Julian caught the voices before he caught the light.
They came in pieces at first, like someone had dropped a handful of words into water and they were sinking past him at different speeds.
"...his vitals are fine..."
"...he just dropped, no warning..."
"...please tell me he's okay..."
That one was Syrus. It carried a wobble even in the muffled distance, like the boy was trying very hard not to let it shake.
Another voice followed, calmer, clipped, trying to stack facts into something that made sense.
"He reported headache earlier. Sensitivity to light, at lunch. No fever. No signs of dehydration. He did not mention chest pain or shortness of breath."
Bastion, obviously. Julian did not think the word so much as have the label slide into place as the sound reached him.
A third voice was warm but steadier than Syrus, a little rough at the edges in a way he almost always associated with grins, even when there was not one.
"He's tough. He's gonna wake up. Right, teach?"
Jaden. Definitely Jaden. There was another voice under them, professional and clean, the one that kept cutting in when the others ran too long.
"Let him breathe, please. One at a time. You three step back while I check him again."
The timbre on that made something in his memory twitch. Fontaine. Right. Nurse's office. That meant he was not on the stairs anymore. Julian tried to decide if that was an upgrade.
Sound bled into weight. He became aware of pressure under his back, something narrow but padded beneath his shoulders, the faint, rough texture of a hospital sheet against his fingertips. The air smelled faintly of rubbing alcohol and that generic lemon cleaner every institutional building seemed to buy in bulk.
"…how long has he been out?" Syrus asked Bastion, voice closer now, almost right above him.
"About twenty minutes from what you have told me." Fontaine replied. "His blood pressure is stable and the pulse is steady. He probably should wake up very soon."
"Twenty minutes is already something to worry about." Jaden muttered, not quite under his breath.
Julian could not decide whether he wanted to agree with that or sink back into the dark and pretend this was someone else's problem. His body… and his mind. They were both so heavy… A bit more rest sounded wonderful right now.
Then something brushed his wrist. The contact was light, almost nothing, but it jolted through whatever layer of fog he was floating in more sharply than the human voices. There was a cluster of awareness down near his hand: soft, warm, and nervous. It withdrew the instant he tried to lean toward it.
He chased after it in the way you could only chase something when your body refused to move, reaching with attention instead of muscles. For a second he caught the vague outline of a shape: round, like a cotton ball someone had given eyes to, then it slipped away, as if the world had been turned a degree and the angle was wrong.
Watapon. That much he could name. The familiarity of the little spirit stung. He wanted to reassure her. He could not quite make his own mouth cooperate.
"Any idea of what happened to him?" Bastion asked.
"Breathing's regular." Fontaine said. "No sign of concussion. Temperature normal. Whatever this is, it's not an infection or heatstroke."
"You did the blood work?" That was Crowler, thin and tight, cutting in for the first time with a tone like he was already rehearsing how he would explain this to a board.
Julian had not realized Crowler was there. That did not seem promising.
"Yes." Fontaine replied, with the patience of someone who had dealt with faculty before. "CBC, glucose, tox screen, basic panel. I'll have everything except the long-tail tox in about an hour. We are still waiting on the proper results, but the preliminary tests were clear."
"Negative?" Crowler repeated. "So he did not…"
"If you're about to accuse my patient of doping while he can't speak for himself…" Fontaine said calmly. "I suggest you wait until he can answer you. Or until the proper full test results come back to us."
Warmth pressed against his other side, higher up this time, near his ribs. It was not a hand. It felt more like someone had leaned a small shoulder into him.
He did not see anything. He did not have to. The familiar, anxious pulse of half a dozen little presences clustered just out of reach was enough to identify them even without shape. They were huddled there, hovering over the edge of his awareness like children peering through a keyhole. He tried again to move. This time, the darkness cracked.
It was not dramatic. The world did not explode into focus. Instead, light started as pressure at the back of his eyes, a steady insistence that there was something beyond his lids worth seeing.
"…Julian?" That was Jaden, closer than the others. "Man, if you can hear me, now would be a great time to show it."
Syrus added, more hopeful than confident. "Please?"
Julian decided that if his friends were going to gang up on him, the least he could do was cooperate.
His eyelids felt like someone had taped small weights to them, but they moved. White light stabbed in. He flinched on instinct, a hiss catching in his throat and turning into a dry cough halfway out.
The sounds in the room jumped. Chairs scraped, someone inhaled sharply, and Fontaine's voice cut clean and firm through the noise. "Easy. Don't sit up yet."
