❃❃❃❃

❃𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓵...𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷...❃

❃❃❃❃

__________________________________

Akira liked a good historical drama, but definitely not when it was playing out right in front of him.

From where he stood, just outside the thick crowd of cultural students, Akira could see Chen Zixin, his tall frame surrounded by people. The air was charged with tension, and Akira could barely make out the conversation over the murmurs of the onlookers. He thought he heard Huan scream, and that sound sent a wave of unease through him. He wasn't sure if he should get involved or leave it to the staff. After all, stepping into this kind of mess wasn't exactly his idea of a good time.

Zixin's voice cut through the noise, dripping with arrogance. "Oh... of course, it's a Zhao Clan disciple who would dare to oppose me. And you're not even high rank. Where did you get your courage from? Your precious young master Zhao Zhan?"

Akira frowned, annoyed at Zixin's pompous attitude. He was too far back to see everything clearly, but he caught enough to get the gist. Then Zixin's tone shifted.

"Some might also say Kanji-users like you are pathetic. Your powers don't grant you immortality; they break you instead!"

Rude, Akira thought. Zixin clearly didn't know what he was talking about. Kanji-users like Akira drew on spirit energy, which wasn't all that different from Qi. But unlike Qi, which moved through the body like blood through veins, spirit energy wove itself into a person's very being, sinking into each cell. Sure, it had its risks, but it wasn't something to dismiss so casually. Zixin's ignorance was starting to grate on Akira's nerves, you don't just disrespect people like that.

Before Akira could decide what to do, Zhao Zhan's voice cut through his thoughts, laced with irritation. "We need to stop him." 

We? Whose we? He turned to look at him.

"You block his spiritual flow, and I'll keep him distracted."

Oh its me...

Akira sighed internally. He really didn't want to get involved, but Zhan made it sound like there was no choice. With a nod, Akira pulled out a blank talisman paper from his sleeve. How he hated talismans but, alas he can't just use his katana to slice Zixin's arrogant head off. That is unfortunately illigal.

He held up two fingers towards Zhan. "Do you mind?" he asked, already knowing the answer but still not thrilled about it.

Zhan didn't miss a beat. "Not at all." His sword, elegant and sharp, slid from its sheath and flew past Akira's fingers, leaving a thin cut that started to bleed. The blade was fast and clashed with Zixin's sword in a sharp ring that echoed through the hallway.

Akira barely flinched at the cut. Instead, he quickly smeared his blood onto the talisman, drawing the markings of a dark spell meant to block Qi flow. The stronger the caster's kanji spirit, the more effective the talisman, and right now, Akira was pretty determined to make it work.

Zhan moved forward, capturing the attention of everyone around. His movements were graceful and commanding. His green yishang hanfu, embroidered with gold, shimmered under the hallway lights, making him look almost like a celestial being. His long black hair flowed over his shoulders, like the Han river at night. "Chen Zixin..." Zhan's voice was calm but firm that silenced the crowd.

Akira took his cue, blending into the background like a shadow. His body disintegrated into petals, slipping through the tight crowd, petals carried by the wind.

Zhan's voice carried on, clear and strong. "Whatever business you have with our disciples, you have it with us. Not to mention, you hurt a student in this very hall. Do you have no shame? Parading the Chen Clan around like this—hurting the innocent your ancestors swore to protect. Our ancestors."

Akira materialized behind Zixin, his form solidifying as he pressed the talisman onto Zixin's back. The paper fused into the fabric of Zixin's robe, sinking into his skin. For a moment, Akira held his breath, waiting for Zixin to notice, but the guy was too wrapped up in his own anger to sense anything.

Zixin's face twisted with fury as he let go of his sword, expecting it to fly straight at Zhan. Instead, the blade clattered to the ground with a loud thud, its energy drained. Confusion flashed across Zixin's face before realization dawned—his Qi was being blocked.

He whipped around, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Akira. "You..." he hissed, teeth clenched in anger.

"Good afternoon" Akira bowed his head in greeting as if this was just another Tuesday. 

Zixin's face twisted with fury, his hands clenched into tight fists as he glared at Akira. "What did you do?!"

Sanji, who had been silently observing the scene from above, suddenly leaped down from the roof, landing gracefully beside them. He pulled down his black mask, revealing a smirk. "Isn't it obvious? He blocked your Qi." He added with a casual shrug, "Dumbass."

Zhan, however, didn't appreciate Sanji's bluntness. His expression was stern. "Let's all be civil."

Sanji crossed his arms over his chest, feigning innocence. "But I didn't say a bad word?"

Before anyone could respond, Marcus cleared his throat loudly, his tone brimming with barely restrained anger as he stood up from the floor. "So, are we just gonna pretend that he didn't try to murder my friends?"

