As Arashi departed the arena through the winding tunnels.
The crowd parted before him like water breaking against stone, no one daring to meet his eyes.
Without warning, a figure materialized from the shadows, stepping directly into his path with a grace that matched his own.
A girl with silver hair that caught the torchlight like polished metal and piercing red eyes that seemed to glow from within.
She stood with perfect posture, power coiled beneath her deceptively delicate frame.
"Interesting," she said.
her voice musical yet razor-edged. "You're different from the others. Different in a way that makes my blood sing."
Arashi met her gaze unflinchingly, recognizing something ancient in those crimson depths.
"And you are?" The question was simple, but his tone suggested he already knew more than he revealed.
She smiled, revealing teeth that seemed just slightly too sharp.
"A future problem for you. Perhaps your greatest one."
Then she disappeared—not walking away, but simply ceasing to be there between one heartbeat and the next.
Kaito caught up, breathing heavily from pushing through the stunned crowd
His brow furrowed with concern. "Who was that? I've never seen her at the Academy."
Arashi's eyes lingered on the empty space where she had stood, something like genuine interest flickering in their depths for the first time.
"Someone worth watching." His voice carried a new edge. "Someone who knows what we are."
The House of Shadows had stepped into the real game now, revealing just enough power to create whispers but not enough to expose their true nature.
And things were only beginning to unravel.
The underground match sent shockwaves through the Academy's social hierarchy, invisible but undeniable.
No one knew what Arashi had done in that darkened arena.
No one could explain why his opponent—a fighter with twelve consecutive victories.
Had frozen in terror and then been dispatched with a single touch.
No one dared ask him directly.
But the rumors spread like wildfire, each retelling more fantastical than the last.
At breakfast the following morning, the normally raucous cafeteria fell into unusual silence as Arashi entered.
Students whispered behind cupped hands as he passed their tables, their eyes darting away whenever he glanced in their direction.
Conversations died mid-sentence, replaced by a tense hush.
Even the bold ones—the arrogant nobles with generations of power behind their names and the brash warriors who feared nothing physical.
Hesitated in his presence, suddenly finding intense interest in their food.
Kaito nudged his shoulder, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"You've certainly made an impression. I counted at least three people who nearly choked on their breakfast when you walked in."
Arashi took a deliberate sip of his tea, his movements measured and precise.
"That was precisely the idea. Fear creates space. Space gives us room to maneuver."
Across the vast hall, Renji watched him with a thoughtful expression, fingers steepled beneath his chin, calculating eyes never leaving Arashi's form.
'He's controlling the narrative without saying a word...' Renji thought, a reluctant admiration coloring his assessment.
'Creating legends through silence and letting others fill the void with their own nightmares.'
Fascinating.
And potentially useful, if properly harnessed.
The fragile peace of carefully maintained distance didn't last long.
A thunderous slam echoed through the hall as someone kicked a heavy oak table aside, sending dishes and food scattering across the polished floor.
A massive figure stepped forward, shouldering smaller students out of his path—Taro Velmire.
His family crest gleamed on his shoulder, ancient and powerful.
A noble born to privilege. A warrior trained from birth. And, more importantly—an idiot with something to prove.
"You!" Taro's voice boomed as he pointed a thick finger directly at Arashi.
His face already flushed with anger. "I challenge you to a duel! Right here, right now!"
Silence crashed down upon the cafeteria like a physical weight, hundreds of breaths held simultaneously.
Kaito sighed, setting down his chopsticks with exaggerated care. "Here we go... right on schedule."
Arashi barely spared Taro a glance, his attention seemingly more focused on the steam rising from his tea. "No."
Taro blinked, momentarily thrown off-script. "...What?"
Arashi sipped his tea with infuriating calmness. "I said no. The word's meaning hasn't changed since yesterday."
Taro's face darkened to a dangerous shade of crimson, veins standing out on his neck. "You think you're too good to fight me?! Too special to honor a direct challenge?!"
Arashi tilted his head slightly, finally meeting Taro's gaze with eyes that revealed nothing.
"I think you're not worth my time or attention. There's a difference."