Julian obeyed mostly because trying to do anything else felt like more work than it was worth. His vision was a wash of brightness at first, edges blurred into each other like a painting that had been left out in the rain, but shapes started to separate after a moment: the metal frame of the infirmary bed, the soft green of a curtain on one side, white ceiling tiles above.
Fontaine's face came into view next, leaning into his field of vision, her expression focused.
"Can you hear me, Julian?"
He swallowed, testing his throat, then managed, "Yes…" It came out hoarse but functional, his throat dry like he was a full day without a single drop of water. He added, because habit was stronger than exhaustion. "... ma'am."
Her mouth twitched very slightly at that.
"Good." she said. "Any pain? Headache, chest, abdomen?"
"No." he said. It was almost true. His head felt heavy and his limbs had the consistency of overcooked noodles, but nothing stabbed or burned. "Just… tired."
"As in 'I stayed up all night studying' tired?" she said, "Or 'I got hit by a truck' tired?"
He thought about it.
"Somewhere between 'finals week' and 'forgot what sleep is'." he settled on. "I went to bed early yesterday. Almost ten hours of rest. That part doesn't make sense."
"Hmm." She took a small penlight from her pocket. "Look at me for a second."
He did. The light clicked on and swept across first one eye, then the other. He winced, but she nodded, apparently satisfied.
"Pupils reactive.." she murmured, more to herself than to him. "No anisocoria. Follow my hand."
She moved her fingers from left to right and he tracked them, slow but steady. The world did not tilt. That was an improvement.
"There was no pain before you fainted?" she asked, putting the light away.
"My head was a bit heavy during class." Julian said. Speaking made him more aware of the dryness at the back of his mouth, but there was a pitcher of water on the stand next to the bed, and Fontaine poured him a cup before he needed to ask. He took a cautious sip. "The light in the cafeteria bothered me at lunch. I felt a little dizzy when I got up from the table this afternoon. I went to bed early the night before because I was tired already. I thought… maybe a cold was on the way. Took a vitamin C pill before sleeping."
"No fever now." Fontaine said. "No fever reported earlier. No congestion. No cough. You have no history of anemia, cardiac issues, migraines or seizures?"
"No, not in the family either…" Julian said. "First time I've ever passed out. Not the kind of debut I was aiming for."
That got him a snort from somewhere near the foot of the bed. Jaden, most likely.
"Vitals were normal when you came in." Fontaine continued. "Blood pressure dropped a bit with your faint, obviously, but it recovered quickly. ECG looked normal. Your blood work results will be ready in about half an hour. The initial tox screen came back negative."
Julian blinked.
"Tox screen?" Fontaine's gaze flicked briefly to Crowler, who shifted his weight and pretended to be deeply interested in a spot on the far wall.
"It is standard procedure when a student loses consciousness without obvious cause." she said. "We have to rule out stimulants, performance enhancers, anything that could interfere with your cardiovascular or neurological function. The preliminary results were clean, but the full test is being analyzed right now in the lab. "
Julian let his head sink back into the pillow, closing his eyes for one heartbeat before opening them again. He did not have the energy to be offended.
"The only thing you could find was the bottle of isotonic I got in your last gym class. And a couple cups of coffee, one in the morning and one in the afternoon." he muttered. "So I mysteriously fainted without help. That's comforting."
"Sometimes bodies protest in ways we don't fully understand." Fontaine said. "Stress, lack of rest, underlying issues we don't have names for yet. You said you've been tired for more than a day. Have you been pushing yourself harder than usual?"
"No." Julian said. "Studying, sure, but not more than normal. I haven't been doing extra physical training. No late-night duels. I…" He hesitated, then decided honesty was easier. "I've been working on something, but it's more thinking than doing. If I was going to collapse from overwork, I'd expect it to happen at my desk, not halfway down the stairs to the arena."
A faint line appeared between her brows.
"What kind of 'something'?"
He thought about Petit Dragon peeking over his shoulder at notes, about Mokey Mokey trying to balance on a stack of textbooks, about card sleeves laid out in careful rows and small hands that did not technically exist pushing them into alignment anyway. None of that was something he could explain without changing the subject of the chapter entirely.
"Interpersonal relationships." he said, settling on the safest true answer. "The different types of personalities and how to extract the best of each person, this kind of thing."
From somewhere to his right, Bastion murmured in agreement, "He was not exaggerating. He looked tired, but not overextended. I would have noticed if his schedule had changed."
Fontaine gave a small hm.
"Tired, sensitivity to light, dizziness, no clear trigger and now a faint." she said. "You are not making this easy for me, Mr. Ashford."
