December 26 to 31 4005
For five consecutive days, Light dedicated himself to an arduous training regimen, wielding his sword with unwavering determination. The burning desire to confront Derek, who had nearly taken his life alongside Marcus and Cain, was evident in every swing of his blade. After each day's classes, he would disappear into the forest, immersing himself in vigorous training until he returned drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted. Little did Light know, Claire carefully observed his activities.
In secret, Claire discreetly trailed him to the forest every day. With skilled precision, she followed his path, making sure to remain undetected. Hidden behind trees or concealed among bushes, she watched him for hours on end, unable to tear her gaze away. Light's intense focus and relentless determination served as a distraction, preventing him from noticing Claire's watchful eyes. Deep concern for his well-being filled her heart as she observed him tirelessly honing his swordsmanship.
Upon Light's return from yet another grueling training session, Claire pretended to inquire about his well-being. However, behind her facade, she felt a profound ache, witnessing his solitary struggle. Finally, unable to bear it any longer...
December 31 4005 4:40 PM
After enduring another exhausting day of training, Light wearily returned to his dormitory. Collapsing onto his bed, he placed his sword beside him and closed his eyes, succumbing to fatigue.
His mind drifted into an abyss, devoid of thoughts, words, and light. A dark emptiness engulfed his consciousness until a faint knock on his door shattered the silence.
Three consecutive knocks echoed through the room, followed by a prolonged pause as the wind whispered outside. Light opened his eyes slowly, glancing briefly towards the door before dismissing it and closing his eyes again.
But the person on the other side of the door knocked again, this time with urgency and desperation. The rhythm changed from three knocks to five, and before he knew it, it escalated into a rapid succession of over thirty knocks, the count lost amidst the intensity.
And then, a familiar feminine voice, soft and tinged with nostalgia, spoke from the other side. It was a sound he hadn't heard during his three days of training.
"Light?" the familiar feminine voice called out, pulling him back from the depths of his thoughts.
Gradually, Light's recognition of the voice in his mind coalesced into a mental image. He envisioned the cheerful yellow-haired girl, always at his side, surrounded by the encompassing darkness. Opening his eyes, he fixed a blank stare upon the door.
With a gradual rise, Light stood up, and the familiar voice resounded once more, this time in an informal tone that hinted at a long-standing connection.
"Light? Hey, it's me. Remember? Claire? Could you please open the door?" Claire's words carried a sense of familiarity.
Light's eyes widened, and despite his weakened state from the recent rigorous training, he mustered his remaining strength. Reluctantly leaving his bed, he approached the door, his movements slow and deliberate, with Claire awaiting on the other side.
The brown, chocolate-patterned door opened slowly, emitting a faint creak. Light's gaze met Claire's as they stood face to face, alone in the room. Light maintained an emotionless expression, while Claire's face initially displayed a hint of annoyance, with her left eye twitching slightly. However, her expression swiftly transformed into one of concern upon witnessing Light's weakened state—bruised, battered, and devoid of energy.
"So... what's up?" Light asked, his face reflecting confusion and weariness.
"Fine, how about you?" Claire responded, trying to maintain a light tone.
"Fine as always," Light replied, his voice monotone.
"Really? You look anything but fine," Claire retorted sarcastically, her concern evident.
"I'll come to your room without any makeup, let's see if you look any different from my current state," Light responded, sarcasm lacing his words.
"How dare you?!" Claire exclaimed, her annoyance showing. "I'll have you know, I possess natural beauty, and I barely even wear makeup," she added, her tone still tinged with concern.
"As if," Light scoffed dismissively.
In an instant, their sarcastic banter came to a halt, leaving an uncomfortable pause between Light and Claire. They exchanged awkward glances, fidgeting with unease, uncertain of how to proceed. The weight of the moment hung heavily in the air, saturating the room with tension. Summoning all her inner strength, Claire mustered the courage to break the silence.
"Anyway... may I come in?" she asked softly, her voice devoid of its usual playful tone.
