It was dark. The school was silent, with not even the sound of activity. After all, it was the middle of the night. No student was present.

And yet... the redheaded girl walked the halls. The school's patron god still had yet to notice her... so she would take advantage of what she could. She was small, slight, with short hair up in a ponytail. She had found herself taking a liking to Japanese clothing, but really... there was no real significance in her choice of outfit. What mattered was the purpose she was here for. Her sandals clicked as they hit the floor, and she turned to ascend the stairs. It wasn't long, really, before she reached the door to the roof.

The girl waved one hand, and it silently swung open. She stepped out into the moonlight, and grinned.

Her mouth was filled with sharp, carnivorous teeth.

It wouldn't be much longer, now.

---

The daylight hours at Otsuki Academy were much more of a bustle of activity. Students filtered in and out of various rooms, spoke with one another or with teachers, prepared for clubs as the school day neared its end, all manner of different activities were occurring with more fervor then usual. After all, it was October. And that meant one thing.

The Academy Tournament was rapidly approaching. Every single capable student would be called to fight for the ultimate prize, to calim victory in the tournament at last. Unfortunately, there were many among students and teachers who had doubts to say the least. After all, what could be said about a school that had managed to fail in the last round with every single tournament. At first, going so far had been something to be proud of, but year after year of failure had painted a poor image in the minds of many of the people at Otsuki. At least the principal seemed unaffected.

Local families, however, still threw in their support for the academy.

And the drive to succeed for the Maiden of the Moon was rather high even among the doubtful.

The small girl, who looked no older then a child in spite of her nature as Goddess of the Moon, sat in the middle of the school's courtyard, within the impressive Shrine that had been built there.

This close to the tournament, her thoughts were commonly on a hope that this year would be different, that the students would claim victory appropriate to one of Japan's most powerful deities.

This time, however, this was not the case.

---

The image shimmered. It was faceless, masculine figure in full body-concealing armor. Its hand was placed on the hilt of a superheated machete, a very basic form of combat.

In an instant it had been cleaved apart. The hologram shattered. scattering shards of data through the air that dissipated into nothing. The combat training room at Otsuki was always open to students who desired to hone their skills, and today was no different. The short girl's pristine blade, blue paneling running up the side of the elegant katana, glimmered as she slide it back into its sheath. The hologram reformed, and her blade flashed again, shattering it.

"Hmph, this kind of training program's useless," she complained, straightening, her eyes narrowed. It wasn't going to help her, now, was it? It was just a waste of time. She could already strike out at an opponent before they could move. Why was it the only program she was allowed to access without a teacher or older student's supervision so overly simple and uninteresting?! It was absolutely inexcusable in her eyes. She had enough skill to take on anything that the training programs could throw at her. She knew that much.

The dark-haired girl grumbled to herself. They let her fight mock battles. They let her into the tournament. So why wouldn't they just let her pick her own stupid training programs?!

... Mock battles.

That's it!

Determination in her eyes, Adachi Ruriko turned to face the doors of the training room.

The next person who walked through that door would be her opponent.

---

The blonde-haired girl sat, reclining, in a seat in a mostly-emptied classroom. Ah, soon the tournament would be upon them... and now that she was there, their victory was assured. This fact was so rock-solid in her mind that no doubt could assault it. And as such, she was quite a bit more relaxed then many other students. After all, why bother getting excited when you knew you'd win, no matter what? It was somewhat amusing to see some of the other first-years panicking about it. Ah, if only they knew, they could take it easy as well.

... Speaking of which, she had been intending to meet her maid here. The only one who was also attending the Academy, at least. Where, exactly, was she?

After her dismal efforts in the Academy Tournament last year due to a combination of skipping classes (losing out on necessary information) and choosing to claim that a normal baseball bat was her Divine Gear, Jen had chosen to put more effort into it this time around. Well, 'chosen' was a misleading term. "The PE teacher had pushed her into taking it properly" was a more accurate statement off affairs.