"Sorry." Julian said. It came out more earnest than apologetic. He did feel a little bad about inconveniencing her diagnostic sensibilities.
"Don't be." she said. "Just don't do it again if you can help it."
He almost smiled at that.
Movement at the edge of his vision drew his attention for a second. Watapon had edged a little closer again, pressing up against the side of the pillow, its round body trembling. Happy Lover floated a little higher, hands clasped together in front of its chest as if in some silent, earnest prayer. Petit Dragon's head poked around the metal rail of the bed, eyes wide and wet.
They flinched when his gaze brushed over them, as if afraid that meeting his eyes would hurt him somehow.
"I'm okay." he thought in their direction, or tried to. He had no idea how much of it got through.
If they heard him, their trembling did not get worse. That was something.
"You will need to take it easy physically for the next few days." Fontaine went on. "No duels, at least not with a disk. No heavy training. I'll log you as excused from Physical Education until Monday, at least. If you feel dizzy again, or develop a headache, pain, confusion, anything that feels wrong, you come back here immediately. No 'I'll walk it off' nonsense. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am." Julian said, almost in reflex.
"Good." She straightened, scribbled something on her clipboard and then glanced toward the corner where Crowler lurked. "Chancellor Sheppard asked to see you when you woke up. We'll let him know you're conscious, he'll probably call you in about ten minutes. Do you feel up to walking, or do you want a chair?"
Julian tested his legs by flexing his feet under the sheet. They responded, sluggish but obedient.
"I can walk…" he said. "Not sure about stairs, but the elevator would be fine. My legs are heavy, but they respond."
"Then slowly it is. No heroics." she said, then stepped aside so he could swing his legs over the edge of the bed.
The floor was colder than he expected. He steadied himself with one hand on the rail, waited until the room stopped attempting to drift sideways, then pushed himself upright the rest of the way.
Syrus darted forward on instinct, hovering close enough to catch him if he slipped. Julian did not, but he appreciated the option.
"You scared me." Syrus blurted, before he could stop himself. "I mean, Jaden was just going to duel and then you, out of nowhere…"
Jaden's hand landed lightly on Syrus's shoulder in silent support.
"I'm fine." Julian said. The words were not entirely true, but they were true enough for what Syrus needed. "Apparently my body just wanted a dramatic way to tell me to lie down more often."
Syrus did not look convinced, but some of the panic left his eyes. Bastion's gaze was sharper, more assessing.
"Do you remember the moment you collapsed?" he asked. Julian shook his head, very slightly.
"I remember we got to the arena. A few blues were already there…" He searched through the blank just after that and found only the sensation of the world tipping. "And then here. Nothing between."
"Retrograde amnesia for the event is common with syncope." Bastion said softly, to Fontaine, as if confirming something on a mental checklist.
"You can build him a probability model for that later." Jaden said. "Right now he needs to breathe and not fall over."
"I was not suggesting I do it now!" Bastion said, mildly offended. "I was simply…"
"Later, man." Jaden repeated, cutting him off with a look that was somehow both stern and undeniably Jaden. "Later-later. Like, 'Julian isn't grey and horizontal' later."
Fontaine exhaled through her nose: not annoyed, but in that way adults did when they were trying to keep order without scaring a group of startled deer.
"All right." she said. "everyone take a breath. Mr. Ashford is awake, stable, and not in immediate danger. I'm going to step into the lab and check whether the next round of results has come through. I'll be back in a moment."
Julian watched her disappear through the sliding door into the lab annex. It shut behind her with a soft hydraulic hiss, leaving the air too still.
Crowler cleared his throat in the way he always did when he wanted attention without seeming like he wanted attention.
"I will inform the Chancellor that you've regained consciousness." he said stiffly. "He requested to be notified immediately."
Julian managed not to ask if Crowler planned to sprint theatrically down the hallway, the professor already looked rattled enough. Crowler lifted his chin, gathered the hem of his coat, and swept out of the room with far more dignity than anyone who had been caught wringing his hands ten minutes earlier deserved.
The door shut. Silence followed. Syrus hovered a little closer to the bed with the posture of someone torn between hugging Julian and bubble-wrapping him.
"Are you sure you're really okay?" he asked. "I mean… you said you were fine but sometimes people say they're fine when they're not, and you did just…"
"Syrus." Julian said gently. "Breathe, buddy. Breathe."
Syrus sucked in a breath like he'd forgotten oxygen existed.
Bastion took a step nearer, hands in pockets, expression analytical but not unkind.
