The clearing was peaceful in the fading light, a small pocket of tranquility in the untamed wilderness beyond the Black Bulls' base. Noelle Silva knelt in the grass, her silver hair disheveled, her pink eyes rimmed with red from tears she would never admit to shedding. The boulder she had been using for target practice sat twenty paces away, completely unscathed, a silent monument to her failure. The trees around the clearing, by contrast, had not been so lucky. Three of them lay shattered on the ground, victims of water lances that had gone wildly off course. A fourth was still smoking from a spell that had somehow become mixed with an entirely different element.
"I'm not useless," she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse. "I'm not. I'm a Silva. I'm a royal. I am NOT useless."
She raised her trembling hand once more, her silver grimoire floating open beside her. The pages flipped, and mana surged through her pathways—too much mana, always too much, a flood where there should have been a stream. The water sphere that materialized above her palm was supposed to be the size of an apple. It was the size of a carriage.
"No," she breathed. "No, no, no—"
The sphere expanded. And expanded. And kept expanding until it had engulfed the entire clearing, a dome of churning water that lifted Noelle off her feet and suspended her in its crushing depths. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. The pressure was immense, her own magic turning against her, and the last coherent thought she had before the darkness started closing in was that her siblings had been right all along. She really was useless. She really was going to die a failure.
And then she saw him.
---
I had been meditating in my room when I felt the mana surge.
It was impossible to miss—a sudden, violent spike of magical energy that made the castle's foundations tremble. Stage Zero mana, uncontrolled and chaotic, the signature of someone who had immense power and no idea how to wield it. Noelle. The direction was clear. The danger was obvious. And the opportunity was perfect.
I moved before the others could react. Asta was still fumbling with his grimoire, trying to figure out what was happening. Magna was shouting something about an attack. By the time anyone thought to look for me, I was already gone, my bare feet carrying me through the castle corridors and out into the jungle with the silent speed of a predator.
The scene I found was chaos.
A dome of water, easily thirty feet in diameter, had engulfed the clearing. At its center, suspended like a fly in amber, Noelle Silva was drowning. Her silver hair floated around her face in a ghostly halo. Her grey eyes were wide with terror, the arrogance stripped away completely, leaving only the raw, primal fear of someone who was about to die. Bubbles streamed from her mouth as she tried to scream, but there was no air to carry the sound.
I didn't hesitate. I couldn't afford to. Noelle Silva was a royal with Stage Zero mana, a potential asset of incalculable value. If she died here, the political fallout would be catastrophic, and the Black Bulls—my carefully chosen vehicle for advancement—would be crippled before I could extract what I needed from them. More than that, the persona I had constructed required me to act. The protective older brother didn't let squadmates drown.
I stripped off my robe. I stripped off my shirt. The enchanted knee-length shorts remained—they had survived the Black Death, and they would survive this. My muscles, still gleaming with the residual golden light of the wheel's constant rotation, tensed as I launched myself into the water sphere.
The pressure hit me like a physical wall. This wasn't ordinary water—it was Noelle's mana given form, and her mana was immense. The crushing force would have killed a normal mage instantly, collapsing their lungs and shattering their bones. I felt it as a notification of pressure against my skin, data to be catalogued and dismissed. Water Resistance (mid) had been built through months of drowning myself in jungle rivers. Mana Skin Full Release was already active, the shimmering barrier integrating seamlessly with my Reinforcement Magic to distribute the pressure evenly across my body. And my gills—the ones the Talent had grown during my water adaptation training—fluttered open along my ribcage, extracting oxygen from the water itself.
I swam.
The water resisted me, but I was stronger. My arms cut through the currents with the power of muscles that had wrestled mana beasts and lifted boulders. In seconds, I reached the center of the sphere, where Noelle's body was going limp. Her eyes were starting to close. The last bubbles of air were escaping her lips.
I wrapped one arm around her waist—she was so small, so fragile, a rabbit caught in a trap of her own making—and pulled her against my chest. Her body was cold, her mana signature flickering like a candle in a storm. I kicked upward, toward the surface of the sphere, and the water fought me every inch of the way. Noelle's magic didn't want to release her. It was a prison of her own creation, and it would kill her before it let her go.
