The door to Julian's assigned room slid open with a soft chime and a brief flutter of cool air. The first thing that hit him wasn't the smell of fresh varnish or the sight of a pristine white mattress: it was the sound; muffled footsteps up and down the corridor, laughter ricocheting from one end of the hall to the other, duel disks chirping as students tested holograms in cramped doorways. Ra Yellow, he realized, wasn't so much a dorm as it was a hive.
The room itself was tidy and practical: a single bed tucked under a window, a narrow wardrobe, a built-in desk with a charging panel, two floating shelves, and a neat little waste chute that hummed when he dropped the keycard envelope inside. The color scheme was the familiar sandy palette of Ra, meant to calm the eye and quiet the mind. At least the academy's administration had the common sense to not make use of the uniform's bright yellow at the dorm's walls. The bright clothing was already enough. However, no matter what tones they chose, the loud constant noises in the corridor outside didn't allow for much peace.
He set his duffel beside the bed and ran a hand along the desk's smooth edge, feeling the faint indentations by the use of other students to prepare for their own trials and tribulations, sometimes for study, others in preparing their decks for a practical exam. The window framed a busy courtyard: a spill of yellow blazers rushing quickly from one side to the other, like a chaotic ant colony. Beyond the main academic complex, a sliver of the sea flashed between buildings.
Julian stood there, letting the sight settle. He'd seen this campus before: the anime's wide establishing shots, animated with clean lines and flatter shadows. It had been a backdrop then, a canvas for improbable draws and dramatic speeches. Now, with the curtain twitching in the conditioned air, it was a place that leaked noise through vents and crammed ten students' worth of foot traffic into five students' worth of hallway. Ra housed roughly sixty percent of the academy. The math track: Obelisk commanded the prestige and the marble, but Ra carried the weight. At least they had private rooms and the place was tidy, that was already an improvement above the dropout's dorm.
He cracked the window a handspan. The island's warm breeze rolled in, salted and faintly metallic: the dorm was probably building something for the welcome party. Far off, tucked against the shoreline, he could just make out the Slifer Red dorm: humble buildings with red trim perched near the surf. From here, the place had a certain charm: sunset would hit the water first there; mornings would arrive with gulls and the hiss of small waves on stone and it was the perfect place to go for a quick swim. He allowed himself half a smile. "Pretty, sure. But I'll take crowded and clean over charming and crumbling. Ra, for all its noise, was orderly. Floors swept. Bins emptied. Bulletin boards squared and updated. Even the chaos wore a measured face."
He was still at the window when the door chime sounded again.
"Come in." he said, turning.
Bastion Misawa stepped through. Yellow blazer crisp, tie centered, hair immaculate in that way that suggested detail orientation rather than vanity. He glanced around once, taking in the square footage like a surveyor.
"I figured you'd be assigned by now." Bastion said. "They put you two doors down from me."
Julian nodded. "Just landed. Got lucky on the line. It's… busier than I expected."
"Ra's always busy." Bastion replied, as if reciting something obvious. "Sixty percent of the student body goes here. Two Obelisk dorms hold about thirty, and Slifer…" He angled his head toward the distant sliver of coastline visible through the window. "Approximately ten. Smaller dorm. Smaller footprint. Larger draft. A place of last chance for the dropouts to improve before flunking."
"Great view, though." Julian said. "Ocean, salt air, birds. Romantic if you don't have to live there."
Bastion allowed a fractional smile and jokingly answered. "Romantic is a word for it."
He shifted, then gestured toward the hall. "I'm taking a quick tour. It's better to memorize the layout before the orientation crowds clog even more. From what the seniors told me, if you think that's bad, you don't want to see this at rush hour. Want to tag along?"
Julian dropped his bag on the bed and reached for his jacket, grabbing his room key. "Lead the way."
Out in the corridor, the hive analogy sharpened. Someone jogged past balancing a tray of instant noodles and a duel disk, probably a senior asked to help with the festivities. Two first-years argued about side-deck ratios as they squeezed against the wall as a group comparing club flyers went in the other direction. A floor proctor barked something about quiet hours that nobody obeyed. Even so, the traffic flowed, order inside noise.
Bastion threaded through it without hesitation, as if he'd been here for months. He pointed out an alcove study room ("Good lighting, poor acoustics after 18:00"), the laundry hatch system ("Label your bag; they will mix them up"), and the quickest route to the cafeteria that avoided the snarl of the main staircase.
"You sound like a third-year." Julian mocked.
"I read the guidebook." Bastion answered simply. "The physical copy is two hundred sixteen pages. The digital supplement adds maps, emergency procedures, club charters, and the course catalogue."
"Of course it does." Julian said, keeping his tone neutral. Of course Bastion read the entire bloody guidebook the morning it was issued. He loved reading himself, but that wasn't exactly a fun read. It was minor technical details to be consulted when needed.
They stepped out of the lodging area into the Ra common rooms: a broad room with a cafeteria on one side and a multi-purpose space on the other, the latter currently occupied by a study group with some kind of chart with pictures of several Duel Monster cards connected by coloured threads, like they were collectively trying to solve a puzzle.
"Did you read the flyers at least?" Bastion asked as they crossed toward the terrace on the other side of the cafeteria.
"Not yet." Julian admitted.
Bastion's eyebrow twitched: no judgment, just recalculating. "There's a club fair tomorrow. Duel theory club meets Thursdays. The math team meets Wednesdays."
Julian angled him a look. "And I reckon you're on both, aren't you?"
"I applied." Bastion said, which was as good as yes.
Outside, the campus opened like a fan. Ahead and slightly uphill, the twin Obelisk dorms rose in tiers of white stone and blue glass, each individually larger than the Ra complex despite housing half as many students combined. They flanked a formal garden where blue-jacketed students held court on benches as if they'd been assigned the role at birth. Down to the right, sidewalks sloped toward the shoreline, the red roofs of Slifer catching a breeze that peeled a bright flag halfway around its pole.
"They really put Obelisk on the high ground. Kaiba was certainly not discreet." Julian said.
"Symbolism and visibility." Bastion replied, ignoring the jab at the academy's founder. "Also, nicer plumbing."
