In the bustling city of Meidori, where neon lights danced with the shadows, there lived a young boy named Isori Atsuhiro. His eyes, the color of a green clear dawn, sparkled with a gentle warmth that often made strangers feel at ease. He was the youngest in a line of Atsuhiro's, a family known for their power of light, a legacy that had protected the city for centuries. Yet, unlike his proud relatives, Isori's talents remained hidden, a frustration that often sent him wandering the quiet streets after dark, hoping to catch a glimpse of his own abilities in the reflection of passing streetlights.
Yadatsu Kamemi, a girl of the same age, bears the burden of a different lineage. Her family was feared for their power of the curse, a gift that could manipulate darkness and fate. Her blue eyes, a deep shade of a deep sea, held a mischievous glitter that hinted at her innate understanding of the shadows. Her talents had manifested early, and she had grown accustomed to the whispers that followed her like a shadow, the whispers that spoke of her family's infamous prowess.
The day came when both Isori and Yadatsu were to begin their education at the prestigious Meidori Academy. It was an institution where the city's most powerful families sent their children to learn not just history and mathematics, but also the art of wielding their unique powers. The Atsuhiros and the Kamexis had been rivals for generations, their children groomed from birth to maintain the delicate balance of power that had kept the city from descending into chaos.
Isori's mother, her eyes tight with anxiety, rushed him out the door, his school bag bouncing against his back. "You must hurry, Isori," she urged, her voice a soft whisper of urgency. "The headmaster will not tolerate lateness, especially not from an Atsuhiro." The house was a whirlwind of servants and siblings, all eager to bid him farewell and impart last-minute advice.
Kamemi's house, a stark contrast to the warm light of Isori's, was shrouded in an eerie silence. Her mother, a figure of cold elegance, nodded curtly as she descended the stairs. "You are already late," she said, her voice like chilling wind. "Do not disappoint the family name." The air in the grand foyer felt heavy with the weight of expectation and the dark whispers of generations past.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The first bell of the academy tolled in the distance, and the two young prodigies found themselves sprinting through the city's winding alleys, pursuing their fates with matching expletives. "Shit, I can't believe it," Isori panted, his heart racing. "Me neither," Yadatsu agreed, her voice echoing his sentiment with surprising synchronicity.
The moment they laid eyes on each other in the schoolyard, the air crackled with tension. Isori, with his black hair and the Atsuhiro emblem stitched proudly onto his uniform, was a beacon of light in the early morning gloom. Yadatsu, clad in the shadowy garb of the Yadatsu's, moved with a grace that seemed almost predatory. The stark contrast between them was undeniable; they were living embodiments of their family's ancient rivalry. The whispers grew louder as they approached the school's grand gates, a symphony of speculation and spiteful whispers.
"Kamemi," Isori ground out through clenched teeth, unable to mask his annoyance at their shared predicament. "What are you doing here?" His question was met with a smile.
"Is that any way to greet a future classmate?" Yadatsu's voice was a melodious taunt that made his skin crawl. "I guess your manners need work as much as your powers."
Isori felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck, his cheeks burning like a beacon in the early morning light. He hastily corrected himself. "I meant... Miss Yadatsu," he said, his voice a tad too formal. "Forgive me for the oversight."
Yadatsu's smile grew wider. "Oh, so now you remember your manners," she teased, her sea eyes gleaming with amusement. She towered over him, her height a stark reminder of their families' disparities. Isori clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "You're right," he said, his voice even. "We should introduce ourselves properly. After all, we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."
The second bell rang out, sending a wave of urgency through the gathering students. Isori felt a strange pull towards Yadatsu, an inexplicable curiosity that seemed to override his family's ingrained enmity. She looked at him with a challenge in her gauze, her lips curling into a mocking smile. "So, Isori," she began, her voice dripping with sweet sarcasm, "are you going to tell me how I should present myself to our esteemed headmaster?"