But I was Hasegawa Ouga. And I had never let anything stop me.
We broke through the surface of the water sphere, and the dome collapsed behind us in a thunderous cascade. I twisted in midair, positioning myself beneath Noelle, and the ground rushed up to meet us. I landed with a impact that shattered the earth beneath my feet, a crater of cracked stone and pulverized soil radiating outward from the point of contact. My legs absorbed the force. My arms cradled Noelle against my chest in a princess carry, her head resting against my shoulder, her wet silver hair plastered to her pale cheeks.
She wasn't breathing.
I laid her on the ground, tilted her head back, and pressed my palm against her chest. A pulse of mana—carefully controlled, precisely aimed—stimulated her diaphragm. She coughed, water spewing from her lips, and her eyes flew open.
The others arrived a moment later. Magna burst through the treeline first, his grimoire open and his fire bat raised, ready for combat. He stopped dead when he saw the scene: me, shirtless and dripping wet, kneeling over the coughing, sputtering form of Noelle Silva in the middle of a crater. Vanessa arrived next, her wine bottle forgotten in her hand, her cheeks flushing pink as she took in the full scope of my exposed physique. Luck appeared on a tree branch above us, his grin wide and electric. Finral stumbled through a spatial portal, took one look at the situation, and immediately started sweating. Gordon materialized from the shadows, murmuring something that was probably concern. And Charmy, ever practical, was already pulling snacks from her hair.
"What... what happened?!" Magna demanded. "We felt the mana surge! Is it an attack?! Are we under attack?!"
"No attack," I said, my voice calm and steady. "Training accident."
"Training accident?!" Magna's sunglasses nearly flew off his face. "That was a huge mana spike! It felt like someone dropped a bomb on the forest! What kind of training accident causes a—"
He stopped. He looked at Noelle, who was still coughing, her face pale and her eyes wide with a terror that hadn't yet faded. He looked at the shattered trees, the crushed boulder, the crater that I had made with my landing. And understanding dawned on his face.
"Oh," he said quietly. "Oh. Her."
Noelle pushed herself up on her elbows, her chest heaving, her silver hair dripping. She looked at the gathered Black Bulls—Magna with his fire bat still raised, Vanessa with her wine and her flushed cheeks, Luck with his predatory grin, Finral with his nervous sweating, Gordon with his barely audible murmurs—and her face crumpled. She closed her eyes, waiting for the criticism to begin. Waiting for them to tell her she was useless. Waiting for them to confirm everything her siblings had said.
"Go ahead," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Say it. Say I'm a failure. Say I can't control my magic. Say I don't belong here. Say I should just go back to the Silva estate and hide in my room like the useless royal I am. I've heard it all before. It's nothing new."
Silence.
Then—
"You have so much mana."
Noelle's eyes flew open. I was still kneeling beside her, my grey eyes meeting her pink ones, my expression gentle—the mask of the protective older brother, deployed with perfect precision.
"If you could control it," I continued, my voice quiet but steady, "you would be invincible. mana with that kind of density... I've never felt anything like it. You're not weak, Noelle. You're the opposite of weak. You just haven't learned to aim the weapon yet."
Noelle stared at me. Her cheeks, which had been pale with terror moments before, flushed a deep, vibrant red. It was only then that she seemed to realize her position: cradled in my arms, her hands pressed against my bare chest, her body held securely against the wall of muscle that was my torso. She could feel every contour, every ridge of the physique that had been forged through years of brutal training. The warmth of my skin against hers. The steady, slow rhythm of my heartbeat, completely unaffected by the exertion of saving her life.
"Eep."
The sound that escaped Noelle's lips was not a word. It was barely even a noise. It was the tiny, strangled squeak of a tsundere whose defenses had just been obliterated by a direct hit from reality.
She scrambled out of my arms, her legs unsteady, her face now the color of a ripe tomato. She took two wobbling steps backward before her knees gave out and she had to catch herself on a broken tree stump. "I—you—that is—I didn't—YOU!" She pointed a trembling finger at me. "You're not wearing a shirt! Why aren't you wearing a shirt?! What kind of pervert runs around the jungle half-naked?!"