Julian huffed a laugh. "And Slifer gets the sea breeze."
"And the sea salt." Bastion said. "And shared rooms with only one common bathroom."
The breeze kicked at the edges of their jackets as both boys stopped and laughed for a moment. Bastion paused with his hands behind his back, gaze fixed on the axis where Ra's practicality met Obelisk's polish.
"I don't mind the hierarchy." he said after a moment. "Not in principle. If you could move freely based on performance, if effort and outcome realigned the map after the first year… that would be just."
"If… So you're saying that it's not the case." Julian said, a faint smile on his face. Bastion was indeed smart, he already saw the noticeable problems in the academy's system.
Bastion's mouth flattened almost imperceptibly. "Officially, there's mobility. Evaluation every quarter. Special end-of-year promotions by general merit. In practice… Obelisk students rarely fall unless there's scandal or a spectacular deficiency. Money buys time. Time disguises deficiency as growth. And as the slots at Obelisk are limited, so if they don't descend, we cannot climb."
"And Slifer?" Julian asked, glancing again toward the coast.
"Slifer students have the longest climbs." Bastion said. "Smaller resource pool. Fewer mentors on-site. Some are there because they're undisciplined. Others because they're late bloomers, or they lack a critical element in their development. The system admits all, then pretends it can tell them apart at a glance."
They glanced down the shore. Student traffic thickened near a long fountain where three Obelisk boys were mock-dueling with sleeves of unused cards as stand-ins. Laughter spilled over the water's edge with the easy confidence of people convinced the island would tilt toward them if they leaned.
Julian tracked their posture without looking directly at them. Loud, polished, rehearsed. That "holier than thou" attitude. He'd seen that posture in boardrooms, universities and companies. The names changed, but the fundamentals were the same.
"By the way." he said, sliding the topic with deliberate casualness. "Congrats. I heard you topped the written exam."
Bastion's eyes flicked toward him, and for a heartbeat pride warmed the cool of his voice. "Ninety-nine out of a hundred. I'd planned on a perfect score, but one of the general knowledge items used a phrasing I didn't anticipate."
Julian smirked. "General knowledge tripped you?"
"Local geography." Bastion said, unruffled. "Prevailing wind patterns by season for the archipelago. I answered correctly for winter, not spring." He glanced sideways. "You were second, right? Ninety-eight."
Julian blinked. "Ninety-eight?"
He hadn't bothered to check the exact number; the result had been what he needed to reach Ra, and that had been that. He already passed though middle and high school before, it wasn't exactly what he called a challenge. But his mind spooled back through the morning of the test, reliving the sequence of questions that had toggled between duel theory and everything else the academy cared to pretend was equally important.
"You missed by two, so it was a duel-related question. Let me guess." Bastion said mildly. "The scapegoat question?"
Julian grimaced, a dry sound escaping him. "Didn't see my test, but probably."
"In your defense, it's not something with a clear answer by the rules, someone in the Industrial Illusions had to officially state that, and since then it's treated as precedent." Bastion said, giving him an out for the mistake. Julian knew these things well. It's just that, in his world, their name was different: BKSS. Because Konami said so.
"Your encyclopedic brain didn't miss it, though. Good for you, man." Julian answered, scratching his pubescent shaved face as his gaze admired the gorgeous reflection on the sunlight onto the coast.
Bastion filed that away with the rest of his quiet inventories. "Well, a ninety-eight without guidebook context is admirable."
"Guidebook context?" Julian's eyes left the sea for a moment, returning his unbridled attention to the other boy.
"The academy loves to hide trivia in plain sight." Bastion said. "Page fourteen of the welcome brochure showed a duel between students. In the duel's picture the monster affected by Change of Heart was destroyed due to the Scapegoat chain as there were no other zones open after the goats appeared. They explained the interaction in the text as their example of the benefits of the specific advantages of going to the academy. It seems they reward attention to the textbook, not just knowledge."
Julian snorted. "For me, 'Change of Heart' should just fizzle."
"Fizzle?" inquired the top scorer.
"Resolves without effect." explained the second place "You should leave your room more, mate. I know it originated from another game, but it's a quite popular term even for Duel Monsters."
They reached a fork where the path widened into a plaza. The footprint of the place was designed for spectacle: an amphitheater-like sweep of steps, a viewline that conveniently framed the Obelisk garden, and, off to the side, a sleek administrative tower whose tinted glass kept its secrets. Flyers papered a cork wall in a neat grid: club meetings, part time opportunities, student mentorships opportunities, and even an etiquette seminar inexplicably co-sponsored by the Obelisk Garden Society. Glancing at the board, Bastion smoothed off a curling corner of one of the fixed pages with his thumb, like the imperfection on the thing was a personal offense to him.
"Did you at least skim the orientation flyer?" he asked without turning.
"Not really." Julian said, and didn't apologize. They gave the bloody thing this morning and he had higher priorities.
"Then I'll summarize." Bastion replied. "Arena curfew is 18h (6PM), same thing for the empty classrooms at the student hall. Both the library and the practice fields close at 19h (7PM). If you must be reckless and challenge someone outside of class so soon, do it before those times or obtain faculty clearance." He glanced back. "The headmaster of each dorm can give you special permission, but there's a procedure."
Julian's mouth tipped. Politics and bureaucracy, those things never changed, no matter the universe he was in. "There's always a procedure."
Across the plaza, a pair of Obelisk seniors watched Ra students pass with the bored interest of border guards. Between them, a boy in a blue jacket lounged with an ankle propped on his knee, flicking a token between his fingers. He laughed at something one of them said, not bothering to lower his voice. The laugh made the hair along Julian's arms stand up for no good reason. He recognized that cadence too: the kind of laugh that wasn't really of amusement, but of sheer mockery.
Bastion followed his gaze, then said, almost conversationally. "You'll hear a lot of talk about how Obelisk admits talent while Ra and Slifer admit effort. The reality is messier. The academy tries to be just by the end of the first year. It doesn't always succeed. But it tries."
"By then, people have already learned where to stand." Julian said.
"And how to dominate their alleged territory." Bastion added.
