The silence in the Heart of Flames felt alive, pressing against Abeni’s skin like a tangible force. Five pairs of flame-bright eyes were fixed on her, unblinking, waiting. Behind her, she could feel the sharp tension radiating from Hiroki and Takeshi.
Well, isn’t this familiar? her Wraith whispered, its voice clearer than ever in the charged stillness. All eyes on us, waiting for the performance. It’s what we excel at, isn’t it?
“I...” Abeni began, but the words caught in her throat. For once, there was no script, no carefully rehearsed lines to follow.
“Interesting,” Morikawa said, circling her with slow, deliberate steps. “Your Wraith—it thrives on attention, doesn’t it? On being observed. On the weight of expectations.”
Abeni’s breath hitched. She could feel her Wraith stirring, feeding on the scrutiny, the intensity of the gaze that pinned her in place.
He sees too much, her Wraith’s voice sharpened, a razor’s edge cutting through the stillness. They all do. But that’s fine. We know what to do with watching eyes, don’t we?
Something clicked into place in Abeni’s mind. All those years of perfecting her image, of knowing exactly how to move, how to speak, how to exist under the weight of other people’s gazes—it had all led to this moment. She understood now; she had been training for this her entire life.
“Yes,” she breathed, the word barely more than a whisper. “We do.”
And in that instant, she felt her Wraith surge within her, feeding on the attention, the charged energy of the room. The weight of all those eyes was no longer a burden; it was fuel.
Abeni took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Look,” she said, turning to Morikawa, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. “I don’t really know much about... all this Wraith stuff. Honestly, until just now, I could barely make sense of what mine was saying. It was just this... background noise, you know? A whisper I couldn’t quite catch.” She paused, her fingers twitching as if trying to grasp something invisible. “But now? It’s different. I can hear her clearly, like she’s right here. I can even feel something—some kind of energy coming off of her.”
Morikawa’s eyes gleamed with a flicker of interest. He stopped his pacing, turning fully to face her. “Ah,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “That makes sense. You see, your Wraith is... unique. It isn’t the kind that bonds slowly over years of grueling training and discipline.”
Abeni frowned, confusion tightening her brow. “What do you mean?”
Morikawa leaned in, his gaze piercing. “There are Wraiths that bond through effort—through the endless refinement of skills, the gradual chipping away of resistance. But then, there are Wraiths like yours,” he explained, his tone almost reverent. “They don’t need years of training to awaken. For them, the connection comes in a flash, when something just... clicks. When the right conditions align. It’s like striking a match—you only need that one spark.”
Abeni turned, locking eyes with Hiroki. His gaze was intense, almost searching, as if trying to read something hidden beneath her surface. She held his stare for a moment before breaking away, turning back to Morikawa. “What about Hiroki?” she asked, her voice steady despite the churn of emotions inside her. “He can talk to his Wraith, no problem. Hell, he’s been able to do it from the start. Did his just... click too? And what exactly does it mean to click?”
Morikawa’s eyes sparkled with amusement as if he had been waiting for her to ask that. “Ah, now that’s a complicated question,” he said, drawing out his words with a sly grin. “Clicking—it’s different for everyone, dependent on the Wraith and the person. It’s about the right conditions, the right emotions... the right need.”
He paused, turning his gaze to Hiroki, who stiffened under the scrutiny. “In Hiroki’s case,” Morikawa continued, “I imagine it was quite... explosive.” His smile widened. “He must have been very angry that day, mixed with some latent potential. That might explain why he bonded with his Wraith so quickly.” He leaned in closer, almost conspiratorially. “He probably needed it in that moment. A survival instinct, if you will.”
Abeni shot Hiroki a piercing look, trying to read what was behind those eyes that now darted away, avoiding hers. There was something there, something raw and unresolved. But Hiroki turned his head, his expression unreadable.
Abeni’s brow furrowed as she shifted her attention back to Morikawa. “And what about me?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I’m not angry. I don’t feel that... rage.”