A required part of putting in more effort was actually training against opponents using her proper sword rather than a wooden one. Given that the blonde disliked showing it off, it meant taking to only training once most people had left for the day or gotten involved in club activities; she got changed into a tracksuit, cleaned the many obviously mechanical parts on the old sword, and headed for one of the training rooms. This day was no different: ever pipe, wire, and even the odd piston was carefully checked over before Jen got going.

It was just her luck that the room she'd picked today was occupied and that the occupant was creepily staring at the door. Jen shifted the blade behind her back, once again feeling self-conscious about the amount of clunky parts creeping over the weapon, before asking Ruriko if she was done with the room.

---

On a bench between the school's main entrance and the shrine, close enough to the shrine that anyone particularly obnoxious could start a shouted conversation with the goddess if they really wanted to, there was a girl doing her best to take a nap. There were several unusual things about the girl: red hair despite being Japanese, wearing the boy's uniform despite being female in every regard, and even her choice of footwear was a bit odd. The strangest, though, was by far the most obvious.

She had no arms.

On the other hand, seeing her there was a pretty regular thing; Kaede had been taking a break on the bench every day there was good weather since she joined the school. Sometimes people decided to ask for help with homework. Sometimes she'd get approached to help with cleaning after some messy club activity, or if a classroom was in particular disarray. Sometimes students would stop and strike up a conversation. Most of the time, she got to take a nap undisturbed.

Kaede didn't think today was one of those days.

MATSUOKA MINORU

In a development that I'd utterly failed to see coming, the faculty had chosen me as a candidate for the annual Academy Tournament. It was surprising really, because it speaks a lot about their confidence in me, a newcomer to this entire Ritual Technology business. Given that the majority of the other participants in the shindig all have experience that dwarfs mine, I hope that I can do the bigwigs justice ... and avoid carking it by accident. Some warning would have been appreciated before they selected me. If I make a mistake during the tourney, then that'd be seen by everyone - my classmates, folks from other schools, the viewing public - everyone, and the shame would linger on me even after graduation, like an odious smell that can never be washed out.

Yes, giving me the chance to prepare would have been nice. I feel like I've been thrown into the deep end.

Have some more faith in yourself, young Matsuoka.

Contrary to Cloacina's belief on the matter, I have the utmost faith in myself. In my first year level of abilities, that is, with the precedent that I only developed my powers a year ago. Compared to the majority of participants in the tournament, I probably have a long way to improve.

Come on, we shall be fiiiine, Matsuoka.

Hence the reason why I'm traipsing down the hallway, in search of one of the battle simulators. Even if I didn't catch up to the levels of my peers, I need to give a good show, at least. My future reputation is at stake, after all. If I want to avoid giving a terrible first impression to everyone, then I better get a lot of training in. The early worm catches the bird, as my dad had always told me, and if I want to do the worm (and the bigwigs - couldn't forget them) justice, then the logical choice of action would be to test myself against the sims. Find out where I have flaws, practice, et cetera et cetera.

That's right, Matsuoka! Let's show them that Rome's still relevant in today's age!

The Roman Empire, unfortunately, hasn't been relevant in any form since Moscow and Istanbul stopped pretending to be the "Third Rome". I instinctively place a hand over my neck, the sudden crick immediately sending a jolt of pain down my body. It's still admittedly eerie, having someone who can puppet your body-

You make it sound so nefarious!

-around, but it's one of those new things I need to deal with these days. I let out a sigh that I didn't realise I had been holding in, rubbing my neck again to soothe the dulling pain. The simulator room's in front of me now, so that should get Cloacina off my back for a while.

Hey, I'm going to help you out in battle too!

I clasp my hands together, feeling my muscles relax, tension draining out of them like steam dissipating into the atmosphere. It's time to start training.

I take one solid step into the room before I freeze. It's occupied. By two people in fact, but the short white girl (is she American? English? Some form of European?) wearing a cap isn't the one who's caught my attention the most. That would be the owner of the incredibly intense amber stare. The even shorter, Japanese girl. With a ... cape? I can't tear my own eyes away, awkwardly meeting her look with my own brown eyes. I feel much like, to use the American expression, a deer caught in the headlights beneath her highly-determined gaze.