"The nurse said your vitals were clean." he said. "Well, preliminarily. White blood cell count normal, ECG normal, electrolytes apparently in range. It is unusual for syncope to present without any measurable disturbance, but given the circumstances…"
"Later man!" Jaden exclaimed, annoyed. "Geez, you're killing me."
Bastion huffed. "I am simply stating the facts about his current condition."
"Tell them when Julian doesn't look like he fought a friggin' tornado." Jaden said.
Julian wanted to argue that he did not look that bad, but the truth was… he wasn't sure. His limbs still felt heavier than they should, his head still like someone had quietly swapped his brain for wet sand.
He eased back against the pillows. Jaden caught the movement and slid closer on instinct. "You good?"
"As good as 'not falling over' allows." Julian said. Then his brow knit slightly. "Wait."
A memory flickered: bright, sharp, too recent to belong to some dream-state half an hour ago.
"The Obelisks…" he said slowly. "The bet."
He looked at Jaden. "Did you… did the duel?"
"Nope." Jaden said instantly, with an airy dismissive wave. "Didn't happen. You fainted first, which, for the record, is a terrible way to dodge a match."
Julian blinked. "I wasn't dodging anything."
"I know." Jaden said. "But they don't get paid for a duel that didn't happen. You're not coughing up two thousand DP for face-planting on a stairwell."
Julian exhaled, letting the words settle, then frowned faintly.
"So… did you reschedule it?" he asked. "The duel, I mean. With him."
Jaden blinked, as if the idea hadn't even been on the list of acceptable thoughts.
"Dude." he said, slow and incredulous. "That was the last thing on my mind."
Julian tried for a dry retort, but Jaden steamrolled straight through the opening.
"I'm serious." he went on. "You think I took one look at you unconscious and thought, 'oh man, better pencil this duel in for Tuesday'? No way. Money, DP, bragging rights…" he flicked a hand, dismissing all of it. "None of that mattered when you hit the ground."
Julian stared at him for a beat. "It was just a question."
"Yeah, well." Jaden said, running a hand through his hair, "I didn't exactly stick around comparing calendars with those guys. I told them we'd talk later, maybe after you woke up and weren't doing your impression of a fainting goat."
"…A what?"
"You know." Jaden said, waving his arms vaguely like that explained anything, "Those goats that fall over when they get startled? Except you didn't even get startled. You just folded. Like…" He snapped his fingers once. "Boom. Out."
Julian groaned into his hands. "Thanks for the image."
"Hey, I'm not judging." Jaden added quickly. "I'm just saying… I didn't care about a duel. I cared that my friend was lying there not moving."
Something in his tone, the plain sincerity under the usual chaos, nudged the room a degree warmer. Julian lowered his hands, eyes steadier now.
"Right..." he murmured. "Then we can… deal with them later."
"Or not." Jaden said. "Honestly, if they try to bring it up before you're cleared to stand without wobbling, I'll just tell them to duel a wall."
Julian's mouth twitched. "A wall."
"A very tough one." Jaden said, nodding sagely. "One that doesn't faint on staircases, but also one that doesn't spend the afternoon babysitting unconscious duelists."
Julian shook his head, but the faint smile stayed.
"You are impossible."
"I know." Jaden said brightly. "And also right."
Before Julian could reply, the lab door slid open again and Fontaine stepped back into the room, clipboard beneath her arm, wiping her hands on a disposable cloth.
"All right." she said. "The extended results aren't in yet, but the rest of the preliminary panel is unchanged. Blood sugar normal. Electrolytes balanced. No sign of infection or dehydration. No arrhythmia. Nothing that explains the collapse."
"See?" Jaden said. "He just fainted dramatically for aesthetic reasons."
Fontaine gave him a flat look. "The aesthetic of fainting is generally discouraged, Mr. Yuki."
"I'll try not to set trends." Julian pointed, jokingly.
Fontaine ignored that. Jaden did not, and smiled. Bastion and Syrus just sweatdropped in the corner.
"Anyway…" she continued, turning back to him. "You are stable, but I don't want you walking around unsupervised until Chancellor Sheppard has spoken with you. Sit tight until I get confirmation he's ready."
Julian nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
She left again, perhaps this time to phone the Chancellor's office. The door behind her clicked shut.
Jaden waited exactly five seconds before turning to the others.
"Okay…" he said. "Given that Julian is awake and not actively dying, can I get like — five minutes alone with him? Just to talk?"
Syrus jolted. "Alone? But… but what if he falls or his blood pressure dips or…"
"I'll shout." Jaden intervened. "Really loud. You'll hear it through two walls."
Bastion studied him for a moment and nodded once.
