Arthur Graf strode through the grand halls of Asphalt Academy like a knight errant on a noble quest, his polished shoes tapping against the gleaming marble floors. His tall, lanky frame carried itself with an almost theatrical grace, his long blonde hair hair bouncing slightly as he walked. He adjusted the cuff of his Coat and muttered to himself as if narrating his own adventure.
The corridors were bustling as usual, but Arthur walked with purpose, his long strides and cape-like coat drawing whispers from students around him. He adjusted his hair absentmindedly and muttered under his breath.
"Izanagi." Arthur murmured. "A wandering samurai in need of direction, and I, the gallant knight, must find him. No bond of camaraderie shall go untended under my watch."
He coughed lightly, his hand covering his mouth, but pressed on.
Asphalt Academy was an empire of factions, each clique claiming its own domain. The star athletes held court on the outdoor basketball courts, where Marcus—tall, lean, and perpetually brooding—commanded attention. Arthur passed by just as Marcus lobbed a perfect shot into the hoop, his brown hair damp with sweat.
Marcus caught Arthur's gaze briefly, his face hardening. The memory of his championship loss to Sterlin lingered like a shadow over his otherwise shining reputation. Arthur gave a courteous nod, but Marcus turned away, focused on his game.
Further down the hall, the Cryptid Investigation Society was setting up flyers for their next meeting. "Chupacabras: Fact or Fiction?" the banner read. A bespectacled boy with unruly curls waved a pamphlet at Arthur as he passed.
"Join us, Graf! We're investigating anomalies in the lake!" the boy shouted.
Arthur waved him off. "Alas, my current quest lies not in mysteries of the paranormal, but in the restoration of honor and friendship."
The boy shrugged, muttering something about "weird rich kids."
Arthur's route eventually led him to the administrative wing, where the student council reigned supreme. At the center of it all was Emily, the president. Her crisp uniform and confident posture exuded authority as she directed a group of students to organize a charity drive.
"Move those boxes to the gym." Emily ordered, her sharp voice cutting through the hum of activity. "We need everything ready by the end of the day."
Arthur paused, intrigued by her commanding presence. He stepped closer, clearing his throat.
"Ah, Lady Emily." Arthur said, bowing slightly. "Thy diligence knows no bounds. Have you perhaps seen a samurai wandering these halls?"
Emily sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Arthur, is this another one of your games?"
"Not at all." Arthur replied earnestly. "Izanagi's absence weighs heavily upon me. A knight cannot stand idle while his comrade roams untended."
Emily shook her head. "I haven't seen him. But if you're wasting time again, I suggest you join the charity effort. At least that would be useful."
Arthur smiled. "Alas, my destiny calls me elsewhere. But I commend thy noble efforts." He coughed again and walked away, leaving Emily muttering about "those Graf boys."
In the fencing club's practice hall, Mina, the student council vice president, was sparring with an opponent. Her movements were sharp and disciplined, but there was a rebellious energy to her strikes—a defiance against perfection itself.
Arthur leaned against the doorway, watching her duel.
"Ah, Mina." he called. "Thy form is poetry in motion. A symphony of blades."
Mina lowered her foil and glared at him. "Arthur, what do you want?"
"Izanagi." Arthur said simply. "Have you seen him?"
"No." Mina snapped. "And even if I had, why should I tell you? Isn't he avoiding everyone on purpose?"
Arthur placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. "Avoiding? Nay, a warrior does not avoid—he seeks clarity in solitude. It is my duty to find him."
Mina sighed. "You're exhausting. Go bother someone else."
Arthur grinned, his coughing fit this time lasting a bit longer before he straightened up and left.
As Arthur wandered the school, unaware of the depth of the conflicts brewing around him, another figure watched silently. From the far corner of the cafeteria, Sora Fuzaro sat alone, his intense gaze following Arthur briefly before shifting to Sterlin.
Sora's piercing eyes betrayed a purpose—a quiet determination that would soon pull him into the tangled web of Asphalt Academy's unfolding drama.
Arthur's day ended with no sign of Izanagi, but the journey through the school had revealed much. The cliques, the personalities, and the subtle undercurrents of tension painted a picture of a kingdom on the brink of chaos.
Standing at the doors of the Chivalry Club, Arthur adjusted his coat and whispered to himself, "The knight's path is never clear, but it is ever noble. I shall find thee, Izanagi. Wherever thou art."
Unbeknownst to Arthur, the shadows were already shifting. The threads of destiny were tightening, and soon, the halls of Asphalt Academy would become a battlefield of ideologies, powers, and untold secrets.