[POV: Daigo Shun - The Vanguard]
[Location: Royal Guest Quarters - The Dressing Room]
"I look like a baked potato wrapped in tinfoil."
Daigo Shun stood in front of the full-length mirror, turning slowly. The suit the Royal Tailors had provided wasn't bad, objectively speaking. It was a deep crimson tunic with gold embroidery, matched with black trousers that were tight enough to cut off circulation to his calves.
"It's velvet, Daigo," Riku Kamishiro corrected, not looking up from his own struggle. The Artificer was currently fighting a war with a cravat. "It breathes. Unlike this... neck-noose. Who invented the concept of tying a piece of silk around your jugular for aesthetic purposes? It's a choking hazard."
"It's fancy," Daigo grunted, flexing his arms. The fabric groaned in protest across his biceps. "But I feel naked without the plate. What if an assassin jumps out of the punch bowl?"
"Then you hit him with the ladle," Riku muttered, finally abandoning the complex knot and settling for a simple loop. He smoothed down his navy blue vest. He looked sharp—like a young professor or a villain in a mystery novel. "Besides, the structural integrity of this castle is sound. My scanners show warding runes on every window. We're safe."
"Safe," Daigo repeated the word. It tasted weird in his mouth.
The door to the dressing room banged open.
"Gentlemen! Behold!"
Toru Makabe strutted in. He was wearing a bright orange suit. Not subtle orange. Traffic cone orange. It matched his chaotic energy perfectly.
Behind him, Hinata Moriyama shuffled in, looking uncomfortable in a sleek, dark green ensemble that seemed designed to make him blend into the curtains.
"My eyes," Riku deadpanned, looking at Toru. "They burn."
"It's called 'Peacocking', Riku," Toru grinned, doing a spin. "The ladies love a man who isn't afraid of the color spectrum. Speaking of ladies..." Toru wiggled his eyebrows. "Have you thought about what the girls are gonna wear? Princess Elara? Rika? Noa?"
"Noa is probably going to wear a hoodie over a dress," Hinata mumbled, tugging at his collar.
"Nah, man," Toru clapped his hands. "I bet they go all out. We are heroes tonight, boys! We are going to be absolute fire. I'm talking magazines back home would kill for this spread."
"We're not home, Toru," Daigo said, his voice dropping a decibel.
The mood shifted slightly. The reminder hung in the air like smoke.
"Yeah, well," Toru's grin faltered for a millisecond before bouncing back. "When we get back, I'm telling everyone I dated a Princess. But for tonight? I just wanna eat something that hasn't been dried, salted, or boiled for three days."
"Amen to that," Hinata sighed.
"You guys finish up," Daigo said, suddenly feeling the room shrinking. The velvet was itching. "I need some air. It smells like lavender and desperation in here."
"Don't fall off the balcony, Big Guy," Toru called out as Daigo grabbed his jacket—a heavy, military-style coat with epaulets—and walked out.
[Location: Castle Courtyard - Main Gate Area]
The night air was cool, carrying the scent of pine from the distant mountains and the faint, salty tang of the city below.
Daigo walked past the manicured gardens, ignoring the statues of dead kings that seemed to judge his lumbering gait. He found a spot near the main gatehouse, leaning his massive frame against a stone pillar.
He took a deep breath, trying to slow his heart rate.
Everyone called him the "shield." The "rock." Daigo the Vanguard. Daigo who laughed when monsters hit him.
But his hands were shaking. Just a little.
He looked down at his palms. Earlier today, he had blocked a tail swipe from an A-Rank Basilisk. He had felt the bones in his arm rattle. He had felt the sheer, overwhelming weight of death pushing against his shield.
If Noa hadn't used the paint... If Ren hadn't stabbed the eye...
Daigo clenched his fist.
He wasn't strong enough. Not yet. A Strength stat of 5 was superhuman on Earth, but here? Against that snake? He was a bug.
And then there was Sora.