"Sure." Bastion said. "If anything sounds concerning, we're coming back in."
Jaden saluted him with two fingers. "Deal."
Syrus still looked reluctant, but Bastion steered him toward the door, and the two slipped out into the hall.
The spirits, of course, remained.
At least nine of them. Maybe more. They crowded the corners of the room like anxious little storms, hovering in half-seen shapes: huddled, trembling, waiting.
Jaden scoffed softly and addressed the air.
"That includes you." he said. "Clear the stage, guys. Human conversation incoming."
A ripple passed through the room. Happy Lover lowered itself toward the floor, uncertain. Petit Dragon's eyes shimmered with worry. Watapon clung to the underside of the bedframe like a trembling pearl attached to the wrong oyster.
"I'm not kicking you out." Jaden added, gentler now. "Just giving Julian a little breathing room. You can wait by the door. Or outside. Or hover in the vents if that's your thing."
The spirits hesitated. Then slowly, reluctantly — they drifted toward the door, slipping through cracks and corners like nervous sunlight.
They weren't gone. Julian could still feel the soft press of their attention like little palms pressed to the other side of the door. But they gave him distance.
"That..." Jaden said, watching the last faint shimmer disappear, "Is the most impressive group project I've ever seen them do."
Julian let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"You really make it look easy." he said quietly. "Getting them to listen."
"Not easy." Jaden said. "They just like me because I'm loud and uncomplicated. And I have experience."
Julian snorted. "That's one way to put it."
"And hey…" Jaden added, grin returning just enough, "You did have improved. First day, they treated you like a vending machine. Now they actually feel bad when they exhaust you."
Julian sighed and dragged a hand over his face.
"They think they exhausted me physically." he said. "They think they were just… being too loud, messing around too much."
"Well, they weren't wrong," Jaden said. "They did act like a sugar-high daycare class."
Julian gave him a long, tired look. "My body was not simply going to surrender because of the babysitting."
"Parenting." Jaden corrected, smiling and raising a finger. "But yeah, that's not what actually knocked you out. Not just that."
Julian's fingers flexed over the blanket. "Then what?"
Jaden hesitated, and that alone was unusual. Jaden Yuki didn't hesitate. He said the thought as it arrived, like breathing. But now he looked down at his hands.
"Okay…" he said quietly. "I need to say something before we go deeper into this."
Julian blinked. "…Sure, I guess?"
"I'm sorry." Jaden said. His voice didn't wobble, it didn't need to. It landed with the weight of something that had been sitting on him since the collapse. "I didn't know this would happen. I didn't even think it could."
Julian frowned. "Jaden…"
"No, listen." Jaden raised a hand, then dropped it, fingers curling around the backrest of the stool. "I've been around Duel Spirits since I was little. Koyo taught me how to listen to them, how to tell when one was close or upset or hiding. He made me practice until I could feel one the second it entered a room."
Julian nodded slowly. He'd known that much from the manga: Koyo mentoring Jaden from a hospital bed, sharing wisdom in between treatments.
"But…" Jaden continued, eyes on the floor. "Neither of us ever had a problem with them getting too heavy. Not once. Not with tiny ones. Not with strong ones, either."
Julian stilled.
"And I mean strong." Jaden added, glancing up. "There were spirits Koyo worked with that were so intense they made the whole room feel like it was humming. I spent hours with some of them. Days. They never drained me. Not even a dent."
He tapped his chest once, lightly.
"Turns out… I'm just built that way. Koyo said I had more energy than I knew what to do with. Like… an overcharged battery or something. I thought that was normal."
Julian's breath caught.
It wasn't normal. Not even in canon. Not for any duelist. But for someone carrying the dormant essence of the Supreme King? Yes, perfectly.
Jaden went on, unaware of the significance he'd just dropped:
"So when you found the little guys at the Well, and they clicked with you, and you kept them around… I didn't think it was dangerous. Not even once. I thought it'd be good for them. And for you."
Julian swallowed hard. "It was."
"Not like this." Jaden said softly. "Not when it knocked you out cold."
He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at himself.
"I should've explained things. Told you how clingy they get once they trust someone. I didn't think. I just…" he shrugged, helpless. "It's never been a problem for me and Koyo was already powerful... So I never considered it could be a problem for anyone else."
There it was. Not guilt, exactly… but the realization that his normal was nobody else's.
Julian let out a slow breath. "You didn't do it on purpose."
"Yeah, but it still blindsided you." Jaden said. "And I hate that. I hate that you got hit with something I should've warned you about."
