The courtyard buzzed with midday warmth, sunlight spilling across the stone paths and the low hum of students drifting between classes. Yoru sat on a bench with Kieran and Amari, a comfortable little pocket of shade beneath the tall trees. A short distance ahead, Lev was standing across from Asha, attempting—with heroic enthusiasm—to teach her how to throw a proper punch.

  Asha squared her stance, brows furrowed in concentration. “Like this?”

  Lev grinned, holding out his palm. “Yeah, just like that! Try it.”

  Asha nodded once, inhaled, then wound up her fist and delivered a clean, devastating strike to Lev’s hand.

  The sound cracked through the courtyard.

  Lev recoiled instantly. “OW—!”

  Asha gasped, eyes wide.

  “Oh! Are you okay??” She rushed forward, grabbing his wrist with frantic concern.

  Amari burst into loud, delighted laughter, nearly doubling over. Beside Yoru, Kieran smirked, pushing his glasses up with a single finger.

  “Asha packs a mean punch,” he murmured.

  Yoru found herself smiling too—small, quiet, but genuine. Moments like this felt warm and familiar. Even though she wasn’t experienced in combat, she liked hearing them talk about it. The past thirty minutes had been a mix of Sentari training stories, ridiculous sparring mishaps, and Lev’s attempt to convince Asha she had hidden natural strength.

  “You should think about joining the Sentari,” Amari said, still wiping laughter from her eyes.

  Asha returned to the bench, cheeks slightly flushed. “Oh—I mean, I thought about it. But I’m not sure I’d do well.”

  Lev shook out his hand dramatically, then waved it off. “Don’t worry about that! That’s what training’s for. And since the program’s open to everyone this year, there are tons of different roles like logistics and medical care… all kinds of stuff.”

  Kieran leaned back against the bench. “The Sentari mostly deal with vigilantes, right?”

  “Sort of,” Amari said, turning thoughtful. “It’s more like… general law enforcement plus crisis response. Their main focus is on M.A.W. robots, rogue orgs, big threats. But yeah, vigilantes count as criminals on paper, so technically the Sentari are supposed to arrest them.”

  Lev lifted a finger. “Pretty sure most people don’t want them to, though. Everyone still really likes heroes like the Dawn Hound. And honestly? When someone’s helping keep the city safe, nobody sees a reason to chase them down. Half the time the Dawn Hound is helping the Sentari.”

  “Oh, but the Sentari have helped vigilantes too, right?” Asha added.

  Amari grinned. “Absolutely. If there’s a shared threat? You can totally fight alongside them.”

  Yoru’s breath caught, her mind slowing for a heartbeat.

  Fight alongside them.

  Her pulse fluttered. The idea wasn’t just exciting. It felt… right.

  Because she still remembered the night the Dawn Hound saved her, the way he’d stepped between her and the M.A.W. without hesitation. She remembered the terror, the helplessness… but also the overwhelming relief of being pulled back into safety.

  She had never been able to thank him. Not properly. Not in the way she wanted.

  But if she learned how to fight—if she joined the Sentari, if she trained hard enough—maybe she could repay even a fraction of what he’d done for her.

  The conversation drifted on as Yoru waved goodbye with a gentle smile, the echo of laughter fading behind her. She made her way towards the campus library, each step light and absent as the idea of joining the Sentari lingered. It fluttered in her chest like a nervous bird. Exciting, hopeful… but fragile.

  Her steps slowed as she moved along the walkway, the shade of the building falling over her like a cool curtain. Her resolve wavered.

  Can I really do it? Can I be Sentari?

  She had never trained formally, never fought anyone, never even raised her voice in an argument. She hated confrontation, hated when people couldn’t get along. Maybe she was being unrealistic.

  Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Damien until she nearly walked into him.

  “Oh—Yoru.” Damien said. His tone wasn’t unkind, just distracted. “Headed to class?”

  She straightened quickly. “Not yet. Going to study a bit.”

  Damien gave a small nod, just enough acknowledgment to move on—but something in her chest twisted. She hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. She wanted to ask him. To hear what he thought. Even if he didn’t say much, his opinion mattered.

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  Damien noticed. He tilted his head a fraction. “What is it?”

  Yoru swallowed. “I was just… thinking about joining the Sentari.”

  He raised an eyebrow—barely, but enough that she felt it like a spotlight. “Why do you want to do that?”

  The question was simple. Neutral. But Yoru felt herself fold inward.

  She hated explaining herself, hated being center stage like this—especially when she didn’t have a solid answer she felt confident saying out loud. She wanted to tell him she wished to help people, to repay the Dawn Hound for saving her, to stop being scared all the time.

  But those reasons felt na?ve, childish.

  “I… don’t know,” she said softly, “I just… want to help.”

  Damien crossed his arms, studying her in that analytical way of his.

  “You don’t have any combat experience,” he said finally. “It doesn’t seem… efficient.”

  The words weren’t harsh, but they sliced cleanly all the same.

  Yoru’s breath stilled. Of course he was right. She had no training, no strength, nothing useful. She’d freeze in a real fight just like before. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

  “Yeah,” she murmured. “You’re right. Sorry for asking.”

  She stepped past him before he could respond, hair falling forward like a curtain to hide her face. Shame curled tight in her chest, her steps picking up speed as if she could outrun the sting of it.

  She shouldn’t have asked. She shouldn’t have hoped.