You should give your greetings!

"Eh, 'ello there?" I offer hesitantly.

The small dark-haired girl didn't have to wait particularly long, either. Moments after she had made her decision, the rather distinct form of a western student stepped through the door. It was hardly difficult to recognize her due to the rarity of such students, but Ruriko did not know her name. Only that she was a westerner, and she had been the first person to walk through the door. Therefore, there was only one response in the black-haired girl's mind. Her training was paramount after all.

"That doesn't matter," she began, staring intensely at the blonde girl, "Because now, you will be my opponent!"

To punctuate this, she drew her sword. Starlight Masamune gleamed as it hissed through the air, to point squarely at the other student. It was fitting to take this seriously. If she was rejected, well... she wouldn't be happy, not one bit. A mock battle would be training for the both of them, wouldn't it? Even if Ruriko knew she would win, and did not question that fact. Still, it'd be beneficial for the both of them.

A second student, this one male, entered shortly after the girl. Ruriko's eyes shifted to him for a moment.

"You'll be next!" she declared, "Mock battles are the ideal training for any student."

It's here again. The annual tournament between all those who can fight. Among all the students here, he was part of the students that were chosen to fight in it since he did have a Divine Gear, derived from an ancient legend too. He wasn't exactly looking forward to fighting. Sure, it was an honor to fight in the Academy Tournament again, but he was more of a watcher when it came to those kinds of things. The last time didn't really go so well.

But oh well, that's life. Makoto found himself heading towards the shrine. Ah, he was having a problem, nothing like some meditation won't solve. The red haired male stopped near the bench where another lie asleep.

He recognized this girl, seen her multiple times in fact whenever he visited the shrine. If it wasn't for her red hair and boy's uniform despite being a girl, he could instantly recognize her because of her lack of arms. She was probably the only one in Otsuki that had no arms.

A smile found its way to his mouth as he placed both hands into his pocket and said, "Sleeping again Kaede-senpai?" She might get angry with him interrupting, maybe she won't. He wasn't sure. But what's done is done.

MATSUOKA MINORU

Oh.

I glance away from the short girl's face for a second, my eyes landing on the frightening blade she had just unsheathed. It seemed to gleam threateningly in the light, and I unconsciously try and take a step back. Except ... my feet refused to budge from their position, almost like an old oak that had grown its roots so far into the earth that not even an earthquake could rip it free from the dirt. While I'm of one mind with this girl in regards to getting some training in, I hadn't exactly been thinking of fighting somebody who looked very eager to inflict some violence. Live fighting experience would be incredibly useful, true, but I want to find out how I fare against simulators instead of people with experience first. Start off small.

She can fight the white girl. I'll be alright with just the simulators for now. I shoot her an easy smile, before opening my mouth to speak.

"It's fine mate, but don'tcha go easy on me!"

My mind stops for a moment, unsure of what I had just uttered. My mouth had taken a life of its own, immediately changing the entire meaning behind what I had wanted to say. It was really nefarious, the way Cloacina could so easily control my body. There's no way I could backpedal out of it now, if the short girl's attitude was any indication. I had, well, to any outside observer, just signed myself up for a beating at the hands of the sword-wielder.

You need a challenge, Matsuoka!

I guess it's the nurse's office for me later.

Wonderful, the cape-wearing samurai girl was clearly off her rocker--something that Jen hadn't expected from the few names she'd noticed the girl in class. Odachi Yuriko or whatever her name was clearly needed to get her head looked at if she thought that fighting with deadly weaponry without supervision was a good idea. First, she needed to find an excuse to leave, then go grab one of the few trustworthy faculty members and get them to stop this.

Then Minoru bumbled in. Jen had no idea who the guy was but from the way he didn't look even remotely familiar she was guessing 'first year'. Her opinion quickly revised to 'suicidal muppet' when he didn't do the smart thing and get the hell out of here but instead accepted the completely unreasonable challenge.

