Yoshikawa-sensei motioned for the whole class to stand.
Chairs scraped the floor in one rough wave as everyone filed in behind him. Kanao naturally drifted to Sakuya's side.
"So, Sakuya… how are you holding up?" Her voice was gentle. "I saw it in your eyes. You were somewhere else."
Just having Kanao that close warmed him. She walked beside him, barely half a shoulder away, like she wanted him to understand she wasn't leaving him alone for this.
"Tell me, Saku," she went on, twirling a strand of hair, "we all know you want to be a doctor. You used to talk about it all the time when we were kids. Why do you want it so badly?"
Sakuya cleared his throat and looked at her, tender… but brittle around the edges.
"I don't want people to lose the ones who matter most to them."
Kanao blinked.
"Oh… you mean…"
"Yeah. Like I lost my mom when I was four."
Color rose to Kanao's cheeks at once. Shame flickered in her eyes, like she'd stepped on a wound she didn't know was there.
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean…"
Sakuya shook his head softly and leaned a little closer.
"It's okay, Kana. I'm glad you asked. Honestly… I like that you care."
Kanao dropped her gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
They didn't even realize they'd reached the door to Room B-14, the one with Capsule Eight.
Yoshikawa-sensei stopped in front of it, hands behind his back, his expression suddenly severe.
"This is Room B-14. Before we go in, I have a few important rules. First, your results are confidential. You are not allowed to share your ranking with anyone, and you will keep your reactions neutral."
Shinobu immediately grumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Wait, sensei, we can't even react? We can't talk about it with anyone? That's crazy. It's our Seimei. We should be able to do whatever we want with our own info."
The look Yoshikawa-sensei gave him could have sliced steel.
"Fujiwara. That is exactly why it's confidential. These results will help guide your academic track, and once you're in high school, you can handle them however you like. But here, you do not discuss it. If I hear otherwise… the school will not be responsible for your future failures. You could even end up in serious trouble."
Shinobu, Sakuya, and Kanao exchanged a quick glance.
The agreement was clear. Between us.
The teacher cleared his throat.
"Second. Stay as calm as possible during the test. Capsule Eight doesn't only measure your Seimei. It stimulates it. It… interacts with it."
Shinobu raised a hand, eyebrow arched.
"So what you're saying is… it could blow up?"
"Among other things." Yoshikawa-sensei shrugged. "Let's just say it can also make you blow up, in its own way."
A cold silence dropped over the hallway.
"What?!"
"We don't want to get hurt!"
"This has to be a joke!"
The teacher didn't flinch.
Sakuya glanced at Kanao, suddenly protective.
"Hey, Kana… don't get hurt in there, okay? I'll probably be fine, but you… you never know."
Kanao tapped his arm, pretending to be offended.
"Don't say that. You could get hurt too."
Sakuya's face loosened into a smile. His eyes smiled before his mouth did.
But a quiet shadow slipped through him, a fear he buried instantly.
"Yeah… maybe. But I'm talking about you. You know I don't make waves. It'll be fine."
Kanao turned toward Shinobu.
"And you, idiot, don't blow your head off in there."
Shinobu crossed his arms, offended on principle.
"Come on, Kana. You know me. I can behave. Right, Saku?"
Sakuya scratched his head, embarrassed.
"…If you say so."
Yoshikawa-sensei raised his voice.
"Alright. We're going in. But two more things.
First, you go one at a time. The test lasts about five minutes per student.
Second, once you're done, you leave through the other door and go straight home. No talking. No going back."
He pressed down on the handle.
The door to Room B-14 opened slowly.
And the hallway felt like it got swallowed whole.
Yoshikawa-sensei finally looked at Shinobu and Sakuya, a faintly amused smile on his face.
"Remember when I told you you'd have extra homework?"
He folded his arms.
"Well… I lied a little. By 'extra homework,' I meant this. You two will be first to enter Capsule Eight."
Shinobu swallowed hard. Kanao grabbed Sakuya's arm immediately, worry written all over her face.
"Don't make waves, okay?"
Sakuya gave a small, crooked smile.
"Honestly… you should be worried about Shinobu."
One look was enough for Kanao to admit he wasn't wrong.
"And besides," Sakuya added, "our parents took the same test when they were kids. I heard it was even riskier back then. So breathe. It'll be fine."
Yoshikawa-sensei cut him off sharply.
"Very well, Shiozumi. Since you're so talkative today, I assume you'll be dying to chat with our researcher inside."
The words dropped like a blade.
Sakuya cleared his throat, resigned, and turned toward Kanao.
"See you tomorrow, Kanao."
She tapped his chest lightly, her eyes warm.
"Don't forget this. Your result won't change anything for me. You'll always be our Sakuya Shiozumi."
Her smile was sincere.
Sakuya nodded, then turned to Shinobu.
"See you tomorrow, Shino."
Shinobu tried to look relaxed, but his eyes told the truth.
"Hurry up, big head. I hate waiting."
Sakuya took a deep breath.
Then he stepped into the room.
It was dull and cold, like the air had been drained of kindness. Capsule Eight sat at the center, silent, surrounded by screens streaming data Sakuya couldn't read yet. His heartbeat suddenly felt heavier, like it had weight.