  She felt foolish for even considering it.

  Yoru turned the corner too fast, vision still blurred with embarrassment, chest tight from Damien’s words. She just wanted to disappear, anything to stop feeling her own heartbeat crawling up her throat.

  She didn’t see the person until she ran straight into them.

  A startled gasp escaped her as the impact jolted through her. She stumbled forward, books slipping from her arms when a firm hand caught her by the elbow, steadying her before she could fall. Another hand snatched her notebook midair with effortless precision.

  Yoru blinked hard, vision clearing—

  —and found herself inches from Akio.

  He held her securely with one arm, posture relaxed but alert, his expression tinged with concern as he looked down at her. The sunlight framed him from behind, brightening the edges of his hair and casting a warm glow over the small frown between his brows.

  “Yoru,” he said gently. “Are you all right?”

  Her mind short circuited.

  He was close. Too close. She could feel the warmth of his hand on her arm, feel how steady his hold was, how safe.

  Her heart fluttered violently, and she yanked her gaze downward, cheeks burning. “I—I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to run into you.”

  Akio straightened her carefully, then placed her notebook back into her hands. It was then she noticed that she’d been clutching a fistful of his shirt in her panic. She let go at once, mortified, fingers snapping back to her sides.

  Akio just smoothed his shirt like nothing had happened.

  Yoru wanted to melt into the pavement.

  “It’s okay,” he said lightly. “That was my fault. I should’ve been more careful.”

  She stared at him for a soft, fragile moment—wanting to say thank you, wanting to say sorry, wanting to say I’m falling apart and I don’t know how to stop it.

  But the words knotted up in her throat. She stood there stiffly instead, gripping her notebook so tightly the pages bent.

  Akio’s eyes softened as he studied her. “…Is something wrong?”

  Yoru shook her head too quickly. “No… I just—”

  Her voice trailed off, trembling. She tried to hide the faint shake in her hands, curling them into loose fists.

  Akio didn’t press. He simply stood there, calm and patient, giving her the space to breathe.

  Eventually, in a small, quiet voice, she confessed, “I was… thinking about joining the Sentari. But I’m… not sure if I should. And I don’t think Damien wants me to.”

  Akio tilted his head. “What did he say?”

  Yoru shrank a little, looking down at her shoes. “He said I don’t have any combat experience. So it… doesn’t seem efficient.”

  Akio was silent for a beat, thoughtful. Then he exhaled softly, expression easing with a kind of tired fondness.

  “I think,” he said slowly, “Damien meant that he’s worried about your safety. He just… doesn’t know how to express it properly.”

  Yoru looked up, startled by the kindness in his tone.

  Akio continued, letting out an exhausted sigh that carried years of sibling exasperation. “I know because I feel the exact same way about Aira. She’s always chasing danger for her journalism, and as her older brother, I worry nonstop.”

  A small, warm smile tugged at his lips. “But at the end of the day… it’s her life. And I’ll support her no matter what. I’m pretty sure Damien feels the same way about you.”

  Yoru’s breath caught.

  The tightness in her chest loosened as Akio’s words settled into the place where doubt had been sitting all morning. For a moment she simply stood there, letting her heartbeat slow, letting the warmth of his reassurance sink past her embarrassment and fear.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe Damien had meant well, even if he spoke in the least comforting way imaginable. Maybe she wasn’t foolish for wanting this.

  She let herself believe it—just a little—as she mulled over his words.

  “Do you think I can be Sentari?”

  The question slipped out before she even realized her mouth had moved.

  Akio blinked in mild surprise, then smiled—a small, steadying thing that landed gentler than she expected. He nodded once.

  “Yeah. I believe you can.”

  The words hit her harder than she anticipated.

  Warmth bloomed through her chest, an ache so vivid she had to look away for a second. They shouldn’t have meant so much. He was just being kind. But the sincerity in his voice, the quiet confidence… it lit something inside her she hadn’t dared touch.

  Before she could gather a reply, Akio offered a soft “Take care,” then stepped past her and continued down the path.

  Yoru turned slowly to watch him go, his quiet presence lingering even after he rounded the corner. Only when he vanished did she resume walking, her thoughts drifting far behind her steps.

  She kept replaying everything—his steady hands catching her, the warmth of his voice, the gentleness she hadn’t expected. And layered on top of it all was the possibility he had given her: that she really could join the Sentari. That she could be brave. That she could protect others, the same way the Dawn Hound once protected her.

  As she walked, she reminded herself why she chose the name Yoru in the first place—the heroine from the old play who threw herself into danger to shield the people she loved. Who didn’t wait for courage to find her. Who seized it with trembling hands and made it her own.

  Maybe… she could try too. Maybe this year, she should actually apply.

  But then guilt fluttered in her stomach.

  She’d never thanked Akio. She’d been too tangled up in nerves and embarrassment to say the simplest, most important thing. Now it felt rude. Unfair. Like she’d taken something without offering anything back.

  Next time, she promised herself. Next time, I’ll thank him properly.

  Akio liked hibiscus tea. Aira mentioned it once. Maybe she could bring some the next time she visited their place. Something small and thoughtful. Something that might say the words she couldn’t voice earlier.

  Yoru held the idea close as she neared the library steps, a small, helpless smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t sure when it had started or what it meant, but Akio’s kindness had left her feeling lighter than she had all morning.

  And she liked that feeling more than anything else.

  ─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─

  Aira