Daigo looked out at the city lights sprawling below the castle walls.
Sora Amano. The guy who used to sleep through math class. The guy Daigo would lend a pencil to because Sora always forgot his.
He led a goblin horde into a boss room.
Daigo shivered. It wasn't the cold. It was the memory of Sora standing in that tunnel, covered in black blood, holding a rusty piece of iron like it was Excalibur. He looked... empty.
"We left him behind," Daigo whispered to the night. "We went to the castle, ate soup, and got fitted for suits. And he went... where?"
Daigo felt a pang of guilt so sharp it hurt his chest. He was supposed to be the big brother. He was supposed to look out for the little guys. And he had let Sora walk away.
"Halt!"
A shout from the gate guards snapped Daigo out of his thoughts.
He looked toward the massive iron portcullis. Two Royal Guards in silver plate armor were crossing their halberds, blocking the path of a lone figure trying to enter.
The figure was small compared to the guards. Dressed in black. Hands in pockets.
Daigo squinted. The posture. The slouch.
"Sora?"
Daigo pushed off the pillar. He jogged toward the gate, his heavy boots thudding on the cobblestones.
"State your business," the guard barked. "The Castle is closed for the Royal Banquet. No commoners."
"I have an invitation," the figure said. His voice was calm, tired. "From the Hero."
"Likely story," the second guard scoffed. "We've had ten beggars try that line tonight. Clear off, kid, before we throw you in the moat."
"Look," Sora sighed, pulling a hand out of his pocket. "Just check the list. Class 3-G. Amano Sora."
"There is no list for 'scruffy vagrants'," the guard raised his halberd.
"Yo!" Daigo boomed.
The guards jumped. They turned to see a six-foot-four teenager in a crimson velvet suit barreling toward them like a red tank.
"Sir Vanguard!" The guards snapped to attention, recognizing the massive student who had cleared the dungeon.
Daigo didn't stop until he was standing right next to Sora. He looked at his friend. Sora looked... clean. But tired. He was wearing cheap black clothes that didn't fit quite right in the shoulders.
"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Daigo asked, crossing his massive arms.
"Uh, no, Sir," the guard stammered. "This... individual was attempting to gain entry. He claims to be with your party."
"Claims?" Daigo laughed, a deep rumble. He slapped a hand on Sora's shoulder, nearly buckling the smaller boy's knees. "This is Sora! He's the one who killed the Hobgoblin! He's the reason we're even having a party!"
The guards looked at Sora. Sora looked at the ground.
"Sorry," the guard said, paling. "He... he wasn't wearing the uniform. We assumed..."
"Yeah, yeah, assumptions make an ass out of you and me," Daigo waved them off. "He's with me. We good?"
"Yes, Sir! Proceed!" The guards scrambled to open the smaller pedestrian gate.
Sora walked through, Daigo right beside him.
"Thanks," Sora muttered, adjusting his collar. "I almost had to use the 'Do you know who my dad is?' card. Which would have been awkward, since my dad is a policemen in Tokyo."
Daigo snorted. "You good, man? You look like you walked here."
"I did," Sora said. "From the lower district."
Daigo frowned. The lower district? Why was he down there? But he didn't ask. He sensed the wall Sora had put up.
"Well, you're here now," Daigo said. "Come on. The tailor is still in the guest wing. We gotta get you something better than... whatever that is." He gestured to Sora's vest.
"It's cotton," Sora said defensively. "It breathes."
"It looks like a waiter's uniform from a budget restaurant," Daigo countered. "Let's go."
[Location: Royal Guest Quarters - Suit Area]
The dressing room was quieter now. Most of the students had taken their outfits back to their dorms. Only the Head Tailor, a fussy man named Henri with a monocle and a tape measure around his neck, remained.
"We need one more," Daigo announced, steering Sora into the room. "Full setup. Make him look heroic."
Henri looked up from a pile of silk. He scanned Sora. He sniffed.
