Tsuramo entered the new dorm room without ceremony, dragging his bag behind him as the door sealed shut with a low, metallic click.
The sound lingered.
The room was larger than he expected.
Stone walls carved deep and clean, reinforced with old sigils that pulsed faintly beneath the surface.
Two sets of bunks lined the sides, heavy and bolted into the floor. A wide window dominated the far wall, its dark glass revealing the churning sky beyond—clouds folding in on themselves, distant lightning crawling like veins through the night.
He stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle.
"…Better," he muttered.
His crimson hair was tied back neatly, revealing sharp features and calm eyes—controlled, mature, almost too composed for someone his age. He set his bag down, rolling his shoulders once.
"At least I won't have Masakiro breathing on my face," he added quietly. "Or snoring like he's summoning something."
He knelt to unpack—
"Aiyoo… roomie."
The voice came from the air itself.
Tsuramo froze.
His instincts snapped awake instantly. He dropped onto the lower bunk in one smooth motion, eyes scanning the room, mana flaring just enough to feel the space.
"…Show yourself," he said.
The air rippled.
Wind curled unnaturally near the top bunk.
Then a figure phased into existence, perched casually upside down, legs hooked over the frame.
Silver hair. Star-lit eyes.
Kijin grinned.
"Told you I'd see you again."
Tsuramo exhaled through his nose. "You followed me."
"Assigned," Kijin corrected lightly, flipping down and landing without a sound. "Apparently luck likes grouping disasters together."
Tsuramo crossed his arms. "You're not subtle."
"I wasn't trying to be."
Silence stretched between them—not hostile, but measuring.
"…They said two more would be assigned here," Tsuramo said.
Kijin nodded. "Tengu. Nervous. Harmless."
As if on cue, the door opened.
Two boys stepped in, both stiff with anxiety, robes marked with feathered sigils. They bowed too deeply, too fast.
Both wore simple robes marked with the sigil of the Tengu Clan—feathered motifs, wind-thread stitching.
The taller one bowed deeply, nearly hitting his forehead on the floor.
"H-Hikaru, sir!" he stammered. "Tengu Clan!"
The shorter followed, cheeks flushed. "Renji… pleased to meet you."
They stayed bowed.
Too long.
Kijin blinked. "…You can breathe."
They snapped upright immediately.
Tsuramo studied them quietly.
Nervous. Respectful. Light mana signatures—but disciplined.
"Take the empty bunks," Tsuramo said.
Both nodded rapidly.
"Don't touch the egg," Kijin added brightly.
They froze. "W-We wouldn't dare!"
Kijin laughed. "I like them already."
Tsuramo sat on his bed, gaze drifting back to the window.
"…This dorm," he murmured, "is going to be trouble."
Kijin smirked."Oh, definitely."
Night came slowly.
The academy dimmed, wards shifting into their nocturnal state. The wind outside howled low and distant, pressing against the windows like something curious.
Hikaru and Renji slept first—exhausted, curled into their bunks.
Kijin lay awake on the top bunk, one arm dangling lazily over the edge.
Tsuramo sat on his bed, boots off, gaze fixed on the incubator.
The egg hadn't moved.
Too still.
"…You feel that," Kijin murmured.
Tsuramo didn't answer.
The air thickened.
The temperature didn't drop—it stilled, as if motion itself hesitated.
The egg pulsed.
Once.
A faint glow crawled beneath its shell, thin lines tracing inward like veins forming for the first time.
Kijin sat up slowly.
"…That's reacting to wind."
The air shifted—responding to him.
Papers slid. Curtains stirred.
The egg vibrated.
The incubator rattled violently as warning runes flared red.
"Kijin," Tsuramo said calmly, "stop."
"I'm not doing anything," Kijin replied, suddenly serious.
Cracks formed—not breaking, but etching—spiral patterns glowing softly across the shell.
A low sound filled the room.
Not a cry.
A pulse.
Like a heartbeat.
Tsuramo slammed his palm onto the desk.