They moved on past the fountain where a first-year struggled to get a can of soda from one machine at the corner, past a knot of Ra students arguing about whether to spend saved allowance on sleeves or side-deck tech and a posted campus map that Bastion could probably redraw from memory. Noise wove itself into something like music.
Julian let it all wash through him. The scale of Ra: the overcrowding, the traffic, the bustle. It was annoying, but it had its charm. It felt like potential energy, stacked and bristling, waiting for someone to give it direction. He'd spent three years in this world learning not to mistake familiarity for control, not to confuse having seen a story once with understanding the living thing underneath it. Even so, the old reflex tugged at him once more, thinking already at scenarios to make a rumble.
They were almost past the fountain when the coin flashed again, silver turning on a thumb and snapping flat with a soft, satisfying click. Taiyou sat in the middle of the marble bench like the seat had been built for him, jacket immaculate, collar unrumpled despite the heat. Two Obelisk Blues flanked him, one lean and glossy-haired, the other thickset with a neck like a piling. Taiyou's smile wasn't wide: it was exact, of someone who probably practiced it in front of a mirror dozens of times until perfected.
His eyes drifted over the yellow blazers approaching. "Afternoon, Ra." he said, lazy and clean. "Enjoying your first day of not being Slifer?"
Bastion slowed. He had the posture of someone who could outlast a lecture without moving an inch. "We're mapping the campus," he replied. "Orientation suggests it."
"The guidebook…" Taiyou murmured, amused. "Of course." His gaze landed briefly on Bastion. "Misawa, right? Top score on the written. Ninety-nine."
Bastion inclined his head once. "That's correct."
Taiyou didn't even glance at Julian. The coin ticked under his finger. "Well, congratulations. I'm sure Ra is honored to have you."
Julian said nothing. His eyes wandered around the place, grasping miniscule details like he was trying to overcrowd his thoughts to simply not punch the rich kid in front of him. His mere voice was annoying enough.
"Prep students don't need the written." the glossy-haired Blue offered, combing his fingers through the side of his head as if to polish it. "Real talent is vetted long before the academy."
"Continuity." Taiyou agreed, tapping the Obelisk crest on his breast pocket. "And standards."
Bastion didn't bristle. "Standards are tested four times in a school year." he said. "That's the point of a system."
"On paper." Taiyou pointed lightly. His coin stopped moving, trapped between fingertip and bench. "By then, people will already know where they belong. Ra is for the almost. Slifer is for the not yet. Obelisk is for the already."
Julian let silence settle between them for a heartbeat, as if he were checking a calculus step in his head. "Funny," he said, finally, "how the 'already' always like to think they are the ones who get to decide what everyone else is."
Buzz-cut barked a laugh. The lanky one, hair combed into glossy sheets, murmured, "That's cute." The mocking in his voice was insurmountable, the knuckles on Julien's fingers already white from holding himself.
Before he could do anything, Taiyou's coin ticked once under his finger. "Tell you what." he said. "Enjoy your tour. Read your flyers. And when you're ready to see what the already looks like in practice, come find me at the Obelisk garden. We'll show you something more interesting than maps."
Bastion inclined his head again. Not agreement, not dismissal, just a tidy exit.
"We certainly will." Julian said. "Later."
He and Bastion stepped away. Behind them, laughter resumed and the boys continued their mockery gossip.
"Taiyou." Bastion said under his breath, filing the name in the same drawer as schedules and wind patterns.
"One of Chazz Princeton's goons." Julian said, finally releasing the grasp on his hand and stretching his fingers to resume proper circulation. "Makes sense."
"He's good." Bastion added, which in Bastion meant dangerous.
"Not good enough." Finished the tall boy, finishing the conversation.
They cut across the plaza and followed the path that arced toward the amphitheater steps above one of the lower practice fields. The geometry of campus framed the line of sight so neatly that the scene below felt staged: below, a knot of blue jackets formed a crescent in the shadow of the stair. Two figures in red stood at the curve's center: Jaden Yuki, hair wind-ruffled and jacket unbuttoned like it had given up the fight, and Syrus Truesdale, who clutched his duel disk the way some people clutched the strap of a backpack, having something to hang onto when things moved. A handful of Ra students lingered along the railings above them, curiosity drawing them as surely as gravity.
Bastion and Julian stopped two steps down from the top landing, inside earshot but outside the circle. They weren't the only ones; conversations paused in careful pockets all along the stone.
Chazz Princeton wasn't there yet, but his shadow was — the shape of his name hanging over the scene like a banner. His other crony was there to present his challenge, like a herald from a lord.
"…so that makes it easy." he was saying. "You set the time, he'll show. The whole island wants to see if the heir can stand on his own feet."
Jaden's grin was the kind that showed teeth without threatening anything. "I'm me, sensei is sensei. My abilities have nothing to do with his deck."
The Blue made a face. "Cute. The summon stands, then. Let's solve this today at 20h (8PM) in Arena, if you're not afraid."
Jaden shrugged. "I'm busy at eight, welcome feast and all. But I'll make time to kick his ass."
"Careful." Syrus hissed under his breath, tugging at Jaden's sleeve. "It's after hours..."
The Blue cut over him, projecting to the semi-circle. "Chazz wants to see it for himself… " he pitched his voice up a notch to mimic an affected Princeton drawl "whether you're actually good, or just a kid privileged to be holding a pro's deck." The last words were louder, bait tossed once again for bystanders.
A small ripple moved through the onlookers. Even at a distance, Julian felt the temperature shift. His eyes slid toward Bastion, who was watching like a mathematician eyeing an experiment that would inevitably end in shouting.
Julian leaned in half a degree. "That speech on nepotism." he murmured, dry enough to evaporate on contact. "Coming from a Princeton. That's adorable."
Bastion's mouth twitched. "Hypocrisy is abundant at the start of term, it seems."
Movement along the upper promenade pulled attention briefly: Alexis Rhodes approached, the crowd parting for her without a word. She wore the Obelisk blue with the kind of ease that made the uniform look like it had been designed to be worn by her first. She glanced once at the knot of boys and assessed everything in a heartbeat: the postures, the raised chins, the way Syrus's shoulders had folded in on themselves.