Akira's attention snapped to the victims of the incident, and his eyes widened in realization. His breath hitched as his eyes locked on Huan, who was kneeling on the ground, cradling Adi in his arms. Adi's breaths were shallow, ragged gasps, his face pale with pain. The sight struck Akira like a blow to the chest. He hadn't realized the extent of the damage until now. Zixin had nearly strangled the life out of Adi, and Huan—always so composed—looked like he was barely holding himself together, his hands trembling as he tried to comfort his friend.

Akira felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His own emotions churned as he reached into the folds of his nagagi. His fingers closed around a small, round bottle with a cork seal, filled with an ointment designed for emergencies just like this.

Quietly, Akira knelt beside Adi, his movements careful and measured. He extended the bottle to Huan, his voice gentle but firm. "Apply this to his throat. It'll help relax the muscles and counteract the effects of Qi."

Huan glanced at the bottle, his brow furrowing in hesitation. "Are you sure?" His voice was unsteady. "Isn't this hard to make? Isn't it... just for you?"

Akira's lips pressed into a thin line for a moment, the weight of the truth settling over him. The ointment was painstakingly crafted, a rare and precious remedy designed specifically for him. After all, as an heir, he wasn't allowed to falter, let alone die. His existence had been planned down to the finest detail, his mother chosen to bear him for the sole purpose of creating an ideal successor. He was supposed to be flawless, yet he wasn't. If I was...I wouldn't have liked you the way I do now...

"Who said I couldn't share?" Akira replied softly, a faint smile ghosting his lips. In that moment, it didn't matter what the ointment was meant for or who he was supposed to be. What mattered was the boy in front of him—Huan.

He hesitated for only a second longer before taking the bottle, his hands brushing against Akira's. The touch was fleeting, but it left Akira feeling warm. Huan gently began applying the ointment to Adi's throat.

Before either of them could say more, a ripple moved through the crowd of students. The onlookers parted as a squad of medical bots arrived, their sleek, metallic forms gliding through the throng with mechanical precision. The bots whirred softly, their sensors scanning Adi for injuries as they moved with practiced efficiency.

Akira stepped back, watching silently as the bots took over. His attention drifted back to Huan, whose shoulders sagged with relief as the burden of responsibility eased, though the strain of the moment still lingered in his eyes. Akira wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he stayed by Huan's side, letting his presence speak for him.

Marcus moved alongside them, his expression tense as he followed the bots. He wasn't about to let Adi out of his sight—not after what had just happened. As the bots carefully lifted Adi onto a stretcher, Marcus shot a warning look at Zixin, as if daring him to try something else. 

As the medical bots began to escort Adi and Huan towards the medical bay, big brother Marcus stayed close. He wasn't taking any chances, not with Zixin still glaring daggers at everyone.

But just as Akira was about to breathe a sigh of relief, an authoritative voice echoed through the hall. "Chen Zixin, Zhao Zhan, and Akira Fujisawa—you're all coming with me for detention!"

Akira's head snapped up in disbelief. What? Detention? For what?! The frustration bubbled up inside him as he turned to face the stern-faced instructor who had appeared out of nowhere.

"But I didn't do anything..." Akira protested quitely. Zixin was the one who started this whole mess! Zhan and I were just trying to stop him!

The instructor's expression didn't soften. "You used your abilities outside of training grounds. That's a violation of SSE's rules. Now, come with me."

Akira bit back the urge to argue further, knowing it would be useless. The unfairness of it all gnawed at him, but there was no point in resisting. With a resigned sigh, he fell in step with Zhan and Zixin, casting one last glance towards Huan and Adi as they disappeared around the corner with the medical bots and Marcus.

_●°•°•°●_

The detention center was, without a doubt, the most boring place Akira had ever been in. The room was sterile and blindingly white, from the floors to the walls to the uncomfortable chairs they sat on. A large screen in front of them played an endlessly looping, hour-long speech about how everyone is equal and the importance of world peace. Akira sat with perfect posture in his chair, his back straight and his hands resting neatly in his lap, while Zhan mirrored his disciplined stance beside him. Meanwhile, Zixin was slumped over the white table, half-asleep and clearly uninterested in the lecture.

But what really made this experience unbearable was the giant window screen. It allowed anyone walking past the hall to see them sitting there in detention—a public display of their punishment. Akira had never been punished like this in his entire life. He prided himself on following the rules, always doing what was expected of him. This was beyond embarrassing.

"If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be here," Zixin muttered bitterly, his voice laced with resentment as he lifted his head slightly from the table.

"Me?" Zhan raised an eyebrow, his tone incredulous. "You're the one who choked a student."

Akira listened to their exchange, trying to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. This argument was like a live drama unfolding before his eyes, and he couldn't help but wish for a bucket of popcorn to go with the show.

Zixin crossed his arms, looking indignant. "Well, you shouldn't have interfered."

