Under an ancient cherry tree that shouldn't exist in this folded space, the new recruits arranged themselves in a loose circle. The tree's branches swayed gently despite the absence of wind, its pale pink blossoms occasionally drifting down to dust their shoulders.

Hiroki found himself sandwiched between Takeshi and Abeni - an arrangement that felt both protective and suffocating. The other trainees settled into their own clusters: Kaori and Dayo naturally together, Rin maintaining her calculated distance while staying close to her fellow Mizushima, the rest finding their places in the social geometry.

Like kids at a deadly summer camp, Arkan mused. Though I guess most camps don't teach you how to weaponize your emotional trauma.

From the other side of the tree's thick trunk, Folami caught Hiroki's eye and offered a small wave, their silver rings catching the dappled light filtering through the cherry blossoms. The genuine warmth in their smile made something in Hiroki's chest twist. He looked away quickly, fixing his gaze on the grass.

Kid... Arkan started.

"Don't," Hiroki muttered under his breath.

Abeni shifted slightly closer to him, her presence both comforting and a reminder of why he couldn't afford to make connections here. Takeshi, meanwhile, maintained that perfect amount of space that suggested both alignment and distance.

The cherry blossoms continued their lazy dance as Satoru appeared at the tree's center, his geometric patterns seeming to ripple in harmony with the swaying branches. His presence commanded attention without demanding it - a subtle but important distinction in a group of powerful teenagers.

The geometric patterns on Satoru's modified uniform shifted like flowing water as he surveyed the group. His presence was steady, grounding - less intimidating than Morikawa's but carrying its own quiet authority.

"First," he smiled slightly, "since we'll be working closely together, proper introductions are in order. My Wraith is called Nexus - a Connection-type, specializing in spatial bonds."

As if in response, the patterns on his uniform briefly formed perfect fractals before settling.

"That's impossible," Rin spoke up, her analytical nature overriding caution. "Connection Wraiths are theoretical. They-"

"Died out during the First Hollowing?" Satoru's smile widened. "Most did, yes. Nexus is... unique."

A rare Wraith, Abeni's Wraith whispered. Like us.

"The world you know," Satoru continued, "is one layer of many. Think of reality as a book, with the pages pressed together. What you call the living world is just one page, the arcane realm another, pressed so close they sometimes... bleed through."

A cherry blossom drifted down, and Satoru caught it. Where it touched his hand, those geometric patterns spread across its surface.

"Wraiths existed long before humans learned to bind them," he explained. "They are emotional energy given consciousness, born from the intense feelings that echo between realms."

"Like the ancient stories," Dayo offered. "The first ones who crossed over."

"Precisely. But emotions aren't simple things, are they?" Satoru looked around the circle. "Joy isn't just happiness. Anger isn't just rage. Every feeling has layers, contexts, connections."

He's good, Arkan commented to Hiroki. Making the impossible sound logical.

"The Hollowing," Satoru's voice turned serious, "was humanity's first real contact with the arcane realm. A catastrophic merging of pages, if you will. The barriers between worlds nearly collapsed entirely."

"But they didn't," Kaori said. "The first Soul Smiths prevented it."

"At great cost," Satoru nodded. "They learned to forge bonds with Wraiths, to channel and control the emotional energy that threatened to tear reality apart. But that knowledge came with a price."

He held up the cherry blossom, now completely transformed by his geometric patterns. "Every power has consequences. Every connection changes both the binder and the bound."

"Is that why some people go crazy?" Jun asked quietly. "When they bond with Wraiths?"

"Some do," Satoru acknowledged. "But not because of the Wraiths themselves. It's the weight of channeling pure emotional energy. Like trying to contain a storm in a glass jar - if there's a single crack..."

He's not wrong, Umbrel murmured in Takeshi's mind. Though he's being diplomatic about the failure rate.

"Then how do we avoid breaking?" Folami asked, their rings clinking softly as they leaned forward.

"That's where training comes in," Satoru gestured, and the geometric patterns spread from his hand to trace glowing lines in the air. "Understanding the nature of Wraiths, their connections to human emotions, and most importantly - understanding ourselves."

