*So much for discretion,* Kage muttered in Ren's mind as the silence in the mess hall stretched uncomfortably.
Ren wished desperately for a manga-style ability to turn invisible. He hunched his shoulders, trying to physically shrink from the sudden attention. The weight of dozens of curious stares pressed against him like a physical force.
"A crow spirit? For real?" Hiroki broke the silence, thick eyebrows shooting upward. "Man, that's like something out of 'Shadow Master Chronicles.' You know, where the main guy can see through his crow's eyes and stuff?"
Ren's head snapped up in surprise. Someone else who read manga?
"I-I have that v-volume," he managed, the shared reference momentarily overriding his anxiety.
Hiroki's face split into a wide grin. "No way! Which one? I've got up to Volume 23 where Kuro finally masters the death-sight technique!"
"Ugh, not another manga fanboy," groaned Yumi, the wind-affinity girl. She flicked one of her long pigtails over her shoulder with practiced disdain. "Bad enough dealing with one Hiroki. Now there's two."
"Hey, manga is educational!" Hiroki protested, jabbing his chopsticks in her direction. "My steel manifestation technique is based on Iron Fist's ultimate form from 'Midnight Warrior.'"
"Which explains why your control is so sloppy," Yumi retorted with a sniff. "Real Rankers study actual techniques, not illustrated fantasies."
Daisuke, the quiet water-affinity boy, spoke up unexpectedly. "Actually, many professional Rankers cite creative visualization as a key component in successful manifestation." His voice was soft but surprisingly authoritative. "Manga imagery could theoretically provide effective mental frameworks."
"See?" Hiroki crowed triumphantly. "Even Daisuke the walking textbook agrees with me!"
Their easy banter washed over Ren, who remained caught between relief at the conversation moving past his crow spirit and amazement at finding another manga enthusiast. Perhaps the academy wouldn't be entirely alien territory after all.
"Anyway," Mei interjected, pushing a tray of food toward Ren, "eat something before Hiroki devours everything in sight. Growing steel affinity apparently requires consuming half the kitchen's daily output."
"I'm building mass!" Hiroki defended, already on his second bowl of rice.
The normality of their interaction gradually eased Ren's tension. For a few precious minutes, he almost felt like part of a regular group of friends—something he'd never experienced in his village.
*Interesting dynamic,* Kage observed. *The loud one provides social cover. The critical one establishes boundaries. The quiet one offers intellectual validation. And Mei connects them all.*
Ren hadn't considered it so analytically, but Kage's assessment made sense. Each person fulfilled a role in their small social ecosystem.
*What's my role?* he wondered.
*Yet to be determined,* Kage replied. *For now, observe and learn.*
The momentary calm shattered when a commanding voice cut through the general din.
"Is it true? The new student has a crow manifestation?"
Takashi Ono stood beside their table, flanked by two other students wearing the same subtle clan embroidery on their uniforms. His expression combined skepticism and clinical interest, as if Ren were a specimen rather than a person.
Mei rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't you have some fancy clan students to bother instead, Takashi? Or did they finally get tired of hearing about your family's glorious history?"
Takashi ignored her completely, focusing solely on Ren. "Show me."
It wasn't a request but a command, delivered with absolute expectation of compliance. The arrogance triggered something unexpected in Ren—a flicker of defiance.
*No,* Kage agreed firmly. *We don't perform on command.*
"I c-can't," Ren said softly, eyes fixed on his rice bowl. "Instructor K-Koda said manifestation only d-during training."
Technically true, if not the complete reason for his refusal.
Takashi's eyes narrowed slightly. "Convenient excuse. Or perhaps the rumors are exaggerated. A true crow manifestation is exceptionally rare—appearing perhaps once in a generation. The statistical probability of it awakening in someone with no clan lineage is... minimal."
"Oh, stuff your statistics," Mei snapped. "Not everything is about bloodlines and clan histories."
"History would suggest otherwise," one of Takashi's companions remarked coolly. "Powerful manifestations follow genetic patterns. It's simply fact."
