When Dawn Breaks the Balance

A-Academy – Morning Training Grounds

The morning sky hung low, pale, mist curling above the training field. Dew clung to the grass, shimmering faintly. The girls gathered slowly, stretching sleep from their limbs.

Hikari tugged at her ponytail. “Where’s everyone?”

Before anyone could answer, Kaito stepped onto the field, Ayame close behind him. Kaito’s expression was calm but sharper than usual; Ayame’s was unreadable, polished, hiding something sharper beneath.

“They’re in Tokyo,” Kaito said. “Another demon surge.”

Sora frowned. “Again?”

Kaori clenched her fists nervously.

Ayame folded her arms. “That is why we are leading your training today. Don’t fall behind.”

Her tone landed with just a little too much force. Aihana felt it instantly—a small, precise cut at her confidence. Mizuki glanced sideways. Not subtle, she thought.

Kaito clapped once. “Four laps. Then stamina drills.”

The air was cold, biting at their lungs. Ayame jogged alongside the girls, eyes sweeping their posture—and paused at Aihana.

“You should watch your footing,” Ayame said smoothly. “You tend to trip when you rush. Or… when your mind is elsewhere.”

Aihana’s steps faltered.

“I—I wasn’t rushing,” she said quietly.

Ayame smiled without warmth. “Just an observation. For your own good.”

Mizuki shot her a sharp look. Ayame pretended not to notice.

At the rope course, Ayame appeared again.

“Don’t force it. Some of you learn slower. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Aihana bit her lip, grip loosening. She almost fell.

“Aihana!” Mizuki called out. But Aihana caught herself—heart pounding.

Ayame only nodded. “See? Distracted.”

Mizuki’s jaw tightened. That’s enough.

Training dragged on—burpees, sprints, obstacles. Each time Aihana tried to focus, Ayame’s comments pressed against her confidence like weight on her chest.

By the end, Aihana stood pale, unsettled. Ayame walked away, expression neutral. Mizuki watched her with narrowed eyes. I have to tell Rei about this.

Tokyo – Demon Breach Site

A narrow street in Shin-Kawasaki lay choked with smoke. Neon flickered, electricity pulsed. Shadows crawled up walls like living oil.

Akihiro landed first, blade summoned. Rei, Daichi, and other angels followed, wings flaring.

“Spread out. They’re close,” Akihiro said quietly.

A snarling echo answered. Then—Ravukaru emerged from a dark alley, tall, monstrous, air warping around him. A grin split his face.

“Prince Akihiro,” he purred. “How devoted you are… always running to fix your little world.”

Akihiro’s grip tightened. “Leave now.”

Ravukaru chuckled. “Why would I? You hide her so carefully. Your little Guardian of Love.”

Akihiro’s wings stiffened. “Mention her again and—”

Ravukaru raised clawed hands. “I don’t need to. I will come for her soon enough.”

Akihiro lunged. Light met shadow, energy rippling. Rei and Daichi pushed back demons, light clashing with darkness.

Ravukaru blocked Akihiro’s strike, laughing. “You’re slipping. Because of her.”

“Enough,” Akihiro growled.

One heartbeat too slow—Ravukaru slashed across his side. A burst of light. Akihiro reeled, wings shaking.

“Akihiro!” Rei shouted. Daichi blasted Ravukaru, forcing him to retreat.

“You can’t protect her forever, angelic prince,” Ravukaru’s voice echoed as he dissolved into shadow.

Akihiro wiped blood from his side, breath sharp. Rei’s eyes narrowed. “We need to return. Now.”

Akihiro didn’t argue, but his hand trembled.

A-Academy – Afternoon

Aihana wandered in one of the hallways alone, Ayame’s words looping in her head like a quiet echo she couldn’t shake.

Maybe I am behind.
Maybe I don’t belong here.
Maybe—

She rounded a corner—and froze.

Akihiro stood near the wall, half-shadowed, hand pressed to his side. Blood darkened the fabric of his uniform.

Aihana’s breath caught. “A–Akihiro?”

His head lifted instantly, trying—and failing—to straighten.

“Aihana,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t—”

“You’re hurt.” Her voice trembled. “You’re… you’re bleeding.”

He looked away, jaw tight. “It’s nothing.”

“That is not nothing,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Angels can be hurt?”

His silence answered her.

Her stomach dropped. Cold washed through her.

“You… you could die,” she said in a shaking breath.

His eyes finally met hers—steady yet soft, as if trying to shield her even now.

“Aihana. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine!” she cried softly. “I thought angels were… untouchable. You’re—”

Her voice cracked.

“You’re not supposed to bleed.”

Akihiro stepped closer, every movement controlled to hide the pain.