Oh great, Arkan muttered to Hiroki. Therapy with extra steps.

"Each Wraith," Satoru continued, his patterns forming complex diagrams, "resonates with specific emotional frequencies. Some, like Anger Wraiths, are straightforward. Others..." his eyes flickered to Abeni, "are more complex."

"What about multiple bonds?" Hiroki spoke up before he could stop himself. "Is that... normal?"

The patterns in the air pulsed once. "Perceptive question. No, multiple bonds are rare and usually dangerous. The emotional resonance can become... chaotic."

He's suspicious, Abeni's Wraith whispered. Be careful.

"Unless," Takeshi added smoothly, "one has the proper training and discipline. The noble families have techniques-"

"The noble families," Satoru cut in with gentle firmness, "often mistake tradition for wisdom. Their techniques work for them because of centuries of specialized breeding and preparation. For others..."

He let the statement hang. Several students shifted uncomfortably.

"But we're getting ahead of ourselves," Satoru's patterns reformed into simpler shapes. "Before you can understand advanced techniques, you need to grasp the fundamental truth: Wraiths aren't tools or weapons. They're mirrors."

"Mirrors?" Aiko frowned.

"They reflect and amplify what's already within us. Our desires, our fears," Satoru's expression grew serious. "Our capacity for both creation and destruction."

He's not wrong about that, Arkan commented. Though I prefer to think of myself as more of a spotlight. You know, highlighting your various issues with style.

Satoru's geometric patterns shifted again, forming two interconnected circles. "The Crimson Hand's primary mission isn't about power or politics," his voice carried quiet conviction. "It's about preservation."

That's what they all say, Umbrel whispered skeptically in Takeshi's mind.

"The barriers between worlds," Satoru continued, "are like a complex tapestry. Each thread matters. When one snaps..."

He let his patterns dissolve at one point, and the students watched as the disruption spread, threatening to unravel the entire design.

"So we're what, magical maintenance workers?" someone quipped.

"We're guardians," Satoru corrected without heat. "When a Wraith goes rogue, when emotional energy builds to dangerous levels, when the barriers start to thin - we act."

"Like with Voragos," Kaori noted, glancing at Hiroki and Abeni.

"Precisely. Though usually with more..." Satoru's lips quirked, "formal training first."

He's telling the truth, Abeni's Wraith mused, but not all of it.

"The balance is delicate," Satoru's patterns reformed, more complex now. "Too much emotional energy flowing into our world can cause devastation. Too little, and the barriers become brittle. We walk a knife's edge."

"But the noble families-" Rin started.

"The noble families," Satoru interrupted gently, "have their own agendas. They see the power in Wraiths, the potential for control. We see the bigger picture."

That's rich, Arkan commented. Like this place isn't swimming in politics too.

"Our task is to prevent another Hollowing," Satoru's expression grew grave. "To maintain the balance that keeps both worlds stable. It's not glamorous work, but it is essential."

The cherry tree's branches swayed, casting shifting shadows over his geometric patterns. For a moment, the designs looked almost like cracks spreading through reality itself.

"Of course," he added, his eyes moving deliberately across the group, "that's the official mission. The real question is - what brought each of you here?"

The question hung in the air like the cherry blossoms, heavy with unvoiced truths. Glances were exchanged around the circle - some challenging, some wary, all loaded with meaning.

Kaori and Dayo shared a look that spoke of shared secrets. Rin's analytical facade cracked just slightly. Jun's serious expression turned wooden. Folami's rings clinked softly as their hands tensed.

Everyone's got their story, Abeni's Wraith whispered. Their angle, their desperate need...

Hiroki felt Takeshi shift almost imperceptibly beside him, that perfect posture somehow becoming even more precise. On his other side, Abeni's carefully maintained social mask gleamed like armor.

The moment stretched, charged with unspoken confessions and carefully guarded motivations. Each student suddenly very aware of their own reasons, their own secrets, their own desperate gambles that had led them here.

"But," Satoru's voice cut through the tension with deliberate lightness, his geometric patterns flowing into softer shapes, "that's none of my business. Your reasons are your own."