"My shirt was in the way," I said calmly. "The water sphere would have destroyed it. I'd rather lose a shirt than have it drag me down while I was saving you."
"That's—that's not—you can't just—" Noelle's voice had risen three octaves. She was trying very hard to look at my face and not at anything below my face, and she was failing spectacularly. "Put on a shirt! Put on a shirt RIGHT NOW!"
"I don't have a shirt here. It's back at the base."
"THEN GO GET IT!"
"Are you okay? You were drowning a moment ago. You should sit down."
"I DON'T NEED TO SIT DOWN! I NEED YOU TO WEAR CLOTHES!"
Vanessa, who had been watching this exchange with the delighted expression of someone who had just found a new favorite drama, let out a low whistle. "Well, well. Looks like our little royal has discovered something she likes about the squad after all."
"I DO NOT LIKE ANYTHING! I DO NOT LIKE HIM! I DO NOT LIKE ANY OF YOU! PUT ON A SHIRT!"
"I'll put on a shirt when we get back to base," I said, and my voice carried the patient, reassuring tone of someone dealing with a small, energetic animal. "For now, let's focus on getting you dry. You're shivering."
Noelle looked down at herself, realized she was soaked to the bone, and let out another strangled noise that was somewhere between a squeak and a scream. "This is the worst day of my life! The absolute worst! I almost drowned in my own magic, and then I got rescued by a half-naked giant, and now everyone is staring at me, and—"
"Hey." Magna stepped forward, his fire bat dissolving, his expression surprisingly gentle. "It's okay."
"It's NOT okay! I almost killed myself! With my own magic! How useless do you have to be to almost die from your own spell?!"
"Pretty useless," Magna admitted. "But here's the thing, princess. You're looking at the squad of failures. Every single one of us has something wrong with us. That's why we're here." He gestured around at the assembled Black Bulls. "Vanessa drinks too much. Luck can't stop fighting everything that moves. Finral can't talk to girls without being creepy about it. Gordon can't talk to anyone at all. Charmy eats enough for ten people. Gauche is... well, Gauche is Gauche. And me? I'm a commoner from the middle of nowhere who only knows one spell and yells too much. We're all failures here. One more failure isn't going to make a difference."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Noelle muttered, but her voice had lost its edge.
"I'm saying it because it's true." Magna grinned, adjusting his sunglasses. "Welcome to the Black Bulls, princess. The squad where nobody cares about your flaws because we've all got our own."
Charmy bustled forward, a plate of freshly summoned pastries in her hands. "Eat! Eat! You used too much mana! You need to replenish your energy! Here, I made these special—Cotton Cloud Comfort Pastries! Guaranteed to make you feel better or your money back!"
"We don't pay for food," Finral pointed out.
"Then you get DOUBLE your money back!"
"...That doesn't make any sense."
"Food doesn't need to make sense! Food just needs to be delicious!"
Gauche Adlai, who had apparently returned from his sister visit and followed the commotion, stepped forward with a photograph in his hand. "If you're feeling sad, you can look at this picture of my sister Marie. It always makes me feel better. She's the most perfect, beautiful, angelic—"
"I don't want to look at a picture of your sister," Noelle said flatly.
"You don't? But she's so perfect! Look at her! LOOK AT HER!"
"I said no!"
Gordon materialized beside Noelle, his voice a barely audible whisper that only I could fully hear. "...I know what it's like to feel like a failure... to feel like your magic is wrong... I've felt that way my whole life... but you're not alone... we're all here for you... we're going to be friends... I hope..."
"He says you're not alone," I translated. "He says everyone here has felt like a failure at some point, and they're all here for you."
Gordon's eyes filled with tears. "...he translated for me... Ouga translated for me... I'm being heard... this is the greatest moment of my life..."
Noelle stared at the assembled squad—at Magna with his ridiculous sunglasses and his genuine kindness, at Charmy with her pastries and her boundless enthusiasm, at Vanessa with her knowing smile, at Gordon with his barely audible words of comfort, at Gauche with his sister's photograph, at Luck with his battle-hungry grin that somehow still felt welcoming, at Finral with his nervous attempts to be helpful. And then she looked at me, still shirtless, still dripping wet, the wheel behind my head rotating in its steady, eternal cycle.