Julian looked at him properly, at the worry creasing Jaden's brow, at the way his fingers kept tapping the back of the stool like he needed a physical outlet for nerves he rarely showed.
"Not your fault, mate." Julian said quietly. "You didn't know."
Jaden huffed out a breath. "I should've known something. Koyo always said I felt things other people didn't. He'd joke that if a Duel Spirit blinked on the other side of a wall, I'd sneeze."
Julian raised a brow. "Sounds inconvenient."
"It kinda is." Jaden admitted. "But it also means I never had to think about spirits draining anyone. Not me. Not Koyo. Not the nurses. Not anyone. They just… didn't. Not around us."
Julian absorbed that. Koyo had trained himself into spiritual refinement. Jaden hadn't trained at all, and yet his natural output dwarfed even his master's. Of course he'd never noticed an energy drain, he was a well with no bottom.
"So I assumed…" Jaden said, "that you'd be the same. That having a bunch of little guys hanging around would just feel like having extra shadows."
He paused, thumb tracing the edge of the stool as something more complicated crossed his expression: something almost sheepish.
"Truth is…" he revealed, "I've never had someone my age who could see spirits. Ever."
Julian blinked.
"I mean, Koyo could." Jaden went on. "But he was, y'know, Koyo. A grown-up. The world champion, a master at it. He probably worked for years to get that good. He taught me everything he could, but even he said I picked things up too fast. Almost like I was skipping steps."
Julian swallowed. He had. Far more than he knew.
"So when you told me you could see Relinquished and even notice the small shadows of the others I got excited. Like, actually excited. I thought: 'Whoa, finally! Someone my age who can see them too! Someone who can talk to them! Someone who'll get it!'"
Julian's chest tightened.
"And then…" Jaden continued, rubbing the back of his neck. "When the littler ones clicked with you, I figured it'd help you grow the same way Koyo grew. You know, practice makes perfect. Repetition and all that."
He let out a sigh.
"I never thought it might… overload you. The idea just didn't exist in my head. Because it never happened with me. Not once. Not even close."
Julian looked down.
"And I wasn't being selfish." Jaden added quickly. "It wasn't like 'hey, cool, free spirit-watching buddy.' It was more like… I don't know, feeling like I finally wasn't the only one. Like maybe you and I had this weird thing in common nobody else did. I thought having them around would make things easier, not harder."
He winced.
"But I should've known we weren't starting from the same point. I grew up around spirits. They've been part of my life longer than card sleeves have. And I'm… different. Koyo said it all the time. 'Your sensitivity isn't normal, Jaden. I've met duelists my whole life, and I've never seen anyone like you.' I thought he was being dramatic."
Julian swallowed. If only Jaden knew.
"So yeah." Jaden finished quietly. "I figured you'd be fine. That staying with the little guys would help you get used to them. I never even considered it could drain you. Not for a second."
He lifted his eyes.
"When you fainted, Jules, I felt it." he said. "I felt your energy dip. Hard. Like something shut off. And I'm not supposed to feel other people like that. Not unless something's really wrong."
Julian's breath hitched. "…You felt me?"
"Yeah." Jaden said quietly. "Not your body. Your… something. Like every little light tied to you dimmed at the same time. And your own went with it." He hesitated, then added. "It reminded me of plugging too many things into one outlet. Everything tries to pull power at once and then… pfft. Out you go."
Julian grimaced. "That's an awful metaphor."
"It's the only one I've got." Jaden said. "Look, the kids didn't mean to do it. They weren't being greedy or selfish. They don't even understand what they take. To them it's just… warmth. Connection. They don't have meters or limits."
Julian nodded slowly.
"And you…" Jaden continued, "You didn't know you were giving anything. So neither side was keeping track."
Silence passed between them for a moment, heavy but not suffocating.
"So…" Jaden said, leaning back a little, "You need to build up your… whatever we call it. Spirit output. Ba stamina. Soul muscle. Pick a term. The point is: if you want to keep them around, you need training."
"Training." Julian repeated quietly.
"Yeah." Jaden shrugged lightly. "Koyo used to say everything grows with the right pressure. Not too much, not too little, just enough to force an adaptation. This is the same thing. You keep going. You take breaks when your head gets foggy. You learn the signs. And eventually? You'll be able to handle things without tipping over."
Julian processed that slowly. "You sound very sure."
"I am sure." Jaden said. "But here's the part you're not gonna like."
He pointed at Julian with a steady, unwavering line of intent.
"Because of that? I'm taking them."
Julian's eyes widened. "What?"