"Really?" she asked the Blue, voice calm and level. "Picking on first-day Reds makes you feel what? Important?"
He opened his mouth, but Alexis didn't need to raise her voice; she only shifted the angle of it. "You want to know if he's good? Duel him during hours. With a faculty proctor. If you're that confident…"
The Blue's smirk wilted for half a second, but prompt he recovered it. "Chazz doesn't need a hall monitor."
"Then he doesn't need an audience either." Alexis said, and shifted her gaze to Jaden. "Don't get yourself expelled for pride. This place is full of people waiting for you to make that mistake."
Jaden looked genuinely taken aback - not at the advice, but at the fact it came from an Obelisk. He lifted a hand in a little salute. "Thanks. But I'm not going to run from a challenge."
"Walking away isn't running." Alexis said evenly. "It's choosing the right fight."
"Which I'll be doing at eight." Jaden countered, sunny as ever.
Alexis exhaled loudly in a slight frustration, her face showing a faint surrender. She turned a fraction and noticed Bastion and Julian on the steps. Her eyes ticked over Bastion with recognition, test scores traveled faster than names, then settled on Julian, a moment longer than courtesy required. She didn't smile, exactly, but something like approval entered her expression before she faced the circle again.
"Either way." She said, "Welcome to Duel Academy. Try not to make your first night your last."
With that, she began to move, and the knot loosened: her authority diffused the pose of the gathering. The glossy-haired Blue lifted his chin in a sharp motion toward Jaden. "Eight o'clock. Don't waste Princeton's time."
Jaden's grin lingered a second too long after the Obelisk boys drifted off, brittle at the edges. Syrus fidgeted beside him, eyes fixed somewhere around his own shoes.
Julian and Bastion closed the last steps of distance at an easy, unthreatening pace. Alexis remained where she was, arms folded loosely, gaze moving between Jaden and the path the Blues had taken, as if she'd shown up to keep the temperature down and was now waiting to see if anyone would kick the thermostat again.
"Don't worry about them." Jaden said to Syrus, bouncing on the balls of his feet like the floor was a launch pad. "We'll answer on the field tonight."
"That…" Julian said, not unkindly "is one way to go broke paying interest on a bad loan."
Jaden pivoted toward him, chin up, indignation tensing his shoulders. "You too? Everyone here got a problem with me answering a challenge?"
"I have a problem with answering it at the wrong time, in the wrong place, under the wrong terms." Julian replied. He didn't raise his voice, he trimmed it. "You don't get paid extra for playing to their script."
Jaden blinked. "Their script?"
"The one where you lose more than you can win even if you win." Julian said. "Curfew violations. Security reports. A reputation as 'the impulsive Red who can't follow instructions.' That's if you are still here at the end of this. You give them the chance, they'll wrap the whole thing in a pink ribbon and send you home without a chance to answer."
"That's rich." Jaden shot back. "So what? Hide? Say 'yes, sir' and go do my homework? You know what I hear? I hear rules where there's supposed to be a duel."
"Rules are what keep the duel from ending with you packing a suitcase." Julian replied.
"Look, I get it." Jaden said, voice rising. "You two like schedules, rules and guidebooks—"
"I like probability." Julian said, cutting in before the accusation could stick in the wrong place. "As in maximizing it. You'll get plenty of chances to humble Princeton. He's practically begging for it. Pick one that doesn't get you bounced. Have you thought of the possibility that he'll just not show and call security on you?"
"No." Jaden said immediately, the word ringing with the steel of a decision already made. "I'm not turning down a challenge. He asks, I show up. That's how this works. If he's a duelist, he'll be there. No matter the dorm, the academy will respect that. That's the DUEL academy."
Bastion's voice arrived like a metronome again, calm and exact. "The system isn't a morality play. It's a machine. If you stick your hand in the gears, the gears don't stop because you're brave. They turn. And they will listen to him, not to you."
Jaden laughed once - sharp, ready. "You two write fortune cookies together or is that just a Ra elective?"
"Electives are next week." Bastion said, correcting almost in reflex.
Julian almost smiled despite himself. He let the mood breathe a second, then turned to Syrus. "He's not wrong, you know?" he said, tipping his head toward Bastion. "Slifer Red exists for a reason and the academy will one hundred percent take that into consideration. Some people are missing discipline. Some are missing knowledge. Some are late bloomers who need a place to grow without drowning in expectation." His tone didn't sharpen, it clarified. "So no, there's nothing inherently wrong with being there. But don't wear it like a badge of honor, as if living in the bottom bunk is a virtue in itself… That's just the same lie in different colors."
Syrus's grip on his disk tightened. Jaden's mouth flattened, then jerked half open as if to argue.
Julian lifted his hand a fraction, palm down, easing the temperature without surrendering the thought. "There's also nothing noble about pretending hierarchy doesn't exist. It does. Obelisk gets the marble and the view. Ra gets the work and the noise. Slifer gets the wind and the rust. Acting like those differences are imaginary helps exactly no one."
"You saying being Red is something to be ashamed of?" Jaden asked, chin angling up, the cheerful veneer thinning to something more flammable.
"I'm saying that it is a starting point, not a destination. No one should want to be there forever." stated the blond calmly.
That bought him two beats of silence. Syrus' eyes flicked to Jaden and back, like a small bird deciding whether to fly. His voice finally emerged, small but clear. "So… there's nothing wrong with me being there. As long as I'm… trying to get better."
Julian glanced at him, softened half a degree. "As long as you're moving. Even sideways counts, sometimes. You're starting somewhere different, but you don't have to stay there."
Jaden's jaw worked. "You're dancing around pretty words just to keep saying Slifer's the bottom."
"It is!" Julian said, without apology. "That's the point. It exists so people can climb out. Pretending it's a balcony when it's a basement doesn't make the stairs go away."
Jaden's eyes sparked. For a heartbeat, it looked like his hands might be fists. Then the breath left him in a huff that wasn't quite defeat. "You sound like a teacher."
