The clouds parted.
Soft mist curled around jagged cliffs and ancient stone pathways, their edges vanishing into a pale, endless sky. Somewhere far below, the faint shimmer of a vast lake caught the first light of dawn, rippling like liquid glass.
Above it all, an island drifted — ancient, steady, untethered.
Sprawling courtyards stretched between towering structures, their rooftops catching the sun's slow rise. Distant figures moved like scattered sparks across open fields and shaded bridges, while narrow docks clung to the cliffs, awaiting ships that had yet to arrive.
The air hummed with quiet, unseen magic.
Meanwhile, a massive airship rested at the edge of the city, docked quietly beside a vast, mist-covered lake. Its sleek, silver frame shimmered in the early light — a silent vessel awaiting its unknown cargo
And as the dawn light stretched wider across the clouds —
The world shifted.
The sky brightened.
The dawn sky brightened, streaks of gold slipping through the thinning mist.
Inside the car, Rose yawned, stretching her arms above her head as the driver had suggested. Beside her, Claire sat quietly, pressing her hands between her thighs, lips pursed, gaze flickering from the window to the floor.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, a thought struck Claire. She glanced toward her purse, using her pointer finger to nudge aside the contents to reveal her phone. Her face briefly lit up with anticipation, as if expecting a message or call. But, before she could react, she quickly looked away, the moment slipping just as fast as it had come.
As Rose's stretch finished, her eyes slid toward Claire — and in a burst of instinct, she lunged in, pulling her into a sudden hug.
"W-Wha—?!" Claire squeaked, startled.
"I still can't believe we're actually going to the CELESTIAL. SWORD. ACADEMY!" Rose beamed, shaking her gently in excitement. "Ugh, seriously, what a mouthful…"
"Ow-ow-ow—stopppp…!" Claire whined, squirming under the tight squeeze.
Rose just laughed.
Rose's arms tightened around her.
"Ow-ow-ow—seriously, Rose, stopp—!"
Claire's eyes suddenly widened.
In the midst of being squeezed, something outside the window snagged her attention. She managed to wriggle free, brushing strands of hair back under her hood as she leaned toward the glass.
A flicker of motion.
Then more.
Her gaze sharpened, the earlier fluster giving way to a sudden, breathless curiosity.
"…Huh?"
A group of masked figures burst out of a small convenience store on the corner ahead, scrambling through a shattered window, arms full of stolen goods. The shopkeeper inside shouted after them, his words lost to distance and the car's closed windows, though the anger was plain on his face.
Without thinking, Claire blurted out—
"Wait—stop!"
The driver reacted instantly, bringing the car to a clean, sharp halt.
Claire's hands pressed against the window as she watched the masked figures scatter into the thinning morning mist. Beside her, Rose leaned over to look too, catching a glimpse of the same sharp sincerity in Claire's eyes.
A conflicted sigh slipped out of Rose's lips, though her smile followed just a second after.
"Claire, I know that look…" she murmured, resigned but fond. "Even if I told you no, you'd still go, wouldn't you?"
Claire turned to her in surprise — caught, exposed — then gave a small, earnest nod.
Without another word, she pushed the door open, taking a steadying breath as the cool morning air brushed her face. She bolted forward, but before she could get far—
"Psst!"
Claire skidded to a stop, glancing back.
Rose was leaning casually against the open car door, a teasing grin on her face as she dangled Claire's bow by one finger.
"Hold up, little miss. Forgetting something?"
Claire's eyes widened as Rose tossed the bow toward her. She snatched it cleanly from the air, just as Rose tossed her quiver right after. Claire caught that too, a grateful smile breaking across her face.
"I'll be quick, capisce!" Claire called back, already starting to run again. "Don't worry — I'll take the bus!"
Rose just laughed, waving her off.
"You better!"
Rose sighed as she eased back into her seat, pulling the door shut with a soft click.