"Stay out of this, kid," she said, knowing that in order to prevent some wet-behind-the-ears nobody from being impaled there was no choice except taking part, "Fine, Yuriko, I'll fight you. Just try not to bleed too much. This is based on Excalibur, ya know."

Jen shifted her grip on the sword's cracked rubber, gripping it with both hands and holding it ready. She'd have to try and win this absurd mock battle without relying on its limited abilities; the risk of doing too much damage with the damn thing was too high with an unpredictable, blinded enemy. Let alone if it was made even sharper.

---

Almost as predicted, someone came along to strike up a conversation and green eyes opened, the girl twisting to lean her head off the bench as she tried to work out who it was. Something of a difficult proposition when looking at the world upside down but there was something to be said for identifiable hair colours. Pink. Why was it pink? What sort of guy would keep their hair pink for any length of time, or at least not darken it out of an eye-gouging bubblegum shade?

"Ah... Rundstrom-san, right?" the girl asked, pronouncing the foreign name well enough from the numerous times she'd spent summers overseas with her father, and remembering him from some other meetings throughout the year, "Need help for something, or just want to talk?"

"... Then you'll have to prepare when I'm dueling her," Ruriko asserted, glancing from the boy to the girl once more. One mock battle after another. She'd win the first, of course, and probably the second as well. She felt this was a firmly unquestionable course of events. However, it would be excellent training for everyone involved, wouldn't it? And naturally, everyone here was aiming high, for nothing less then success.

The first girl made the claim her blade was based off of Excalibur. It may very well have been, but it was hardly in good condition. In fact, its condition was rather shameful. Why wouldn't someone make sure their Divine Gear was in the best possible condition at all times? She didn't even know they could degrade like that. Well, regardless, maybe it was more impressive then it looked.

"And this is the Starlight Masamune," she replied, "Don't underestimate me, or you'll lose even more quickly."

... Wait, had the girl called her Yuriko?!

"... And... and my name's not Yuriko! It's Ruriko! Adachi Ruriko!" she cried, slipping her feet into a more ready stance with Starlight Masamune held at the ready.

Where was the maid, indeed?

Normally, Ushio was very prompt on arriving after class. After all, she wasn't brave enough to hang around and risk her classmates striking conversation. That would be far too embarrassing and terrifying! However, as Ushio didn't want to constantly flee from her own classmates for little reason beyond 'kyaaaah too awkward', the pink-haired young lady decided to try something shocking and bold! ...Well, for her standards, at least.

Unfortunately, this had left her trapped in the bathroom for a while.

She had wanted to get changed as soon as possible, so changing her clothes in one of the stalls seemed like a quick enough destination to do so. Unfortunately, halfway through putting on the maid uniform she would wear for her friend, other students had entered the bathroom, loudly chatting to each other about trivial things. And simply did not stop.

What little courage Ushio had mustered towards wearing the maid uniform in public quickly eroded as she waited, completely still, for these students to leave. When they finally did, the trembling girl had slowly put her school uniform back on, maid outfit folded and replaced into her bag.

And now, nervously poking her head into the classroom that Hiromi was waiting inside of. There was hardly anyone else around, which was nice, but... she was so late now! The two girls had been around each other long enough that Ushio wasn't expecting to be yelled at, but...

Still trembling, the blushing girl slowly entered the classroom and stepped towards her employer/friend, stopping a few feet away and quietly murmuring her presence.

"S-sorry I'm la-late... um..."

Stating the reason for her tardiness was proving too embarrassing to do, and her explanation died immediately, Ushio watching the bigger girl bashfully.

"Hm? Yes, you are quite late," Hiromi said, inclining her head to one side. Oh, she had sort of expected some lateness, really. Not as much as it turned out to be, but, well... she hadn't hired Ushio for her skills. The girl was clearly lonely and shy, and as the fine, perfect, and upstanding young lady Hiromi herself was, she naturally had to assist in some way. And what better way then to hire her as a maid? After all, it lead to close contact with other people quite frequently, did it not? Of course it did. After a few moments of a worringly severe look, Hiromi smiled.

