Flat on his back atop the dusty ground, Akira slowly opened his violet eyes. His light blue hair fanned out around him, brushing the golden dirt. He wore the simple clothes of a village boy—black trousers and a loose white shirt, the fabric slightly torn at the shoulders.
Above him, the golden hues of the morning sky unfolded like a painting, clouds tinged with the fire of sunrise. The sky seemed to exhale, regaining its pale blue breath after a long night. Around him lay shattered fragments of wood, the splinters of the carriage door he'd crashed through. His back ached from the impact, his chest sore from the burst of energy that had thrown him.
Groaning, Akira raised his head, hair falling forward as he struggled to sit up. Around the carriage, most of the knights had dismounted, their silver armor glinting under the rising sun. They circled the wreckage with displeased expressions.
"Tch. This is a pain," one of them muttered. "That door will need replacing immediately."
"Who used their ability without permission?" another asked, scanning the children.
Only one figure stood defiantly at the back of the carriage—the blonde girl with golden eyes. She didn’t shrink under their stares.
“I did,” she said calmly.
One of the knights knelt, his silver-gloved hand picking up a piece of splintered wood. "And what made you act on your own, girl?"
Her voice was firm. “It was a natural reaction to what I saw. That boy looked like he was trying something... indecent."
The knight stood slowly, letting the wood slip from his fingers. He clenched his silver hand and said coldly, “Do you know what a knight's natural reaction to your actions would be?”
The girl’s face shifted, unsure. “I… I don’t know—”
Before she could finish, his hand snapped forward, backhanding her jaw. The force slammed her against the wooden wall of the carriage.
Crack.
A gasp echoed inside. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. The children were frozen, stunned into silence.
Akira’s violet eyes quivered, rage igniting in his chest. "You bastard! Hitting a helpless girl your daughter’s age?!"
He shot forward, fury in his stride. The knights turned, their expressions calm, unmoved. The silver-clad man turned his helm slowly, already watching Akira.
The blonde girl, dazed, opened her golden eyes to see Akira rushing. You idiot... what are you doing?!
But he kept running.
As he approached, strange numbers flashed in his eyes, data overlaid like translucent sigils.
What... is this?
The knight’s element—Fire. Rank: D. The girl's—Unknown. Like yellow light. Rank: A.
What are these things?! No... doesn't matter. This bastard needs to be taught a lesson!
His bare fist slammed into the knight’s silver armor.
CLANG!
The knight didn’t budge. Blood welled up between Akira’s knuckles as pain lanced up his arm. His teeth clenched.
Damn it... not even a dent?!
The knight’s tone was calm but iron. He raised his silver hand high—palm open like a volleyball strike.
"Boy, this is the second time the carriage has stopped because of you. Take a nap."
His palm came crashing down onto Akira’s neck.
THWACK.
Akira’s violet eyes widened, then dulled. His body went limp and collapsed to the dirt. His hair fell like a curtain over his face.
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The blonde girl reached toward him instinctively, alarmed. But the knight grabbed her wrist before she could move further.
Her golden eyes narrowed. The knight said nothing.
Around them, the other knights murmured.
"What now?"
"We’re almost at the kingdom gates. Let’s patch the carriage before reporting to headquarters."
"And the boy?"
"Hmm… We’ll see."
The world faded from Akira’s senses—sight, sound, everything swallowed in silence.
Darkness followed.
Akira slowly opened his violet eyes.
The world was blurred at first, but he could make out a stony floor beneath him—gray in color, yet softly glowing gold beneath the mellow light that filled the narrow space. His light blue hair spilled across the ground like threads of pale silk, shimmering faintly in the glow. As his eyes wandered, he took in the walls around him, all painted in that same gentle gold-gray hue.
In the far corner of the cramped room, he saw her.
The blonde girl sat with her back to the wall, knees drawn slightly in. Her hair, pale as wheat in sunlight, fell past her shoulders in soft waves. She wore a long-sleeved shirt—an elegant but humble piece, faded ivory with hints of warm yellow—and smooth, black trousers. Her clothing, her golden eyes, her hair—everything about her seemed perfectly in tune with the ambient light, as if the room itself had been made for her presence.
“You're finally awake,” she said softly, her expression as calm as her voice.