Morikawa studied her for a moment, his smile softening into something almost understanding. “No, you’re not angry,” he said slowly. “But you’re anxious. You’re feeling out of your depth. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt like that, hasn’t it? That sense of not being in control.”
Abeni’s breath hitched, the words hitting closer than she expected. She hadn’t realized just how tightly she’d been holding herself together until now, standing here under the weight of all those watching eyes.
“That anxiety,” Morikawa continued, “that feeling of being pushed beyond your limits... that’s what called your Wraith to you. It’s not always about anger. Sometimes, it’s about fear. Or insecurity. Or... the need to prove yourself.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Your Wraith came to you because you needed it. Maybe not to fight—but to survive.”
Abeni swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. The energy thrumming beneath her skin felt more alive now, more present, like a coiled spring ready to be unleashed.
“Go on,” Morikawa urged, his eyes gleaming. “Flex that energy you’re feeling. Show us what happens when you stop holding back.”
Abeni hesitated for just a second, then closed her eyes, reaching for that pulsing force inside her. It responded immediately, like a flame leaping higher with the first rush of oxygen. The room seemed to hum with it, the air growing heavy with a strange, electric tension.
And in that moment, Abeni understood. The Wraith wasn’t just some external force. It was her—her fears, her insecurities, her drive—all concentrated into something she could finally touch.
But in that moment, she also felt that it wasn’t anxiety she was feeling, and it was not all those eyes that made her fret, it was one particular emotion, one particular pair of eyes. When she finally realized this…
The air around Abeni began to shimmer, like heat waves rising off hot pavement. But instead of warmth, it radiated something else—a feeling, a compulsion.
Make them smile, her Wraith whispered, its voice curling through her mind like smoke. Make them laugh. Make them love us.
The shimmering intensified, spreading outward. Hiroki felt it first—a sudden, inexplicable urge to grin. He clenched his jaw, trying to resist, but couldn’t tear his eyes away as two Crimson Hand guards by the door began to smile, then chuckle softly, seemingly for no reason.
“Emotional manipulation,” Morikawa murmured, his flame-bright eyes dancing with interest. “But not through brute force. It’s subtle... infectious. Joy spreading like a perfectly timed joke in a crowd.”
The effect rippled further. Even Takeshi’s usually impassive face twitched, the hint of a genuine smile threatening to break through his guarded expression.
“Enough,” the Sage commanded, his voice cutting through the haze like a knife.
Instantly, the shimmering ceased. The guards blinked, their smiles fading into confusion. Takeshi’s expression smoothed back into its usual calculated mask, any trace of amusement wiped clean.
Abeni took a shaky breath, her heart racing. The power had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but she could still feel its echo, like a faint warmth lingering on her skin.
"A Joy Wraith," Morikawa's voice carried new weight. "Rare enough on its own. But one that manifests through social consciousness rather than direct emotion... that hasn't been seen in decades."
Tell them it was nothing, the Wraith advised. Downplay it. Let them underestimate-
"No," Abeni said aloud, surprising herself. "I’m not pretending."
She met the Sage's burning gaze directly. "I don't know what this power is, or why it works the way... the way it works. But I'm tired of not understanding these strange new things that have been happening to me. I want to understand it. Really understand it."
Silence fell again. Then, unexpectedly, Morikawa laughed.
"Well, Kurogane," he turned to Takeshi. "Perhaps your judgment isn't entirely compromised by ambition. This one, at least, has potential."
"A Joy Wraith that feeds on social dynamics," one of the Sage's advisors stepped forward, a woman in a modified Crimson Hand uniform with data screens hovering around her. "The implications..."
"Indeed," Morikawa returned to his light-carved chair. "Tell me, child - when you made them smile just now, what did you feel?"
Power, her Wraith whispered. Tell him about the power.
"It's..." Abeni searched for words. "It was like being at the center of a perfect moment. When everyone's laughing at exactly the right time, moving in exactly the right way. Like orchestrating happiness."