The collective release of breath was almost audible. Some shoulders relaxed, others remained rigid with lingering wariness.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Clever, Arkan noted. Ask the hard question, then immediately let them off the hook. Makes them think about their answers anyway.

Satoru's geometric patterns shifted again, forming four distinct symbols in the air.

"Soul Smiths generally manifest their abilities in four primary paths," he began, each symbol glowing as he addressed it. "Forgers, who shape Wraith energy into physical forms. Conductors, who channel it through their bodies. Weavers, who manipulate its flow and form. And Whisperers, who communicate with and influence Wraith consciousness directly."

Here comes the classification lecture, Arkan sighed. Try to stay awake, kid.

"Each class," Satoru continued, "requires different aptitudes, different approaches to Wraith energy." His patterns swirled, creating miniature demonstrations of each type. "A Forger's strength lies in creation and transformation. A Conductor's in raw power and physical enhancement. A Weaver's in control and manipulation. A Whisperer's in understanding and influence."

Rin was taking notes on her phone, while others watched the demonstrations with varying degrees of interest. Hiroki felt the constant heat under his skin pulse in response to the Forger demonstration.

"But," Satoru raised a finger, his patterns shifting again, "these aren't rigid categories. They're more like... natural inclinations. Some Soul Smiths show aptitude in multiple areas, though mastering even one path takes years of dedication."

"What about hybrid techniques?" Kaori asked, earning a sharp look from Rin.

"Ah," Satoru smiled slightly. "The noble families' specialty. Yes, it's possible to combine aspects of different paths, but..." he paused meaningfully, "there's usually a price for such versatility."

He means the madness rate is higher, Umbrel commented dryly in Takeshi's mind. Much higher.

"Think of it this way," Satoru's patterns formed a complex mandala. "A Forger's flames aren't just fire - they're crystallized emotion, given form through will and understanding."

His gaze moved briefly to Hiroki, who tried not to fidget.

"A Conductor," the patterns shifted to show a figure wreathed in energy, "doesn't simply channel power - they become a living conduit for emotional resonance. Their own feelings amplify and direct the Wraith energy."

Takeshi's perfect posture somehow became even more precise.

"Weavers," now the patterns showed rippling waves of force, "don't just manipulate energy - they understand its flow, its connections. They see the threads that bind reality together."

Like him and his spatial tricks, Arkan noted. Bet that comes in handy for dramatic exits.

"And Whisperers," the final pattern formed something more abstract, almost musical in its complexity, "don't simply communicate with Wraiths. They forge genuine connections, understanding both the beauty and danger of pure emotional consciousness."

Abeni felt her own Wraith stir with interest.

"Each path," Satoru continued, "carries its own risks. Forgers can lose themselves in their creations. Conductors can burn out from overwhelming power. Weavers can become lost in the patterns they manipulate. And Whisperers..." he paused, "can forget where their consciousness ends and the Wraith's begins."

Cheery, Arkan commented. Really selling the whole 'join our deadly magic school' pitch.

"But with proper training," Satoru's patterns reformed into their original geometric flow, "these risks can be managed. That's why you're here. Not just to learn control, but to understand the nature of your abilities. To find your path."

"And if our path isn't clear?" Folami asked quietly.

"Then we help you discover it," Satoru smiled. "Though sometimes..." his eyes moved deliberately around the circle, "your Wraith has already chosen for you."

"However," Satoru's patterns simplified into basic shapes, "mastery is a distant goal. For now, we focus on fundamentals."

He gestured, and his patterns formed three distinct circles: "Defense, Offense, Support. The basic triangle of combat application."

Finally, Arkan perked up, something less philosophical and more explosion-y.

"Take Forgers, for instance," Satoru's gaze settled briefly on Hiroki. "While eventually you'll learn to craft weapons from Wraith essence, right now those flames serve a simpler purpose - direct combat against hostile Wraiths."

The patterns showed a simplified version of fire meeting shadow. "Raw emotional energy, properly directed, can be just as effective as refined techniques. Sometimes more so."

He's not wrong, Arkan mused. You did kind of barbecue Voragos without any fancy weapon-crafting.