Akira’s brows twitched faintly as he blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. When he made his first attempt to sit up—
Pain shot through his neck like lightning.
His body flinched involuntarily, eyes narrowing in agony. Reality crashed in. He groaned lowly, then forced himself to sit back, leaning against the cold wall. One hand instinctively clutched his neck while his breath came in quiet, strained puffs. One of his eyes remained closed from the sting.
He tilted his head up. Above, there was no ceiling—only a network of thick iron bars crisscrossing like a cage. The gaps were square, evenly spaced. Escape through them looked impossible. Through the bars, he could glimpse another ceiling far above, built of orange-toned stone glowing with a slightly brighter light than here.
Inside their cell, only a single source lit the room—a lamp embedded into one of the four walls, flush like a glass window, its warm golden glow the only reason they weren’t trapped in darkness.
Akira spoke, voice hoarse, “What is this place…? What happened?”
The girl tilted her head slightly, gaze steady. “And what do you think this place looks like?”
He looked at her again, then around. “A cell, probably? I wouldn’t know—this is the first time I’ve been tossed into a pit like this.”
She pressed one palm flat against the floor. “Well, at least it’s clean. That’s better than what I expected.”
Then, she stood and approached him in slow, graceful steps. Without hesitation, she knelt beside him—her black trousers shielding her knees from the stone floor, careful to preserve modesty without fuss.
Akira blinked. “Uh… What now?”
“Give me your right hand.”
Instinctively, he obeyed. Only then did he notice the state of it.
The pain in his neck had dulled his awareness, but now it returned full force—the skin along his fingers was torn, reddened, raw. The damage made him wince. He let out a dry laugh. “Looks like I’m not as strong as I thought.”
She gently took his hand in both of hers. Her fingers were soft, cool.
“Any normal person in our world could’ve at least scratched that armor,” she said plainly. “Left a dent. But you? All you did was smear your blood on it. No damage at all. And your fingers were nearly broken in the attempt.”
Akira gave a faint, pained smile. “You don’t have to be that honest, you know…”
She touched one of the wounds with her fingertip. “Does that hurt?”
“I’m… not sure how to answer that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I guess… even if it hurts, I don’t mind your touch.”
Her eyes widened just a fraction, then she smiled faintly and let go of his hand. Akira pulled it back into his lap.
“I’m Shiroha. Mashino Shiroha,” she said. “I’m very curious about you, Akira. Why did you get so angry for me back there, even though I used my power on you? Why don’t you fear anyone—even though you’re weaker than most normal people? Why are you weaker? And why do I feel like I want to keep talking to you?”
His eyebrows arched, expression caught between amusement and alarm. “Hey—hey, slow down! How am I supposed to answer all that?”
But his eyes drifted toward her head. The strange, glowing symbol he had seen earlier… it was gone.
“The glowing symbol above your head…” he murmured. “It’s vanished.”
Shiroha blinked. “Symbol?”
From his eyes, the world changed again. A faint ripple, like a digital pulse, swept across his vision. The surroundings were briefly outlined in delicate, flickering gridwork. Above Shiroha, text and data materialized:
Name: Mashino Shiroha
Element: Unknown Light
Class: A
Status: Stable
It wasn’t as jarring as before, but it still left him wide-eyed.
“There it is again…” he said. “Can you see anything above my head? Or yours?”
She looked up, scanning the space, then shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
Silence settled between them like dust.
“You’re acting the same way you did this morning,” she said after a moment. “You’ve been seeing things, haven’t you?”
Akira sighed. “I’m trying to figure it out too…”
Shiroha tapped her chin thoughtfully. “There’s only one explanation. You’ve awakened.”
“I haven’t yet. But I’ll turn sixteen later this month.”
“Still,” she said, “there’s no other explanation. Awakening usually occurs between fifteen and sixteen. There are exceptions, of course… But your case isn’t normal. These symbols you’re seeing—that’s your power. That’s your awakening.”
Akira’s eyes widened.
This wasn’t what he had hoped for.
He had dreamed of fire—blazing red flames like his father’s. Or wind, or lightning, or something that screamed heroic power.
Instead… he had symbols. Numbers. Strange data. Information.
His awakening… was this?
His expression was frozen between shock and confusion, violet eyes reflecting golden light as realization crept into his soul.