(This is… intense.)
(Do I really have to get in there?)
A technician in a black uniform watched him with a slight smile. Professional. But oddly gentle.
"How are you feeling?"
The question snapped him out of his thoughts. He almost startled.
"Uh… I'm okay, I think. Sorry. I didn't expect… all of this. It's impressive. Kind of intimidating."
Her smile widened, amused.
"Don't worry. That's how it feels for everyone. And honestly… even for me, there are days these screens still surprise me."
That didn't help. Not really.
Still, he inhaled and stepped toward the capsule, determined to stop thinking.
The technician lifted a hand to stop him.
"Hold on. Before you get in, I need to enter your information into the system. Name, date of birth… and your parents' names, please."
Sakuya nodded, even though it still embarrassed him, no matter how many times he'd had to say it.
"My name is Sakuya Shiozumi. I was born May 17, 2016, in Osaka. My mother was Yui Shiozumi… and my father is Seichiro Shiozumi."
She typed without looking up, fingers moving with the speed of routine.
"Sei… chi… ro… born in Osaka… okay…"
She kept typing, then murmured to herself.
"Sakuya Shiozumi… born on the 17th… black hair… brown eyes… height about one-sixty-one…"
The keyboard clicks filled the room. Finally, she straightened.
"Alright. Everything's logged. You can enter Capsule Eight now."
The capsule stood open, a thin, unmoving mist hovering just above the seat inside. For a second, Sakuya wondered if it was a test machine or something meant to freeze people for a hundred years. An electric chill crawled up his spine.
He breathed in. Stepped forward. Sat down slowly.
Before anything began, he threw the technician one last nervous look, almost childlike, like he needed someone to tell him it would be okay.
(I hope I'm a Zeta…)
The capsule sealed shut, closing him into a space too tight to feel safe. The air inside felt alive in its own way. Hot and cold at once. Comforting and suffocating in the same second.
From his seat, he could see a faint aura lingering in the room, strongest around the technician beyond the glass.
(Is that… her Seimei?)
Soft clicks started up, light but distinct, like the machine was taking a long breath before moving.
Then, suddenly, the outside disappeared.
No walls. No light. No reference points.
As if all his senses had been shoved into a blender and fused into one impossible sensation. Touch, smell, hearing, sight, even taste. Everything merged.
The process deepened, and Sakuya felt himself… coming apart. Like something was disassembling him piece by piece, only to rebuild him. His soul felt pulled out, set back in place, ripped away again, again and again, the cycle accelerating until it stopped feeling human.
Vertigo rose even though he wasn't moving.
His head heated up, compressed like it wanted to collapse inward. His body turned ice-cold, absolute cold, like space itself. And somehow… it felt intangible, like he was becoming empty.
Everything sped up.
Then everything slowed to a crawl.
Then, in one abrupt cut…
It stopped.
The capsule opened, releasing a cloud of cold mist that spilled across the floor. The technician approached, visibly relieved.
Sakuya doubled over, seized by a harsh, dry cough that clenched his throat.
"So, Shiozumi. How do you feel?" She smiled. "Pretty intense, right?"
He fought to catch his breath.
"Wow… yeah… it hit hard. I think… I get why people can't stay in there long."
She gave a small laugh.
"Yeah, it's intense. But don't worry. Something going wrong is very, very rare."
Sakuya had to force himself to believe her, his body still trembling.
"And… cough… my results?"
She hadn't even looked yet, more focused on him than the screen.
"Let's see. Purity is fairly high… flow is very low… and S/Q… 83."
Sakuya straightened a little.
"Wait… purity is high? Does that mean I'm a Zeta?!"
The excitement in his voice was immediate. Raw. Almost naive.
The technician looked away, uncomfortable.
"You do have high purity, yes. But that alone isn't enough. It's not actually that rare."
He barely heard her.
"So… I can become a doctor?!"
This time she met his eyes directly. Her expression softened, but not in a way that felt good.
"Listen… I'm going to be honest with you. You're an Alpha. Your purity is high, sure… but you're still an Alpha."
Sakuya's smile died on the spot.
It felt like getting pronounced dead the moment he opened his eyes.
"But it's not the end of the world," she tried to add. "You can still work in hospitals. As a nursing assistant, for example…"
She stopped, caught by something on the screen.
"Huh…"
Sakuya wasn't listening anymore. His mind floated somewhere between blunt disappointment and old resignation.
"At birth, your S/Q was 82… and now it's 83. It went up."
He didn't react. Like he'd known it wouldn't matter.
"It happens to one in twenty. Maybe it'll keep increasing."
But Sakuya had already understood.
(One point.)
(It changes nothing.)
(It's… nothing.)
…
He stared into his bowl without really seeing it when a voice snapped softly.
"Saku. Get out of your head. Your ramen's going to get cold."
He looked up.
Shinobu was fidgeting so hard in his wheelchair it looked like he might fall out of it.
"Seriously, if you don't want it, I'll eat it."
Kanao leaned closer, smiling with the same tenderness she always had for him.
"Haha… I can't believe you still remember the moment I tapped your chest before you went in."
Sakuya tilted his head toward her, voice low.
"Of course I remember, Kana."