Inside his room, Light stood alone, meeting Claire's eyes. Her face displayed a blend of sincerity and concern, accentuating her inherent cuteness and femininity. The room seemed to hold its breath as the two of them engaged in this vulnerable exchange.
Light, his hand still resting on his head, hesitated for a moment before finally nodding in agreement. He silently granted Claire's request, allowing her entry into his room, a gesture that held more significance than mere words.
Claire cautiously stepped inside, her eyes widening in disbelief at the barren and desolate space before her. The room lacked any semblance of life, devoid of personal touches or decorations like those in her own room and those of other students. The emptiness seemed to mirror Light's personality, she mused silently, her gaze sweeping across the surroundings.
Within the room stood a plain white bed, untouched and neglected. The mattress, blanket, and pillow remained unchanged, covered in a layer of dust. The pillow bore a slight indentation, perfectly molded to fit the shape of Light's head, while the blanket lay slightly crumpled, with his sword resting upon it.
"You could hurt yourself with this thing on your bed," Claire remarked, her voice laced with concern.
"Well, I've grown accustomed to sleeping with it," Light replied sarcastically.
"You do what now?!" Claire exclaimed, her tone betraying her worry.
"It's called sarcasm," Light retorted.
"Well, it doesn't come across that way to me, you know," Claire responded, her concern for him evident in her voice.
With a slow and cautious motion, Claire reached for the sword resting on the bed. As she lifted it, she immediately felt the weight in her hands, her surprise evident.
"Uhm, heavy..." Claire murmured, her voice filled with astonishment.
"You can give up if you want to," Light responded, his words laced with sarcasm and delivered in an emotionless tone.
"Oh, shut up... Watch me," Claire retorted, determination etching across her face.
Though the sword proved heavy, Claire refused to yield. She persevered, struggling to maneuver the weight, but steadily she managed to slip it back into its scabbard, beside the sword. With a final exertion of strength, she placed it on the nearby wall. Light observed her actions impassively, his gaze fixed upon her.
"Hmm... Hmm... You lift this thing all day?!" Claire exclaimed, breathless from the effort.
"Yeah, I mean, I've grown used to it..." Light responded, a sincere expression briefly flickering across his face.
Claire's gaze remained fixed on Light, captivated by the unexpected sincerity emanating from his eyes. It was a revelation that shattered her preconceived notions of his character, challenging the assumptions she had formed over time. Despite his emotionless and stoic demeanor, Light possessed a depth that extended beyond his sarcastic quips.
In those blank, piercing gray eyes, Claire detected a unique allure. There was an intriguing enigma hidden behind the façade of emptiness, drawing her closer and igniting a spark of curiosity. It was as if Light's true self lay concealed within those depths, waiting to be discovered.
However, her attention shifted back to the sword that lay beside him, reminding her of the arduous training he endured. It served as a symbol of his unwavering dedication and resilience, a testament to his determination in the face of adversity. Claire's admiration for Light grew, witnessing his unwavering commitment to honing his skills, even at the cost of physical strain and exhaustion.
As these thoughts swirled within her, Claire found herself yearning to uncover the layers that composed Light's complex persona, eager to understand the depths hidden beneath his enigmatic exterior.
"So... where did you get that monster?" Claire inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"I've had it with me since I was 9," Light replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
Claire's eyebrows furrowed in surprise and bewilderment. "Wait, so you mean you had that thing as a child?" she asked, her tone conveying a mix of astonishment and disbelief.
Light let out a slow, heavy sigh, his gaze drifting upwards to the ceiling before responding to Claire's question.
"Yes, I had that sword since I was a child. Although back then, I couldn't even lift my Metalink Sword... It took me nearly half a year before I could manage to lift it, even if just a little," Light explained, his voice still lacking any trace of emotion.
Curiosity painted across her face, Claire asked, "But why do you still use it after all these years?"
A somber tone entered Light's voice as he answered, "It's the only thing that remains with me... The only constant in my life." His words carried a weight that hinted at a deeper, more profound significance attached to the sword.
A brief pause hung in the air before Light spoke, his voice devoid of emotion but carrying a hint of melancholy.