"I mean it." Jaden said. "They stay with me until you're back on your feet spiritually. I'll look after them. I don't care if they whine or riot or turn my room into a pillow fort. You need time to get better before you get dogpiled again."
Julian shook his head. "Jaden, wait…"
"No." Jaden said, firm as a brick. "I'm not letting you collapse twice. Not happening. When you are better we can return some of them to you and increase the load with time. You'll be able to handle them in no time."
"But listen to me." Julian raised a hand, steady despite the weakness in his limbs. "Now I know the early signs. I know what it feels like when I'm starting to burn low. I can stop before it gets dangerous. I can manage this."
"That's what everyone says right before they fall over again." Jaden muttered.
"Jaden." Julian said gently. "I'm not planning on being reckless with… whatever this is. I'm not the type to break rules and pick fights after curfew. I ask for permission, remember?"
Jaden laughed remembering their first interaction in the arena with Chazz, but still looked unconvinced. Julian pushed on.
"And besides… If the kids leave now, what happens to them? They'll think they hurt me. They'll think I don't want them."
Jaden winced. Hard. Julian continued, softer: "They didn't know what they were doing. And now I do know. That changes the equation."
Jaden rubbed the back of his neck, torn between instinct and reason.
"…It'd be safer if they were with me." he muttered.
"And unfair to them." Julian said. "And unhelpful to me. I need to adapt. If this is a muscle, like you said, then I need to train it: not pretend it doesn't exist."
Jaden groaned into his hands. "You don't lift weights with a torn muscle, you wait for them to heal first."
"Supervised physiotherapy still works, and don't break the children's hearts."
A beat passed.
"I hate when your logic gets all… logicky."
Jaden slumped back on the stool, defeated but not angry.
"Fine." he said, dragging the word out like it pained him. "They can stay with you, but…"
Julian raised a brow.
"If you faint again? Even a baby faint? Even a 'my vision got sparkly' faint? I take them. All of them. I don't care how mad they get or how guilty they feel or how much they puppy-eye me. You lose all veto power the second you faceplant again."
Julian exhaled. "…Fair enough."
"And I'm telling you everything I remember from Koyo." Jaden added, voice gentler now. "Granted, that's like… fifty percent memory, forty percent vibes, ten percent stuff I only understood backwards, but it's better than nothing."
Julian nodded. "I'll take it, better than anything I could ever get from the library of Mr. Seto 'Sceptical' Kaiba."
Jaden looked down at his hands.
"I wish I could ask Koyo." he murmured. "Write him. Call him. Something. He always knew how to handle stuff like this. But…"
Julian's expression softened. "I know."
"Yeah." Jaden whispered. "He's still not awake."
Silence eased between them: not heavy, not cold. Just honest.
Then Julian asked quietly: "What about Relinquished? He wasn't around today."
Jaden's expression shifted. Thoughtful. Troubled.
"That's the weirdest part." he admitted. "Yesterday he was all around you. Today? Nothing. Not gone. Just… pulled way back. Like he backed off on purpose."
Julian's breath stilled.
"You think he knew?"
"Yeah." Jaden said, with a certainty that made Julian's skin prickle. "He felt you slipping way before you did. I'm sure of it. And honestly?" He rubbed his temples. "Thinking about what would've happened if he hadn't stepped back? I don't want to think about it."
Julian swallowed. And somehow, the pieces clicked together exactly as they were meant to.
Jaden sighed, exhausted in a way Julian rarely saw. "But look… whatever's going on with him, whatever made him retreat… it bought you time. And now you know what you're looking for. So the next step is to take it slow. Build yourself up. Let your system adjust. And trust that he's giving you the space to do it."
Julian nodded.
"Okay." he said softly. "Together, then."
"Together." Jaden echoed.
A muffled whimper pressed through the door.
Then another.
Then the unmistakable sound of a small legion trying very hard, and failing, not to cry.
Jaden shut his eyes.
"They totally heard us."
Julian sighed. "Of course they did."
The door didn't open, it burst. A tidal wave of distressed spirits surged in: Watapon flinging itself onto the bed in a wet explosion of tears, Petit Dragon spiral-diving in frantic loops, Happy Lover knotting its hands until it practically vibrated with worry.
Watapon hit the blankets like a small, wet comet, sobbing so hard its round body wobbled. Petit Dragon whirled in panicked loops over Julian's knees, wings beating erratically. Happy Lover hovered near his shoulder, wringing its delicate hands like it feared it would collapse under the weight of its own worry.