"But it's not as if we were particularly pressed for time, is it?" she continued, placing a hand to her mouth briefly, "Ohohoho~ You worry too much, Ushio-chan."

Hiromi rose to her feet, and approached her maid and friend..

"Now, I would quite like to purchase an after-school meal," she said, "Naturally, I'd enjoy it if you accompanied me. A perfect, wealthy young lady cannot be without her loyal maid, after all, wouldn't you agree?"

Makoto chuckled as she called him with his last name. It surprised him that she could pronounce it so well given that most of the students in the school mispronounced it. "Call me Makoto, it's no big deal after all." He really wasn't used to someone calling him by that name after all. Most don't even bother trying to call him with his last name anymore and he didn't mind. He then placed both of his arms on the backrest and put his weight on it.

"Just a talk." He sighed. "Well the tournament's right around the corner and I'm not exactly looking forward to it. Last year was the first time he participated and it seriously wore him out. Fighting one-on-one wasn't his strong suit, not before, not now. "How about you senpai? Are you looking forward to the tourney?" His eyes trailed to the other students who were walking around, either talking with their peers and going home or heading for the clubs.

MATSUOKA MINORU

Adachi Ruriko. I commit the short Japanese girl's name and face to memory, engraving her unique attire and appearance permanently into my mind like scrawls of graffiti upon Pompeii's preserved walls. She's intent on duelling me straight after she finishes up with the tracksuit-wearing white girl to my side, and while I can make no claims to being able to prophesise the victor of that particular skirmish, it's better to be safe than sorry and remember the name of somebody who is likely to utterly trounce me as if I were the Tigers in the Championship Series. Cloacina's interference has really, to use the American expression, screwed the pooch on this one for me - she must be my Curse of the Colonel.

This will be a learning experience, Matsuoka!

My eyes glance towards the white girl and her old, antique-looking sword. What I have learnt so far today is that both of these upperclasswomen of mine are probably swordswomen of an especially high calibre, given their possession of sword-based Divine Gears. Those swords had names too, but I guess that's to be expected. They're using Ritual Technology, while my own weapon's ... perfectly mundane, illegal and a remnant of a rather unsavoury history. My right hand brushes over its hilt for a second, the texture of the wood tickling the surface of my fingers. I really hope that it'll help me out for the next several years.

"Sorry, my god's a wee bit irresponsible," I admit to the blonde, my tone drier than the deserts of Aegyptus on a hot summer day. "I'll be rootin' for ya, alright senpai?"

Learning experience. How else will you be able to compare yourself to your peers without the thrill of combat?

Likely in a less hodge-podge, rushed manner, to be perfectly honest, but sometimes situations tend to fly off the broomstick-

I think it's 'handle', Matsuoka.

-and you're left to adapt to the consequences. I take a large step back, the motion taking me a short distance away from the two girls readying themselves for battle. I'm actually a bit curious about the matchup, because wasn't Excalibur that English king guy's sword? I think I own the Disney movie on VCR, with it being shoved in a sword by a wizard and whoever pulled it out was granted royal favour. Not exactly sure on the specifics, but I really want to see how that antique-looking weapon of the white girl's fares against Adachi-senpai's frightening sword and its grandiose name. Don't people like comparing western and Japanese swords on the Internet? That hasn't particularly interested me before, but here and now I have the chance to watch two actual swordswomen fight.

That will be an useful learning experience.

See, what did I tell you?

It is tainted by the possibility of me fighting against Adachi Ruriko soon after, but I suppose the best option I have right now is to hope for the best and await the white girl's victory. If that doesn't come through, then I'll just have to give my best and avoid too many serious injuries.

That's the spirit I'm looking for!

Ushio, nervously gripping the fabric of her school uniform, kept her eyes cast to the ground as Hiromi spoke. That stare was indeed quite concerning... but quickly proven to be a false alarm for Ushio's nervous disposition. As expected, her friend was not overly bothered by her time-keeping. Allowing herself a small, bashful smile, the pink-haired student quietly apologised once more.