"In a way, I consider it as a childhood friend that I never had..." he revealed, his words tinged with an emotionless tone.
Claire's response was a subdued "Oh..." Her voice conveyed a mix of empathy and comprehension, silently acknowledging the weight and significance that Light attached to his connection with the sword.
As Claire's gaze roamed around the room once more, she couldn't help but notice the desolate and barren state it was in. The lifeless cabinet caught her attention, its surface covered in a layer of dust. On top of it, she spotted two picture frames—one upright, while the other lay face-down. The sight stirred a sense of curiosity within her, wondering what memories those frames might hold.
Beside the scabbard where she had carefully placed Light's sword, his black backpack leaned against the wall. It seemed to blend into the room, adding to the overall monochromatic atmosphere. A black flat-screen TV sat atop a desk, accompanied by a matching black console underneath. A solitary black laptop occupied the table nearby, accompanied only by an empty chair.
The room itself exuded an eerie emptiness, devoid of any personal touches or signs of life. Even after spending several days at the academy, Light's room remained virtually unchanged, unlike the rooms of other students. It neither bore the marks of neglect nor the traces of tidiness—it simply existed in a state of emptiness, mirroring Light's own lack of emotions and vitality.
Claire gingerly approached Light's cabinet, her yellow eyes drawn to a particular photograph framed amidst the dust. As she picked it up, she found herself face-to-face with a captured moment from Light's past. The image depicted a younger version of him, standing beside a gray-haired girl on a rocky beach. Their youthful innocence radiated from the photo, frozen in time.
Disregarding the photo lying face-down, Claire held up the picture of Light and the gray-haired girl, making her way towards Light who now sat on his disheveled bed. With a mix of intrigue and tenderness, she presented the photograph before him and posed her question.
"Is this you?" Claire inquired, her eyes searching for any flicker of recognition in Light's expression.
Light met her gaze with an unchanging, impassive face. "Was," he replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
Claire's curiosity was piqued, her expression reflecting a desire for further understanding. "Was?" she pondered, hoping for an explanation to unravel the mystery behind the past captured within the frame.
Claire examined the photograph with keen eyes, noticing a subtle but genuine smile gracing Light's face—an expression she had never witnessed before. It held a spark of vitality and warmth that seemed to contrast the present-day version of him.
Amused by Light's surprising demeanor, Claire couldn't help but let out a giggle. Her attention then shifted to the gray-haired girl standing beside him in the picture. The girl's radiant smile surpassed Light's, and she appeared slightly taller, reminiscent of a familial connection. It was as if they shared a resemblance, hinting at a potential sibling bond.
With curiosity brimming in her voice, Claire inquired, "So... who is she?"
Light's response was tinged with a touch of sorrow. "My, well... she was my sister," he replied, his tone carrying a weight of loss.
Claire's words stumbled out, laced with concern and empathy. "W-what happened?"
Light's silence weighed heavily in the air, his gaze fixed downwards, his face partially hidden by his black hair. It was as if words had abandoned him, leaving Claire feeling a sense of helplessness. She instinctively sat down beside him, her expression filled with concern and compassion.
"Sorry, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to," Claire offered softly, understanding the sensitivity of the subject.
But before she could finish her sentence, Light's voice broke the silence, delivering a heartbreaking revelation. "She's dead," he stated with a sincerity that resonated through his words.
The unexpected revelation left Claire utterly shocked and at a loss for words. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound escaped. She could only gaze at Light, her eyes reflecting the sorrow she felt for him, and the immense weight of the loss he had experienced.
Claire's apology hung in the air, followed by Light's emotionless acknowledgement. They remained frozen in their places, unable to find the right words to bridge the gap between them. The cold wind swept through the dim and lifeless dorm room, yet neither of them flinched, their shared presence offering some form of comfort.
Claire gathered her courage and posed a question that had been weighing on her mind. "Sorry, but if you don't mind my asking... Light, why is it that you always avoid speaking with people or socializing for that matter?"
Light met her gaze, his expression sincere and contemplative. "Do you really want to know?" he asked, his eyes revealing a depth of emotions he rarely displayed.
