Falling Harder Than I Expected
Ryuji led Akira through the sprawling campus of Lunarveil Academy, his usual energetic stride making it clear he had done this tour many times before. His hands moved animatedly as he talked, gesturing toward different buildings with the confidence of someone who knew the grounds like the back of his hand. “So, first up, we got the library,” he said, jerking his thumb toward a grand building lined with towering stained-glass windows that shimmered in the afternoon sunlight. “It’s huge. You ever get lost in books, man? ‘Cause if you do, this place is like a freakin’ maze.”
Akira admired the intricate gothic-style architecture, his sharp eyes tracing the delicate etchings of magical sigils embedded in the stone. The library’s sheer size suggested an endless trove of knowledge, filled with ancient tomes, forbidden grimoires, and forgotten spells. He made a mental note to visit later—preferably when the halls were quieter, and he could explore at his own pace.
They moved through the gardens next, a stark contrast to the imposing structures surrounding them. The floral section was particularly striking, with vibrant blooms arranged with meticulous care, each one pulsing faintly with traces of magic. Roses that shimmered like fire, lilies that glowed under moonlight even in daylight, and vines that coiled ever so slightly when people passed. The air was rich with floral fragrance, almost intoxicating in its depth.
“Haru Okumura’s handiwork,” Ryuji explained, pausing to admire a row of deep crimson peonies. “She’s got some crazy earth magic. Handles this whole place like it’s her personal backyard.”
Akira bent slightly, brushing his fingers over a petal. It was velvety soft, but beneath the delicate exterior, he could feel a subtle hum of magic, steady and powerful. Haru Okumura… the name sounded vaguely familiar. A noble, most likely.
Before Akira could comment, Ryuji was already moving on, leading him past the towering amphitheater where performances and grand speeches were held, then to the stadium where duels and tournaments took place. The air around the training grounds was thick with the scent of sweat and burnt ozone, evidence of spellcasting practice.
As they passed, a cluster of students gathered in a loose semicircle caught Akira’s attention. Their hushed murmurs and intent gazes pointed toward the center of the field, where two combatants were locked in a duel. But only one of them mattered.
Akechi Goro.
He moved with an effortless, almost lazy grace, his crimson eyes half-lidded as he parried an oncoming strike with minimal effort. His opponent, a well-built upperclassman, swung his sword with full force, only for Akechi to sidestep smoothly, his dark coat billowing slightly with the movement. He was holding back—Akira could see it in the way he barely exerted himself, the way he adjusted his stance only at the last possible second, as if indulging the other fighter. It was almost cruel, the ease with which he outclassed his opponent.
There was something undeniably captivating about him. His swordsmanship was precise, his control immaculate, but it wasn’t just skill that made it impossible to look away. It was him—the sharp lines of his face, the cool indifference in his expression, the way his presence seemed to command the space around him.
He was beautiful.
Handsome, yes, but more than that—striking in a way that was difficult to define. A magnetic force that drew Akira in before he even realized it.
Then, for the briefest moment, Akechi’s gaze flickered toward him. A mere sliver of acknowledgment.
It was almost imperceptible, a glance so fleeting it could have been imagined—but Akira knew it wasn’t. Akechi had seen him. And in that single second, something unspoken passed between them.
And then it was gone. Akechi turned away, effortlessly deflecting another attack, his attention once again on the duel.
“Yeah, yeah, he’s all princely and perfect,” Ryuji muttered, rolling his eyes. “Fake as hell, though. C’mon, let’s go.”
Akira hesitated for a fraction of a second before following Ryuji away from the field. But even as they walked, the image of Akechi remained vivid in his mind. The way he moved, the way his eyes had met his—it lingered, unshaken.
As they walked, something else caught Akira’s attention. A girl, petite but determined, struggled under the weight of several large bags of soil. She staggered slightly as the load shifted dangerously in her arms, her boots digging into the dirt path as she tried to maintain balance.
