Kaya and the Weight of Honor

He cleared his throat. “Captain Shiranami, I wanted to ask you something about Gra—”

“Nope.”

Setsuna’s voice cut in from behind like a thrown blade.

Before Kazuo could turn, hands clamped around him — and suddenly he was lifted clean off his feet.

“Hey—what the hell?!”

Setsuna slung him over his shoulder like a sack of rice, already heading for the exit.

"I was having a conversation!" Kazuo barked, upside down, flailing slightly.

Behind them, Shiranami didn't even move. She just blinked once and muttered dryly, "…Seriously?"

The door slammed. They were out.

Down the hall, out the side stairwell—Setsuna moved like a shadow with legs. Kazuo had stopped struggling by the third flight.

They burst through the bottom door into open air, and Setsuna finally set him down with a one-handed push.

Kazuo straightened, breathing hard, his voice sharp."You know, if this is your idea of subtle—"

But Setsuna's face had shifted.

"It's better if you talk to Gramps after this tournament is over," he said quietly.

The air between them seemed to freeze.

Kazuo narrowed his eyes. "Why? What aren't you telling me?"

Setsuna looked away.

“It’s not my place to say.”

Kazuo stared at him.

For a moment, he wanted to push. The question burned on his tongue. Gramps. His eyes. The way Shiranami’s violet gaze cut sharp… and then King Cedric. If he pressed here, if he drew the line between them, maybe it would drag Gramps into danger.

The silence between them stretched, and then it settled.

Kazuo let out a slow breath. He understood.

He didn’t ask again.

At that same hour, in another corner of the kingdom…

The silence of the manor wasn't peace — it was pressure.

Soft steps padded against the marble floor as Kaya moved barefoot through the upper corridor. The cold against her soles was grounding — a reminder that no matter how expensive the floor, it still felt like stone.

She stopped outside the tall double doors to her father's office.

Her outfit were still damp from sweat. She hadn't even changed.

The gold handle was already turning.

"Kaya."

His voice met her like a command.

She entered.

The office was exactly as always — dark, symmetrical, severe. Hologlyphs hovered in orderly motion above his desk. Her father sat with his back straight, posture unshakable, eyes cold. A man dressed like power itself, even behind closed doors.

He didn't glance up.

Instead, he tapped through a projection of floating glyphs above his desk — contract windows, sealed orders, shifting ledgers. His fingers moved with mechanical precision, flipping through numbers and clauses as if nothing in the room concerned him.

The silence was deliberate.

Finally, he spoke.

"That boy," he said, voice calm as glass. "The one with the black eye."

He swiped a document aside. A signature etched itself automatically in golden ink.

"Setsuna's new stray."

Another document slid into place, numbers flickering.

"We saw the match. He nearly had you."

Still, her father didn't look up.

"You hesitated."

He let the word hang in the air a moment longer, then added — calm, final:

"Hesitation is defeat."

From near the window, her mother's voice cut in, soft but sharp. "The other nobles are already mocking us. Do you know how humiliating this is for our name?"

Kaya stood still.

Her father pressed his thumb into a confirmation seal on the next document. The glyphs dissolved.

Then, finally, his gaze met hers.

"You disappoint me."

The words were soft — but felt heavier than anything.

That was the real wound.

Kazuo wasn't just the enemy in the ring —He was the humiliation they couldn't tolerate.

A boy with a black eye fighting as an equal. To nobles like her parents, it wasn't rivalry. It was insult.

As the next glyph spun open — a trade report from the eastern provinces — her father calmly resumed reading. Silence.

Because disappointment didn't need volume to destroy.

Kaya swallowed hard. Then stepped back, lowered her head, and bowed.

"…I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Her father finally looked up again.

"You will fight him in five days."

His voice was quiet.

"End him. And wash our name clean."

A beat of silence.

"Do You understand?"

She nodded once.

His gaze sharpened.

"Failure is not an option."

The command lingered in the air. A moment later, steam hissed against the glass, curling dense and unyielding.

Kaya stood beneath the torrent, naked, her short hair plastered against her scalp, water streaming down her back and shoulders. Every drop felt like a trial — the heat should have calmed her, but it only stoked the fire burning beneath her skin.

Her teeth ground together. Her fists curled at her sides.

Kazuo’s face haunted her thoughts: rough, defiant, chosen by Setsuna. A boy with a black eye standing on equal footing with her.

It grated against everything she had been taught since childhood — that those eyes belonged in chains, not beside her. Yet there he was, meeting her gaze as if he belonged here.