"Conductors," he continued, "naturally gravitate toward offensive positions. Whisperers," his eyes moved to Abeni, "might find their early abilities best suited for manipulation - either calming rogue Wraiths or influencing other Soul Smiths' emotional states."

He means what you're already doing, her Wraith whispered. Playing the social game, just with more... direct results.

"The goal isn't perfection," Satoru emphasized, his patterns flowing slower, more deliberately. "It's understanding. Learning how your natural abilities fit into practical applications. Some of you will discover you're better suited for defense, others for offense. Some might excel at support roles."

"And if we mess up?" Jun asked, his serious expression even more intense.

"Then you learn," Satoru smiled slightly. "Though preferably without setting anything important on fire."

Satoru's patterns formed into simple combat scenarios, showing glowing figures maneuvering in formation.

"In practical terms," he continued, "this means working within your current limitations. For example..." his patterns highlighted one figure. "A beginning Forger might not be able to craft a sword from flame, but they can create barriers of heat, or direct bursts of fire at enemies."

Oh sure, NOW they tell us that's an option, Arkan commented. After you went full inferno on Voragos.

"Whisperers," another figure illuminated, "can practice subtle emotional manipulation. Small shifts in mood, minor disruptions in concentration. These might seem insignificant, but in combat..."

Like making someone smile at the wrong moment, Abeni's Wraith noted. Or doubt themselves just long enough.

"Conductors channel raw energy, while Weavers learn to manipulate existing forces before attempting complex spatial alterations." Satoru's patterns showed the figures working in tandem. "The key is synergy. Understanding how your abilities complement others."

He paused, letting his patterns form a complete battle formation. "In the field, you'll rarely work alone. A Forger's flames might create an opening that a Conductor can exploit. A Whisperer might distract an enemy while a Weaver repositions the team."

"But we don't know who we work well with yet," Kaori pointed out.

"Exactly," Satoru nodded. "That's why we start with basics. Learning to read each other, to anticipate reactions, to trust-"

Trust? Umbrel scoffed in Takeshi's mind. In this group of ambitious teenagers with supernatural powers?

"Of course," Satoru's smile turned knowing, "trust takes time. For now, focus on understanding your own capabilities. The rest will come with practice."

"Much of this," Satoru's patterns began to fade, "you may already know." His eyes moved deliberately to Takeshi. "Some through extensive family education and training..."

Takeshi made a show of checking his watch, his boredom so perfectly calculated it could only be intentional.

Always the performance, Umbrel mused.

"Others," Satoru's gaze shifted to Hiroki and Abeni, "through more... improvisational means."

That's one way to describe setting a Wraith on fire by instinct, Arkan commented.

"Through accident, you mean," Abeni said smoothly, her social mask firmly in place despite her Wraith's quiet amusement.

"Accident, instinct, necessity," Satoru's patterns dissolved completely. "The path to power rarely follows textbook examples. Even those of us who think we know everything..." another glance at Takeshi, who was now examining his perfectly manicured nails, "often find ourselves surprised."

Was that a warning or a prediction? Abeni's Wraith whispered.

The cherry blossoms continued their impossible dance, dusting the gathered students with pale pink reminders that nothing here was quite what it seemed.

"We'll meet again soon," Satoru said, rising from his position. "You'll receive the details by text."

"Text?" Hiroki frowned slightly. "I don't remember giving anyone my-"

"Trust me," Takeshi cut in, not looking up from his watch, "they already know."

Of course they do, Arkan snorted. Probably know your sock size too.

The subtle shift in the group suggested this wasn't news to most of them - especially those from prominent families. Abeni's expression flickered briefly before smoothing over.

"Your next session," Satoru continued, his geometric patterns beginning to ripple more actively, "will mark the beginning of actual field work. Each of you will be paired with an experienced Soul Smith who will serve as your guide.

Babysitters, Umbrel corrected in Takeshi's mind. They mean babysitters.

“These mentors,” Satoru's patterns flared to life, encircling him with a radiant glow, “will report directly to me and the Sage. They'll assess your progress and… compatibility with our organization.”

Before anyone could react, his patterns intensified, swirling into a blur. “Until then,” he added, his form already beginning to blur and fade, “I suggest you get some rest. You'll need it.”