"She still hasn't changed, has she, Miss Rose?" the driver said with a quiet, knowing smile.
"Yeah…" Rose leaned her head against the window, a small, fond grin tugging at her lips. "When it comes to that selfless streak of hers, no one can stop her." She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.
Meanwhile, Claire sprinted down the street, strapping her quiver across her back as she chased after the fading figures.
She skidded to a stop beside the flustered shopkeeper still standing outside his shattered window.
"Hey!" Claire called, breathless but determined. "Do you want me to chase them? Did they steal something?"
The man blinked at her, startled, then pointed down the street.
"Yeah! Took my cash box — if you can catch 'em, kid, you'd be a lifesaver!"
Claire gave a sharp nod, lowering her head for a moment as she drew in a steadying breath, then lifted her gaze — her expression steady, eyes bright with resolve.
"Got it."
And without hesitation, she bolted down the street after them.
"Good luck, kid!" the shopkeeper called after her.
Claire didn't look back.
At the same time, down the misty streets, a cluster of masked figures darted through narrow alleys, their gaudy yellow coats and overly dramatic red capes trailing behind them like ridiculous banners. Over-the-top, loud, and absolutely impossible to miss — which, judging by their grins, was entirely the point.
"Did you have to blow up the whole front of the store?!" one of them barked, tugging his mask up to rub his ringing ears, curly brown hair bouncing with every step. "My head's still vibrating!"
"Oh, quit crying," another snorted behind a hockey mask, casually flipping a smoke-bomb canister in one hand. "Big boom means big distraction. Textbook stuff."
"Textbook terrible," a third snapped, vaulting over a stack of crates, her long purple hair cutting through the mist as she moved. "Maybe next time, don't alert the entire kingdom."
"Less complaining, more running!" shouted a fourth — short green hair flying as she struggled under the weight of a bulging sack. "I'm carrying half this haul, y'know!"
"That's 'cause you've got half the brains, genius." The curly-haired one grinned behind his mask.
Then, out of nowhere —
An arrow zipped past, grazing one of their sleeves.
They all skidded to a halt, eyes snapping back.
"Uh… guys?" Hockey Mask's voice wavered. "We've got company!"
Down the alley, Claire sprinted after them, breath ragged, bow in hand. Gone was the shy, mumbling girl from the car. Her brow furrowed, gaze sharp, voice loud even as it cracked mid-sentence.
"Y-You're not getting away with that!" she shouted, nocking another arrow and loosing it — this one leaving a fresh gash in a nearby wall.
And then, predictably…
Her foot caught a stray can.
Claire yelped as she went sprawling, arms flailing. The bow in one hand, an arrow in the other, she crashed into a stack of old newspapers, sending them bursting into the air like startled pigeons.
They fluttered down around her as she lay flat on her back, a single page landing squarely across her face.
A beat.
A puff of breath sent the newspaper fluttering off as Claire sat up, her cheeks burning red. She pouted, brushing scraps of newsprint from her hair.
"Hmph…" she grumbled, frustration simmering under her breath. "Ugh! I'm gonna be so late…"
But as the thieves turned away with a dismissive laugh, something in her gaze shifted. The embarrassment didn't disappear — it just made room for something else.
Determination.
Without a word, Claire pushed herself up, boots scuffing against the alley floor. In one swift motion, she kicked off the ground, sprinting toward a nearby light pole. She vaulted against it, using the momentum to push herself sideways, grabbing hold of a hanging store sign.
"Whoa—!"
The force sent her catapulting upward, hood flying back, her long blonde hair whipping in the air. For a brief second, her wide eyes held both sincerity and a startled what am I doing? gleam.
But her hands didn't fumble this time.
She landed cleanly on the rooftop, breath sharp in her chest. In a fluid motion that made her own clumsiness feel like a different person's problem, she drew an arrow and fired mid-motion, still blushing furiously.
The arrow hissed through the air, slicing past the curly-haired robber's ear and clipping a strand of hair before slamming into a wooden post directly ahead of them.