Claire nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. "It's because of her, isn't it?" she ventured, sensing a connection between Light's guarded nature and the loss of his sister.
Light stood next to her in silence, his breath caught in his chest for a few fleeting moments. Slowly, he inhaled deeply, as if summoning the strength to confront the weight of his past. After exhaling slowly, Light began to speak, his voice carrying an emotionless tone.
Light's voice wavered as he delved deeper into his past. "A long time ago, about five years ago from today," he began, his words tinged with a hint of melancholy. "I trained alongside other children my age. We all aspired to become 'great warriors,' just as my father had taught me."
Silence hung heavy in the air as Claire struggled to find the right words to respond. The weight of Light's tragic revelations stifled her voice, leaving her speechless. She yearned to offer comfort but understood the importance of allowing Light to share his story in his own time.
Gathering his thoughts, Light took another deep breath, summoning the courage to continue recounting his painful memories.
Light's voice remained eerily emotionless as he delved further into his tragic past. "We were members of the so-called Black Cross Sword faction," he stated coldly. "Our training environment was brutal, with no respite. Every morning, we were compelled to pick up our weapons and endure grueling training. Failure was not an option, as my father's punishments were severe."
His gaze distant and detached, Light muttered a name that carried a heavy weight. "My friends, including her, my sister," he spoke with a somber tone, "were the only reasons I clung to life amidst the horrors we faced, under the watchful eye of my father."
"Day after day, for years on end, we trained relentlessly, only to engage in battles against one another until the room was stained with blood," Light continued with a chilling calmness. "Exhaustion was our constant companion, and survival itself became a matter of luck."
The words hung in the air, painting a haunting picture to Claire of the grim world Light had endured. His lack of emotional expression only emphasized the depths of his past sufferings.
Claire remained frozen, her heart heavy with the weight of Light's words. She couldn't find the right words to comfort him, so she simply listened, her eyes locked on his face.
"My friends, including her," Light's voice remained detached, devoid of any emotion, "we found solace in each other amidst that hellish environment. We clung to moments of fleeting joy, attempting to find light within the darkness. We held onto the belief that one day, we would become heroes, as my father had always told us."
Light's breath trembled slightly as he continued, his eyes fixed on a distant memory. His voice remained steady, yet the emotional weight behind his words was palpable.
"But no matter how hard we trained, how much blood was shed, we couldn't escape the truth. The realization that we were trapped in a cycle of violence, bound to a destiny we never chose."
Claire's heart ached for Light, understanding the depth of his pain and the burdens he carried. She sat beside him, her presence offering silent support as he ventured further into the painful narrative of his past.
"Everything was fine, despite the hell we endured, until that fateful day..." Light's voice carried a touch of anger, the memories still fresh in his mind. Claire's question hung heavy in the air, her voice filled with sorrow.
"Bandits... The Black Scar Clan," Light responded, his tone laced with bitterness. "They attacked us, just as they attacked us at this academy where I went to to escape my past..."
Claire's eyes widened in realization, connecting the dots between her encounter and the dark history that plagued Light's life.
"Those bandits," Light continued, his expression remaining stoic yet his eyes revealing a flicker of emotion, "they were the mortal enemies of my father and our supposed clan..."
A heavy silence settled between them, their shared understanding deepening the weight of the tragic past that bound them together. Claire's heart went out to Light, realizing the immense burden he carried.
Claire's shock turned into concern as she moved closer to Light, her voice filled with compassion.
"You don't have to continue, Light," she said softly, her eyes reflecting her empathy.
"Do I have to stop now after you asked me to tell you in the first place?" he questioned, challenging her to reconsider.
Claire was rendered speechless by his words, despite the emotional toll it took on him. With a heavy heart, she silently urged to listen to him.
"Well, as the group of bandits attacked us suddenly, they threw a barrage of bombs on the room we trained at, slept at, ate at, and spent most of our years in..." he began.
Claire's hands flew to cover her mouth, her eyes widening in shock as she absorbed the magnitude of the tragedy unfolding before her. She could hardly believe the horror that Light had experienced.