"I sound like someone who doesn't want to read your expulsion notice on day three." Julian said. "You'll have plenty of chances to face Princeton when it doesn't cost you extra, man."
The words bounced against Jaden like rubber balls into armor. At that point, everyone present could already tell that the boy was resolute, his will would not change. Julian studied him. "It seems like a compass without a map still points north. It's impossible to stop Jaden from doing Jaden things."
"He won't back off." she pointed quietly. "Not over a curfew. And Chazz knows that." She turned to Jaden. "He's still right, though. You should be smart about it."
"I am being smart." Jaden retorted, and for the first time the bluster slipped. "I know I can take him, things are not going to solve themselves by cowering and hiding. If you duck the first swing, you don't get a second. People decide what kind of duelist you are, and they don't change their minds."
"People change their minds all the time." Julian retorted. "Usually when you make them."
Jaden stared at him, indignation warring with the part of him that liked being challenged. Syrus hovered miserably at the boy's side, a tug-of-war rope no one was holding.
Given that it was impossible to change Jaden's mind, Julian's strategy changed, intending to at least take something beneficial from this exchange, as he turned back to Syrus. "Look. Slifer has fewer hands to steady you. It is the bottom of the barrel and it should be so. That's real. But my door is open, if you need to. If you get stuck on coursework: rules interactions, deck math, side decisions… Be free to ask for help."
Syrus blinked. "Yours?"
"Two doors down from Bastion." Julian said. "Yellow corridor A. It extends to you, too." he added to Jaden before pride could translate it as pity. "A teacher of mine used to say that there are no stupid questions: there are stupid people who don't ask them. We all get lost somewhere. There's nothing wrong with starting at the bottom, everyone can flunk a test."
Jaden's expression softened by a few degrees, grudging respect dragging humor behind it like a life raft. "Thanks. I'll… probably ignore your advice and go anyway. But thanks."
"Do what you wish." Julian pointed. "Just don't do it illegally. You'll have to run faster than security, and your shoes aren't that good."
That tugged an actual grin from Jaden. "Hey. My shoes are great."
"Your shoes are held together by dreams and optimism." Julian noted, mirroring the red's grin.
Alexis let out a small, surprised laugh at that, covering it quickly. She stepped in then with the clean authority of someone used to ending spirals. "Dinner starts soon," she said. "Welcome banquet, speeches, too many desserts. If you want to be awake for your first morning lecture, you should eat actual food first."
Jaden flicked a salute. "Yes, ma'am." he said, the title half-tease, half-respect.
Syrus tugged at his sleeve. "We should go."
Jaden hesitated just long enough to shoot Julian a look that meant I heard you and I'm still going, then turned with Syrus toward the path that would take them along the commons. Alexis watched them go before looking back to Julian and Bastion.
Alexis lingered a step longer than the rest, blue jacket catching the last of the light. For a moment the noise in the area thinned, as if the island were holding its breath.
"By the way, you weren't wrong." she said, meeting Julian's eyes. "Just… sharp around the edges."
Julian gave a small, conceding tilt of the head. "Sometimes edges are what get heard."
"Sometimes they just make people bleed." she countered, no heat in it, only measure. Then, after a beat: "Still, thanks for not turning it into a shouting match. We have enough of those."
"You're not like most of the Blues." he said before he could edit the thought. "Or maybe you just hide it better."
A flicker of amusement touched her mouth. "Not all Obelisks are the same. Some of us had to earn the jacket and then keep earning it." She let that hang, an answer and a boundary at once. "I'm Alexis."
"Julian." he said.
"I know, the Megacyber guy at the exams." Her gaze dipped, a quick inventory: posture, tone, the way he'd chosen his words. "Do me a favor? If you're going to keep telling people the hard truths, pick your moments. You'll get further."
"I'm working on that." he said. "Maps before shortcuts."
"Good." she said, the corner of her mouth ticking again. "Then map this, too: as I told your friends, welcome dinners start soon. If you don't want lukewarm soup, you should head back."
She started to turn, then paused. "And for what it's worth… you weren't condescending. That helps."
"High bar." he said, amused.
"Higher than most clear." she replied, and walked away - composure without frost, leaving a clean line where she'd stood.
Julian watched the blue vanish into the wash of gold and voices, then let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Not all Blues are the same, he knew that. But it still was nice to watch, for more reasons than the visual treat."
Bastion waited until she was out of earshot. "What are you going to do about that?"
Julian looked toward the administrative block, where a few windows glowed gold. The clock over the arch ticked toward 18h (6PM). The arena would shutter; the practice fields would darken. And Jaden would still show up at 20h (8PM) because that's who he was.
"What else?" Julian said, already angling his body toward the faculty offices. "Go to Professor Satyr and get permission. If they're set on being idiots with expelling fantasies, the least we can do is make sure the paperwork's on our side when we rub their faces in it."
Bastion nodded once, satisfied at the logic, and fell beside him as they returned together to their dorm.
Professor Sartyr's office looked like a man had moved into it an hour too early and not quite finished. Stacks of orientation materials leaned in precarious columns along the wall. Two garment bags with Ra blazers hung off a coat rack. A tray of place cards occupied a corner of the desk like a military formation waiting for orders.
Sartyr himself stood behind the desk with his jacket off and sleeves rolled to the forearms, flipping through a clipboard as if trying to bend the evening into compliance. He looked up when Bastion tapped on the door.
"Ah, Mr. Misawa." he said, identifying the face before the name. "And you… Mr. Ashford, is it? I've seen your file."
Julian suppressed the reflex to ask which file. "Sir."
"What can I do for you besides cloning myself?" Sartyr asked, good-natured but pressed thin.
Julian summarized without theatrics: a challenge, midnight bravado rescheduled by necessity to 20h, two first-years with more pride than prudence, the nerves on edge due to the academy's dormitory system. He made the case for a controlled exception, noting that a peaceful resolution in a friendly match would be better than a ticking timebomb exploding in a class and turning into more problems for the staff. His tone was the same he might have used to explain why one choice on the sidedeck was better than the other. Emotionless, rational. He tried to take his own feelings of the words, like many times before coming to this world.