"I am afraid," Henri said, his voice dripping with disdain, "that we are closed for the evening, Sir Vanguard."
"Closed?" Daigo pointed to the clock. "The party starts in an hour. You have racks of suits right there."
"Those represent the Royal Collection," Henri said, stepping between Sora and the clothes. "Reserved for the Honored Guests. This... person... is clearly not on the manifest."
"He is a guest," Daigo growled, his patience snapping. "He's Amano Sora. Check your list."
Henri didn't check the list. He looked at Sora's cheap boots. He looked at the rough cut of his black shirt.
"Sir Vanguard," Henri sighed, as if explaining something to a toddler. "The King ordered garments for the Heroes. Not for their... attendants. Or servants. I cannot waste Royal Silk on a commoner. It would be an insult to the crown."
The room went dead silent.
Daigo's face turned a dark, dangerous shade of red. The veins in his neck bulged.
"Servant?" Daigo stepped forward. He towered over the little tailor. "You listen to me, you little pincushion. This guy killed more monsters today than you've seen in your entire life. He saved my life. He saved the Hero's life."
Daigo grabbed the lapel of Henri's fancy coat.
"You find him a suit," Daigo snarled, "or I will fold you into a pocket square."
"Daigo. Stop."
A hand touched Daigo's wrist. It wasn't heavy, but it was firm.
Daigo looked down. Sora was looking at him. His expression was calm. Bored, almost.
"Let him go," Sora said.
"But he called you a servant!" Daigo yelled.
"I've been called worse by better people," Sora shrugged. "And honestly? I don't want to wear that stuff anyway. Velvet itches."
Sora looked at Henri. His eyes were cold, dead things that made the tailor flinch and shrink back.
"Keep your silk," Sora said softly. "I prefer my own clothes. They have pockets."
Sora pulled Daigo back. "Come on, Daigo. It's not worth the blood pressure spike."
Daigo glared at the tailor one last time, releasing him with a shove. "You're lucky he's nice. Because I'm not."
Daigo stormed out, Sora following him.
In the hallway, they ran into the others. Riku, Toru, and Hinata were coming back from the dorms, looking sharp (and orange, in Toru's case).
"Whoa," Toru blinked. "Sora! You made it!"
"The Rat returns!" Hinata grinned, high-fiving him. "Dude, I heard you went to the city. Did you bring snacks?"
"No snacks," Sora said.
"What happened in there?" Riku asked, looking at Daigo's furious face. "Daigo looks like he wants to punch a wall."
"Tailor was a dick," Daigo grunted. "Wouldn't give Sora a suit."
"Seriously?" Toru frowned. "That's messed up. Want me to burn his eyebrows off? I'm getting good at accidental arson."
"Pass," Sora chuckled. "I'm fine, guys. Really. This fits me better anyway." He gestured to his black outfit. "I blend in. That's the point."
"You look like an assassin's accountant," Riku critiqued. "But it works. It's... understated."
"Let's just go to the dorms," Sora said, clearly wanting to change the subject. "I need to sit down before this 'party' starts."
They walked together down the wide marble corridor. Daigo walked close to Sora, like a bodyguard. Toru and Hinata were cracking jokes about the tailor's wig. Riku was complaining about the lack of air conditioning.
Sora listened to them. He walked in the middle of the pack.
For a moment, just a moment, the coldness in his chest thawed. He wasn't the "Rat" from the barracks. He wasn't the executioner from the dungeon.
He was just Sora.
"Hey," Daigo nudged him. "You sure you're okay?"
Sora looked up at the big guy. He saw the worry in Daigo's eyes.
"Yeah," Sora lied, putting on his best lazy smile. "Just hungry. Let's go eat the King's food."
"That's the spirit!" Daigo grinned, clapping him on the back.
They turned the corner toward the boys' dorms, five teenagers in a castle, walking toward a night of music and light, unaware of how long the shadows trailing behind them really were.