The room exploded with murmurs, the tension crackling like lightning before a storm.
Kaito choked back laughter, disguising it poorly as a cough.
Taro's massive fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening. "You coward! You fraud! You—"
Arashi set down his cup with deliberate precision and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. The room fell instantly silent.
He met Taro's gaze—calm, unreadable, yet somehow radiating an authority that made the larger man take an involuntary step backward.
"If you truly want to fight me," Arashi said.
His voice soft yet carrying to every corner of the hall, "then first prove you're worth fighting. Show me something beyond volume and bluster."
The challenge hung in the air, subtle yet undeniable. The weight of his words pressed down upon Taro like a physical force.
Taro hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his features.
And in that moment of hesitation—he had already lost, and everyone knew it.
Without another word, Arashi resumed his seat and picked up his tea as if nothing had interrupted his breakfast.
The message was clear: Taro wasn't even enough of a threat to warrant standing.
Later that evening, as shadows lengthened across the Academy grounds.
Arashi sat alone in the library's restricted section, ancient texts spread before him on a worn oak table.
Without warning or sound, someone materialized in the chair across from him.
The silver-haired girl from the underground arena, her presence as sudden as if she'd always been there.
"You don't talk much," she noted, one elegant finger tracing patterns on the aged wood. "Even when people are practically begging for your attention."
Arashi didn't look up from the text he was studying. "And yet, you're still here, seeking precisely that."
She smirked, leaning forward into a shaft of dying sunlight that made her hair gleam like polished silver.
"You're different from the others. People fear you, but they don't know why. That makes you interesting."
Arashi turned a page with careful fingers. "Let them wonder. Mysteries have power of their own."
She leaned closer, close enough that a normal person would feel uncomfortable. "I like mysteries. Especially ones I can unravel... slowly."
Arashi finally glanced up, meeting her crimson gaze directly. "And you are? Beyond an interruption."
"Selene Vael." The name rolled off her tongue like a challenge.
That name—he'd heard it whispered in corridors and mentioned in ancient texts.
A prodigy even among the elite. A noble from a bloodline older than the Academy itself.
And someone who never, ever took interest in anyone or anything deemed beneath her attention.
Until now.
Selene smiled, revealing the same too-sharp teeth he'd noticed before.
"I think I'll stick around. Watch you break more fighters. Maybe discover what you're really hiding beneath all that carefully constructed calm."
Arashi sighed internally, keeping his expression neutral.
'Great. Another problem. One that might actually see through the facade.'
That night, as the moon hung heavy and full outside the leaded windows, Arashi returned to his dormitory through the emptied halls.
His steps echoed against stone, but beneath them—another sound. Almost imperceptible.
A presence.
Hidden in the shadows between columns. Watching. Waiting.
He continued walking, his pace unchanged, pretending obliviousness to the eyes tracking his every movement.
But the moment he stepped into his room and closed the door behind him—
A dagger flew from the darkness with lethal precision, aimed directly at his throat, its blade gleaming with a substance that wasn't merely metal.
Without hesitation, without apparent effort, Arashi tilted his head slightly to one side.
The dagger embedded itself in the wall behind him with a solid thunk, the wood around it immediately beginning to blacken and smoke.
Poisoned. Lethal. Professional.
Silence filled the room, thick and expectant.
Then a whisper from the darkness—"You shouldn't have dodged. It would have been painless, at least."
A figure moved from the shadowed corner. Fast. Too fast for normal eyes to track.
Arashi barely had time to react before a second strike came—a blade that seemed to materialize from nowhere, aimed at his heart.
He raised his hand, a simple gesture that belied the power behind it.
The blade stopped—frozen inches from his flesh, trembling with the force being exerted against whatever held it immobile.
For the first time since arriving at the Academy—Arashi smiled.
Not the smirk of calculating amusement he'd shown before, but something genuine and terrifying in its sudden appearance.
"You'll have to do better than that," he whispered, his voice changing, deepening, echoing with something ancient. "Much, much better."
The assassin's eyes widened in the darkness, reflecting genuine fear for the first time.
And Arashi's smile grew wider.
The real game had finally begun.