Before she could react, one of the bags tipped precariously to the side.
Akira moved on instinct. With fluid ease, he stepped forward and caught the falling bag with one arm, the weight settling against him as if it were nothing.
The girl let out a soft gasp, peeking up at him from behind the pile. Her auburn hair, tied loosely behind her head, framed wide, startled eyes that blinked at him in surprise.
“You okay?” Akira asked, his voice smooth, his smile easy.
She hesitated for half a second before nodding, her cheeks dusting pink. “Ah, yes. Thank you. I didn’t think they’d be this heavy.” She shifted the remaining bags in her grip, though it was clear she was still struggling.
“I can carry some for you,” Akira offered without hesitation.
The girl’s fingers tightened slightly on the bags, as if debating whether to accept the help. But after a moment, she gave a small nod. “If you don’t mind…”
“Not at all.”
With practiced efficiency, Akira adjusted the weight of the bag he had caught, lifting another from her grasp in one smooth motion. Ryuji, who had been watching with an exaggerated frown, let out a long sigh before finally grabbing a couple of bags himself.
“You guys are lifesavers,” the girl said, visibly relieved as they continued toward the flower garden. The scent of freshly turned soil and blooming petals grew stronger as they approached, the air rich with a natural, grounding warmth. Carefully, she set the bags down beside a neat row of flower beds, patting them into place as though ensuring they belonged.
“I really appreciate this,” she added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she turned back to them. “I’m Haru Okumura, by the way.”
“Akira Kurusu,” he introduced himself just as smoothly, adjusting his sleeves as he set down the last bag.
She blinked, then flushed slightly. “Ah, you’re the scholarship student everyone’s been talking about. It’s nice to meet you.”
Akira tilted his head slightly, intrigued by her choice of words. He’d expected curiosity or skepticism—maybe even the same veiled condescension he had already experienced from other nobles. But there was only genuine warmth in her tone, as if she didn’t particularly care about the rumors surrounding him.
Before he could respond, Ryuji suddenly grabbed Akira’s sleeve and dragged him a few steps away, lowering his voice into an urgent hiss. “Dude, do you even know who that is?”
Akira raised an eyebrow. “She just said her name.”
“No, I mean do you know?” Ryuji pressed. “She’s Okumura’s daughter. Like, the Okumura. The heiress.”
Akira blinked at him, unimpressed. “And?”
“And you just rizzed her up without even trying!” Ryuji groaned, running a hand through his hair like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Unbelievable.”
Akira only shrugged, nonchalant as ever. He wasn’t particularly concerned with noble rankings or their supposed untouchable status. Besides, his thoughts weren’t on Haru right now.
No, his mind was still lingering on someone else entirely.
Someone with crimson eyes and a blade that moved like liquid shadow.
One moment, Akira had been sitting at his desk, methodically working through his assignments. The quill scratched against parchment as he breezed through formulas and essays with effortless precision, his mind barely pausing between thoughts. He had always been like this—quick to absorb, quick to execute. Efficiency was second nature to him.
The next moment, his solitude was thoroughly disrupted.
The door swung open without so much as a knock, and in marched Ryuji and Ann, as if they had been invited.
“Dude. Are you actually done already?” Ryuji leaned over the desk, eyes wide in disbelief. “We just got back from class.”
Ann, lounging on the edge of Akira’s bed without an ounce of shame, crossed her arms. “I barely even started mine. You sure you didn’t, like, copy someone else’s notes or something?”
Akira leaned back in his chair, eyebrow quirked. “I don’t think anyone’s notes would be more complete than mine.”
Ryuji let out an exaggerated groan, flopping down onto the carpet. “Ugh, you one of those types, huh? The scary smart guy who acts all cool about it.”
Ann tilted her head, narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion. “Wait… I thought you spent every lesson dozing off.”
“That’s what I thought too!” Ryuji exclaimed, jabbing a finger in Akira’s direction. “I swear this guy checks out of every class! He either sleeps with his eyes open or straight-up separates his soul from the room.”
