Toki moved through the corridor as though the shadows themselves had learned to part for him.
Torches along the walls had long since burned out, leaving only the pale moonlight filtering through high arched windows to guide his path.
He kept his breathing slow. Controlled.
Not out of fear—but habit.
The library doors stood at the end of the corridor, tall and solemn. Toki hesitated before pushing them open, fingers brushing the cold metal handle.
Something about the air beyond felt… attentive.
The doors parted with a whisper.
The library welcomed him in silence.
Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, cascading down in pale ribbons that cut through the dust-laden air. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched endlessly, their contents hidden in shadow, their spines lined like silent sentinels. The scent of old parchment, ink, and time itself lingered thickly in the air.
Toki stepped inside and let the door close behind him.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Despite the silence, he felt it again—that subtle pressure at the back of his mind. A presence. Not hostile. Not friendly. Merely aware.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"So," he murmured, "even books are watching me now."
He shook the thought away and moved deeper into the library.
His footsteps were careful, almost reverent, as he scanned the shelves.
He stopped.
His gaze lingered on a particular section.
Anatomy.
Martial Disciplines.
Mana Circulation and Control.
Without hesitation, he began pulling volumes free.
One by one, he stacked them against his chest until the pile nearly obscured his face. He carried them toward a large oak desk near the center of the room—Leonard's desk, he realized absently—its surface polished smooth by decades of use.
As he placed the books down, a quiet voice spoke behind him.
"Impressive selection for someone who claims not to enjoy studying."
Toki froze.
His muscles tensed instantly, senses sharpening as he turned.
The candle on the desk flared to life.
Leonard sat behind it, perfectly still, hands folded calmly atop a closed tome. The light cast deep shadows across his face, emphasizing the lines etched into his features.
Toki exhaled slowly. "You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days."
Leonard smiled faintly. "I could say the same. You move like a ghost."
"I try not to," Toki muttered. "It just… happens."
He glanced around. "You were here the whole time?"
Leonard inclined his head. "I was finishing some research. It seems we share similar habits."
Toki rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry if I disturbed you. I didn't think anyone else would be awake."
"You didn't disturb me," Leonard replied calmly. "And truthfully, I'm glad you came."
Toki raised an eyebrow. "Glad?"
Leonard gestured toward the stack of books. "Not many seek knowledge when they're burdened. "
Toki looked down at the volumes he'd chosen. "Distraction doesn't help me sleep."
A faint smile tugged at Leonard's lips. "No. It rarely does."
He stood, moving with unhurried grace, and approached the desk. His gaze drifted over the titles Toki had chosen.
"Human anatomy… sword mastery… mana flow and internal circulation…" Leonard hummed thoughtfully. "You've chosen demanding material."
Toki shrugged. "I figured if I'm going to be thrown into things I don't understand, I might as well start understanding them."
"An admirable philosophy."
Leonard reached past him, selecting another book from a nearby shelf. The cover was dark, unadorned, its title embossed in faded silver:
The Fundamental Laws of Physics and Matter.
He placed it gently atop the others.
"If you intend to bend the rules," Leonard said, voice calm but firm, "you must first learn what those rules are."
Toki studied the book, then looked up. "You really think knowledge can bridge that gap?"
"I think ignorance widens it," Leonard replied.
A moment passed.
Then Leonard stepped back, giving him space. "I won't keep you. It's late, and I've said all I need to say."
He turned to leave, pausing only briefly at the threshold.
"Take your time," he added. "Understanding rarely comes quickly. And if you find yourself lost…" His eyes flicked toward the shelves. "You know where to look."
The door closed softly behind him.
Silence returned.
Toki remained standing for a long moment, staring at the books before him. Then, slowly, he pulled out the chair and sat.
He opened the first volume.
Diagrams of the human body greeted him—muscles layered over bone, veins branching like rivers, annotations written in careful script. He turned page after page, absorbing the structure of flesh, the limits of bone, the way damage propagated through the body.
Next came mana theory.
Flow diagrams. Nodes. Circuits.
He frowned as he read, brow furrowing deeper with each passage.
He scribbled notes on a scrap of parchment, linking ideas together.
He flipped pages faster now, scanning, cross-referencing. His breathing grew shallow as pieces began to align—not into clarity, but into possibility.
Hours passed unnoticed.
Candlelight dwindled.
The silence of the library deepened, pressing in around him like a held breath.