“Aihana.” His voice lowered. “I’m here. I’m alive. That’s what matters.”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. Somewhere deep inside, something fundamental shifted—the terrifying realization that he wasn’t invincible. He was mortal enough to die.

Her breath shook.

“Please let me help,” she whispered.

For the first time since she met him, Akihiro hesitated. And that hesitation meant everything.

The hallway was quiet, the air thick with a tension Aihana couldn’t shake off. Akihiro tried pushing off the wall, insisting he was fine, insisting she should go, insisting this was “nothing.” She didn’t move.

“You’re bleeding,” she repeated, softer, but immovable. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Aihana…” His voice hinted at warning, authority, all the layers he used to keep distance.

She stepped closer. “Please. Let me help you.”

He exhaled slowly, and for the first time she saw it—the faint tremor in his breath. Pain. Real pain. Finally, he nodded once. “Fine. Come with me.”

A-Academy – Akihiro’s Apartment

He led her through a secret entrance of one of the hallways, up a quiet staircase rarely used, toward a floor she didn’t recognize. Akihiro’s pace was steady, but she saw it—the subtle stiffness in his steps, the way he pressed a hand against his ribs when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Aihana swallowed hard. He’s trying not to show it. He’s hiding the pain from me. Why…?

They reached a dark wooden door. Akihiro unlocked it. Inside, his apartment was exactly as she imagined: minimalistic, clean, quiet. A faint scent of cedar. Everything neat, every object placed with intention. And somehow… lonely.

“Where do you keep your medical supplies?” Aihana asked.

He blinked, thrown off. “You… assume I have some.”

“Well, do you?” Aihana challenged.

A beat of silence. “…Yes,” he admitted quietly, like he regretted saying it.

He opened a cabinet near the kitchenette: alcohol wipes, sterile gauze, bandages, tweezers, salve. Neatly arranged. Unused.

Aihana stared. “You have a whole kit.”

“I heal slower outside angelic form,” he said simply. “It’s practical.”

“You should’ve told me,” she whispered.

Akihiro looked away. “You worry too much.”

“Sorry,” she said, voice softening, “but today I’m allowed to.”

He didn’t argue.

Akihiro sat on the edge of the couch. He hesitated only a moment before lifting his shirt, revealing the wound: dark red streaks where Ravukaru's claws had cut deep into his side. The skin around it bruised, glowing faintly with unstable angelic energy.

Aihana’s breath hitched. “Akihiro… this is serious.”

“It’s already closing,” he said calmly. “It will heal. It just needs cleaning.”

His voice was steady. His jaw, however, was tight with pain.

Aihana knelt beside him, opening the alcohol wipes with shaking hands. Akihiro watched her quietly.

“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured.

“I do,” she said, almost a whisper. “I want to.”

Her hands hovered over his skin.

“T-this might sting,” she warned.

Akihiro smirked faintly. “I can handle—”

The alcohol touched the wound. He inhaled sharply, muscles tensing.

Aihana froze. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” he said through controlled breath. “Continue.”

She cleaned the wound carefully, her fingers brushing the warm skin around it.

It was impossible not to feel the heat of him, the tension, the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing.

His voice broke the silence. “You didn’t need to see this.”

“If something happens to you,” she said quietly, “I want to know.”

Akihiro’s eyes flicked to hers—sharp, surprised.

“You shouldn’t,” he whispered.

“But I do.”

Their eyes held. Too long. Too close.

Aihana looked down quickly, cheeks burning. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright,” he said, voice calm again, controlled.

She wrapped the gauze around his waist, leaning in to fasten it. His breath brushed her cheek. Her hands trembled.

Akihiro noticed. “Aihana,” he said softly, “breathe.”

“I am,” she murmured, flustered. “Trying.”

His lips twitched—almost a smile.

When she finished, she sat back on her heels. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“That means a lot,” she said honestly.

Akihiro exhaled, looking at her—not as a Guardian, not as a student. Something else. Something he wasn’t supposed to show.

“You didn’t have to do any of this,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t have to get hurt,” she replied.

A silence settled—soft, fragile, strangely warm. And dangerous.

He looked away first. “You should rest. You had training this morning.”

“You need rest more than I do.”

“I’ll heal by tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Akihiro hesitated.

Aihana stood, suddenly shy. “I should… go. Before anyone sees me coming out of your place.”

He nodded, looking down at his bandaged side. “Thank you, Aihana.”

She turned to leave—then stopped, heart in her throat.

“Please,” she whispered without turning around, “don’t scare me like that again.”

He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was low, soft, and entirely unlike his usual distant calm.

“…I’ll try.”

Aihana stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it. Her heart refused to slow down.

Inside the apartment, Akihiro sat very still—hand resting over the bandage she placed—eyes closed. For the first time, he realized how much he noticed her—how even the smallest concern from her lingered in his mind, quietly, impossibly.