"Orchestrating," the Sage's flame-eyes flickered. "Interesting choice of words. Most Joy Wraiths are... simpler. Direct. They amplify happiness, spread simple pleasure. Crude, if effective."
The advisor's screens shifted, displaying patterns Abeni couldn't read. "The last documented case of a socially-manifesting Joy Wraith was forty years ago. The wielder became one of our most effective negotiators before she..." the woman hesitated.
"Before she what?" Hiroki spoke up, earning sharp looks.
"Before she burned out," Morikawa said simply. "Joy, you see, is not merely an emotion. It is a connection. A shared experience. Most Joy Wraiths feed on simple moments - a child's laugh, a lover's smile. But yours..." he leaned forward, flames intense. "Yours feeds on the architecture of human interaction itself."
He makes us sound so clinical, her Wraith complained. As if we don't make the dance beautiful.
"The dance," Abeni murmured, understanding blooming. "That's what it is, isn't it? All those years of maintaining the right image, saying the right things... You could say being in High School, I was practicing. Preparing."
"For this power," the advisor nodded. "Joy Wraiths choose hosts who understand the nature of happiness. But ones like yours - they choose architects of emotion. Those who comprehend the subtle manipulation of human hearts."
"Which makes you," Morikawa's voice carried new weight, "extremely valuable. And extremely vulnerable."
Takeshi shifted slightly. "Vulnerable?"
"Noble families have long sought Joy Wraiths for their... diplomatic advantages. But one that can orchestrate social consciousness itself?" The Sage's flames danced. "The Fujita would kill for such infiltration potential. The Mizushima would see it as a perfect complement to their illusions. And the Kurogane..."
He left the sentence hanging, but his gaze fixed on Takeshi.
They think we're a prize to be won, her Wraith's voice turned sharp. A tool to be used. Just like always, isn't it? But they forget - we're the ones who write the script.
"Well, I don’t plan on being anyone's puppet," Abeni said firmly, surprising herself again.
The Sage's burning eyes studied her for a long moment. Finally, he smiled - an expression somehow more unsettling than his intensity.
"No," he agreed. "I don't believe you will be. The question is - what performance will you choose to give?"
"Your power," Morikawa leaned back in his radiant chair, "is not merely social. Joy, properly wielded, can calm the storm of darker emotions. Even Wraiths respond to it."
A gesture of his hand, and a holographic image appeared - a swirling mass of dark energy that looked unsettlingly like Voragos.
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"At its most basic, you could pacify rogue Wraiths. Your joy spreading through their rage or fear, like sunlight cutting through shadows."
He makes it sound so poetic, her Wraith mused. Though I suppose that's better than 'emotional manipulation.'
"With practice," the Sage continued, "you could learn to draw power from these interactions. Each smiled coaxed, each negative emotion soothed - all of it becoming fuel for stronger abilities."
Abeni watched the hologram shift, showing waves of golden energy washing over darker forms. "And... beyond that?"
Morikawa's flame-eyes danced with something like mischief. "If you have the talent... if you push far enough... you might even establish your own territory. A space where-" He stopped himself, smile widening. "Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself."
"What does that mean?" Abeni leaned forward. "A territory?"
"Questions for another time," the Sage waved his hand, dismissing the holograms. "First, you need to master the basics. Though..." he tilted his head, flames flickering with amusement, "something tells me you'll be a quick study."
Oh, he's good, her Wraith laughed. Dangling prizes just out of reach. Making us want to prove ourselves.
"After all," Morikawa added softly, "you've been practicing this dance your whole life, haven't you? Making people smile, laugh and gather around you, even if it is only a farce”.
"Satoru," Morikawa called out, and shadows near the door shifted. A man stepped forward - tall, lean, with vitiligo creating striking patterns across his dark skin. His Crimson Hand uniform was modified with intricate geometric patterns that seemed to ripple when he moved.
"My assistant," the Sage explained, "and our Spatial Coordinator. His ability to connect distant points has proven... invaluable."
"You mean he's the one who pulled us out of school?" Hiroki asked.