Zhan's fist slammed onto the white table, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet room. "If I hadn't interfered?! You tried to attack my disciple with your sword!" His voice rose with genuine anger. "Not just mine! You attacked a Fujisawa disciple as well!"

Akira's mood completely changed as Zhan brought him into the conversation. Great. Now I'm dragged into this mess. Again.

Zixin wasn't backing down. "Well, they shouldn't have interfered!" he snapped, his eyes flashing with frustration.

Zhan's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly. "What did you expect them to do? Just stand there and let you choke someone to death?!"

Akira, sensing that the argument was escalating quickly, finally spoke up. "Guys... If you keep arguing like this, we'll be stuck here even longer."

Zixin rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Ugh, shut up..."

Before Akira could retort, the door to the detention room slid open with a hiss, and a senior instructor stepped in. The room fell into an immediate, tense silence. Zhan and Zixin both straightened up, all traces of their argument vanished as the instructor fixed them with a stern glare.

"You two," the instructor began, his voice cold and authoritative, "are here because you broke the rules and endangered other students. I don't care who started it, but I do care about the fact that this kind of behavior is unacceptable at SSE."

Zhan and Zixin both nodded, their previous anger now replaced with begrudging compliance. Akira watched the scene unfold, quietly relieved that the instructor's focus wasn't on him.

As the instructor continued to scold Zhan and Zixin, Akira's attention wandered to the window screen. He blinked in surprise when he saw Sanji outside, grinning like a Cheshire cat and waving at him. Before Akira could react, Sanji pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of him sitting in detention. Akira's eyes widened in horror, and he quickly mouthed, "Don't send it to my sister or any family members!"

Sanji feigned confusion, cupping a hand around his ear and making an exaggerated gesture as if he couldn't hear Akira. He then grinned even wider and made a playful motion of sending a message on his phone. Akira wrinkled his nose in frustration, mouthing a string of silent threats, but Sanji just shrugged, clearly enjoying every moment of teasing his cousin.

But then, just as karma would have it, Akira noticed a second instructor approaching Sanji from behind. The smile faded from Sanji's face as the instructor tapped him on the shoulder, and the mischievous look in his eyes turned to one of surprise. Without a word, the instructor ordered Sanji into the detention room.

Akira couldn't help but smirk as Sanji was escorted to an empty seat next to him. The smug grin on Sanji's face had been wiped away clean, replaced with an expression of reluctant acceptance. Akira leaned over slightly, whispering under his breath, "Karma's a real friend, isn't it?"

Sanji just sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, yeah... I deserved that." He cast a sideways glance at Akira, who was still watching him with an amused expression. "But don't think this means I'm not sending that picture."

The senior lecturer left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as the door slid shut behind him. The atmosphere in the detention room remained tense, but with the instructor gone, the four students were left to their own devices.

Sanji leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head with a relaxed, almost carefree demeanor. "Do you think Jin-woo might feel like he's missing out on all this excitement?"

Zixin scoffed, his expression filled with disdain. "Why would I care about him?"

Sanji tilted his head lazily. "I wasn't asking you."

Zhan, who had been sitting silent, spoke up, his tone blunt and direct. "I don't think Jin-woo is missing out on anything." He turned his gaze toward Sanji, narrowing his eyes slightly. "But it does beg the question—what are you doing here? Why didn't you go to training?"

Sanji let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "My partner is with his other friends at the medical bay, so I was alone..." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but there was a hint of something else in his voice—perhaps concern or loneliness. "So I came to check on my favorite cousin. Also apparently I wasn't aloud to walk on celling vents."

Akira shot Sanji a sharp glare, his lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn't particularly amused by the whole situation, and Sanji's playful attitude wasn't helping. Sanji, however, just grinned back at him, unbothered by the look of disapproval. 

But when Sanji mentioned the medical bay, Akira's thoughts immediately shifted to Huan. Was he okay? Was he doing well enough?  A wave of worry washed over him, making it hard to focus on anything else. The urge to check on Huan was almost overwhelming, but here he was, stuck in detention with no way to leave.

Akira clenched his fists in frustration, his mind racing. He hated feeling powerless, especially when it came to the people he cared about. The sterile, white walls of the detention room felt even more confining as his thoughts drifted to Huan, imagining him in the medical bay, perhaps still shaken from what had happened.

Sanji seemed to notice the change in Akira's expression, his grin fading slightly as he glanced over at him. But instead of making another teasing remark, he simply leaned back further in his chair, letting the silence settle between them.

Zixin, still fuming, muttered something under his breath, but neither Sanji nor Zhan paid him any attention. The room had become oddly quiet, with only the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the void. Akira's mind was elsewhere, his concern for Huan weighing heavily on him as he stared blankly at the screen playing the monotonous lecture.

He knew he had no choice but to wait, to endure this punishment, but the worry gnawed at him, making every minute in detention feel like an eternity.

Well...I hate detention...

__________________________________