Reflections Of Light

Akihiro quickly cleared his thoughts, bowing his head slightly as he addressed the others. “I need to check on something back at the Academy,” he said, voice calm but precise. Every movement was deliberate, a careful effort to maintain composure. Being near Aihana had shaken him more than he expected—her presence made the ground beneath him feel unsteady, as if some invisible current tugged at his balance.

Rei gave a subtle nod, understanding that it had been too much for Akihiro to handle in that moment.

Aihana lingered at the edge of the lake, her gaze fixed on him, heart racing. The girls waved for her to come back, but she barely noticed. Her attention was completely drawn to Akihiro’s retreating figure, now distant, yet still deeply present in her heart.

Why does he affect me so much? she wondered. Her fingers still dripped with water, catching the last glimmers of sunlight, and she felt both exposed and enchanted at once.

Akihiro’s steps were deliberate, yet his mind wandered as he walked toward the Academy. Every decision as leader of the angels seemed simple compared to the turmoil Aihana stirred in his chest.

Why does she unsettle me so? he thought. The Academy, the guardianship… all must come first. I am responsible… yet every moment near her makes me reckless.

A faint doubt lingered. This… is something else. Something I did not anticipate.

He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. I cannot give in to these feelings. If I lose control, I risk everything… including her. But every moment without her feels empty.

For a moment, he paused, glancing back toward the lake where Aihana, the girls, and Rei remained. A surge of protective instinct welled up inside him. I must be strong. I must be steady. But I cannot deny what I feel.

Each step forward was measured, yet the inner conflict between duty and heart raged stronger than ever.

Inside the Academy, Control Hall glowed with the soft, ethereal light of holograms and displays. Akihiro moved among consoles, his face bathed in pale blue light, scanning the flow of energy anomalies worldwide.

“Report,” he commanded, voice calm yet authoritative, addressing the angels overseeing the world.

Minor natural anomalies here, nothing threatening. Ravukaru’s energy signatures minimal and contained there. Akihiro’s eyes tracked each fluctuation, each pulse of power, ensuring no detail went unnoticed.

“Remain on position. Report immediately if anything changes. Nothing escapes our vigilance,” he said, then stepped back, exhaling slowly. The pull of Aihana, of the lake, faded slightly, replaced by the discipline of duty.

Later, in the Academy’s training hall, silence reigned. Stained-glass windows cast long, muted shadows across the polished floors. Akihiro stood at the center, gripping the hilt of his energy blade—a weapon of pure, glowing light that hummed faintly, casting streaks of soft illumination across the hall.

Strike one—sharp, precise. The blade tore through the air, leaving a streak of radiant energy that shimmered and crackled like lightning suspended in glass.

Strike two—faster, more furious, each swing cutting not only space but his scattered thoughts, arcs of glowing light chasing the blade like spectral fire.

With every movement, visions of Aihana flashed before him: her smile, the sparkle in her eyes from yesterday’s dance, the way she had looked at him today at the lake. Each memory ignited a faint heat in his chest that the blade alone could not burn away.

Strike. Another. Another.

His shoulders shook—not from exhaustion, but from the internal conflict that no physical exercise could dispel. The energy of the blade pulsed and arced with each swing, lighting the hall in shifting waves, streaks of brilliance reflecting off the walls and the polished floor, echoing the storm within him.

“Why…?” he murmured to himself. “Why her? Why now, when I must be strong, when I must lead?”

The blade slammed into the floor, sending a radiant shockwave across the hall. Light spilled outward, painting the walls in jagged patterns of energy. Akihiro leaned on it, eyes closed, breath rapid, struggling against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

A soft footstep echoed. Rei appeared at the doorway, arms crossed, quietly watching. He noted the tension in Akihiro’s movements, the sharp rise and fall of his chest, the subtle quiver of the blade in his hand.

“If you swing any harder, you’ll punch a hole in the floor,” Rei remarked, a faint smirk teasing the silence, the glow from his own sword casting silver arcs around him.

Akihiro did not turn. “Training clears my head,” he murmured.

Rei stepped closer, eyes serious but calm. “I know. But today, you’re not training to improve. Today, you’re running—from yourself.”

The energy blade pulsed in Akihiro’s grip, arcs of light dancing around his fingers like liquid starlight. He closed his eyes and lowered it slightly. “Rei… you don’t understand.”

“Maybe not,” Rei said, summoning his own glowing sword. Its silver light cut through the dim hall like flowing energy, colliding with Akihiro’s blade in bright flashes, sparks flying with each subtle movement. “But I know it’s not our enemies you’re fighting.”

Silence fell. Then, Akihiro slowly raised his sword again, the blade vibrating with raw power, pure energy flickering along the edge like living fire. Rei met him in the center of the hall, their weapons clashing in a symphony of light and sound, arcs of energy spiraling and twisting in chaotic, mesmerizing patterns.

“Too much thinking,” Rei said, parrying a rapid strike. “If you fight only with your heart, you’d be more dangerous than anyone.”

The hall shimmered under the brilliance of their duel, walls flickering as if alive, reacting to the bursts of energy that scattered with every collision. Sparks danced across the floor, twisting in the air, turning the chamber into a storm of radiant light and motion.

Akihiro’s jaw clenched, eyes blazing, but for the first time, the tension eased slightly—his movements were sharp, precise, and yet daring, guided as much by feeling as by duty.

Rei intentionally let a strike glance by him, grinning. “Yes! That’s it—I wanted to see the spark in your eyes!”

Akihiro faltered for a heartbeat, breath heavy, but a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. The storm within him began to clear—at least enough for focus to return. The blades’ hum filled the hall, a symphony of light, energy, and intensity—a reflection of the battle raging inside him, both of mind and heart.

Rei stepped closer, his expression softening, and from the folds of his cloak, he drew a small, folded sketch. With a casual flick of his wrist, he held it out toward Akihiro. “Here,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “She made this… before she even knew who you really were.”

Akihiro looked down, taking the sketch. The paper trembled slightly in his hands. It was Aihana’s drawing—him in his angelic form, wings spread wide, the glow of his aura captured in delicate lines. The subtle details… the way she had seen him, really seen him, before anything else had happened.

Rei’s voice softened, carrying just a hint of amusement and something more profound. “You’ve been in her heart from almost the very start, Akihiro. Even before she said a word, even before you realized… she already felt it. And you knew it too, didn’t you? But you’ve been fighting yourself as much as everything else.”

Akihiro’s jaw tightened. He had guessed—her glances, the warmth in her gaze—but seeing it like this, so innocent and honest, left him breathless. His sense of duty pressed against his own heart, and something fragile but undeniable stirred inside him.

He exhaled, glancing at Rei, who simply nodded, letting the unspoken weight of the truth settle. “I do,” Akihiro murmured, almost to himself. “I’ve always known… but I can’t let it interfere. Not yet.”

With the sketch in his hand, the memory of her smile, her trust, and her feelings fueled a new clarity. Raising his blade again, his movements were guided not just by duty or training, but by something deeper, something he had barely allowed himself to admit. The hall shimmered around him, the duel’s light reflecting the quiet, unspoken truths now resting in his chest.