Finally, he leaned back, rubbing his temples.
His gaze drifted upward, unfocused.
The touch came softly, almost playfully—fingers brushing through his hair with careless familiarity.
Toki stirred, a half-smile forming on his lips before his thoughts fully caught up.
"Mm… Leonard," he murmured lazily. "Didn't know you were the affectionate type…"
"Leonard?"
The voice was sharp. Clear. Very awake.
Toki jolted, eyes snapping open.
Utsuki stood right in front of him, arms crossed, silver hair spilling loosely over her shoulders, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and barely contained amusement.
"Leonard?" she repeated.
He blinked once. Twice.
"…Oh."
She raised an eyebrow. "You look comfortable."
He straightened up immediately, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—uh—I was thinking."
"Thinking," she echoed dryly. "With your eyes closed."
"Very deeply," he added, deadpan.
Her lips twitched despite herself.
She glanced down at the table, at the open books scattered across its surface, their pages marked with notes and half-written thoughts.
"Let's see," she murmured, leaning in to read. "Light wave theory… muscular optimization… combat efficiency…"
She straightened slowly.
"So," she said, folding her arms, "you're trying to fix your body, your magic, and your fighting style all at once."
Toki winced. "When you say it like that, it sounds excessive."
"It is excessive," she replied, though there was amusement in her eyes. "You really never do things halfway, do you?"
He shrugged. "Time doesn't exactly feel like a luxury lately."
She studied him for a moment longer than necessary. Then her expression softened.
"…I didn't come here to scold you," she said quietly.
He looked up at her, surprised.
She shifted her weight, suddenly less confident, her fingers brushing through a loose strand of silver hair. "I actually came to apologize."
He blinked. "For what?"
She hesitated, then sighed. "For earlier. I was… childish."
That made him frown. "You weren't."
"I was," she insisted, though her tone lacked conviction. "Instead of checking on you, I picked a fight. I let my emotions take over and dragged Lilith into it for no reason."
She looked away. "That wasn't fair."
Toki watched her carefully. There was no arrogance in her posture now—only sincerity, and something softer underneath.
"You were worried," he said gently.
She opened her mouth to deny it, then stopped.
"…Maybe," she admitted. "But that doesn't excuse it."
He smiled faintly. "You're allowed to worry."
She scoffed. "I'm supposed to be composed. Rational. Not acting like—like—"
"Like someone who cares?" he offered.
She fell quiet.
He continued, voice low and earnest. "I disappeared without explanation. Anyone would've been upset."
She looked at him then, really looked at him, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
"I just… don't like not knowing if you're safe," she said softly. "You have a talent for putting yourself in danger without realizing it."
He let out a small laugh. "That bad, huh?"
"Yes," she replied immediately. Then, softer, "Very."
There was a pause.
Then he stepped closer and opened his arms, not demanding—just offering.
She hesitated only a second before stepping into them.
The embrace was gentle, unhurried. Not desperate. Not dramatic. Just warm.
She rested her forehead against his chest with a quiet sigh. "You're exhausting," she muttered.
He smiled, resting his chin lightly against her hair. "And yet, you came looking for me."
"Someone has to make sure you don't get yourself killed," she replied, muffled.
He chuckled. "I appreciate the dedication."
They stayed like that for a few moments, the tension slowly easing from her shoulders.
Finally, she pulled back slightly, though she didn't step away.
"…You know," she said, trying to sound casual, "we actually make a pretty good team."
He smiled warmly. "I was thinking the same thing."
She gave him a sideways look. "You're not just saying that, are you?"
"No," he replied simply. "I mean it."
Her expression softened, the last traces of tension fading.
"Well," she said, straightening her posture, "someone has to keep you grounded."
"And someone has to remind you to breathe," he replied.
Toki stood beside the glass, one hand resting against the cold stone of the frame, his gaze lost somewhere beyond the walls. The world outside was still. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, as if afraid to disturb the quiet of the night.
Behind him, the soft rustle of pages broke the silence.
Utsuki was moving through his scattered notes, her fingers gliding over the parchment with practiced ease. She had shed the formality of her usual attire; her night clothes were simple, light fabric draped loosely around her frame, silver hair falling freely down her back. The candlelight caught in it, turning it almost luminescent.
She stopped suddenly.
"You know," she said, tilting her head slightly, "it's not such a bad idea to consider the laws of physics."