"Y-yes, of course..." Ushio replied, almost whispering to Hiromi's statement. Her cheeks were practically burning, as was always the case when Ushio was referred to as a maid. Obviously, she wasn't ashamed of her position - on the contrary, Ushio was more than grateful! - but given she seemed to be the only maid in the entire school, it made her feel a little awkward sometimes. Still, she wasn't going to quit over that! She needed to be stronger!

Once more gathering a mite of couraqge, Ushio raised her voice slightly and continued, "Shall we go then, m-mis-muh-bluhh..."

Well, her bravery reserves were now thoroughly drained.

With the random underclassman out of the way, the two swordswomen were able to concentrate solely on each other. The blonde was the first to move, breaking the standoff that was developing after a quick glance at her opponent told her what she needed to know: she had an advantage in reach and, against such a newer Divine Gear, letting the smaller girl start bringing out special attacks would be a really bad idea. So, use her extra range to fight defensively or attack... there was only one answer to that question.

Go in hard and stop this before it could even get going. The only clue before Jen shifted and cleared the space was the golden radiance as her sword lit up, pistons firing up and gears turning--itself a distraction to make Ruriko even more defensive because who knew what the light could represent?

The short slash that followed was polished, practised... and entirely intended to be avoided somehow, so long as it got Jen in close enough to release one hand and sucker punch her opponent. It was amazing the number of people that forgot that a serious fight was a perfectly fine place to use your fists; Divine Gears weren't made for sport.

Hiromi paused. And smiled. Oh, was Ushio having a little trouble, there...? The girl may very well be her friend, but there was a portion of Hiromi that couldn't hold back at a scenario like this. Ushio had degenerated into a stuttering mess. There was no other option but to take advantage of this. In fact, Hiromi would be quite amiss if she simply did not take this opportunity, wouldn't she? Of course she would.

"Ah," the blonde girl began, turning and approaching the pink-haired girl, leaning somewhat closer to her as she did. She showed a look of, well, blatantly mock curiosity and concern. There would be no mistaking her look for sincerity, but she came awkwardly close before continuing. "What ever is the matter, Ushio-chan? What are you trying to say?"

Hiromi leaned back a bit, cocking her head to one side with narrowed eyes and a sly grin. "Do you need a moment to rest? Stumbling over yourself like that, oh dear..."

---

So her opponent was opening with a charge. And... some kind of glow? There were a few things that could be. Increasing cutting power, preparing a ranged attack... even with a weapon in such... questionable condition it was still a divine gear. Of course, Ruriko would win, but that didn't mean she wouldn't react to something like this. The diminutive black-haired girl readied herself, sliding her katana back into its sheath as she sprang back, darting out of range of the initial slash.

Then, the steel blurred, flashing blue as she tore the blade from its sheath and upwards. In an instant light flowed up the sword and the plating shifted, and with a crackling sound it released an arc of blue light!

~Starlight Flash~

The arc whistled through the air at her opponent. If she didn't hit, it would force her to react in a manner different from charging and preparing an attack.

It was in the Faculty Office where Sakamori Kuzunao’s mood deteriorated from slight discontentedness to full blown irritation. The instructor sighed as she glanced at the two piles of tests on her desk, one for marked and the other for unmarked. The ratio between them seemed to be about 1:15, and there was still the next class’ work to mark tomorrow. This was going to take a while. Sakamori worked hunched over, gratuitously leaving red slashes and suggested solutions with her pen. It was usually easy to get into a rhythm with these sorts of things, especially if it involved numbers. Even if the recent test scores were sub-par at best and appalling at worst.

A certain student’s test soon pulled her out of the zone. Ojima Yasuo. Mathematics was quite a weak spot for the boy. Previous tests, including his entrance exam, had been evident of that. His latest one however, was the biggest mess by far. He had clearly just given up halfway through, leaving most of the last half's space blank apart from a few cartoon monkeys. It was greatly disappointing, considering that the questions he did complete showed quite a decent effort. It didn’t help either that Ojima-kun had been distracted as of late, more than he usually was in her classes.