The precision silenced them.
Claire blinked, a little too surprised at herself, brushing wind-blown hair from her face with one hand while still holding her bow steady in the other.
"T-that was…" she mumbled, voice catching. "…um, a warning shot."
It wasn't loud. But it carried.
Her stance was steady now — no awkward shifting, no fidgeting. Except for one small thing: she still fussed with the strap of her quiver, tugging it into place even as her expression hardened.
The robbers stopped laughing.
"You've gotta be kidding me," the purple-haired one muttered, eyes narrowing.
Claire gulped, then forced a shy, almost apologetic smile, her voice soft but edged with something sharper.
"S-sorry about this… but um… you're all… under arrest? I think that's what I'm supposed to say?"
For a heartbeat, the alley went still.
Then she nocked another arrow.
Skillfully — and maybe a little recklessly — Claire fired a flurry of arrows. Each one zipped past the robbers, narrowly missing by inches. The group jolted and ducked in panic, yelping as shafts thudded into crates, posts, and the ground around them.
The masked one fumbled for a bomb at his belt — only for another arrow to knock it clean from his hand.
"That girl's insane, man!" the curly-haired one yelped, his voice cracking. "What the hell are we supposed to do?!"
"I don't know, this wasn't part of the plan!" Hockey Mask snapped, eyes darting around.
Claire skidded to a stop atop a nearby ledge, loosing one more arrow that thudded into the ground just ahead of them. The group froze, turning toward her like deer in torchlight.
"D-Drop the bags!" Claire shouted, voice a little wobbly, then softened mid-sentence. "We… we can resolve this peacefully! Um… please?"
The robbers just stared at her.
"Is she serious?" Purple Hair muttered, half-spooked, half-incredulous.
Hockey Mask, regaining a little nerve, reached for another bomb — and Claire's next arrow snapped it from his grip with a sharp, practiced shot.
"You'll have to pry it from our cold, dead bodies!" Purple Hair growled, though the tremble in her voice betrayed her.
"Y-Yeah! W-wait… what?!" Pink Hair blinked, confused.
"Oh geez…" Claire sighed, drawing another arrow.
The assailants bolted, sprinting faster now, panic in their footsteps as they scrambled for a way to lose her.
As they neared the end of the alley, their running slowed, breath ragged. The footsteps behind them faded.
And then… silence.
They skidded to a stop at the mouth of the street, glancing back. Empty alley. No figure on the rooftops. Nothing.
A collective, shaky breath left them.
"Heh… little girl probably ran home to her mommy." Curly Hair smirked.
"Yeah… figures." Purple Hair added, trying to mask the relief in her voice.
"Hi again!"
The voice came from directly behind them.
Four heads whipped around in horror.
Claire stood there, slightly out of breath, bow drawn, cheeks flushed — grinning sheepishly.
Without warning, the hockey-masked one let out a dramatic snarl and whipped out… a hockey stick.
"Taste DEATH, girl!" he roared, swinging it at Claire's head in a wild, desperate arc.
"Wha—?!" Claire yelped, ducking just in time. The stick whooshed overhead as she scrambled back, firing a quick arrow that knocked the stolen bag clean from Pink-Hair's grasp.
"My loot!" Pink-Hair shrieked, diving after it as coins and candy bars spilled across the alley.
The four immediately scrambled to surround Claire, forming a rough circle of over-the-top capes and way-too-dramatic glares.
Claire, panting, raised a hand nervously.
"L-Look, you guys can still walk away from this, capisce…?" she pleaded, offering a hopeful, crooked smile.
"NO!" Curly-Hair bellowed, yanking out an oversized yo-yo with the fury of a man brandishing a legendary relic. "I've come too far!"
Claire blinked, lips parting.
"Oh… okay…" she mumbled, shoulders sagging like she'd just been personally rejected at a school dance. She started turning away. "Sorry I asked…"
"Hold up—wait a second," Hockey Mask frowned, lowering his stick a little. "Are you… gaslighting us right now?"
