The Day the Petal stirred

The morning was still enough that Shizukesa Hana could hear the kettle cooling on the counter. The small kitchen of the flat he shared with Reika always felt a little too quiet at dawn, but he didn’t mind it. He sat at the old wooden table, calmly chewing a slice of toast. His posture was straight, his expression neutral, his movements almost meticulous.

Reika Kurogane watched him over the rim of her coffee mug. Her hair was tied loosely, her tank top slightly crooked from sleep, and her eyes carried the usual mix of affection and exasperation that only he seemed capable of provoking.

“You chew like you’re trying not to wake the dead,” she said.

Shizukesa looked up. “Oh. Sorry.”

“I didn’t say stop. I said it’s weird.”

He blinked, unsure how to respond.

Reika sighed, stood up, and marched behind him. “Right. You need calibration.”

Before he could question her, she wrapped him in a sudden hug from behind. Her arms hooked around his shoulders and she rested her chin on his head.

He stiffened. Not in fear, but in surprise. Reika wasn’t touchy very often, but when she was, it always came without warning.

“You’re too calm,” she muttered into his hair. “Everyone’s nervous on their first day. You’re like a ghost pretending to be a student.”

“I don’t feel nervous,” Shizukesa said quietly.

“Exactly my point.”

She tightened the hug in a brief squeeze. Warmth, pressure, physical presence—things he knew he should be used to, but still weren’t familiar.

A faint flush rose across his cheeks. Something warm fluttered inside him, small and brief yet noticeable.

Behind his shoulder, a tiny pink petal shimmered into existence.

It floated gently in the air, glowing softly.

Reika noticed it first and froze.
“Oh, absolutely not.”

The petal drifted once, then dissolved into a faint sparkle.

Shizukesa stared. “What… was that?”

“Nothing. A glitch. You didn’t see anything.” Reika pushed herself upright. “We are not having you produce flirty petals in this kitchen. You hear me?”

“I don’t think I can control that.”

“I know. That’s what scares me.”

She circled around to face him properly, arms folded, expression settling somewhere between anxious and determined.

“Listen, Shizu. Go to school. Do your evaluations. Talk to someone if you can manage it. And whatever happens, you come home. This flat is yours. And I’m here. Understood?”

He nodded. “…Understood.”

Reika softened and ruffled his hair in a way that almost made him flinch again. “Good lad. Now get out before I start crying. I refuse to cry before breakfast.”

He picked up his bag and walked out. The wind chime outside the flat tinkled gently as the door closed behind him.

The morning sun warmed his face.
It felt like the start of something.

He just didn’t know what.

The streets leading to Hinode Garden Hero Academy were crowded with students. Shizukesa walked with quiet steps past energy drinks promotions, food stalls, and banners showing the Top Ten Guardians of Hinode. Their armour shone in carefully posed action shots, each one a hero capable of shifting the tide of a battle.

He looked up at them without recognition.
They were important, he supposed.
Just not to him.

He continued toward the academy gates.

A wind chime hanging above the entrance caught the breeze.
The sound made him pause.

ting… ting…

Before he could look up properly, someone shot past him.

“Move, move, move, I’m late!”

A girl sprinted through the gate at alarming speed and clipped his shoulder. She stumbled, almost fell, and managed to steady herself with a flail of limbs.

Shizukesa blinked. “…Are you alright?”

She looked up. Her hair was bright strawberry red, her eyes wide and golden, and embarrassment spread across her face immediately.

“Oh! I’m fine! I–sorry! You just… appeared!” she said, fumbling with the straps of her bag. “And I wasn’t looking, and now I’ve embarrassed myself and—yes, I should stop talking.”

Shizukesa watched her with quiet confusion. “I was standing here.”

“I know! I mean, I do now. Anyway, hi, I’m Aki. Aki Yamasora. I’m late and flustered and possibly dying inside.”

“Shizukesa Hana.”

Aki’s eyes widened. “Hana? As in the old Guardian? Iron Blossom Hana?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Aki opened her mouth, then seemed to decide no words she chose would be the right ones. “Right. Well. I’ll go before I say something worse. Have a good first day. Or an average one. Whatever you want!”