"Everything went black as the bombs exploded," Light continued, his voice steady but devoid of any hint of the emotions he must have felt at that moment. "I woke up, and there was fire everywhere. It was blurry, but I knew what was going on. I saw my friends slowly die in front of me... I don't even remember most of them, not even their names."
Claire's heart ached for Light as she listened, the weight of his loss becoming increasingly apparent. The unimaginable pain he must have endured was etched across his face, even though his voice remained void of any visible emotion.
Claire covered her mouth with both of her hands in shock as her eyes widen while she continued listening to the story.
"As I was covered in several debris, she, my sister, Karra, lifted the wreckage with all her strength and grabbed my hand. We ran as fast as we could, desperate to escape the bandits who mercilessly slaughtered our teammates, our friends, the people we had shared our lives with for so many years... We witnessed the devastation unfold before our eyes. And then, the massive building adjacent to us exploded, the very place where my father was supposed to be..."
Light's voice remained devoid of emotion, his words carrying the weight of the tragedy he had witnessed. The memory played vividly in his mind as he continued, recounting the harrowing moments that followed.
"As we stood there, paralyzed by shock, another piece of debris hurtled towards us from the collapsing building... I wasn't fast enough. She pushed me away before I could react... Damn it," Light's voice cracked slightly, betraying a hint of pain beneath his stoic exterior. "I watched helplessly as she called out for me to run, her voice drowned out by the encroaching bandits. I wanted desperately to save her, but I had no choice. So, I ran..."
Light paused, his breathing heavy as he took a moment to collect himself before resuming his story.
"I regret that decision to this day... Karra," says Light, his voice devoid of emotion.
"What happened next?" asks Claire, her voice filled with concern.
"I ran away as fast as I could before coming across a friend of mine," says Light, maintaining his emotionless tone.
"Was he okay?" asks Claire, her voice trembling.
"He hung himself on a tree," says Light, delivering the tragic revelation with his usual detached demeanor.
Claire's eyes widen in shock as the weight of the revelation crashes down on her. She gazes at Light, his expression unyielding, yet carrying the heavy burden of his past.
"I told him what happened, and he yelled at me, blaming me for everything. And honestly, I couldn't argue because deep down, I knew it was my fault," says Light, his voice void of emotion.
"Light, it wasn't..." responds Claire, her voice filled with compassion.
"It was... He immediately grabbed a nearby vine from a tree, tied it to a branch, and hung himself. I was in shock, frozen. By the time I could move, he was already gone," continues Light.
"Then more bandits appeared, and I lost control. I had lost my friends, my sister, my sanity. Without hesitation, I drew my sword and fought them, one by one."
"Y-you killed them?" asks Claire, her voice trembling.
"I came close..." responds Light.
"For years, I hunted down every one of them, those bandits who killed my friends. Every day, I felt my sanity slipping away. I couldn't cry, I couldn't scream. My sword witnessed it all," Light says, his emotions still distant.
"I put them behind bars... I thought I had taken out all of them, but I was wrong," Light continues.
He pauses, his gaze turning towards Claire, who looks at him with shock after hearing his story.
"Now you understand me," says Light.
Claire rises to her feet and stands in front of him.
"You can leave if you want to. You don't have to bear this burden alone," says Light emotionlessly.
Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Claire tightly embraces Light. It's a feeling he hasn't experienced in a long time—a genuine display of emotion. In that moment, Claire finally comprehends why Light is emotionless, why he isolates himself, and why she was drawn to him on that day she became his partner.
"Why do you care so much?" asks Light.
"Because if I don't, no one else will," replies Claire with a soft voice.
Light's thoughts halt for a moment. Though his emotions remain subdued, he senses a faint glimmer within his dark and broken heart. It has been so long since he felt any semblance of emotion, introverted in a world where emotions seem like an alien language to him.
"Don't worry, I'm here," says Claire.
He attempts to reciprocate the hug but hesitates, unsure of how to express emotions after years of suppressing them. He yearned for this connection, this sensation, for so long. However, he lacks the understanding of how to convey it since the tragic events of his childhood—the fires, the blood, the deaths—those memories have haunted him, leaving him depressed and broken even in his teenage years. Sarcasm became his coping mechanism, the only means to navigate his pain when there was nothing else but himself and his loneliness.