Tension crackled in the air. Ren's hands trembled slightly beneath the table, anxiety building in his chest. He hated conflict, hated being the center of attention, hated the imperious way Takashi stared down at him as if assessing his worth and finding it wanting.
The confrontation might have escalated further if not for a boisterous voice booming across the mess hall.
"HEY! NEW ROOMMATE!"
A tall, broad-shouldered boy with wildly spiky hair bounded toward their table with the unrestrained energy of an enthusiastic puppy. His uniform bore the marks of intensive training—sweat stains and minor tears that somehow looked more like badges of honor than signs of disarray.
"You must be Ren!" he exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. "I'm Jun Takeda! Second-year! Combat specialist! Your new roommate!" Each phrase emerged as its own exclamation, punctuated by expansive hand gestures.
Jun's arrival disrupted the tense atmosphere completely. Even Takashi seemed momentarily thrown off balance by the older student's overwhelming exuberance.
"Takeda," Takashi acknowledged stiffly. "Still destroying training equipment at an unprecedented rate, I presume?"
Jun laughed uproariously, as if Takashi had delivered a brilliant joke rather than a thinly veiled insult. "Three practice dummies this week alone! A personal record!" He clapped a massive hand on Takashi's shoulder hard enough to make the smaller boy wince. "Not all of us can be delicate precision workers like you, Ono. Some of us prefer results you can actually see!"
There was something almost masterful in how Jun's bombastic personality deflated Takashi's aristocratic condescension. The clan heir merely adjusted his shoulder with dignified annoyance.
"We were discussing manifestation theory," Takashi said coolly.
"Boring!" Jun declared with another laugh. "Theory's for classrooms! Action's for the training yard!" He turned his attention fully to Ren, dark eyes sparkling with genuine interest. "So you're my new roomie! Instructor Koda says you've got some special training needs. Whatever that means! Don't worry about a thing! Jun Takeda takes care of his friends!"
The rapid-fire delivery left Ren dizzy. Jun spoke without pauses, thoughts flowing together in an enthusiastic jumble that somehow remained comprehensible despite its chaotic structure.
"I... um..." Ren struggled to form any response to this verbal avalanche.
"He doesn't talk much," Mei supplied helpfully.
"Perfect!" Jun boomed, dropping onto the bench beside Ren with enough force to rattle the dishes. "I talk plenty for both of us! We'll balance each other out!"
Takashi, clearly recognizing that he'd lost control of the interaction, made a tactical retreat. "We'll continue this discussion another time," he said, nodding curtly to his companions. "When there are fewer... distractions."
As the clan students moved away, Jun leaned conspiratorially toward the table. "Clan kids," he stage-whispered, which for Jun meant only slightly quieter than his normal volume. "Always so serious! Like they've got training spears stuck up their—"
"Jun!" Yumi cut him off with a scandalized expression, though Hiroki snickered appreciatively.
"What?" Jun blinked innocently. "I was going to say 'training regimens.'" He winked broadly at Ren, who found himself smiling hesitantly despite his discomfort.
*Interesting,* Kage noted. *He deliberately intercepted the confrontation. More socially aware than his loud persona suggests.*
True to Kage's observation, Jun seamlessly redirected the conversation to lighter topics—the best training techniques for beginners, which instructors were strict or lenient, and most importantly to Jun, the quality of tomorrow's lunch menu.
"Meat bun day!" he exclaimed reverently. "Best day of the week! They make them with five spices! Absolutely life-changing!"
By the time dinner concluded, Ren's head spun from the social whiplash. He'd gone from isolated outsider to apparent member of a friend group in the span of a single meal. Mei's friendly chatter, Hiroki's manga enthusiasm, even Jun's overwhelming energy—all created a buffer that made the academy suddenly feel less threatening.
*They've accepted you quickly,* Kage remarked as they followed Jun back to their shared room. *Unusual, given your communication difficulties.*
*Maybe they feel sorry for me,* Ren thought with familiar self-doubt.
*Or perhaps they recognize something in you that you don't see in yourself,* Kage countered thoughtfully.
