The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of their small apartment, casting warm stripes across the worn wooden table where breakfast waited. Raiden sat with his mother and sister, the smell of rice and eggs filling the cramped kitchen that had been home for as long as he could remember.
"You're not eating," his mother said softly, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long gone cold.
Raiden looked down at his plate and grinned. "Just savoring it, Mom. Your cooking's gonna be the thing I miss most."
His sister, Yuna, kicked him under the table. At twelve, she was all sharp elbows and sharper wit. "Liar. You're gonna miss me most."
"Course I will, squirt." He reached over and ruffled her hair, earning an indignant yelp. "Who else is gonna keep you out of trouble?"
"I don't get into trouble," Yuna protested, but her voice cracked at the end. "You better come back for holidays. And summer break. And if you don't write—"
"I'll write," Raiden promised, even though they both knew letters would be sparse. Genesis Hero Institute wasn't known for its relaxed schedule.
Their mother stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. She disappeared into her bedroom, and Raiden exchanged a glance with Yuna. When she returned, she was holding a black case, sleek and unmarked, about the size of a jewelry box.
"Your father," she began, then stopped. Started again. "Before he left on that last mission, he gave this to me. Made me promise to give it to you when you entered the academy."
Raiden's chest tightened. He hadn't expected this. Hadn't expected anything from the man who'd been gone for five years, leaving them to scrape by on a pension that barely covered rent.
His mother placed the case in his hands. It was heavier than it looked, warm to the touch. "He said it would keep you safe." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And keep others safe from you."
The words hung in the air. Raiden's fingers traced the edge of the case.
"Mom—"
"Open it later," she said quickly, pressing her hand over his. "When you're ready."
Yuna was crying now, trying to hide it by looking at her plate. Their mother pulled them both into a hug that lasted too long and not long enough, and when Raiden finally stood to leave, his bag felt impossibly light compared to the weight of the case in his pocket.
---
The bus to Genesis Hero Institute was already half-full when Raiden arrived at the station. Students clustered in groups, their expensive gear and designer catalyst holders marking them as children of wealth and legacy. Raiden's single duffel bag and worn jacket told a different story.
"Raiden!"
He turned to see Aurora waving from near the bus entrance, her blonde hair catching the morning light. She wore the standard pre-academy uniform, but somehow she made it look effortless. When she smiled, it was the kind that made everything feel lighter.
"Thought you'd miss it," she said, bouncing on her heels as he approached. "Your mom give you the big emotional sendoff?"
"Something like that." He grinned. "You ready for this?"
"Are you kidding? I've been ready since we were kids." Aurora linked her arm through his as they climbed onto the bus, chattering about dorm assignments and class schedules and which professors were supposed to be the toughest. Raiden listened, offering comments when appropriate, laughing at her jokes.
His hand rested in his pocket, fingers wrapped around the black case.
They found seats near the middle of the bus. Aurora pressed her face against the window, pointing out landmarks as the city rolled past. Other students talked loudly about their families' accomplishments, their custom-built catalysts, the private tutors who'd prepared them for entrance exams.
"Did you hear about the entrance ceremony?" Aurora asked, finally turning away from the window. "Apparently they do some kind of combat assessment right away. Not a full exam, but enough to place us in the right classes."
"Makes sense," Raiden said. "They'd want to know what they're working with."
"I'm nervous." Aurora fidgeted with the strap of her bag. "I mean, I know my support spells are solid, but what if everyone else is just... better?"
"They're not." Raiden's tone was easy, confident. "You've been practicing since we were eight. Half these kids probably just got their catalysts last year."
Aurora's smile returned, and she bumped her shoulder against his. "Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you keeping me grounded."
The irony wasn't lost on him.
The bus ride stretched into hours. The city gave way to open roads, then to the fortified highways that connected the safe zones. Twice, they passed through military checkpoints where armed guards in combat-grade suits scanned the bus for threats. Portal activity had been increasing lately, or so the news claimed. Raiden watched the soldiers with quiet interest, noting their movements, their formation, the way their hands never strayed far from their weapons.
"Look!" Aurora grabbed his arm, pointing ahead.
Through the windshield, Genesis Hero Institute rose into view.
The academy sprawled across a massive plateau, a city unto itself surrounded by walls that made the ones back home look like toys. The main building pierced the sky like a spear, all gleaming metal and reinforced glass, with smaller structures radiating outward in careful formations. Training grounds stretched between them, and even from this distance, Raiden could see figures moving through combat drills.
"It's huge," Aurora breathed.
The bus passed through the main gate, and suddenly they were surrounded by it—the weight of legacy, of expectation, of thousands of students who'd walked these paths before them. Some had become heroes. Others had died fighting the monsters that crawled through reality's cracks.
Raiden wondered which category he'd fall into.
The bus came to a stop in a massive courtyard where dozens of other vehicles had already unloaded their cargo of nervous first-years. A woman in an instructor's uniform stood on a raised platform, her voice amplified by some kind of sound crystal.
"First-year students, gather your belongings and proceed to the main auditorium. You have fifteen minutes. Anyone who is late will forfeit their admission."
The bus erupted into controlled chaos as students grabbed bags and filed toward the exits. Raiden and Aurora joined the flow, stepping down onto the academy grounds for the first time.
The air felt different here. Charged. Like standing too close to a lightning storm.
"Stay close," Raiden said, though Aurora had already grabbed his sleeve.
They followed the crowd toward the main building, a river of nervous energy and barely contained excitement. Around them, other students whispered about which class they'd be placed in, which instructors they hoped to avoid, which seniors had already made names for themselves in the rankings.
Raiden's hand found the case in his pocket again.
*When you're ready,* his mother had said.
He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for whatever his father had left him. But ready or not, Genesis Hero Institute waited for no one.
The massive doors of the auditorium loomed ahead, and beyond them, his new life was about to begin.