Roy woke with a start, sweat slicking his skin as a sharp sliver of sunlight stabbed through the crack in the curtain and nailed him right in the eye. He groaned, twisting away from the harsh beam like it was a personal enemy. His breath came quick and shallow, and the fog of a dream lingered just out of reach—something about falling endlessly, a whisper, a face barely visible... then—
BANG BANG BANG.
The door rattled, nearly shaking the frame out of the wall.
"Get your bitch-ass up before I drag you to college in your pyjamas, you sleep-deprived buffoon!" Kieran's voice shouted from outside.
Roy blinked at the ceiling. Took a long, dramatic breath.
"I was having a beautiful nightmare," he muttered, voice hoarse.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright. The sunlight stabbed him again, relentless.
"Saved by a photon. Cheers, sun," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
The morning routine was a blur of half-hearted attempts.
He brushed his teeth, buttoned his shirt crookedly, fixed it halfway down the hall, tied his shoelaces once, and hoped for the best. Looking in the mirror, he took one long, tired look at himself and said, "Good looking as usual."
Outside, Kieran waited by the bike rack, casually leaning, already halfway through a meat bun.
"About time," Kieran said. "I was gonna start throwing rocks at your window."
"Would've mistaken you for a very aggressive pigeon," Roy shot back.
They started walking together.
"Do you ever think about dropping out?" Kieran asked, crunching into his bun. "Like, just… leaving all this behind and selling prana-charged bathwater to freaks on the road?"
"Every morning," Roy admitted. "But I already paid for my textbooks."
"Ugh, yeah. That's how they get you."
Education here was mandatory until eighteen, then college was an option for those who wanted more—three academic subjects plus a physical or magical discipline.
Roy's picks:
Astrology — because reading the stars was cheaper than therapy.
Mathematics — he thought this was easy until he got cooked.
Business – it is easy.
Swordplay— when sarcasm wasn't enough.
Kieran took math, history, economics, and prana mastery, the flashy way to blow things up with style.
After a dull first period of theoretical probability, the group migrated to their usual canteen corner during free period two.
Roy sipped a lukewarm coffee with the enthusiasm of someone staring down a firing squad.
Kieran was halfway into his second meal of the day.
Brock Branagan sat perfectly upright, fingers flying across his holopad like the world depended on his calculations.
Tanaka Ewu, quiet as ever, crossed his arms—until he reached into his bag.
They all heard a crinkle.
Silence.
The three others turned to him, eyes sharp and suddenly serious.
The lights flickered. A cold breeze—imagined or not—brushed the back of their necks.
Then, all at once, Roy, Kieran, and Brock lowered their faces into shadow. Their eyes gleamed.
Slowly, perfectly in sync, each raised a hand, open-palmed, reaching toward Tanaka.
"What the hell?" Tanaka recoiled, clutching the shiny red bag. "What—what is this?!"
"Give us the tribute," Roy said flatly.
"It's the canteen code," Brock said without missing a beat. "Possession means redistribution."
Kieran stayed silent.
"This feels like a robbery," Tanaka muttered.
"Now give me my sweets, monkey boy!" Kieran lunged at him.
A beat.
Then chaos. The bag was ripped open, wrappers flew, and hands lunged.
Roy snagged a cola gummy with sniper precision.
Kieran pocketed three chocolates and unwrapped one on the spot.
Brock took exactly two sweets and then resealed the bag with unnerving precision.
Tanaka stared at the half-empty bag.
"I hate all of you."
"That's fair," Roy said, chewing.
"Love is just hate dipped in caramel, man up," Kieran said through a mouthful. "Deal with it."
Brock looked up, fingers already typing again.
The final bell rang, releasing a flood of students like a dam breaking.
Roy slung his bag over one shoulder, following Kieran, Brock, and Tanaka out into the cool afternoon air.
"No more classes for today," Kieran said with a grin. "Freedom".
Roy felt the tension in his shoulders ease just a little, the dull ache of the day fading into background noise.
The four headed into town, the streets buzzing with life — vendors calling out, music drifting from open windows, and the distant hum of the city's heartbeat.
Tanaka led the group toward a small arcade, Brock followed with an amused smirk, and Kieran pulled Roy toward a street food stall.
"Try this," Kieran said, handing over a skewered treat dripping with sauce. "Best way to recover from math torture."
Roy took a tentative bite, surprise blooming on his face.
Brock nods in answer.
"Okay, that's actually not bad," he admitted.
They wandered through the town, splitting between arcade games, grabbing drinks, and occasionally bickering over the smallest things — like who really won the last round of a shooting game.
The afternoon sun lowered slowly, painting the sky with warm oranges and pinks. Soon it was time to head to the train station.
They walked together, their laughter softer now, the day winding down.
At the platform, they clustered near the schedule board.
"Alright, this is where we split," Brock said, adjusting his bag.
Tanaka nodded, "Catch you later, guys."
The trains roared in one by one.
Brocks' and Tanakas' train was first – they nodded goodbye and disappeared into the doors.
Kieran glanced at Roy, "You coming to mine for a bit?"
Roy shrugged. "Why not? Beats staring at my ceiling alone."
They waited together for their train.
When it pulled up, they stepped inside, finding seats near the window.
The city blurred by as the train sped along the tracks.
Once they arrived, they headed to Kieran's modest home nearby.
Kieran tossed his bag on the floor and flopped onto the couch.
"Home sweet home," he said with a grin.
Roy collapsed beside him, exhausted but strangely content. For a while, they just sat — no words, no distractions.
Then Kieran broke the silence.
"Is it today we start?"
Roy looked out the window.
"Tis the day, today ."
Kieran nodded.