Sartyr listened with his head tipped, eyes narrowing in interest at the parts that weren't just students being students. When Julian finished, the professor leaned back and drummed his fingers once on the desk.
"In principle I approve of channeling stupidity into safe, supervised lanes. In practice, tonight is… inconvenient." He gestured at the garment bags, the place cards, the clipboard fat with schedules and contingency plans. "Welcome banquet. Donor introductions. Our dear Chancellor insists I pretend this all runs itself."
"I understand, sir." Julian said. He didn't press. He didn't smile. He let competence be its own argument.
Sartyr sighed through his nose. "I will see what I can do. No promises. If I'm able to find enough time to file the paperwork, I'll tell you."
"Understood." Julian confirmed again, and meant it. He knew that this duel amounted to nothing in the anime, but things already began to change from his knowledge. If the proper way wasn't a solution, he would have to pray that the same thing would happen here and they would escape unscattered.
"Good." Sartyr said. "Go to your dinner. Eat something with protein. If there is news, it will find you."
They left the office going back to the common area of the dormitory. Campus lights stuttered in a chain, dotting the paths in polite circles. Ra's commons had transformed in the time they'd been away: banners hung clean and straight, tables bore trays of steaming food, and an improbable number of pitchers sweated on linen as if hydration alone could solve the first week.
The welcome banquet wasn't glamorous, but it was generous. Plates clinked. Laughter layered. A few faculty members stood in a loose line, shaking hands with students who tried to stand straighter under their gaze. The two boys made a beeline for a food station with surgical focus, enjoying the festivities by stuffing their voracious bellies - after all, their last meal was at breakfast twelve hours before.
A microphone squealed once and then found its center. Sartyr - now in his jacket, tie properly knotted - stood at the front of the room and offered the expected words: a welcome to the new students, a few jokes about the island's gulls and the mystery of the laundry system and a trained speech about how we were all part of the same machine no matter the dorm. The applause was honest, if not thunderous.
Julian had found a spot near the edge of the room, already with his second plate in hand: protein here, vegetables there, a small island of rice separated from everything else like a diplomatic neutral state. Bastion ate with the same quiet concentration he applied to proofs, pausing only to comment about a spice or question some choice on the menu.
Conversation ebbed and flowed. A second-year student recognized Bastion and began a conversation with him too advanced for the usual high school beginners. Bastion seemed entertained by the conversation, leaving this plate aside and starting to draw a diagram on a napkin. Julian nodded where appropriate and kept one eye on the door without meaning to. He told himself it was curiosity, not concern. But deep down, he wanted to see whether Sartyr's 'I will see' would become 'I did'.
He didn't have to wait long. Halfway through a speech by the head of facilities about responsible hologram usage ('If you can hear your duel from outside the room, so can everyone else'), Sartyr's shape slid to the room's edge. He came to a stop beside Julian with a paper in hand that looked like it had been stamped with something that mattered.
"Mr. Ashford." he said, voice pitched for privacy. "I did what I could."
Julian set his plate aside and stood. "Sir."
"Authorization for extended Arena access from twenty hundred to twenty-two hundred," Sartyr said, tapping the form with a forefinger. "Conditions: a staff observer will check in at twenty-one, and you are responsible for clearing the space at the end, leaving it in the same shape you found it. Make sure these boys' rivalry doesn't evolve into something else, like a fistfight."
"I can work with those conditions." Julian agreed, extending his hand.
"I thought you might." Sartyr handed over the paper. His gaze sharpened a fraction. "Most students would simply sneak into the Arena and hope the staff was distracted. You did well."
"Most students would then be writing apologies tomorrow morning or packing their bags to leave his island." Julian noted. "Thank you, sir."
Sartyr's mouth did something like a smile. "Then go. Your friends probably already started their match, but if you hurry you can get to them before security. Good luck, and have a nice evening." the man finished, already turning to be needed somewhere else. Oh, the hardships of being the head of the dormitory with the most students.
Bastion had materialized at Julian's shoulder in the way of people who arrive the moment something important happens. He glanced at the authorization, read it upside down, and nodded. "Twenty to twenty-two (8PM to 10PM). That's generous."
"Or precise." Julian said, folding the paper into an inner pocket like a card he intended to draw exactly when he needed it. "Let's go."
They slipped out of the commons into air that had taken on that just-after-dinner cool, the island drawing breath before the night proper. Lamps formed a breadcrumb trail along the paths, voices thinning behind them to a backing track.
The two of them rushed past the fountain, past the corkboard with the shaggy flyer with curled edges, past the corridor where he and Bastion had counted outlets and exits an hour earlier. Somewhere to the south, the sea worried the shore; to the east, the Arena's silhouette rose grandiose and theatrical, a place built for challenge.
Julian kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the path. He had no intention of letting Jaden learn the wrong lesson from the right win, or the right lesson from the wrong loss. There were a dozen ways to break a story on day one. Tonight, with two hours of sanctioned light, he'd make sure they didn't pick one.
"Do you expect he'll listen to you when you arrive?" Bastion asked.
"No, I'll not even try." Julian said. "But he'll fight in a place that lets him keep fighting tomorrow. If security arrives, they'll have a pass to bail them out."
Bastion accepted that answer. "And Taiyou? He's probably with Chazz there."
Julian felt, not for the first time, the phantom weight of a small coin under a single finger. "Their duel probably already started and we have almost two hours." he said. "More than enough time for Jaden and Chazz to finish their squander. When that's resolved, I'll crush that bug myself."
By the time Julian reached the Arena's stadium, the glass doors were already dark — the inside lit only by the soft glow of the projectors and the hard light of two active duel disks. Sound carried in crisp slices: life point beeps, the bassy thrum of a summon, the scrape of sneakers on polished floor. On one side of the field, Chazz Princeton stood with his shoulders squared and his chin tipped just enough to look down on you no matter the height. Taiyou and Raizou hovered behind him, anxious satellites. On the opposite side Jaden: jacket open, eyes sharp, braced with Syrus at his shoulder. Up in the first ring of seats, Alexis witnessed the whole thing, composed as ever.
Julian slipped through the door's gap. The hinges whispered, the echo made two Slifers whirl around.
