The academy courtyard felt different that day.
Not tense. Not broken.
Alive.
Villagers lined the outer gates, baskets in their arms, hesitant at first. Word had spread quickly—about the attack, about the students injured, about the boy who had nearly died protecting everyone.
Aria was the first to notice them. "Kaito… you should see this."
Kaito stepped out slowly, Dex at his side. He wore simple clothes, sleeves rolled up, bandages still visible beneath the fabric. When the villagers saw him, a hush fell.
Then one stepped forward.
An older woman placed a basket on the ground and bowed deeply. "We heard what you did," she said. "All of you. We can't fight like you can, but… we wanted to help."
Others followed.
Bread. Stew. Dried meat. Fresh fruit. Handwritten notes tucked between wrappings. Some baskets were small, some overflowing, but all were offered with the same sincerity.
Mira blinked rapidly. "They… they brought food for us?"
"For all of you," a man said, nodding toward the Circle. "You bled for this city. The least we can do is feed you."
Kaito froze.
He wasn't used to this.
He had fought before. Protected before. But gratitude—real, unguarded gratitude—hit harder than any blow.
Ryo placed a hand on his shoulder. "Looks like you did more than survive."
Kaito swallowed. "We all did."
Dex barked softly, tail wagging, earning a few smiles from the crowd.
As the Circle helped carry the baskets inside, laughter began to replace the silence. For the first time since the attack, the academy felt warm again.
Far away, in a place untouched by sunlight, a figure stood watching through unseen means.
"So," the villain said quietly, voice stripped of amusement, "he recovers."
A subordinate shifted uneasily. "Faster than expected."
"Yes," the figure replied. "And the people gather around him already. They feed him. Praise him. Protect him."
A pause.
"That's dangerous."
The figure's fingers tightened slightly. "Heroes who stand alone break easily. Heroes with support…" A soft exhale. "They require precision."
Another voice asked, "Do we strike again?"
"No," came the answer. "Not yet."
The unseen eyes narrowed. "Let him heal. Let them celebrate. Let the Circle grow confident."
A faint smile crept into the darkness.
"Hope makes the fall much more effective."
Back at the academy, Kaito sat among his friends, bowl of stew warming his hands. His body still ached, but the pain no longer felt isolating.
Aria glanced at him. "You okay?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah."
For the first time since the night of sirens and blood, he meant it.
But somewhere deep inside, an old instinct stirred.
The kind that warned him that being seen was never free.
And that peace, no matter how warm, never lasted.