Jun filled the walk with a continuous monologue about academy life, requiring nothing from Ren but occasional nods. "Everyone thinks second-year is easier than first-year but it's actually WAY harder because the manifestation exercises get super specific and you have to maintain control for like THREE TIMES longer which is totally exhausting but also really satisfying when you finally nail it and Instructor Koda gives you that tiny nod which doesn't look like much but trust me that's basically his version of throwing a celebration party!"
Upon reaching their room, Jun immediately flopped onto his futon, arms spread dramatically. "Whew! Training was BRUTAL today! Sixteen laps around the full perimeter! My legs feel like boiled noodles!"
Ren sat carefully on his own futon, still trying to process the whirlwind that was his new roommate.
"So!" Jun propped himself up on one elbow, fixing Ren with an earnest gaze. "Crow spirit, huh? That's seriously impressive! My manifestation is pretty straightforward—fire affinity, no special spirit. Just lots of BOOM!" He punched the air enthusiastically for emphasis.
"H-how did you—" Ren began, then faltered.
"Know about your crow?" Jun finished for him. "Instructor Koda told me the basics. Said you might need space sometimes for 'specialized training requirements.'" He made exaggerated quote gestures. "Don't worry! Jun Takeda is the MASTER of respecting boundaries! Well, mostly! Sometimes I get excited and forget! But I ALWAYS apologize afterwards!"
Despite his overwhelming personality, there was something genuinely likeable about Jun—an openness and honesty that made Ren feel strangely comfortable.
"Thank you," Ren managed without stuttering, surprising himself.
Jun beamed as if Ren had paid him an extraordinary compliment. "No problem, roomie! We're going to be an AWESOME team! I can feel it!" He punched the air again for emphasis. "You with your mysterious crow powers and me with my explosive fire techniques! The other students won't know what hit them!"
As Jun launched into elaborate descriptions of future training scenarios, Ren wondered if all academy relationships formed this quickly, or if Jun was simply exceptional in his capacity for instant friendship.
*Both,* Kage assessed. *Academy life accelerates bonds—shared challenges create connections. But your roommate also possesses unusual social intuition beneath his energetic exterior.*
Later, as they prepared for sleep, Jun surprised Ren with an unexpected insight.
"You know," he said, voice uncharacteristically quiet as he arranged his training uniform for the morning, "most people think I'm just loud and not too bright." He glanced at Ren with a lopsided smile. "And most people think you're just quiet and shy. But we've both got more going on than people see, right?"
Before Ren could respond to this surprising perceptiveness, Jun was back to his boisterous self, demonstrating his morning stretching routine with explosive enthusiasm.
"SUPER IMPORTANT to maintain flexibility! Keeps muscles from getting too tight! Instructor Haruka says I've got the best recovery rate in second-year because of my stretching discipline!"
Eventually, the lights were extinguished, and Jun's boundless energy finally succumbed to sleep. His breathing deepened into rhythmic snores that somehow managed to be as expressive as his waking personality.
Ren lay awake, processing the overwhelming events of his first day. So much had happened—leaving home, meeting Mei and the others, confronting Takashi, gaining Jun as a roommate. The academy was nothing like his quiet life in the village, where days blended together in predictable patterns.
*You're adapting well,* Kage observed. *Better than expected.*
*It doesn't feel that way,* Ren replied mentally. *I feel completely overwhelmed.*
*And yet you navigated each challenge. The confrontation with Takashi. The social dynamics at dinner. Even your energetic roommate.*
Ren considered this. Perhaps Kage was right—he had survived the day's challenges, if not always gracefully.
*Time for training,* Kage announced as Jun's snores indicated deep sleep. *If I take control now, we can practice for three hours and still get adequate rest.*
A flutter of uncertainty passed through Ren. *Is it safe? What if Jun wakes up?*
*His sleep patterns suggest deep unconsciousness for at least five hours,* Kage assessed clinically. *And our training cannot wait. The academy will demand more than you can currently provide without my assistance.*
Reluctantly, Ren agreed. He closed his eyes, focusing on the mental image of stepping back, allowing Kage to move forward in their shared consciousness. The transition felt smoother than before—less like surrendering control and more like sharing it.