Claire releases her embrace, and they both sit down, their backs against the edge of the bed, reflecting on Light's tragic childhood. At that moment, Claire comprehends Light's behavior—his emotional detachment, his sarcasm, his blank stares. She understands why he distances himself from others, why he deliberately makes people dislike him.
"Light, I won't stop you anymore. Go, fight. If I can't stop you, I can at least support you," says Claire.
"Thanks, I suppose. I've never been much of a talking person, but thanks for being a 'friend'," responds Light.
Claire stands up and extends her hand to Light, smiling brightly.
"I won't leave your side, you know," says Claire.
He hesitates, contemplating, before slowly lifting his hand to accept hers. Yet, at the last moment, he withdraws his hand and stops, unsure. Claire then reaches out again, offering her hand with an even brighter smile. Finally, he accepts it and holds her hand. They stand up and sit on the edge of the bed. Claire turns to Light.
"Hey, may I ask one last question?" asks Claire.
"Go ahead, I'm listening," responds Light.
"What's your actual full name?" asks Claire.
"Well, that's an odd thing to ask," responds Light.
"You never told me your full name," says Claire.
Light looks shocked, his mouth slightly open, before averting his gaze and answering her unexpected question.
"It's Light. Light Kazuki Graystone," says Light.
"Whoa? Well, I guess it's only fair. Mine's Claire Itsuka Enheart," says Claire, blushing.
Light and Claire exchange awkward glances before proceeding to spend the cold night in Light's dorm, playing video games, and asking each other questions, further strengthening their once-distant relationship. Light experiences a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time, if only fleetingly, in the presence of Claire. Emotions he thought he had lost forever begin to resurface. He just doesn't know how to express them, not since the tragic events of his childhood—the fires, the blood, the deaths. Those memories have haunted him for years, leaving him depressed and broken, seeking solace only within himself.
"Don't worry, I'm right here," says Claire.
He contemplates for a moment, then attempts to express his gratitude by slowly reaching out to hug her. But just before their embrace, he hesitates once more, holding back. He has never felt someone's warmth and emotions directed toward him. Nonetheless, he craves this feeling that has been absent from his life for far too long. Eventually, he gathers the courage and fully embraces her, finally accepting the comfort and companionship he longed for.
They stand up, hand in hand, and settle back on the bed. Claire turns to Light.
"Hey, can I ask one more thing?" asks Claire.
"Ask away. I'm all ears," responds Light.
"What's your real full name?" asks Claire.
"Well, that's a strange question," says Light.
"You never told me your full name," Claire explains.
Light is taken aback, his mouth slightly agape, before he looks away and finally answers her unexpected question.
"It's Light. Light Kazuki Graystone," says Light.
"Wow. Well, I guess it's only fair. Mine's Claire Itsuka Enheart," Claire reveals, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
They exchange a brief, awkward glance before continuing to spend the rest of the evening in Light's dorm, playing video games and engaging in conversations that bring them closer together. Light begins to feel emotions he had long suppressed, even if only temporarily. With Claire by his side, he discovers a sense of connection he thought was lost forever. And in her presence, he begins to believe that there may be a way to navigate through the shadows of his tragic past and find a glimmer of light in the darkness.
December 31 4005 6:21PM
Meanwhile, in Rose's dorm room, Cain paced in circles in the brightly colored pink room, anxiously awaiting her return. Several hours had passed, and he grew increasingly restless and worried. He contemplated going outside to search for her but reminded himself of the potential risks for both him and Rose if he were caught.
After hours of restlessness, Cain finally mustered the courage to cautiously open the door to Rose's dorm. He peeked his head outside to ensure no one was around before stepping out. Confirming the coast was clear, he tiptoed through the dark and cold hallways, eager to find Rose.
"Sorry, Rose, I just have to..." Cain thought to himself.