More like yanked us, Arkan added. Though I guess 'Spatial Coordinator' sounds fancier than 'professional kidnapper.'
Satoru's expression remained neutral, but his eyes - a striking amber - held quiet amusement. "The Head prefers to make an impression. Though I apologize if the transition was jarring."
"Satoru will show you to our training facilities," Morikawa rose from his chair. "Through there."
He gestured to a simple wooden door that definitely hadn't been there a moment ago.
Space manipulation, Umbrel whispered in Takeshi's mind. Subtle but effective.
Satoru stepped forward, placing his hand on the door handle. Where his fingers touched, those geometric patterns from his uniform seemed to spread across the wood.
"A warning," he said quietly. "The first step can be... disorienting."
He opened the door, and Neo-Kyoto's afternoon light poured in - impossible, given they were supposedly underground. Beyond the threshold lay a vast complex: multiple training fields, some indoors and some open to the sky, buildings that mixed traditional architecture with modern technology, and in the distance, mountains that definitely weren't part of the city's skyline.
"Welcome," Satoru smiled slightly, "to the Heart's Reach. Please, watch your step."
Oh great, Arkan quipped. Magic doors. Because today wasn't weird enough already.
The first step through the door felt like walking through a veil of static electricity. When they emerged on the other side, the air tasted different - cleaner, charged with something that made their Wraiths stir restlessly.
"The Heart's Reach exists in what we call a folded space," Satoru explained as they walked. "Multiple locations connected through arcane anchors, allowing us to maintain facilities away from civilian populations."
Before them stretched a panorama that shouldn't have been possible in Neo-Kyoto. Training fields of various sizes spread out like a vast campus. On one field, students practiced with glowing weapons. On another, someone was conjuring walls of earth only to have them shattered by their sparring partner.
Now this is more like it, Arkan hummed with excitement. Much better than that stuffy chamber.
"Is that person flying?" Abeni pointed to a distant figure hovering above one of the fields.
"Gravitational manipulation," Satoru nodded. "One of our advanced classes."
They passed a building that looked like a traditional dojo from the outside but hummed with modern technology. Through its open doors, they could see students meditating while holographic data streamed around them.
"Each training area is specifically warded," Satoru continued. "Some dampen powers, others amplify them. Some create controlled environments for specific types of training."
A explosion boomed from somewhere distant, followed by cheering. Nobody else seemed concerned.
They're not even trying to be subtle anymore, Abeni's Wraith commented. Though I suppose that's refreshing, in its way.
"The dormitories are that way," Satoru pointed to a cluster of buildings that mixed modern and traditional styles. "Though given your... unique situation, you'll be commuting. Can't have you disappearing from school entirely."
"How?" Hiroki started to ask, but Satoru just smiled and tapped his uniform where the geometric patterns swirled.
They approached a circular field enclosed by pale blue barriers. Inside, two students were sparring - one wielding what looked like solidified shadow, the other surrounded by swirling winds.
"This," Satoru stopped at the field's edge, "will be your primary training ground. Barrier-enforced, privacy-sealed, and..." he glanced at Hiroki with a hint of amusement, "fireproof."
Thank the gods, Arkan said. I was getting tired of holding back every time you got excited.
"Your personal instructor will meet you here tomorrow," Satoru turned to face them. "For now, I suggest you observe. Learn what you can. The other students... well, they'll be quite interested in the new arrivals."
Indeed, they were already drawing attention. Students at nearby fields were pausing their practices to stare, whisper.
Great, Abeni's Wraith sighed. More audiences to perform for.
"One last thing," Satoru's expression turned serious. "The Heart's Reach has rules. Breaking them has consequences. Your first lesson packet will explain everything, but the most important one is this: respect the boundaries. Physical and otherwise. The barriers between training fields aren't just for show."
As if to emphasize his point, the sparring match in the field before them ended with a crash that made the barriers flash brilliantly.
The training field's barrier shimmered as eight young Soul Smiths gathered, sizing up the newcomers with varying degrees of interest.