More spirits poured in: a pair of tiny moss-covered plant sprites whose leafy tails drooped miserably, a trembling mini-harpy no taller than Julian's forearm, a patchwork zombie child clutching its own sleeves, and a glitter-winged fairy whose glow flickered like a failing lightbulb.
Every one of them shaking. Every one of them looking at Julian as if the entire world had just split in half.
Julian's heart clenched. "Hey, hey, guys." he murmured, lifting his hands. "Slow down. One at a time."
They did not slow down. They instead attempted to occupy the same twelve inches of space as if merging into a singular cluster of guilt.
The leaf-sprite nearest him made a pitiful rustling noise. Happy Lover stammered. "W-we didn't know… we didn't know you were breaking!"
Petit Dragon squeaked, voice cracking: "We made you fall!"
Watapon wailed louder and buried its face in Julian's stomach.
The mini-harpy folded her wings over her face, feathers trembling as she chirped, half comprehension and half apology.
Julian reached out, brushing gentle circles on the top of Watapon's head.
"Look at me." he said softly.
They hesitated. Then several lifted their faces: round, angular, spectral, stitched… All terrified.
"You didn't break me." Julian said. "You didn't hurt me."
Spirit of the Breeze flickered her wings and spoke next, even one of the more mature voices in the bunch wavering: "Sorry… We d-didn't understand the pull. We never knew our touch meant cost."
Julian exhaled. "I know you didn't."
The spirits collectively huddled tighter, bracing for the rest. Julian continued.
"You weren't wrong for wanting to be close. You weren't wrong for following me. You weren't wrong for trusting me. None of that was bad."
Petit Dragon sniffled, folding its wings around itself. "But you fell…"
"I fell because I didn't know how to carry all of you yet. That's on me. Not on you." Julian said gently. A ripple of surprise passed through them. "And I want you here." he added. "I still do."
Watapon blinked up at him, tears clinging to its tiny lashes. "Watapon!?"
"Yes." Julian confirmed. "Even after this."
Silence. Then a tremulous, rising sound: the emotional equivalent of sunlight breaking through cloud. The zombie child sniffed and toddled closer to rest its patched head against Julian's knee. The plant sprites clambered up his blanket, their leafy tails curling around his wrist. Petit Dragon made a tiny hopeful chirp and settled near his collarbone. Happy Lover pressed both hands to its mouth in tearful relief. Harpy Girl inched closer, wings fluttering like nervous lashes. Julian welcomed them with open arms.
"Come here, you little rascals." he murmured.
They piled in carefully this time. Not desperate, not overwhelming, just a cluster of small, trembling forms pressing their affection into his shoulders, arms, lap, and chest.
Jaden, standing at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, grinned.
"Well…" he said, "strict dad last night, gentle dad today. You're collecting the whole set."
Julian shot him a look. "Do not encourage that phrase."
"Encourage it?" Jaden said. "I already bought the T-shirt in my mind."
Half the spirits chirped in confusion, half brightened as if they somehow got the vibe. Julian shook his head, but the small smile forming betrayed him. He looked down at his little army.
"We're going to figure this out." he said, touching each spirit gently as he spoke. "You'll learn how not to pull too much. I'll learn how to carry you better and get stronger to the point this will not be a concern anymore. We'll all get stronger together. Deal?"
A chorus of sounds answered: chirps, squeaks, leaf-rustles, tiny ghostly murmurs… all affirmative. Julian rested his cheek briefly against Watapon's soft head.
"It's all going to be okay." he whispered. A soft cough sounded from the doorway.
Fontaine stood there, arms crossed, expression suspended somewhere between exasperation and deeply resigned patience. She couldn't see a single spirit, of course… but she very clearly saw Julian surrounded by nothing, talking to nothing, petting nothing. Her eyebrow arched.
"Mr. Ashford." she said dryly. "Your… enthusiasm is noted."
Julian tried very hard not to blush. Jaden outright laughed.
Fontaine continued briskly. "Chancellor Sheppard is ready to see you now. Before you go…" She stepped forward and handed him a lightweight orthopedic cane. "Use this. For balance only. If you feel dizzy again, I'd prefer you not test the structural integrity of my floors."
Julian accepted it. "Yes, ma'am."
Jaden whispered loudly. "Fancy."
Fontaine did not dignify that with a response.
"Your friends are still waiting in the hall, I believe." she added. "One of them may return the cane later if it proves unnecessary."
She left as swiftly as she entered.
Julian swung his legs over the bed. The spirits parted around him like a worried tide, hovering close but not crowding.
Jaden moved instantly to steady his arm. "You good?"
"Yeah…" Julian said. "Just slow."