Kage opened their eyes, Ren still present but observing rather than directing. With fluid grace entirely unlike Ren's usual movements, Kage rose from the futon without making a sound.
*Impressive,* Ren observed. *I would have tripped over something.*
*Your coordination will improve with practice,* Kage assured him. *For now, watch and learn.*
Dressed in Ren's training uniform, Kage moved silently to the window, confirming that Jun remained deeply asleep before sliding it open. The academy grounds lay quiet beneath the moonlight, most windows darkened for the night.
*Where are we going?* Ren asked as Kage slipped through the window with practiced ease.
*The private training area Instructor Koda showed us. It's secluded and unlikely to be monitored at this hour.*
Navigating with uncanny confidence despite it being their first night at the academy, Kage moved through shadows with instinctive skill. Twice they avoided patrolling instructors, Kage somehow sensing their presence before they came into view.
*How did you know they were there?* Ren questioned after they successfully evaded a second patrol.
*The crow sees what we cannot,* Kage explained cryptically. *Its perceptions blend with ours when I'm in control.*
The private garden looked different at night, moonlight casting intricate shadow patterns across the training space. Kage positioned them in the center, settling into a meditative stance.
*First, we train the body. Then the core. Finally, the weapon manifestation.*
*Weapon manifestation?* Ren questioned, alarmed. *We can't possibly be ready for that!*
*Not yet,* Kage agreed. *But sooner than the academy's standard curriculum would suggest. Our fragmented nature offers advantages other students lack.*
For the next hour, Kage led their shared body through rigorous physical conditioning—strength exercises, flexibility training, and combat forms that Ren recognized from his manga but had never actually performed. Despite having no formal training, Kage executed the movements with surprising precision.
*How do you know these techniques?* Ren marveled as their body flowed through a complex sequence of strikes and blocks.
*The crow knows,* Kage replied simply. *Its memories become our knowledge.*
When physical training concluded, Kage moved to soul core manipulation. Unlike Ren's hesitant attempts, Kage manifested their shared core with effortless control. The black sphere materialized instantly, crow shadow clearly visible within its depths.
*Observe how I direct the energy,* Kage instructed as the sphere responded to subtle mental commands, changing size and density.
For Ren, watching from within as Kage manipulated their core was fascinating. Where Ren approached manifestation with uncertainty, Kage worked with absolute conviction, never doubting that the energy would respond exactly as directed.
*The key is certainty,* Kage explained, sensing Ren's thoughts. *You ask. I command. The difference determines the response.*
The final phase of training proved most surprising. Kage extended their right hand, palm upward, and concentrated intensely on the hovering core.
*What are you doing?* Ren questioned.
*Testing a theory.*
Slowly, the core elongated, stretching into a cylindrical shape about the length of their forearm. The transformation remained incomplete—more suggestion than substance—but unmistakably resembled the beginnings of a sword hilt.
*That's impossible,* Ren protested. *Weapon manifestation takes years of training!*
*For singular consciousness, yes,* Kage agreed, allowing the partial manifestation to dissipate. *Our fragmented nature creates different rules. The crow spirit accelerates certain aspects of development.*
The training session concluded with cooling exercises and meditation techniques. By the time they returned to their room, three hours had passed without discovery. Jun remained blissfully unaware, his snores continuing uninterrupted.
As Kage prepared to relinquish control, Ren felt uncharacteristic reluctance.
*Will I remember the techniques you practiced?* he asked.
*Not consciously,* Kage admitted. *But your body will recall. The movements will feel familiar when you attempt them.*
*That hardly seems fair,* Ren complained. *You get all the practice, but I have to face the classes.*
A sensation almost like amusement rippled through their shared consciousness. *We are not separate entities, Ren. Your challenges are mine. My strengths are yours. In time, the boundaries between us will blur further.*
This prediction felt both reassuring and vaguely unsettling. As Ren regained primary control, settling back into the futon with muscles that now ached pleasantly rather than painfully, he wondered what it would mean to truly blend with Kage. Would he lose himself? Become someone new entirely?