Kazuo.

With a sudden motion, she lashed out, striking the tile wall beside her. Pain exploded through her knuckles, real and grounding. She didn't recoil.

Her voice was low, unwavering.

I'm going to defeat you.

She pressed her forehead against the cold tile, letting the water wash over her.

No matter what it takes.

The Next Morning

Sunlight leaked through the high windows, casting pale lines across the floor.

Kazuo stretched, rolled his shoulders, and reached for his sword — ready to train.

But then he saw it.

A small note rested on the table, written in clean, sharp handwriting:

"Head to the Royal Library with Tetsu. – S. " :D

No explanation. Just a direction.

He sighed, strapped on his boots and jacket and left.

He paused outside the door next to his.

Faint mechanical sounds drifted through the wood — clicking, whirring, something softly ticking. A scent of solder and ink lingered in the air.

He knocked twice.

Nothing.

"…Tetsu?"

Still no answer.

Kazuo opened the door.

The room was dim, cluttered, and alive. Strange devices lined the shelves — some humming gently, others frozen mid-movement. Sheets of parchment and half-inked diagrams lay scattered across the floor. Glass spheres floated slowly in the corners, glowing with muted light.

In the center, surrounded by wires and folded pages, sat Tetsu — cross-legged, bent over a notebook, adjusting something small and mechanical with gloved fingers. It looked like a rabbit, but made of brass and gears, twitching faintly as if it were trying to breathe.

Kazuo stepped inside. "We got a note."

Tetsu didn't look up. "From who?"

He held up the slip of paper. "Setsuna. He wants us to go to the Royal Library."

There was a pause. A quiet sigh. Then Tetsu closed the notebook and set the tool down beside him.

"I figured he would."

Kazuo watched him for a moment.

"Can I ask you something?"

Tetsu didn't look up. "What is it?"

He stepped closer, gaze falling on a weird sphere twitching faintly on the floor.

"I always see you scribbling in that notebook. And working on all these gadgets. But… what exactly are they?"

Tetsu closed the notebook gently and glanced at the construct.

"They help me," he said.

That was all.

Kazuo waited for more, but none came. He didn't press.

Tetsu slipped his notebook under one arm and stood. “We should get going.”

They left together, stepping out into the morning light. By the time they reached the heart of the Upper Crescent, the market was already alive. Stalls lined the marble streets, silks and spices spilling in bright colors, merchants calling soft greetings to passing nobles. Carriages rolled by, wheels clattering against polished stone.

Kazuo felt the weight of eyes on him. Some paused mid-transaction, others from carriage windows — stares caught on the black eye he couldn’t hide. They had seen him in the Battle Royal. They knew he had stood as an equal among nobles. Here, in the Upper Crescent, the silence was sharper than shouting. A quiet judgment, edged now with something else — recognition. Unease. Even anger. The crowd’s reaction was no longer simple.

Tetsu walked as though he noticed nothing, calm and steady at his side.

Beyond the market, rising above the rooftops, the Royal Library came into view. Its walls were worn smooth by time, wrapped in thick ivy that curled along archways and spires. The vines clung like veins across ancient stone, but the structure itself remained unshaken.

Even from a distance, it commanded attention.

Ancient. Rooted. Still remarkable.

Kazuo finally spoke.

"So why isn't Setsuna coming himself?"

Tetsu didn't look over. "He's probably busy."

Then, after a moment: "But it's probably because the library staff don't like him very much."

"Don't like him? Why?"

Tetsu and Kazuo kept walking, eyes forward. "There was… an incident. In the eastern archives."

Kazuo waited.

"He triggered a containment rune by accident. Nearly shut the entire wing down."

"Wait—he almost destroyed the archives?"

He nodded. "They never officially banned him. But let's just say… the staff don't like seeing his face around there."

The gates of the Royal Library loomed ahead — tall, carved from stone that bore the weight of centuries. Ivy curled around its archways like it had grown with the building.

As they approached the entrance, Tetsu came to a quiet stop.

Without a word, he took off his glasses, folding them neatly, and slid them into the inner pocket of his coat. Then, with a small breath, he reached up and untied his hair — letting his luscious black strands fall loose around his face, sharp and oddly graceful.

Kazuo glanced over. "...What are you doing?"

Tetsu adjusted the strap of his notebook.

"Well…there's a specific reason why he wants me to go to the library with you."

He started walking again, slower this time.

Kazuo didn't say anything, but was visibly confused.

A part of him suddenly had a feeling this trip was going to be more complicated than expected.