Two months had passed.

The winds around Akaari Academy felt colder, sharper. Students had grown. So had their swords. And among them, one name now echoed with unexpected strength—Haruto.

He wasn’t the same loudmouth who stumbled into class on day one. He’d trained, bled, and pushed beyond limits. And now… he stood among the top.

Second-strongest in the academy.

But today wasn’t about rankings. It was the Written Evaluation Day—the dreaded academic test before the practical ones.

Inside the giant hall, the results were posted on a massive crystal screen.

> 1st – Yuki 

2nd – Hinaru 

Last Pass – Haruto

(…everyone below this line failed.)

Haruto stared at the screen with a blank expression. "Hehe… barely made it."

Yuki smirked, flicking his forehead. “You’re lucky being dumb is allowed here.”

Behind them, Hinaru stood quietly, arms folded. He hadn’t spoken to Haruto in two weeks.

A flashback flickered.

---

Two Weeks Ago – Rooftop

The sun dipped low behind the Academy towers as Haruto leaned against the railing. Hinaru stood near him, silent.

“Hinaru,” Haruto said, “you haven’t checked your sword color, huh?”

Silence.

“I know you're scared… but even if you got a weak one—you’d still be an Akaari.”

“I don’t want to be a weakling,” Hinaru muttered, fists clenched.

Haruto laughed. “Then fight me. If I win, we check together. I want that Red Sun sword. What about you?”

Hinaru blinked. “You’re serious?”

Haruto’s eyes shined with fire. “Hell yeah.”

---

Present – Training Grounds

A crowd gathered.

It was the match that had been whispered about for weeks: Haruto vs. Hinaru.

Second vs the first strongest in the academy

Instructor Gin stepped forward. “This is a formal challenge. Begin when ready.”

Haruto stepped forward, his black blade humming. “I’m gonna beat you.”

Hinaru lowered his head. “…Try if you can.”

They clashed.

CLANG!

The sound of swords echoed as dust exploded around them. Haruto swung wide, fast—but Hinaru blocked effortlessly, spinning low and slicing upward. Haruto leapt back, barely dodging the strike.

“Still holding back?” Haruto taunted mid-air. “C’mon!”

“I’m not.”

“Then stop thinking and fight.”

Another flurry. Haruto’s blade moved in arcs—sloppy but driven. Hinaru’s form was precise, cold, a machine.

But something was off.

For every perfect block Hinaru landed, he never countered hard enough. Like his body knew how to win but his soul refused.

Then Haruto parried hard, spinning behind Hinaru.

“You’re still scared.”

He slammed Hinaru’s blade into the ground. Hinaru twisted, free.

Slash—!

A small cut on Haruto's face

He grinned.

“There it is!”

He came in again, feral. The battle blurred—Haruto diving, rolling, roaring through every strike. Hinaru’s guard cracked.

Hinaru hesitated—just once.

And that was enough.

THWACK!

Haruto slammed his hilt into Hinaru’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to one knee.

Haruto raised his blade—pointing it straight at Hinaru’s face.

“No more running. No more hiding. We’re gonna find out… our sword colors… together.”

The crowd was silent.

Hinaru looked up—eyes wide. For the first time, something shifted inside him. A wall… breaking.

But behind that wall…

To be continued.