Passing by several dorms, Cain searched for any sign of Rose but found no luck. He hid behind walls whenever students passed by, resuming his search as soon as they were out of sight. Suddenly, Cain stopped in his tracks and placed his hand on the floor, causing it to glow bright yellow.
"Search!" Cain chanted, casting a searching spell for Rose. Unfortunately, the spell failed, and there was no sign of her in the entire academy.
"Damn," Cain muttered, growing increasingly worried. He slowly stood up and took a few steps back, accidentally bumping into another student and causing them to crash into each other. As they gathered their thoughts after the collision, Cain shook his head and heard a familiar male voice.
"Cain?" the voice said.
His vision blurry from the crash, Cain shook his head to clear it, revealing the face of a familiar friend—Marcus, who looked at him with a confused expression with him covered in bandages and scratches from the fight he had with Derek although he ignores this as he glanced at Marcus awkwardly, scratching his head as he searched for a good excuse for his presence.
"Uh, hello Marcus, you good?" Cain said, embarrassed.
Marcus looked disbelief and confusion, offering his hand, which Cain accepted. As students passed by, Marcus pushed Cain behind a wall to hide from them.
"What are you doing here, buddy? You should be back at Peltas!" Marcus asked curiously.
"Well, it's a long story, but could you help me first?" Cain asked.
"Alright, so what is it?" Marcus inquired.
"It's about Rose, you see?" Cain began.
"Yeah, what about her?" Marcus asked.
"Well, she found me and took me to her room to hide me..." Cain explained.
"Weird place, but go on," Marcus responded sarcastically.
"No, it's not like that, you idiot. She said she'd be out and come back with food for me, but it's been hours, and she hasn't returned yet," Cain explained anxiously.
"So, if I understood correctly, you want me to help you find Rose?" Marcus asked.
"Yes," Cain responded awkwardly.
Suddenly, Cain knelt in front of Marcus, shocking him and making Cain feel embarrassed.
"Please, Marcus... help me. I beg you. I'll even lick your shoe if you want," Cain pleaded.
"Hey, Cain... Let go of me," Marcus responded.
Cain continued his desperate plea, even grabbing Marcus' leg and attempting to lick his shoe.
"Please, Marcus!!!" Cain begged.
"Alright, alright... Let go of me," Marcus finally relented.
Cain quickly released Marcus' leg, stood up, and expressed his excitement.
"Great!" Cain exclaimed.
"Well, after what we've been through, I was going to help you anyway, even without the begging and kneeling," Marcus replied.
"Well, awesome, I guess," Cain said.
Marcus patted Cain on the shoulder, smirking at him.
"It's good to see you too," Marcus said.
"Yeah, same," Cain responded.
"Anyway, where's Light?"
Cain asked.
"Why do you ask?" Marcus inquired.
"Just curious," Cain replied.
"Well, he's in that dorm, probably sleeping," Marcus answered, pointing to the dorm where Light and Claire resided.
Cain shook his head, clearing his thoughts to focus on finding Rose.
"Anyway, let's go and find Rose," Cain said.
Cain attempted to run through the academy but slipped and fell, expressing his disappointment.
"Ow," Cain groaned in pain.
With genuine warmth in his eyes and a bright, heartfelt smile gracing his face, Marcus extended his hand, offering it to Cain with a sense of camaraderie and compassion.
"Didn't I remind you not to slip?" Marcus chuckled.
"Yeah, I know," Cain acknowledged.
Cain accepted Marcus' hand and, as they both stood up, they ran through the hallways together, determined to find Rose's whereabouts.
December 31 4005 6:50PM
Inside Light's dorm, Claire taps Light on the arm, catching him off guard.
"Yeah?" Light responds.
"Can I ask you one more thing?" Claire asks Light.
Light nods, signaling his agreement for Claire to proceed.
"What's the deal with you and the color black? Besides your uniform, you always seem to wear black," Claire inquires.
"It's because my sister's last gift to me before she passed away was a pair of black gloves," Light explains.
Claire sits in silence, processing Light's response as they both prepare for the upcoming challenge that awaits them outside the academy on a cold, dark New Year's evening.