Takahiro
I woke before dawn.
Ray's training had drilled it into me—body before mind, sword before sleep. Even in a new place, the rhythm remained.
The room was heavy with shadows. Faint dawnlight crept through the shutters, casting silver slits across the floorboards. Still, something felt... off. Too dark.
Kenji lay sprawled out beside me, mouth wide open like a dead fish, his sharp canines catching a gleam from who-knows-where. On the top bunk, Yushiro sat motionless, nose buried in a book.
I frowned.How is he even reading in this light?It wasn't even light.
With a quiet sigh, I slid from bed and reached for my katana. I tied my bandana around the sheath, the simple act grounding me. The familiar weight at my hip gave a small sense of normal in a day I could already feel wouldn't be.
The hallway outside was even darker.
Until—
"Sir Takahiro?"
A soft voice cut clean through the silence.
I turned sharply, hand instinctively resting on my sword's hilt. My pulse kicked up.
There stood Miss Annette. Division Knight uniform, pristine even in the gloom. Her auburn hair framed her calm expression, the torchlight painting a soft glow in her warm, brown eyes.
"Oh," I exhaled, easing my grip. "Sorry, Miss Annette."
She smiled gently and tilted her head. "What brings you out so early?"
"Training," I replied, automatically.
Her smile deepened, like she'd expected that answer all along. "Of course. Please train hard."
She bowed—perfect, smooth, almost unreal—and drifted past, her steps barely making a sound.
Graceful... scary graceful.
Training Grounds, Division 4 Base
The base was massive—stone towers, thick walls, and a looming presence even in dawn's hush.
Frost covered the field. Grass crunched underfoot.
I drew my blade. The cold steel reflected the pastel light of morning. With a deep breath, I began to move.
Each swing. Each thrust.Faster. Sharper. Cleaner.
The breath of the early morning clung to me like mist. The stars faded overhead, giving way to the burnished fire of sunrise. Crimson spilled across the horizon as I ended my final kata, sheathed my blade, and turned back.
Barracks
Inside, Kenji and Yushiro were hunched over something on the table.
"What's that?" I asked, wiping sweat from my brow.
Kenji turned, holding up a jacket like he'd found buried treasure.
"Our official uniforms!" he said, practically vibrating.
I stepped closer. The fabric was heavier than expected. A silver bird crest shimmered over the heart—elegant but commanding.
"Let's bathe first," Kenji announced, nearly sprinting in place.
I couldn't help but smirk. "You're way too excited for clothes."
"We're Division Knights now, Takahiro," he said, clutching the jacket like it was sacred. "This is our second skin!"
After the Bath
The uniform was thick. Reinforced. Every seam felt deliberate.
Downstairs, the tavern hummed with the early morning stirrings of life. Truth leaned back in his chair, casual as ever, his ruby-red hair catching the warm glow of lanterns.
"Mornin', rookies. Sleep alright?"
"Great beds!" Kenji answered, already bouncing again.
Truth chuckled. "Good. 'Cause today's your first mission. And, according to Division 4 tradition…" He leaned forward with a smirk. "We're going flying."
I blinked. "Flying?"
Marko appeared behind him, grinning like a kid with a secret.
"On a dragon," he said.
I froze.
What.
Kenji trembled beside me. Eyes wide. Hands clenched. His whole body vibrated like a charged blade.
And then—he exploded.
"DRAGONS?! DID YOU SAY DRAGONS?!"
The tavern shook.
Truth and Marko both flinched. A few nearby Knights turned their heads. A fork dropped somewhere.
"Taka, Yushiro, they said dragons! Are they wind dragons? Fire dragons?! Ice? Earth? OH—OH—WHAT IF IT'S A LIGHTNING DRAGON?!"
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Kenji… please."
Truth, clearly amused, clapped a firm hand on Kenji's shoulder. "You'll see soon enough, kid."
Kenji looked like he might pass out from excitement.
As the seniors prepared for departure, Kenji stuck to Truth like a burr, still rattling off dragon questions like an enchanted encyclopedia.
At some point, Miss Annette reappeared, sliding fresh dishes onto the table with her usual quiet precision. We thanked her, barely able to match her grace with our fumbling words.
Kenji, naturally, tore into his breakfast like it owed him answers.
This is going to be a long day, I thought, chewing slowly.
But deep down, I couldn't help the small grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.