She bolted off.

Shizukesa watched her disappear around the corner.
“…Energetic,” he said to himself.

The courtyard buzzed with students showing off small flickers of Soul Ink. Sparks, motes of light, thin trails of smoke—small, harmless displays that filled the air with excitement.

Shizukesa walked through them unnoticed.

He didn’t spark.
He didn’t glow.
He didn’t feel anything.

A movement on the training field caught his attention. A small crowd was watching a boy practise sword swings with sharp, controlled precision.

Shizukesa paused.

The boy had short navy hair, a confident stance, and swung a wooden training sword as if every motion was the only one that mattered.

He finished a swing, looked up, and spotted Shizukesa watching.

“You,” he called. “Quiet one.”

“…Me?” Shizukesa pointed at himself.

“Yeah.” The boy walked over with easy confidence. “You look like someone who keeps their emotions buried under a mattress. Do you have Soul Ink?”

“I don’t think so.”

The boy stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“That makes two of us.”

Shizukesa blinked.

“Name’s Rin Akagawa. Swordsman. No powers. No magic. Just a lot of discipline.”
Rin grinned. “Let’s see which one of us powerless types gets further.”

Without waiting for a reply, he returned to his practice.

Shizukesa stood there a moment longer, oddly intrigued, then moved on.

Inside the academy corridor, students rushed toward the orientation hall. Shizukesa kept a steady pace until he turned a corner and lightly bumped into someone.

A soft voice spoke. “Ah… sorry.”

He looked up to see a girl with long mint-green hair and serene turquoise eyes. She held a book to her chest, posture gentle and composed.

Shizukesa nodded. “I didn’t feel it.”

She gave a faint laugh. “That sounds mildly concerning.”

She studied him, gaze thoughtful.

“You feel quiet,” she said.

“Everyone tells me that.”

“I don’t mean your voice.”

Her expression softened into a small, kind smile.

“I’m Mira Hoshi. If things get overwhelming today, come find me.”

“…Shizukesa,” he replied.

“I’ll remember it,” she said warmly and walked past him.

For reasons he didn’t understand, something about her smile lingered in his thoughts longer than expected.

The orientation hall was enormous, filled with rows of seats and banners displaying the academy’s five guilds: Azure, Ember, Bloom, Shade, and Prism. New students settled, whispering with excitement.

A retired Guardian serving as principal stepped onto the stage and welcomed them, speaking about discipline, responsibility, and learning to control the emotions that fuelled Soul Ink.

Shizukesa listened without much interest.

Guild sorting followed. Each student placed a hand on the Soul Resonance Core. Aki nearly overloaded her machine, landing herself in Ember. Mira’s reading was steady and soothing, assigning her to Bloom. Rin’s hand produced absolutely nothing, which earned side-eyes from half the hall, yet he somehow convinced the staff to put him in Azure.

Then Shizukesa’s name was called.

He stepped forward, placed his hand on the crystal core, and waited.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then everything did.

The machine flickered. Lights jumped from colour to colour at blinding speed. Staff shouted. Readings spiked off the charts.

Multiple emotional wavelengths registered at once.

Impossible.

Shizukesa felt something flicker in his chest, a pulse of confusion, awareness, and something else he couldn’t name.

He pulled his hand back. The machine died instantly.

The hall fell silent.

A senior examiner stepped forward with visible unease.

“…Prism Guild,” he declared.

The murmurs started immediately. Students whispered. Teachers exchanged hurried looks.

Shizukesa walked away quietly, unsure what had just happened.

He felt… something. A glimmer deep inside his chest. A movement he didn’t recognise.

Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it wasn’t.

The evening settled as he walked home. The sky was streaked with violet and gold. His footsteps echoed softly on the pavement.

A small shape floated behind him, invisible to his eyes.

A petal.

Soft, dark, barely formed.

It drifted for a moment in the fading light before dissolving.

In the shadowed alleyway overlooking the street, a tall figure watched him. The man’s eyes were cold steel grey, his coat long and worn, his expression unreadable.

“So you’ve started to bloom, Shizukesa,” he whispered.

The man stepped back into the darkness, unseen.

Shizukesa walked on, unaware of the truth following him.