"Our newest cohort," Satoru gestured. "Selected from both traditional families and... independent talent."
Kaori Mizushima stepped forward first - tall, elegant, with an undercut that somehow looked both rebellious and refined. Her smile was practiced but genuinely warm. "Welcome to the circus," she said, earning a few chuckles.
Next to her, Dayo Adebayo radiated casual confidence, his Crimson Hand trainee uniform already personalized with traditional patterns. "Don't mind Kaori, she thinks she's funnier than she is."
"I am exactly as funny as I think I am," Kaori shot back with easy familiarity.
Oh, they've got their dynamic down pat, Abeni's Wraith observed.
Rin Shizuma hung back slightly, her intense focus making her seem older than the others despite her small stature. Her eyes kept drifting to Hiroki with barely concealed interest.
"Jun Hayashi," a broad-shouldered boy nodded curtly. His serious demeanor was offset by bright blue tips in his dark hair.
Folami Ogundimu gave a slight wave, their quiet presence somehow drawing more attention than the louder personalities. The silver rings in their locs clinked softly when they moved.
The others introduced themselves - Kenji, whose constant smirk suggested he was in on some private joke; Aiko, who seemed to be perpetually taking mental notes; and Tomi, whose cheerful energy barely contained something sharper underneath.
"Play nice," Satoru said mildly, before stepping away with a geometric ripple of his uniform.
Once the adults left, the conversation flowed naturally, though Abeni noticed how quickly the group rearranged itself—Kaori and Dayo clearly at the center, with Rin keeping a careful distance while still staying engaged.
“So,” Dayo said, leaning back against the energy barrier, which hummed softly in response. “What brings you to our little power party?”
“Family expectations,” Kaori answered lightly, the practiced grace in her tone unmistakable. “Can’t let the Mizushima name down.”
“Protection,” Folami added quietly. “After what happened in the Southern District...”
The others shared their reasons—ambition, necessity, opportunity. Each response was carefully crafted, Abeni realized, revealing just enough while keeping something hidden beneath the surface.
Listen to them dance, her Wraith whispered. Each step measured, every word weighed.
“What about you three?” Kenji asked, his smirk never wavering as his gaze sharpened. The subtle shift in attention was palpable. They were being sized up, evaluated.
Abeni didn’t miss a beat, letting her natural charm carry her response. “We’re just exploring our options,” she said smoothly. “Hiroki and I—well, we’ve known each other forever. We only learned about all this recently. Takeshi-kun mentioned the organization, and, well...” She gave a light, self-deprecating laugh. “Here we are.”
Nicely played, her Wraith murmured with approval. Distance established, friendship claimed, power dynamics acknowledged.
Across the room, Takeshi listened through the covert connection on his phone, a faint smile touching his lips. “Clever,” he whispered to himself. “Very clever.”
Meanwhile, Hiroki felt his temperature rise at Abeni’s casual claim of their friendship, but then—
Wait, Abeni’s Wraith whispered directly into his mind. These people... they’re all playing their angles. We need space to figure out what we’re walking into.
Hiroki clenched his jaw, forcing himself to cool down. But later, when the others were distracted, he couldn’t hold back. “Why are you helping me navigate all this?” he asked quietly.
Abeni kept her gaze forward, her expression unreadable. “It’s just... easier this way. More believable. That way your weirdness doesn’t make us all suspicious”
Liar, Abeni’s Wraith murmured, a blend of amusement and exasperation in its tone. Still can’t admit you’re trying to protect him?
“More believable,” Abeni repeated firmly, pushing away the Wraith’s taunts and the hollow ache in her chest.
“So,” Kaori said, her smile sharpening with curiosity, “word is you took down Voragos. Pretty impressive for newcomers.”
The group’s attention snapped to them, every pair of eyes now focused. Even Rin glanced up from whatever she had been analyzing on her phone.
Ah, Arkan chuckled in Hiroki’s mind. Here comes the measuring contest.
“It wasn’t that dramatic,” Abeni deflected smoothly, her tone light. “Really, we just got lucky.”