"Security!" Taiyou hissed, already half-turning to sprint.
"Relax." Julian said, stepping fully into the aisle. His voice traveled cleanly over the floor. "It's just me."
A beat, then shoulders lowered by degrees. Jaden's mouth tugged into a quick, crooked grin.
"You're late, Mr. Rules. It seems like you also couldn't resist."
"I'm on time." Julian replied. "You're the one ahead of schedule."
Chazz clicked his tongue. "Can we duel without a cheering section? Some of us are trying to concentrate."
"By all means." Julian said, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached Alexis's row. He gave her a nod; she returned it, quickly shifting her attention back at the duel.
Julian eased into the row beside Alexis; Bastion took the rail, unreadable. On the floor, Chazz held center with two powerful dragons and a single set behind them, his eyes confident and his life points almost untouched: in a healthy 3600. Jaden's side was bare: 700 life points, an empty field and three cards in hand, a fourth drawn with a crisp snap.
"Chazz has the obvious pressure." Julian noted. "But Elemental Heroes are famous for their comeback capabilities, and his hand is full enough for something like that."
Bastion's mouth quirked. "It's not impossible, but the odds are not in his favour. Still, against Dr. Crowler his odds seemed worse."
Jaden's face closed into focus. "My move."
Chazz smirked, flicking a glance at his face-down. "Make it memorable. It'll be your last."
Jaden slid a card into his disk. "First, Mystical Space Typhoon. Your set? Gone."
Wind howled up from the hologram, a tight spiral that peeled the face-down back like a bad sticker. The plate flashed and shattered Widespread Ruin dissolved into pixels and light.
Chazz's jaw tightened. "Tch. Cute."
"Not done." Jaden said, placing another card. "Polymerization! Elemental HERO Prisma and Elemental HERO Heat! Come, Elemental HERO Sunrise!"
The two silhouettes locked and twisted: crystal gleam and furnace heat folding into a single blaze. The new warrior landed with a flash of white-gold and a lifted blade: Elemental HERO Sunrise (LIGHT/Warrior/Fusion/Level 7/2500 ATK).
Syrus whooped, then clapped a hand over his own mouth. Alexis's eyes sharpened, recognition flickering there.
"Sunrise's effect." Jaden announced. "On Fusion Summon, I add one 'Miracle Fusion' from my Deck to my hand."
The arrival of the hero shivered the deck, a single card jumped neatly to Jaden's hand as he extended his arm to grab it, Miracle Fusion on cue. He snapped it open at once, the arena lights shearing into a second vortex.
A second ring bloomed under his feet as the next card activated. "Now, Miracle Fusion! I banish Elemental HERO Stratos and Elemental HERO Heat from my Graveyard to Fusion Summon my Elemental Hero Great Tornado!"
A storm-cloaked figure tore out of the gale, cape flickering in the air: Elemental HERO Great Tornado (WIND/Warrior/Fusion/Level 8/2800 ATK).
"Great Tornado's effect," Jaden said, palm slicing downward. "On Special Summon: halve the ATK and DEF of all face-up monsters you control, Chazz!"
Pressure changed. The cyclone broke around Tornado's stance and crushed outward; Chazz's Prime Material Dragon (LIGHT/Dragon/Level 6/2400 ATK) flexed against the drop and sagged under it, and his Burning Dragon (FIRE/Dragon/Level 8/2500 ATK) buckled as if the air itself had tripled in weight. Light from Sunrise washed over Jaden's side, sharpening edges, lending both HEROs an extra bite.
"Prime Material Dragon now with 1200 and Burning Dragon with 1250." Bastion counted, barely above a whisper. "And Chazz no longer have a backrow."
With a faint smile, Julian concluded. "It's on the bag. His monsters are also stronger due to Sunrise's effect!"
As analyzed by the Ra Student, Sunrise's red plating emitted a bright light, increasing its own attack (2500 2900) and Great Tornado's (2800 3200). Chazz was sweating profusely.
"Battle!" Jaden's voice cut cleanly. He pointed, and Sunrise moved like dawn breaking over steel. "Sunrise: cut through Prime Material Dragon!"
Sunrise surged, blade arcing in a burning crescent. Prime Material met the strike with a roar, and split under it, the light carving the dragon in two clean halves before it exploded into gold shards. The impact recoiled through the floor as the LP counter tingled as its value decreased (Chazz LP: 3600 1900).
Looking at the hero's slash, Julian analyzed. "He chose to battle with Sunrise first, not to use its effect. Clean way around Prime Material's prevention."
"Now Great Tornado: attack Burning Dragon!"
The AV display flashed ATTACK DECLARED. At the mark, Sunrise's cape flared: not from wind but from an answering blaze. A halo of refracted brilliance pulsed once.
"Sunrise's effect." Jaden said, not lowering his arm. "When an attack is declared involving another 'HERO' I control, I destroy one card on the field. I choose — Burning Dragon!"
"What—" Chazz started, and then the light detonated around his monster. Burning Dragon reared in a plume of fire that inverted to white under Sunrise's radiance, then shattered. The targeting reticle on Great Tornado flickered, lost its lock, and a new line traced to Chazz directly.
"Replay." Bastion's tone was pure lecture. "The target left the field at declaration, so Tornado can attack directly."
Jaden's hand cut down. "Do it! Great Tornado, direct attack!"
Great Tornado launched, a spear of wind and steel, tearing down the lane. The impact landed with a concussive crack that rolled up through the seats. There was no pain, but the simulation's gale made Chazz protect his eyes while his life points finished dwindling (Chazz LP 1900 0).
Silence pressed in for a heartbeat. Then, Syrus burst into a cheer that tripped over itself. Alexis let out the breath she'd been holding without showing it in her shoulders.
"And that's game." Jaden said, as if calling a ball inside the line. The last hologram dissolved into glassy dust, scattering across the hard floor as it disappeared.
Chazz stood very still, jaw set, eyes forced forward as if refusing to acknowledge witnesses might make them vanish. Raizou made a helpless noise, halfway between sympathy and panic.