Akira smirked. “Maybe I’m just that good.”
Ryuji groaned again, dramatically rolling onto his back. “Unbelievable. We got a genius who doesn’t even try and an artsy noble who’s too pretty for her own good.”
Ann scoffed. “Excuse you. I try very hard to maintain my beauty and my grades.” She gave Akira a once-over. “Still, I feel like we should test you. No way you’re getting everything done that fast without some kind of trick.”
Akira chuckled, setting his quill aside. “Go ahead.”
Ann pointed at the open page of his essay. “Summarize that in one sentence.”
Without missing a beat, Akira said, “The essay is an exploration of historical magic reforms, analyzing their long-term effects on noble and commoner education systems, with a focus on the 12th-century alchemical renaissance.”
There was a beat of silence.
Ryuji looked at Ann. Ann looked at Ryuji.
“Yeah, okay,” Ryuji muttered. “He’s the real deal.”
Ann sighed, flopping back onto his bed. “Ugh, nerd.”
Akira chuckled. “You’re the ones invading my space. Should I start charging tuition?”
Ann waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, we’re your social enrichment program. Your life would be so boring without us.”
Akira didn’t argue.
Not because she was wrong.
Because she was right.
And then, as if proving her point, Ann hopped up and immediately started reorganizing his room. “Okay, now that I’ve confirmed you’re an unfairly brilliant academic, we need to fix this mess.”
Akira raised an eyebrow. “What mess?”
“This entire room,” she declared, gesturing at the neatly arranged yet starkly empty space. “It’s depressing. I’m fixing it.”
Ryuji scoffed but didn’t protest as Ann started adding her own touches—shifting books around, tossing a soft throw blanket over the chair, and, at some point, placing a small bouquet of flowers on the windowsill.
Meanwhile, Ryuji plopped down against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him with a content sigh. “Man, my room looks so normal compared to this. Just a bed, a desk, and—okay, hear me out—one extremely cool battle banner.”
Akira raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. “A battle banner?”
With an exaggerated nod, Ryuji leaned forward like he was revealing some great secret. “Yeah. It’s got a badass skull on it. Very intimidating. Very warrior-like.”
Ann crossed her arms and gave him a long, unimpressed look before shaking her head. “So basically, you decorated your room like a teenage rebel’s hideout?”
Letting out a dramatic huff, Ryuji shot her a wounded look. “Excuse you, it’s called aesthetic.”
Akira tilted his head slightly, smirking as he met Ryuji’s gaze. “Sounds like you’re one step away from writing edgy poetry.”
Gasping as if personally betrayed, Ryuji clutched his chest. “Bro. You wound me.”
Ann simply rolled her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips as she leaned into Shiho. “Shiho’s still gonna roast you.”
Groaning, Ryuji ran a hand down his face. “Ugh, I know.”
Akira, still adjusting to how easily the two bantered, glanced between them with mild curiosity. “I only transferred in yesterday.”
Ryuji shrugged as if that changed nothing. “Yeah, and Shiho already finished decorating hers on the first day.”
Akira paused, taking a moment to process that before shaking his head. “That’s… terrifying.”
Ann laughed, nudging Shiho playfully. “Shiho doesn’t mess around. She sees a space, and boom—it’s hers now.”
Ryuji seemed to consider something for half a second before shaking his head with a resigned sigh. “Maybe I should ask her to decorate my place—actually, nah, she’d probably roast me for my tragic lack of taste.”
“Smart choice,” Ann teased, barely holding back a grin. “She’d take one look at your room and call it a storage closet.”
Ryuji groaned again, dramatically dropping his head back against the wall. “Ugh, I hate that you’re right.”
Akira chuckled, shaking his head at their antics. His room really did feel different now—not just a place to sleep but something warmer, more lived-in, like it belonged to him rather than just being a space he occupied.
He smiled, letting the feeling settle. “Thanks.”