Two years could change many things.

  The corridors of Fiester Academy’s academic building were quieter than Kaoru remembered—too quiet. Where once there had been careless laughter, hurried footsteps, and half-hidden rule breaking, there was now order. Students moved with purpose, backs straight, uniforms pristine. Conversations softened the instant a teacher passed, like candles snuffed out by an unseen wind.

  It felt… mature. Controlled.

  Almost unnervingly so.

  Kaoru walked through the halls with steady steps, the faint sound of polished shoes echoing against the marble floor. The student council armband rested snugly around her sleeve, its insignia catching the light whenever she passed beneath a window.

  Class 3-C.

  Vice President.

  The words still felt foreign, like a title she hadn’t fully grown into—but one the academy had already accepted.

  As she passed by open classroom doors, underclassmen noticed her. Conversations stalled. A few bowed instinctively. Others straightened their posture without realizing why, eyes following her until she disappeared down the corridor.

  Kaoru wasn’t intimidating by nature.

  But authority had a way of reshaping how people saw you.

  So this is what two years does, she thought.

  At the end of the hallway stood the Student Council Room. Its heavy wooden door bore the academy emblem, carved deep and polished smooth by time. Kaoru knocked once—firm, respectful—then pushed it open.

  Sunlight flooded the room through tall windows, illuminating long desks and neatly stacked documents.

  At the center desk sat Miyazuki Ashen.

  She looked exactly as Kaoru expected a student council president to look—long amber hair tied neatly behind her, posture immaculate, movements precise. Her sharp crimson eyes moved swiftly over a stack of reports, absorbing information at a glance. She didn’t need to raise her voice to command the room. Her presence alone did that for her.

  Two other council members sat nearby, both seniors—a male and a female—quietly reviewing their own documents, tension subtle but ever-present.

  “You’re early,” Miyazuki said, not bothering to look up.

  Kaoru smiled faintly. “Habit.”

  Miyazuki lifted her gaze at last, eyes locking onto Kaoru’s. “Good habit.”

  Kaoru stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “You called for me?”

  “Yes.” Miyazuki placed the papers down neatly and leaned back slightly. “There’s something I wanted to confirm.”

  The two other members exchanged a brief glance but remained silent.

  “When are you going on the survival camp?”

  Kaoru blinked.

  “…The what?”

  Miyazuki’s eyebrow twitched—just barely.

  “You weren’t told?”

  “No,” Kaoru replied honestly. “Is it… an extracurricular activity?”

  The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

  Then Miyazuki sighed, pressing her fingers to her temple. “Of course they didn’t tell you.”

  Kaoru tilted her head. “President?”

  Miyazuki straightened. “The survival camp is a mandatory evaluation trip. It applies to students who train in swordsmanship, combat arts, or any physical discipline.”

  Kaoru’s back stiffened. “Mandatory?”

  “Yes. Boys and girls together. No instructors. No supervision.”

  “…That sounds illegal.”

  Miyazuki let out a small, humorless laugh. “It’s Fiester Academy.”

  She continued evenly, “You’re transported to a designated location and abandoned. Supplies are minimal. The objective is survival—along with cooperation and adaptability.”

  Kaoru slowly exhaled.

  “That’s… insane.”

  “Effective,” Miyazuki corrected.

  She leaned forward, eyes sharpening. “Do not tell anyone about this.”

  Kaoru met her gaze, seriousness settling in. “…Alright.”

  One of the senior council members shifted in their seat, clearly uncomfortable.

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  Kaoru hesitated, then asked, “Did you go on it?”

  Miyazuki nodded. “Two years ago. My class participated.”

  “How did it go?”

  Miyazuki smiled faintly. “No fatalities.”

  Kaoru did not find that reassuring.

  Miyazuki glanced at the clock mounted above the door. “Do you have evening classes?”

  “Yes,” Kaoru replied. “They start soon.”

  “Then why are you still standing there?” Miyazuki waved her off. “Go. Before you’re late.”

  Kaoru bowed lightly. “Understood.”

  As she left the council room, the muted order of the hallway gave way once more to student chatter—laughter, footsteps, the pulse of academy life returning as if nothing had changed.

  But Kaoru’s thoughts lingered elsewhere.

  Survival camp…

  So that’s what this is.

  Class 3-C buzzed with conversation when she arrived. Students leaned across desks, animatedly discussing weekend plans, recent sparring matches, and rumors spreading like wildfire across campus.

  Kaoru slipped quietly into her seat at the back, setting her bag down with care.

  No one noticed her at first.

  She preferred it that way.

  Moments later, the door slid open.

  “Sit down.”

  The voice alone silenced the room.

  Rena Kisaragi entered, her presence sharp and cutting like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath. She placed her materials on the desk, eyes sweeping over the class with practiced precision.

  “Attendance.”

  Chairs scraped as students straightened instantly.

  Once the room settled, Rena folded her arms.

  “There will be a camping trip,” she announced calmly. “For everyone.”

  A wave of murmurs rippled through the classroom.

  “A camp?”

  “Like… recreation?”

  “Seriously?”

  Kaoru’s fingers tightened against the edge of her desk.

  Rena continued, “It will take place in the grasslands. Far from Fiester Academy.”

  She tapped the board once. “You will be traveling on foot.”

  Groans erupted.

  “This is not optional,” Rena added coolly. “Consider it a learning experience.”

  Kaoru lowered her gaze.

  So it really is the survival camp…

  Rena’s eyes flicked toward her—just briefly.

  Almost knowingly.

  That evening, lantern light bathed the academy grounds in warm gold. Shadows stretched long across stone paths as students filtered out through the gates.

  Kaoru walked toward a small café just off campus—quiet, modest, comforting. The scent of roasted beans lingered warmly in the air.

  She ordered black coffee and took a seat near the window.

  The world slowed.

  A moment later, a shadow fell across her table.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  Kaoru looked up.

  A boy in Fiester’s uniform stood there, holding a cup of milk coffee, smiling casually.

  “…You’re from Class 3-A,” she said.

  “Guilty,” he replied, already pulling out the chair. “Itsuki Raien.”

  Kaoru studied him for a moment. “Rival class.”

  “Technically.” He shrugged. “But I’m off duty.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Kaoru.”

  They sat in comfortable silence for a while.

  Then Itsuki spoke. “You like quiet places.”

  “…What?”

  “You chose the corner table,” he said. “And black coffee.”

  Kaoru snorted softly. “You’re observant.”

  They talked—not about rankings. Not about duels. Not about the council.

  Music. Books. Places they wanted to see beyond the academy walls.

  Eventually, Itsuki leaned back. “Our class is heading to the rainforest.”

  Kaoru raised an eyebrow. “That far?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “Guess we’ll see who survives better.”

  She met his gaze steadily.

  “Don’t get lost.”

  Itsuki chuckled. “You neither, Vice President.”

  Far away, beneath the academy lights, shadows shifted.

  And somewhere unseen, something was already moving.