Sakamori frowned. If this continued then his future prospects would get dimmer and dimmer. This sort of issue would usually go to the guidance counsellor but…

She stood up. There were only a few more tests to mark. They could wait. She exited the office and strode down the hall, her flats making audible clicks on the wooden floors as she made her way to the second year hallway. She’d heard that the troubled youth often hung back in the classrooms, either to nap or have some alone time. However, what she found when she arrived was a hapless Kenji-kun who angrily huffed that Ojima had left, presumably to the roof.

She found him muttering to himself, hand grabbing his chest, too far to hear properly. The poor boy seemed quite distressed as he lay down. It troubled her to see someone so young weighed down like this.

“Ojima-kun,” she called, making sure to keep a composed and gentle tone, “you seem troubled. Is there something upsetting you?”

MATSUOKA MINORU

"Hayai!/VELOX!"

The doubled utterance leaves my lips before I can ponder any further on what had just occurred before my eyes. I knew that those more experienced with the use of their Ritual Technologies were highly skilled, but to know something was an entire world away from actually seeing it in action. She's faster than even some of Mercury's blessèd!. My eyes barely managed to follow the flash of blinding, golden light as she cleared the distance between her and the other sword-wielder, the motion finishing, to use the American expression, in a mere blink of the eye. Is this the level that my upperclassmen fight on?

You have to work on those legs of yours, Matsuoka.

The slash that she follows up her burst of speed with is nothing short of perfect. From this angle, it's clear to my amateur kendoka eyes that the strike is a model feint, a false blow that seeks to divert her opponent's attention away from whatever other danger lying in wait. It doesn't, unfortunately, manifest. Instead, I watch as the Japanese samurai girl dashes back, a blur of movement herself, sheathing her own sword the very moment she leaves the edge of the the blonde's range. I furrow my eyebrows. I'm confused. For what purpose would she remove her weapon from play in the middle of a fight?

I don't-Hold your ears!

My hands act immediately in response to Cloacina's warning, palms covering both ears just as the samurai's Divine Gear crackles like a thunderstorm. It's tremendously loud, the weapon swinging an arc of a blue that could be compared to the surface of the Mediterranean in the direction of the white girl. Starlight Flash. A grandiose name for a suitably-impressive attack. But the way it'd been activated ... had it been some evolution of an Iaido technique? I was familiar with them, but the way it had been used here ... it was unlike anything I had seen before.

See? Learning experience~!

You might be right there.

@Renny

Sakamori smiled tiredly at the use of her first name. She’d always remind him to use her family name on school grounds, but she knew how much he despised formalities so she always let it slide. He took some time to stand, obviously stalling to think up an excuse or false explanation for his sombre state. The way he smirked bothered her. The positive sentiment absolutely refused to meet his sad eyes. It felt more like a wall than a friendly gesture. She hated the way he avoided looking at her too. Did the presence of a teacher really make him that uncomfortable?

“If your father lays a single finger on you, he’ll be the one getting slapped,” Sakamori vowed bitterly.

“Yes, it’s about the test. Partially anyway. You were actually doing a great job, before you gave up completely.”

That wasn’t the direction she wanted the conversation to go. There was no need to make him feel even worse about his poor grades.

“The reason I’m really here is because I’m worried. You seem to be distracted, upset even, as of late. I … understand if you would prefer not to discuss it with a teacher, but there are always people at school who are willing to listen and help.”

Sakamori hesitated, wondering if she should recommend the guidance counsellor. She knew that school-appointed counsellors operated quite poorly when it came to mental health, or just sympathising with students in general. But any help was better than none, right?

“The guidance counsellor’s office is always open, though I’m not sure how much assistance they’d provide, given your circumstances. And there’s no shame in asking me for advice with your studies or anything else that is bothering you.”

She probably should have suggested his friends too, but she wasn’t sure if the young man had any positive relations with his fellow students, considering the way he left Kenji in the classroom. She kept a firm gaze, hoping that the student would heed her advice.