Toki glanced back over his shoulder. "Is that so?"
She ignored the teasing tone, continuing as her eyes moved across the diagrams. "Mana is energy. And energy follows rules,no matter how mysterious we like to pretend it is." She lifted one of the pages. "Conservation, transmission, resonance… it all applies."
He turned fully now, interest sparked. "You really think magic follows the same principles as physical forces?"
"Of course," she replied without hesitation. "Why wouldn't it? Magic doesn't exist in a vacuum. It interacts with matter, with space, with intent. It has to obey something."
She paused, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied a sketch of flowing sigils around a skeletal diagram.
"When I was first learning healing magic," she continued, "I couldn't understand why some wounds responded instantly while others resisted no matter how much power I poured into them."
Toki listened intently.
"Then I started thinking about it differently," she said. "Not as 'healing,' but as correction. Like repairing a disrupted system. Muscles, nerves, blood vessels—each one reacts to energy in its own way. So I began visualizing the magnetic fields around damaged cells. I imagined adjusting their polarity, aligning them back into harmony."
She looked up at him, eyes alight with memory. "Once I started doing that… everything changed."
Toki let out a low, impressed whistle. "You turned healing into applied physics."
She smiled faintly. "Something like that."
He shook his head in disbelief. "I never would've guessed."
"That's because you think in instincts and reactions," she said gently. "You feel your way through problems. I dissect them."
She closed the book and looked at him more seriously. "But both methods matter."
He hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why I keep hitting walls."
She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"I keep forcing power through myself without understanding what it's actually doing," he said. "If mana really behaves like energy… then no wonder it keeps tearing me apart."
Her eyes softened with concern.
"You push yourself too hard," she said quietly.
She stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking until the glow of the candle touched both their faces.
"Come here," she said suddenly.
He blinked. "What?"
"Just—stand still."
She reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew a small object. It was a thin, circular lens, almost transparent, its edges faintly shimmering.
"What's that?" he asked.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she raised the lens toward the moonlight pouring through the window.
At first, nothing happened.
Then she adjusted the angle—just slightly.
The lens vanished.
Toki's breath caught.
"Wait," he said, stepping closer. "It just… disappeared."
"Not quite," she replied calmly. "It's still there."
She tilted the lens again. In an instant, it reappeared, catching the light and scattering it in a soft rainbow.
Toki stared. "That's… invisibility."
"Not exactly," she said. "It's refraction."
She turned to him, eyes bright with excitement. "I altered the angle of light passing through the lens so that it bends around it instead of reflecting off its surface. The object doesn't vanish—it simply stops interacting with your eyes."
His pulse quickened.
"And the energy required?"
"Absorbed and redirected," she said. "I used mana to stabilize the field and prevent heat buildup."
His mind raced.
"So if light can be redirected… and mana behaves similarly…"
"Then you could redirect attacks," she finished. "Or mask your presence. Or bend perception."
The refraction and reflection obey thermal principles," Toki murmured, more to himself than to her. "When light is absorbed, heat is released… your hand became warmer. And the reflected ray must return to the medium it came from."
He paused, eyes narrowing as the thought completed itself in his mind.
"And if there are phenomena capable of interfering with the propagation of light—"
Utsuki finished his sentence without hesitation, her voice soft but certain.
"—then we can think in terms of vibration, and the release of energy."
She was smiling now, not in triumph, but in quiet recognition. The kind that came from two minds brushing against the same idea from different directions.
He stared at her, awe plain on his face.
"You're a genius," he breathed.
She scoffed lightly, but her ears reddened. "I just like understanding how things work."
He stepped closer, excitement overtaking caution. "This changes everything. "
Her expression softened.
He laughed suddenly, a breathless sound of relief and exhilaration. "You just gave me my first real breakthrough."
She smiled, proud and just a little shy.
"Then use it wisely," she said. "Knowledge is only dangerous when it's half-understood."
He nodded, already turning back toward his desk. "I need to write this down before I forget."
He paused, then looked back at her.
"Thank you. Truly."
She waved him off, though her cheeks colored faintly. "Just… don't forget that experience matters too. Theory won't save you if you forget how the world actually feels."
"I won't," he promised.
She moved toward the window, watching the moon for a long moment.
Toki hurried to his room, already scribbling notes, ideas connecting faster than he could write.
"I think I've got it," he muttered excitedly.