"Huh? No?" Claire blinked, genuinely confused.
"She is! It's a mind game!" Curly-Hair insisted.
"Enough!" Purple-Hair snapped dramatically, whipping out her chain scarf with a flourish. "You leave us no choice, tiny blonde interloper!"
"Yeah! What she said!" Pink-Hair chimed in, brandishing her spiked purse like it was an ancient artifact of doom.
Claire stared at them, bow half-lowered.
"…Okay."
And the ridiculous stand-off continued as the alley burst into chaos.
Curly-Hair's yo-yo screeched past Claire's head. She ducked and fired an arrow that narrowly missed his face, thunking into the wall.
"Whoa!"
A puck-bomb skidded in from Hockey Mask. Claire flipped off a crate as it exploded behind her.
"Tch—stop moving!" Purple-Hair snarled, her chain scarf snapping out. Claire twisted mid-air, landing clumsily on one knee with a wince — but didn't stop.
In one motion, she grabbed an arrow, smacked Pink-Hair's spiked purse aside, and shot another, cutting between Curly and Hockey Mask, making them crash together.
"Bro—watch it!"
"You zigged!"
"Did not—!"
Claire bolted for Purple-Hair, dodging a scarf swipe, rebounding off a wall, and kicking upward into a clean flip. Mid-spin, she fired an arrow that popped a smoke charge on Curly's belt.
"MY EYES!"
"You set off your own bomb, moron!"
Another puck rolled her way. Claire kicked it skyward — it detonated harmlessly above.
"Nice try!" she called, immediately blushing.
Pink-Hair rushed with a broom. Claire sidestepped — stumbled — caught herself, and batted the broom away with her arrow shaft.
"Hey!"
"Then stop trying to hit me!" Claire snapped back, equal parts flustered and serious.
Curly and Hockey Mask regrouped.
"Combo move?"
"Combo move."
Pucks skimmed low. A yo-yo shield spun high.
Claire's eyes widened.
She dodged the first, vaulted the second, but the yo-yo clipped her shoulder, sending her staggering into a wall.
"Guh—!"
Purple-Hair's scarf lashed out — Claire whipped out an arrow and blocked it mid-snap, then dropped into a crouch behind a crate, panting.
Then — in the middle of all the chaos — a bright, chirpy ringtone burst from Claire's pocket, slicing through the tension like an unexpected slap.
The robbers froze mid-strike.
Curly-Hair's yo-yo dangled mid-spin.
Hockey Mask had a puck cocked in his hand.
Even Purple-Hair's chain scarf hung limp.
"Uh—hold on!" Claire yelped, raising a palm. "I gotta take this."
The four exchanged puzzled looks, lowering their weapons slightly.
Claire fumbled for her phone, nearly dropping it twice as it slipped between her fingers. She finally caught it, thumb mashing the accept button by accident.
"WHERE ARE YOU?!" Rose's voice exploded through the speaker so loudly it made Claire — and all four robbers — physically flinch.
"Uh… h-hi, Rose…" Claire stammered.
"Don't 'hi Rose' me! I've seen like five buses go by and none of them had your face in it! Don't tell me you're still there!"
"N-no…!" Claire hissed, throwing a quick shush at the confused robbers. "I-I'm totally on a bus, haha…"
"You better not be lying—this is our first day! If you make us late—!"
But the signal crackled, Rose's voice breaking into a garbled mess of static and half-words.
Claire stared at the phone. "Uh… hello? Helloooo?" She shook it like that would magically help.
Curly-Hair cautiously stepped forward, squinting at the screen.
"Lemme see that. Reception's awful in this alley."
"Yeah, try putting it in airplane mode, then turning it back off," Hockey Mask offered, lowering his puck.
"Or hold it over your head," Pink-Hair chimed in. "Like way up, near the roofline."