Crimson sealing sigils erupted outward, stabilizing the incubator just enough to keep it from shattering.
"Kijin," he said quietly, "step back."
Kijin did.
The moment he crossed the sigils, the wind died.
The egg dimmed.
Silence fell hard.
"…It responded to me," Kijin said.
Tsuramo stared at the egg. "It shouldn't."
"But it did."
The shell pulsed once more—gentler now.
Almost… satisfied.
A faint spiral symbol surfaced briefly before fading.
Tsuramo's jaw tightened.
"…It's imprinting."
Kijin looked at him, expression unreadable. "Then you should be careful."
"With the egg?" Tsuramo asked.
"With me."
Tsuramo didn't answer right away.
"…Then don't leave," he said at last.
Kijin blinked, then smiled faintly.
"…Trouble really likes you."
Across the room, Hikaru shifted first.
He sat up stiffly, feathers along his collar ruffling in nervous habit. Renji followed a moment later, rubbing his eyes and glancing around as though afraid he'd woken somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.
They exchanged a look.
Then both turned toward Tsuramo.
"Um… excuse us," Hikaru said, voice low but respectful. "S-Sir Tsuramo?"
Tsuramo looked up. "You don't need to call me sir."
"Oh—! Sorry," Hikaru bowed too fast. Renji mirrored him a second late.
Renji clasped his hands together, hesitating. "We just… we wanted to ask about the CM class."
Tsuramo nodded once, gesturing for them to sit. "Go on."
Hikaru swallowed. "Is it… dangerous?"
Renji added quickly, "They say CM students are watched more closely. That they don't get second chances."
Tsuramo considered his words carefully.
"CM isn't dangerous," he said at last. "It's… compressed."
The two blinked.
"It means everything happens faster," he continued. "Lessons. Tests. Judgment. You won't get time to ease into anything. If you fall behind, no one waits."
Renji's shoulders tensed. "So… if we mess up—"
"You'll be corrected," Tsuramo said calmly. "Once."
Hikaru winced. "That doesn't sound comforting."
Tsuramo allowed the faintest hint of a smile. "It's not meant to be."
They nodded slowly, absorbing it.
Renji hesitated again, then asked quietly, "Do… teachers treat CM students differently?"
Tsuramo exhaled. "They expect more. But they also interfere less. You're assumed capable unless proven otherwise."
Hikaru glanced at the incubator. "And the tasks?"
"They're not designed to be fair," Tsuramo replied. "They're designed to show limits."
Both boys fell silent.
"…But," Tsuramo added, softer now, "I'm new too. I don't know everything. I'm still learning how this place works."
That seemed to ease them—just a little.
From the top bunk, a lazy voice drifted down.
"He's lying."
Tsuramo didn't look up. "I am not."
Kijin rolled over, silver hair falling into his eyes, one arm dangling toward the floor. "You're not new. You just got shoved somewhere your memory doesn't feel like visiting."
Hikaru stiffened. Renji looked confused.
"…Memory?" Renji asked.
Kijin smirked faintly. "CM class isn't a beginning. It's a reminder."
Tsuramo finally glanced up, eyes sharp. "That's enough."
Kijin's gaze met his—unusually serious now.
"Not everyone wants to remember how they got here," he said. "Especially when the class itself feels like something you survived, not enrolled in."
The room went quiet.
Hikaru shifted uncomfortably. "So… CM isn't about rank?"
"No," Tsuramo said. "It's about pressure."
Kijin added, "And seeing who breaks quietly."
Renji swallowed hard.
"…Thank you," Hikaru said, bowing again—slower this time. "We'll do our best."
Tsuramo nodded. "That's all anyone expects."
The academy bell echoed faintly through the walls.
Kijin stretched, hopping down from the bunk. "Well. Another day in a place that pretends it's a school."
Tsuramo stood, picking up his bag. His gaze lingered on the egg for half a second longer than necessary.
"…Stay close today," he said—not to the Tengu.
Kijin smiled. "Always do."
And as they stepped they lay down on their beds, the incubator hummed softly behind them—steady, patient.