And just like that, he vanished, leaving behind only a few faint geometric shapes that quickly dissipated.

Ever the dramatic exit, Arkan commented dryly. I guess when you can bend space itself, might as well put on a show.

Dayo, one of the more fiery recruits, swaggered over to Hiroki with a predatory grin. “Can’t wait to spar with you, Tsukishiro!” he called out. “That fire show of yours sounds interesting.”

“Yeah, let's see what you’ve got!” Kaori chimed in with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Hiroki stiffened, his pulse quickening. Heat surged beneath his skin. “I won’t lose,” he replied, his voice taut with barely concealed aggression.

Uh, kid, Arkan began, I don’t think they’re actually—

“That’s the spirit!” Dayo laughed, completely missing the tension in Hiroki’s stance. “Bring that fire to training!”

“This is gonna be fun!” Kaori beamed, mistaking his hostility for playful rivalry.

Oh dear, Abeni’s Wraith sighed. He really has no idea how normal people interact, does he?

“Idiots, the lot of you,” Takeshi muttered under his breath, watching the exchange with an annoyed frown. Without warning, he grabbed Hiroki’s sleeve, tugging him back. “We’re leaving.”

Already texting on his phone, Takeshi barely paused. Within moments, the familiar geometric patterns began to form around them.

“One text to arrive, another to leave,” Abeni remarked as the world around them warped. “Satoru-san is certainly… efficient.”

“Almost too efficient,” Takeshi murmured, just before the spatial shift whisked them away and they were back at their school.

Like a supernatural uber service, Arkan quipped. But with more geometry and dramatic flair.

Behind them, they could still hear the others eagerly chatting about sparring matches, blissfully unaware that they’d just inadvertently rattled the most socially awkward powerhouse in their midst, even from this distant location.

Hiroki slung his bag over his shoulder with a crooked smile. “That was a fun place, Takeshi.”

Takeshi shrugged casually. “If you want to get stronger, it’s the best place to push your limits. That’s why I brought you there.”

Hiroki shot him a sidelong glance. “I know you’re full of crap, but you’re still right. Can’t wait to fight that big guy.” He turned to the door, ready to leave.

“His name’s Dayo, and he’s actually pretty sensi—” Takeshi started, but Hiroki was already gone, leaving him and Abeni behind.

The two stepped out of the building into the evening air. The sun was sinking low, casting a golden light that sharpened the shadows around them. The school grounds were almost serene in the fading daylight, with a soft breeze rustling the trees.

“You think you’re protecting him,” Takeshi said quietly as they passed through the school gates, his usual glibness stripped away. “Navigating the social maze, managing narratives, keeping him isolated to keep him safe.”

The fading sunlight drew harsh lines across his face, making him appear older, more worn.

“But Joy Wraiths...” he added, his tone softening, “they’re not just rare—they’re fragile. Like glass goblets trying to contain a storm.”

He’s right, Abeni’s Wraith murmured, unusually subdued.

“Hiroki,” Takeshi continued, eyes drifting to a cloud streaking across the darkening sky, “has been living in his own solitude for years. If things fall apart—socially, emotionally—he’ll endure it. It’ll leave scars, sure, but he’ll survive. And if it comes to a physical threat...” He let a faint smile slip. “We’ve all seen what he can do.”

As if on cue, a sleek black car glided up to the curb. The timing was too perfect to be chance, but with Takeshi, nothing ever was.

He opened the passenger door but hesitated, turning to Abeni. “Your power... it’s all about maintaining that balance between human emotion and arcane energy. One slip, one crack in that control...”

We shatter, her Wraith finished softly.

“You should worry less about some things and more about others,” Takeshi advised, though his voice wavered. For a fleeting moment, his gaze turned distant, something raw and vulnerable surfacing. It was as if his own words had touched a nerve, some old scar he couldn’t heal.

But just as quickly, the moment was gone. Without another word, he slipped into the car, closing the door behind him. The engine purred to life, and Abeni watched it pull away, swallowed by the encroaching dusk.

He speaks from experience, her Wraith mused. But whose?

The evening air hung heavy, thick with unsaid words and warnings that felt suspiciously like concern.