"Or do the old spin-around-three-times trick," Purple-Hair added with a dead-serious nod. "Always works."
Claire blinked at them.
"You guys… actually know phone tricks?"
They shrugged.
"We steal phones. It comes up."
Claire hesitated. "…Okay. Good suggestions."
And there they were — all five of them, mid-fight, standing awkwardly in an alley trying to fix a phone's reception.
A sudden burst of static came through, then Rose's voice exploded from the speaker:
"HEY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"
All five flinched like it was a battle cry, collectively hunching down and covering their ears.
"Agh—okay, okay, okay—!" Claire winced, phone tilted away. "S-sorry! W-what was that?"
"I said you've got a few minutes left before you're late, so get moving!"
"Y-yeah! I-I'm on it! D-don't worry, capisce?!"
The connection cut with a final angry beep.
Meanwhile, at the edge of the city, Rose paced in tight circles from a distance to large airship, nervously tapping her foot against the smooth floor. Her fingers snapped together in irritation, a small flicker of fire bursting to life between them — which she quickly snuffed out with a frustrated breath.
The massive airship loomed ahead, its sleek, silver frame lined with soft, blue-lit panels, vents hissing as it awaited departure. It looked less like a vehicle and more like some great, metal-winged beast crouched above the lake.
The driver leaned calmly against the car, watching her with a faint smile.
"She'll make it, Miss Rose. You know she always does."
Rose sighed, running a hand through her hair, eyes flicking toward the airship.
"Yeah… I sure hope so."
Back in the alley, Claire stared at the dead screen, tapping it a couple of times before tucking it back in her pocket with a sheepish shrug.
A beat.
"You done?" Purple-Hair deadpanned.
"Uh… yeah." Claire coughed, awkwardly raising her bow again. "Sorry about that."
And just like that — the ridiculous pause was over.
"Alright—where were we?" Curly-Hair grumbled, swinging his yo-yo up again.
"Something about tasting death," Hockey Mask offered.
"Right! DEATH!" Curly lunged, yo-yo spinning wide.
Claire sighed. "Okay, no more playing around."
Before they could charge, she fired three rapid arrows in a blur — one zipped past Hockey Mask's puck hand, making him fumble it; the second knocked the yo-yo clean from Curly-Hair's grip, the cord snapping and wrapping around his ankle.
"Hey—what the—?!" He toppled face-first.
"Combo move—wait, no!" Hockey Mask tried to ready a puck but Claire was already there, sliding low and whacking his shin with her arrow shaft. He yelped, hopping on one foot.
Purple-Hair lashed her scarf.
Claire spun past it, then smashed the arrow's blunt end into Purple's wrist, sending the scarf clattering to the ground.
"You—!"
Before Pink-Hair could even grab her purse, Claire planted a foot on a nearby wall, kicked up, and fired an arrow that pinned the purse's strap to a post.
"No fair—!"
Claire landed, spinning her last arrow in hand, breath steady.
"Alright, bags down. Fight's over."
The four looked around.
Weapons gone. Bags scattered.
Beat.
Then without warning they look forward to see Claire charging at them with arrow in hand in horror, wihtout no time to dodge, seemingly phasing through them with a clean slash, transparent blue particles disperse and burst from the slash before they fell down down knocked
Claire dropped her shoulders, letting out a long sigh as she brushed her hair back behind her ear, slipping the arrow back into her quiver.
"Phew… capisce."
As she caught her breath, realization struck her like a brick.
"I'm gonna be late!"
Her face flushed, a wave of embarrassment and panic crashing over her as she spun toward the bystanders gawking from a safe distance.
"C-could someone… um… call the authorities? Please?" she stammered, offering them an awkward, two-handed wave before bolting down the street — only to skid to a halt a few steps later.
"Wait—bags!"
She dashed back, grabbed the scattered loot bags, nearly tripping over one as she stuffed another under her arm, then ran off again.