*Neither,* Kage's fading voice assured him. *You will become more fully yourself—all aspects in harmony rather than isolation.*
With this cryptic comfort, Ren drifted into sleep, dreaming of crows with glistening black feathers and eyes that held ancient memories.
---
"RISE AND SHINE, NEW ROOMIE!"
Ren jerked awake to find Jun's face inches from his own, beaming with morning enthusiasm that should be illegal before sunrise.
"Morning training starts in twenty minutes! No time for sleepy stretching! Gotta move move MOVE!"
Groaning internally, Ren forced his body upright. Despite Kage's nocturnal training session, he felt surprisingly well-rested—sore in unfamiliar places, but energized rather than exhausted.
Jun was already dressed and performing explosive jumping jacks in the limited space between their futons. "First day! So exciting! You'll LOVE Instructor Haruka's morning conditioning! Well, maybe not LOVE, more like SURVIVE with a sense of ACCOMPLISHMENT!"
Somehow, Ren managed to dress and prepare himself within Jun's whirlwind timeframe. As they hurried toward the training fields, the morning mist still clinging to the ground, other students emerged from dormitories in various states of wakefulness.
Mei spotted them immediately, jogging over with her braids bouncing. "Morning, Ren! Morning, Jun-senpai!" Her energy, while considerable, still paled compared to Jun's boundless enthusiasm.
"GOOD MORNING, TINY EARTH-MOVER!" Jun boomed affectionately, ruffling Mei's hair as she ducked away laughing.
"Did you survive your first night with Hurricane Jun?" she asked Ren with a conspiratorial wink.
Before Ren could answer, Hiroki and Daisuke joined them, the former yawning widely while the latter looked as perfectly composed as if he'd been awake for hours.
"Morning training is a violation of basic human rights," Hiroki grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "No one should have to manifest their core before breakfast."
"Studies show early manifestation practice improves control precision by seventeen percent," Daisuke countered mildly, adjusting his glasses. "The body's natural circadian rhythms favor certain energy patterns during dawn hours."
"Nerd," Hiroki accused without heat.
Their friendly bickering continued as the group reached the main training field, where students arranged themselves in neat rows according to year and rank. Jun separated with a cheerful wave, joining the second-years at the front.
"First-years here," Mei directed, pulling Ren into position beside her. "Just follow along with the basic forms. Morning practice is mostly just to get our energy flowing."
Instructor Haruka, a tall woman with a severe topknot and perfect posture, stood at the head of the assembled students. Unlike Koda's compact strength, Haruka projected fluid grace—each movement precise and economical.
"Begin warming sequences," she commanded, her voice carrying effortlessly across the field.
As one, the students began flowing through standardized movements—stretches and forms designed to prepare both body and soul core for the day's training. Ren, having never performed these sequences, hesitated momentarily.
*Watch and mirror,* Kage advised. *The patterns are simple.*
Following Mei's example, Ren attempted to copy the flowing movements. To his surprise, his body responded with unexpected coordination—not matching the older students' precision, but far more capable than his usual awkward motions.
*The training from last night,* Kage explained. *Your muscles remember.*
By the third repetition, Ren found a comfortable rhythm, his body moving through the forms with growing confidence. Mei shot him a surprised glance, clearly not expecting this level of competence from someone on their first day.
"Not bad," she whispered during a transition. "You sure you haven't done this before?"
Ren shook his head, focusing on maintaining the sequence without falling behind.
After physical preparation came core manifestation practice. Each student manifested their soul core, holding it steady while performing simple movements. The training field bloomed with glowing orbs of various colors—Mei's earthy brown, Hiroki's metallic gray, Daisuke's clear blue, and dozens more representing the diverse affinities of the student body.
When Ren's turn came, he hesitated briefly. How much should he reveal? Kage's full manifestation would certainly draw attention, but manifesting nothing would raise questions about his placement in the academy.
