The furniture delivery arrived on Sunday morning, the truck's engine rattling the thin windowpanes of the apartment complex. For the neighbors, it was just another delivery; for Yuki and Luna, it was the sound of a new beginning.
The deliverymen were gruff, smelling of cheap tobacco and road dust, but they handled the modest flat-screen and the pine table with surprising care. Once the door clicked shut, the apartment felt smaller, yet infinitely more alive. The scent of fresh wood masked the lingering smell of damp walls and street smog.
Yuki spent the afternoon meticulously setting up the TV. He felt Luna's eyes on him the entire time. She didn't speak—she hadn't made a sound since he found her—but her presence was loud. She watched his every move, her small head tilting whenever he plugged in a cable. When the screen finally flickered to life, bathing the dim room in a vibrant, digital glow, she didn't cheer. Instead, she let out a tiny, sharp intake of breath, her fingers hovering just inches from the glass as if trying to touch the light.
They spent the rest of the day lost in a marathon of Spirit Hunter X. Luna didn't just sit next to him; she anchored herself to him. Her small arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, her head tucked firmly against his chest. Every few minutes, she would tighten her grip, a silent reminder that she was there, and that she wasn't letting go.
Yuki rested his chin on the crown of her head, but his gaze remained fixed on the wall behind the TV. His mind drifted to the calendar. Three months before the school break. Lord Genji had given him ninety days of "peace" before the mountains would try to break him. He thought about the beasts Genji mentioned, and the screaming.
Then, his mind shifted to the Crimson Hawks. Every time a floorboard creaked in the hallway or a bird fluttered past the window, Yuki's heart rate spiked. He looked down at the silent girl in his arms. She was so vulnerable, a bird with clipped wings in a world of predators. He held her tighter, the silence of the room suddenly feeling heavy with the weight of the things he couldn't yet protect her from. Luna looked up, her large eyes meeting his. She didn't say a word, but she reached up and patted his cheek with a small, warm hand, sensing his turmoil.
Monday morning arrived with a gray, oppressive sky. Yuki stood before the small, cracked mirror in the bathroom, staring at the silver studs on the counter. His ears still throbbed slightly from the weekend's work. He picked up the conch piercing, the silver glinting in the dim light, but then he set it back down.
He reached for his glasses—the new, shiny pair he'd managed to reclaim from Hana's 'confiscation' pile—and tucked them into his bag. He wasn't ready to show the Academy the "Silver Wolf" just yet. He wanted to remain a ghost, a "Zero," for as long as the world would let him.
The atmosphere at the Academy, however, had other plans. During lunch, the weight of the weekend's emotional highs and the sleepless nights of worry finally caught up to him. The classroom was half-empty, the sun occasionally breaking through the clouds to cast long, golden rectangles across the desks. Yuki folded his arms, rested his head on the cool wood of his desk, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He was so exhausted he didn't hear the rhythmic click-clack of heels approaching his desk. He didn't hear the classroom go silent as the other students watched in hushed awe.
A girl stood over him. She was striking in a way that felt unnatural—her hair was as black as a raven's wing, save for a single, thick lock of brilliant gold that fell over her right eye. She didn't look like the other students; she looked like a predator who had wandered into a sheep pen.
Her eyes were a liquid, piercing gold, fixated on Yuki's sleeping face. Slowly, with a grace that suggested hidden violence, she reached out. Her fingers, long and slender, trailed through Yuki's messy hair. She leaned in close, her breath ghosting over his ear, her expression unreadable—halfway between curiosity and a hunter evaluating its prey.
"What do you think you're doing?"
The voice hit the room like a physical blow.
Seri stood at the entrance of the classroom, her green hair slightly disheveled and her eyes burning with a cold, sapphire light. She had just returned from a grueling meeting with the Kyorin elders, her patience already shredded. Seeing another girl—especially this girl—touching Yuki was the final straw.
Seri moved. She didn't walk; she blurred across the room, her hand snapping out to catch the girl's wrist. The grip was tight enough to bruise.
"I asked you a question," Seri hissed, her voice dropping into the threatening register of the Kyorin Princess. "Get your hands off him. Now."
The classroom held its breath. The girl with the golden lock didn't flinch. She didn't apologize. Instead, she turned her head slowly, her golden eyes meeting Seri's green ones. For a heartbeat, the air in the room felt thick, as if the Kizo of two titans was beginning to grind against each other.
With a sudden, fluid jerk, she yanked her wrist free from Seri's grasp. She didn't say a word. She simply turned and walked toward her desk at the back of the room, the golden lock of hair swaying behind her like a pendulum.
Seri stood there, her chest heaving, her hands trembling. She looked down at the sleeping Yuki, who hadn't even stirred, and then back at the girl in the shadows.
The peace of the "Zero" was over. The three-month countdown to Lord Genji's training had truly begun.