"Okay now I'm going!"
As she passed the shop with its shattered window, the shopkeeper — a grizzled older man still brushing glass off his counter — looked up, eyes widening.
Without slowing, Claire hurled the bags beside him with a surprisingly gentle toss.
"Here's your stuff! Gotta go!" she shouted, already halfway down the street.
"Thanks a million, kid!" the shopkeeper called after her, a mix of relief and exhausted gratitude in his voice. "Stop by anytime — and good luck with your… whatever that was!"
Claire grinned weakly, a little burst of pride warming her chest.
Did a good thing… capisce.
Then her brain caught up with her feet and panic took over again. She sprinted harder, weaving through alleys and across streets.
As the world blurred, a white bus sped past on the opposite road, its brakes letting out a sharp hissss-thunk as it pulled to a stop. Claire's eyes widened in horror.
Doubling over, hands braced on her knees, she gasped for breath as the doors slid open with a quick tchk-tchk. Students filed in, the chatter and shuffle of feet briefly audible before the doors clapped shut.
Thunk.
The bus pulled away.
Claire slumped over, hands braced on her knees, breath ragged, strands of blonde hair sticking to her face.
"Geez… at this rate, I'll never make it…"
Then it hit her — the promise she made to Rose that morning. A sinking knot twisted in her stomach.
I told her we'd be there together.
Claire huffed, blowing the hair from her face and shaking her head hard. A grin tugged at her lips, small but stubborn.
"Okay. One more dumb idea."
Her eyes shot upward — spotting the crooked fire escape on an old apartment wall.
Without hesitating, she sprinted over and jumped, grabbing the cold, rusted bar. It groaned but held. She hauled herself up, boots clanging against the steps as she climbed, legs burning, heart pounding.
At the rooftop, she didn't stop. The wind whipped through her hair as she glanced ahead — catching sight of a sagging clothesline cable stretched between buildings.
Far.
Too far for anyone else.
"I can hit that…" she muttered.
Claire yanked an arrow from her quiver, notched it, and let it fly. It hooked the cable with a sharp snap, the line quivering under tension.
"Please hold."
She grabbed the arrow's shaft, vaulted over the ledge, and slid down the line, the city blurring below her, wind tugging at her cloak and hair.
Down below, the bus let out a sharp honk, trapped behind a slow-moving truck.
"Yes!" she grinned.
Claire let go at just the right moment, dropping clean onto a slanted rooftop. Her feet hit hard, momentum throwing her into a quick, rough roll, but she popped back up, sprinting again.
The bus stop was dead ahead.
One last leap over a narrow alley — and she landed behind the crowd of students just as the doors slid open with a soft tchk-tchk.
Panting, hair a mess, she quickly smoothed her cloak and tugged her hood back up over her head, cheeks flushed.
"Made it…" she breathed with a weak grin. "…capisce."
Then, as casually as she could manage with burning legs and a pounding heart, Claire strolled toward the doors with the others and stepped inside.
The steady hum of the airship filled the cabin — muffled voices, the rustle of clothes, the quiet vibration underfoot. She kept her head down, her gaze flickering to the rows of occupied seats as she passed.
Most were taken. Laughter here, hushed conversation there. The buzz of first-day nerves and half-formed friendships.
An empty seat at the very back caught her eye.
As Claire moved toward it, she noticed someone already sitting there — a boy, dark hair falling slightly over his face, his gaze fixed on the window. He didn't move, didn't glance up, perfectly still in the shifting noise around them.
She slowed, something unfamiliar curling in her chest.
A flicker.
Not recognition.
Not yet.
But a sense of something she couldn't name.
Claire hesitated — then slid quietly into the seat beside him.
She tugged her hood back over her head, pulling the fabric low. Outside, the airship's engines deepened to a steady, rising hum.
Neither spoke.
Neither looked at the other.
But for the briefest moment, it felt as though the two were moving toward the same, invisible place.
The sky waited.