*A compromise,* Kage suggested. *Partial manifestation. Enough to demonstrate ability without revealing our full capacity.*
Following this guidance, Ren manifested a smaller version of his core—the black sphere appearing before his chest but with its crimson veins subdued and the crow shadow barely visible within its depths. Even this restricted display caused nearby students to glance his way with curiosity.
"Dark affinity," he heard someone whisper. "Like the new kid Takashi was talking about."
Instructor Haruka approached, her keen eyes assessing Ren's manifestation with professional interest. "Controlled output," she noted approvingly. "Unusual coloration but stable formation. Continue."
The brief evaluation delivered, she moved on to the next student without further comment. Ren released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
*Good,* Kage approved. *Professional acknowledgment without undue attention.*
Morning training concluded with a simple running exercise—ten laps around the inner perimeter of the training grounds. Here again, Ren found himself performing better than expected, his endurance surprising both himself and his new friends.
"How are you not dying right now?" Hiroki gasped as they completed their final lap, his face flushed with exertion. "I thought you said you'd never had formal training!"
"I h-haven't," Ren answered truthfully, if incompletely. His breathing remained relatively steady, another benefit of Kage's nocturnal conditioning.
Daisuke studied him with scientific curiosity. "Fascinating. Perhaps your core manifestation naturally enhances your physical capabilities? Some affinities have documented effects on stamina and recovery rates."
Mei rolled her eyes at Daisuke's analysis. "Or maybe he's just in better shape than Hiroki, which isn't exactly difficult."
"Hey!" Hiroki protested between heaving breaths. "Steel affinity requires MASS. I'm building my power base!"
"You're building your dessert base is what you're doing," Mei teased, poking his rounded stomach.
Their playful argument carried them to the washrooms, where students cleaned up before breakfast. Ren followed their lead, adjusting to communal living with Kage's steady presence helping navigate the unfamiliar social rituals.
At breakfast, Jun rejoined them, describing his morning advanced training in explosive detail, complete with physical reenactments that threatened nearby dishes. "And THEN we had to manifest our cores WHILE doing handstands! Totally impossible unless you've mastered the second-level stabilization technique which I HAVE because I practiced it for like FIVE HUNDRED HOURS last semester!"
As students finished eating, instructors circulated with class assignments. Instructor Koda approached their table, scrolls tucked under one arm.
"First-year schedules," he announced, distributing rolled parchments to each student. "Ren, a word about your specialized training."
Ren followed Koda a short distance from the table, heart pounding at being singled out.
"Your private sessions will occur during third period," Koda informed him quietly. "Until then, follow your regular schedule. The rest of your training will match your year-mates."
Ren nodded his understanding, relieved that most of his day would follow normal patterns despite his "special requirements."
When he returned to the table, his friends were already comparing schedules.
"We've got Theory of Manifestation together first period," Mei noted, peering at Ren's scroll. "And Basic Combat Forms after lunch. But you're missing Core Manipulation third period—what's that about?"
"S-special training," Ren mumbled, uncomfortable with the attention.
Jun swooped in with perfect timing, creating a distraction by demonstrating his apparently legendary ability to balance a spoon on his nose while reciting the academy pledge.
As they headed to their first class, Ren felt a curious mixture of anxiety and anticipation. His first day had already defied expectations—finding potential friends, performing better than anticipated in training, navigating social situations that would have previously paralyzed him with fear.
*The academy suits you better than you expected,* Kage observed.
*Or you make me better suited for the academy,* Ren countered.
*Perhaps both are true,* Kage suggested. *Our strengths complement each other—your creativity with my discipline, your empathy with my focus.*
The idea of being stronger together than apart was still new to Ren, who had spent his life feeling fundamentally inadequate. But here, in this strange new world of soul cores and training and unexpected friendships, perhaps his fragmented self wasn't a flaw but an advantage.
With that tentatively hopeful thought, Ren entered his first classroom at the Young Rankers Academy, ready to begin his formal education as a Ranker-in-training—and perhaps, someday, the hero he'd always dreamed of becoming.