The watchman shifted his weight and rubbed his chin.
"This is the fourth this month, isn't it?" he asked, turning to the older man beside him.
The older guardsman nodded silently. "These fires are starting to seem more like organized crime than accidents."
The smouldering wreck of the house creaked as if it were responding. The green grass field and surrounding nature felt painfully bright against the blackened ash left of the house.
A faint sound arose from the rubble.
Both men turned to each other, "You hear that?" the younger watchman asked.
The older guardsman stepped forward.
"... that's crying. " he frowned, looking around, seeing nothing but smoke and rubble.
"How?"
Without hesitation, the watchman ran after the faint cry, his partner following suit, rushing past many other guardsmen. The grass squelched underneath their boots.
Both now stood amongst the ash and rubble.
"Listen," the older man said, searching in the rubble for some sense of location.
Dust and ash clogged his lungs, and the guardsman coughed violently. He continued searching nonetheless. The crying began to subside, and the man lifted a piece of rubble. He looked down, blood.
"A kid," he whispered, "Barely breathing."
"What the hell…" He muttered under his breath.
The guardsman moved the kid's shirt aside. "They carved…"
The man's face contorted.
"They—whoever, carved something into this kid."
The younger watchman stepped next to him. He immediately recoiled at the sight.
He barely spat out his words
"Who, who… who the hell would do something like this?"
He breathed in shakily.
The younger watchman stood behind him.
"This is a rune. I've seen this."
Quiet stretched between them.
"Saros." The older guardsman muttered.
He pushed the younger man's shoulder, "Run—get someone."
The younger watchman looked hesitantly at the older guardsman.
"Now."
Time blinked.
The smell of sulphur clung to the library's silence as he turned his book's page. His thumb lingered on each rune, the tattered research paper coarse against his pale skin.
A warm voice called his attention from above the book.
"Excuse me,"
He looked up at a boy of a similar age.
"Are you Saros?"
Saros pulled up his robe sleeve farther and narrowed his eyes.
"I heard you come here to study—frequently." The boy said, running a hand through his blond hair.
He paused.
"Maybe you'll show me something you've been learning?"
Saros sighed quietly; his ash-white hair fell forward. He barely glanced up.
"Ask someone else."
The boy flashed a small smile and responded cheerfully.
"We're paired for an assignment Professor Shinto gave."
He stopped for a slight second.
"I'm Hikaru, by the way."
Saros blinked slowly.
"... Saros."
"You're kidding. Right?"
Hikaru turned his head sideways.
"About what?"
Saros looked up fully.
"The assignment." His voice lowered.
"Professor Shinto?"
Hikaru smiled, "Why would I be kidding?"
A presence startled Saros. Professor Shinto.
"I see you boys have already met." The professor let out a chuckle.
Saros glared intently at him.
Shinto continued.
"You'll be working together, Fujiwara. I expect the best."
Hikaru responded with a bow.
"Yes, sir." He asserted, "I'll do my best, sir."
The professor left with a nod and a silent stare at Saros.
Hikaru turned back.
"So, what's your last name?" He asked.
"I noticed the Professor just called you Saros."
Saros clicked his tongue.
"You don't need to know."
An awkward silence filled the already silent library.
"What're you studying then?"
Saros responded in a low voice. "Runes."
"It's from an ancient language."
Hikaru nodded.
"So, just the language, or anything specific?"
Saros looked to the side.
"One, one rune."
Hikaru frowned slightly.
"So, what's stopping you from reading it?"
"You've been studying so much, and you still can't translate it?"
Saros clenched his jaw.
"Mind your business."
"It's not my fault that I don't have access to the lower archives. They're restricted."
Hikaru blinked.
"Why?"
Saros hesitated before answering.
"Someone…"
He grimaced, his face showing a different emotion.
"Someone like me isn't allowed in that place."
Hikaru gave a stare.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Saros closed his book with force, enough to spread the dust within the pages.
"You're not involved. Drop it."
Hikaru answered immediately.
"Then let me help you."
"I'll ask someone."
He stepped closer.
"Since you can't go down to that archive."
Saros gave him a cold glance and stood up.
"No." He said, sliding the book back on the shelf.
Hikaru didn't back away.
"Seriously, I'll help."
Saros scratched his wrist.
"No. I said enough."
"But-"
Saros extended his hand and pushed Hikaru a step back.
"Enough!"
He exhaled.
"Just listen."
"I don't want your help."
"We're partners. Not friends."
He walked away.
Hikaru stood there, slightly shocked. It felt like he could still feel Saros' push on his chest.