiled faintly. "Besides... you're terrible at hiding when something's wrong."

He scoffed. "Everyone says that."

"Because it's true."

And just like that, she faded.

The next morning, class was interrupted when Professor Makabe announced a special assignment.

"Team rotations begin next week. You'll be grouped based on affinity, compatibility, and… unfortunately, behavior records."

Kenshin sighed. "That's it. I'm doomed."

Ayame beamed. "Maybe I'll get lucky and end up with you again."

"Maybe I'll get lucky and be expelled first."

From the back of the room, Hiro whispered to Kuro, "If Kenshin gets stuck with Katsumi again, we're taking bets on how many bones she breaks."

"Three," Kuro said without looking up. "Minimum."

Later, in potion class, things went from normal to disastrous fast.

Kenshin accidentally mixed a catalyst backward and turned the whole mixture into thick purple smoke. Ayame tried to blow it away with wind magic. It caught fire.

Chaos.

Itsuki stood in the smoke cloud sketching the whole thing with hearts and dramatic captions like "LOVE BREWS IN CHAOS."

Kenshin came out of the fog coughing and coughing—and nearly collided face-first into Ayame, who'd also run the wrong way.

They froze.

Close.

Too close.

Ayame's eyes widened, and she stepped back, cheeks tinged pink.

"Y-you okay?" she asked, brushing soot off his sleeve.

Kenshin cleared his throat, still red in the face. "Yeah. I mean—fine. Just a little combustion, y'know. Happens."

"You're the only person I know who casually says 'just a little combustion.'"

From the side, Hiro whispered, "Oooh... tension!"

"Shut. Up." Kenshin growled.

By sunset, things had mostly calmed down.

Ayame sat beside Kenshin at the edge of the practice field, watching the orange sky fade to violet.

"You ever wonder," she asked quietly, "if you were supposed to end up here? With me?"

Kenshin blinked. "That's a heavy question for someone who just burned a classroom down."

She smiled, small and real. "I mean it."

He was quiet for a beat. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be. But I don't hate that you're part of it."

Ayame rested her head against his shoulder, just briefly.

"No pressure," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

The silence that followed wasn't awkward. Just… warm.

Kenshin stared out across the field, eyes following the flicker of students in late training. Some practiced summoning, others sparred half-heartedly under the eye of a yawning instructor. Life, unbelievably, had gone back to its usual chaos.

"Y'know," he muttered, "it's weird. You'd think a guy who summoned a powerful spirit in front of the entire school would get some kind of special treatment. Or at least, like… a reserved seat at lunch."

Ayame grinned. "You do get special treatment. You're the only one allowed to ignore Professor Makabe and not get vaporized."

"He's scared of Yoshino."

"We're all scared of Yoshino."

They sat like that until the bell rang in the distance, signaling curfew approaching.

Ayame nudged him gently. "Come on, hopeless. Let's not get detention right after things started feeling normal again."

Kenshin groaned. "Normal. Right. That thing we're all pretending is real."

Back in the dorms, Hiro greeted them with a dramatic gasp.

"There you are! I was about to file a missing persons report!"

"You don't even know how to spell 'report,'" Kenshin muttered.

"R-U-D-E."

Itsuki poked his head out from behind the couch, holding up a nearly finished sketch. "I captured the moment you and Ayame walked into the sunset like a romcom finale. I added sparkles."

Ayame blushed immediately. "You WHAT?"

"It's… surprisingly tasteful," Hiro admitted. "But also kind of disturbing. Why does Kenshin have eyelashes like a magical girl?"

"I was emotionally interpreting his inner softness."

"Burn it," Kenshin said flatly. "Burn it twice."

"No can do. I already entered it into the Academy Arts Showcase under the title 'The Reluctant Hero and the Girl Who Stayed.'"

Ayame froze.

Hiro exploded. "DUDE, THAT'S—"

"—kind of beautiful?" Ayame said quietly, smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

Kenshin threw a pillow at Itsuki's face. "You're all insane."

"Welcome to Astral," Hiro replied.

Later that night, Kenshin sat by his window alone, the moonlight casting soft silver across the tile floor.

Yoshino appeared again, only half visible—like a thought flickering at the edge of sleep.

"You've changed," she said.

Kenshin tilted his head. "Is that your way of saying I'm getting soft?"

"No," Yoshino said. "Just… less closed off. It's not weakness."

He didn't answer for a while. Then: "I don't know if I'm ready for what's coming."

"Then get ready," she replied gently. "Because it's not waiting."

She faded again, as silently as she arrived.

***

Elsewhere, in the Headmaster's private chamber, a sealed scroll glowed faintly on his desk. Lines of mana maps pulsed erratically across the page—unstable flow, irregular surges… and something else.

He narrowed his eyes, tracing the ley lines near the southern ward.

"Why are you active again?" he muttered to himself. "And who triggered it?"

He looked out the stained glass window toward the student dorms. The magic shimmered faintly across the field.

And somewhere in the darkness… something shimmered back.