The relief barely had time to bloom before white cones of light carved through the Arena's dark from the mezzanine entrances: security flashlights, crisscrossing like search beams. The nearest guard's voice arrived a second later, amplified by the room's excellent acoustics.
"Hey! Arena's closed! Everyone hands off the disks and line up by the aisle!"
Syrus flinched once more. Jaden looked like he'd been caught sneaking out of a window for the world's best reason. Chazz's mouth hardened showing his clear thoughts in a line on something like "of course — of course this would be the night. As if the loss wasn't bad enough".
Julian didn't let the beat stretch. He stepped down two rows, lifted a hand, and called, calm as a bell. "Officers."
Two cones of light found him at once. "Spectators? You're a part of this?"
"Yes." Julian confirmed, already fishing the folded paper from his inner pocket. "Julian Ashford, Ra Yellow." He unfolded Professor Sartyr's authorization with deliberate neatness. "We have a faculty extension for Arena use: twenty-hundred to twenty-two-hundred (8PM to 10PM). Staff check-in at twenty-one hundred (9PM). Conditions understood."
The nearest guard descended three steps, took the paper, and scanned the header by flashlight glare. His partner angled the second beam across the stamp and signature. A low hum, not quite a grunt, not quite a sigh signaled bureaucratic satisfaction.
"We were not informed of that. Who secured this?" the guard asked.
"Professor Sartyr." Julian replied. "Director of Ra. It was a last minute thing. He said to tell you he owes you coffee if this caused hassle."
The guard's mouth twitched. He handed the pass back. "You're within the window." he said, loud enough for the room. "Keep it safe and keep it clean. Anyone throws anything, you're the ones picking it up."
"Understood." Julian confirmed.
The beams swept away, shrinking back toward the doors. For a heartbeat, the Arena breathed again. Jaden let out a laugh he hadn't planned on; Syrus sagged against the rail like a tent collapsing.
The beams swept away and the doors thudded shut. For a second no one moved. Then Jaden blew out a breath he'd been holding since the first flashlight hit the glass.
"Okay." he said, half-laughing at himself. "That could've been… bad."
"Could've been paperwork." Julian said, tone light, not gloating. "Or your heads. At minimum, a meeting you didn't want to have."
Syrus bobbed a quick bow he immediately regretted. "Th—thank you! I mean, we knew it was risky but, you know…"
Jaden rubbed the back of his neck, grin crooked. "So this is the part where you say 'I told you so,' right?"
Julian shook his head. "If I wanted to be right, I would've stayed at dinner. I wanted you to get your duel and keep tomorrow. I told you I had nothing against your desire to kick his ass. I just rather do things by the rules. Less chance for things to go FUBAR, you know."
Jaden let the line sit, then chuckled, softer. "Guess you did both."
"Team effort." Julian said. "You won the thing, I just made sure the lights stayed on."
Syrus looked between them, relief settling into something steadier. "We really could've gotten written up."
"You would have." Julian said. "And then you'd spend the first week proving you aren't the headline they wrote. It's doable. It's also dumb."
"Noted." Jaden said, and this time there was no pushback in it. He bumped Syrus with an elbow. "We owe you one."
"It's nothing. Get me a sandwich at the cafeteria and we're even." Julian replied. "Just remember that there's a right and a wrong way to do things. For ninety percent of the problems, you can solve it through legal means."
"And the other ten?" question the red amused.
"You do what you have to do, as I told earlier." stated the yellow student, unfazed.
Syrus nodded, earnest. "We will."
Jaden flashed him a genuine smile. "Thanks for the save, Ra."
"It's Julian, but anytime." Julian said, already angling his gaze past them to the mezzanine. "Now… Since the lights are still on, there's one more thing I need to do."
Julian's attention slid past him, across the blue of Princeton's jacket, to the other Obelisk in the shadows of the mezzanine: Taiyou, leaning on the rail like a man content to watch a show he'd already seen once. Their eyes found each other in the dim.
"We've still got an hour." Julian said, not raising his tone but letting the sentence carry. "Plenty of time."
Taiyou's coin clicked under his thumb, silvery sound on the stone. "You intend to spend it wisely, I hope." he said, every syllable shaped.
Julian descended to the floor. He stopped an even distance from both of them and let the quiet thicken on purpose. "You told me to come find you when I wanted to see what the 'already' looks like. Consider me curious."
Raizou bristled. "Chazz just finished a duel! You can't just…"
"I'm not talking to him." Julian interrupted without looking. He kept Taiyou in his line of sight, patient as gravity. "I'm talking to the one who offered a demonstration."
Slowly, as if standing too fast would be a concession, Taiyou pushed off the rail. He came down the stairs with that photogenic ease, coin vanishing into a pocket as the duel disk slid into place on his forearm with a practiced click.
"You have authorization," Taiyou said, eyes glancing off the pass tucked back into Julian's jacket. "You have an audience." He swept a minute bow toward Alexis, toward Chazz, toward the Slifers. "All you're missing is a reason to regret it."
Jaden laughed softly, delighted. "Oh, that's sweet!"
"Of course you would think that." Alexis murmured, but there was the faintest spark of interest in her tone.
Julian lifted his arm. The disk unfolded with that bone-deep thrum that felt, to him, like physics humming. "I'm not here for theatrics." he noted. "I'm here to draw lines."
Taiyou's smile sharpened a millimeter. "Then by all means," he said, stepping onto his mark. The projectors drank his shape and re-lit it in sharper angles. "Let's see if you can stay on the right side of them."
Chazz shifted, still stung, still princely, and yet some knotted thing in his shoulders eased at the fact that the night's narrative didn't end with him as a punchline. Syrus sidled nearer to Jaden, eyes wide and shining with the relief of disaster averted; Jaden clapped him on the shoulder once, quick and reassuring.
From the seats, Alexis called down, voice even, not taking sides. "You went to all this trouble for that. Since you issued the challenge, make it count."
Julian gave a single nod. "It will."
The duel disks lit, the Arena registering two new signatures, sanctioned and stamped.
"Duel!" they declared - Taiyou smooth and broadcast-ready, Julian steady and unadorned.
Up in the stands, Jaden grinned. "Now this is going to be good."