Her lower lip trembled.
"I..." she started, and her voice cracked. "I don't deserve... you're all being so..."
The tears came before she could stop them. Not the angry, frustrated tears she'd shed alone in the clearing. These were different. These were tears of relief. Tears of someone who had expected cruelty and received kindness instead. Tears of a girl who had been told her entire life that she was worthless and had just been shown, for the first time, that she might be wrong.
Without thinking—truly without thinking, an action that bypassed the mask and the void and the cold machinery of my calculated existence—I reached out and placed my hand on her head.
The pat was gentle. Awkward. The gesture of someone who had seen comfort given but had never learned to give it himself. My palm rested on her silver hair, and I felt her freeze beneath my touch.
"Don't worry," I said, and the words came from somewhere I didn't recognize. "I'll protect you. Until you become invincible."
The clearing went silent.
Noelle looked up at me, her pink eyes wide and glistening with tears, her cheeks flushed with a color that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with something she couldn't name. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She just stared at me, her silver hair soft beneath my palm, her entire body trembling.
Then Vanessa let out a delighted laugh. "Oh my. Oh my, oh my, oh my. Charmy, are you seeing this? Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
"I'm seeing it!" Charmy squealed, practically bouncing on her heels. "He patted her head! He said he'd protect her! It's like something out of a fairy tale! 'The Giant and the Princess'—I can see the romance novel cover now!"
"IT'S NOT A ROMANCE NOVEL!" Noelle shrieked, finally finding her voice. She scrambled away from my hand, her face now the color of a sunset. "It's not—we're not—he's just—PUT ON A SHIRT, YOU PERVERTED GIANT!"
"I'll put on a shirt when we get back to base," I repeated.
"THAT'S WHAT YOU SAID BEFORE! WE'RE STILL IN THE JUNGLE!"
"We're leaving now."
"GOOD! LEAVE FASTER!"
I turned and began walking back toward the castle, the rest of the squad falling in around me. Noelle trailed behind, her arms crossed, her face still crimson, her heart hammering in her chest for reasons she refused to examine. Vanessa fell into step beside her, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"You know," Vanessa said, loud enough for only Noelle to hear, "if you like him, you should just say so. The tsundere act is cute, but it gets old fast."
"I DO NOT LIKE HIM!"
"Whatever you say, princess."
"I AM A ROYAL! I DO NOT HAVE FEELINGS FOR COMMONERS! ESPECIALLY NOT GIGANTIC, SHIRTLESS COMMONERS WITH TRAGIC EYES AND GENTLE HANDS AND—" She stopped herself, realizing what she was saying. "I'M GOING BACK TO THE CASTLE! ALONE! AHEAD OF ALL OF YOU! GOODBYE!"
She sprinted down the path, her silver hair streaming behind her. The squad watched her go with varying expressions of amusement.
"She's adorable," Vanessa said. "Like a tiny, angry kitten."
"A rabbit," I corrected quietly. "A small rabbit. Energetic. Easily startled. Harmless."
"A rabbit." Vanessa's smile widened. "You called her a rabbit. You, the giant who adapts to everything and deflects fireballs with your bare hands, just called our royal failure a cute little rabbit."
"It's an accurate comparison."
"I'm sure it is." Vanessa winked. "I'm sure it is."
Inside the void where my emotions had been sealed, a single question surfaced. Why had I patted her head? The action had been involuntary, bypassing the mask and the calculated persona. Emotional attachment was impossible—the locks ensured that. So what had prompted it?
Protective instinct, I decided. That was the most logical explanation. Noelle was small, fragile, and helpless in ways that triggered the same response I'd cultivated for Asta. She reminded me of a rabbit because she was prey-like, and my role—the protective older brother—had simply expanded to include her. It was a tactical decision, executed on an unconscious level. Nothing more.
The explanation satisfied the cold machinery of my mind. The question was filed away and dismissed.
(Author note: i tried to catch their personality as much as possible in this chapter, tell me if it's ok)