“Lucky?” Tomi laughed, though her eyes were bright and calculating. “A Class-3 Wraith doesn’t go down by luck. Especially not one that’s been giving even senior members trouble.”
“Class-3?” Hiroki blurted out before he could stop himself.
“Threat classifications,” Jun explained, his face as serious as ever. “Voragos was mid-tier, but notorious for psychological warfare. Most trainees wouldn’t last five minutes against it.”
Notice how they’re fishing? Abeni’s Wraith whispered in her ear. They want to gauge your power level, but asking directly would be... uncouth.
“I heard there was a fire show involved,” Dayo added with a grin, his eyes locked on Hiroki. “Something about flames hot enough to purify Wraith essence? That’s not your everyday trick, more like advanced Forger techniques.”
Rin’s fingers froze mid-swipe over her phone. “Forger abilities?”
The Shizuma heir’s interest is piqued, Abeni’s Wraith noted. Tread carefully.
Hiroki shifted under their scrutiny, trying to maintain a casual demeanor even as his fingers tingled with that familiar, suppressed heat. “Just instinct, really,” he shrugged. “Still figuring it out.”
“Aren’t we all?” Folami’s soft voice cut through the tense air, somehow carrying more weight than all the others. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To figure things out?”
A brief silence followed, everyone digesting her words. But Abeni could feel the undercurrent—a game of probing and positioning, each word a subtle maneuver. They’re testing the waters, her Wraith whispered. Seeing where you fit in their little hierarchy.
Kaori’s smile widened, but her eyes remained cold. “Well, here’s to figuring things out... and to discovering what surprises our newcomers might still have up their sleeves.”
Folami’s silver rings clinked softly as they adjusted them, the sound carrying an unspoken weight. Abeni noticed the subtle way the others responded—slight nods, shifts in stance. There was a language being spoken here, one she hadn’t yet deciphered.
Politics within politics, her Wraith murmured. The game never really ends, does it?
“Speaking of figuring things out,” Aiko said, her tone deceptively light, “is it true Takeshi Kurogane was involved? The noble families usually handle their own training.”
The question lingered in the air, a carefully placed test disguised as casual conversation.
“Oh, you know how it is,” Abeni replied, her laugh perfectly calibrated to ease the tension. “Right place, right time. Though I’m sure he has his own agenda.” The nonchalant dismissal was intentional, and she didn’t miss the flicker of surprise in a few of the trainees’ eyes.
Bold move, her Wraith purred. Let them wonder if we’re naive or just confident enough to speak so freely.
“Well,” Kenji said, his smirk widening, “this batch of newbies should be interesting, at least. Better than last month’s group—they didn’t even last a week.”
“Don’t scare them,” Kaori chided, though the glint in her eyes was anything but friendly. “I’m sure they’ll do just fine. After all, they’ve already proven they can handle... pressure.”
The barrier behind them hummed softly, a constant reminder of where they were and why they were here. Power, protection, politics—it didn’t matter what brought each of them here; the game was the same, and the stakes were higher.
Just like school, Abeni’s Wraith whispered, its voice a low, mocking drawl. Only here, the wrong move might get you more than social exile.
Abeni nodded slightly, acknowledging the truth of that. She could feel the layers of tension beneath the surface, each word a potential trap. Folami’s rings, Aiko’s innocent questions, Kenji’s taunts—it was all part of the dance, the maneuvering for position.
But what lingered most in Abeni’s mind was Takeshi’s absence. Why had he brought them into this game if he had no intention of playing openly? The thought gnawed at her, but she kept her expression smooth, her smile practiced.
“Pressure’s just another word for opportunity,” she said lightly, letting her gaze sweep across the group. “And from what I’ve seen, we’re all here to make the most of it, aren’t we?”
A few nodded, others remained silent, watching, calculating. But Abeni could feel it—the subtle shift in the room, the way the atmosphere seemed to tighten around them.
Good, her Wraith whispered. Let them think they know you. It makes it so much easier to surprise them.