Royoshi Kairo had failed three basic drills before breakfast.
None of them by accident.
He failed the balance test by stepping a second too late.
He failed the circulation check by stabilizing well and then deliberately breaking his rhythm.
He failed the reaction course by tripping over air.
The instructor stared at him.
"…You tripped," the instructor said slowly.
"My bad! It's my fault." Royoshi replied.
Silence dropped for a few moments.
"There was nothing there, though."
"I know, maybe I am just bad."
The instructor frowned. "You know this is a graded evaluation, right…"
"Yes, I know."
"And you're aware of the performance that you put up yesterday."
"Yes."
"And this is how you follow up?" the instructor gestured at Royoshi's feet.
Royoshi considered lying.
"I was doing an experiment," he said instead.
The instructor blinked. "With gravity…?
"Yes."
The instructor wrote something on the notepad that looked suspiciously like a complaint.
The instructor sighed. "Next recruit,"
Royoshi walked away with his shoulders relaxed.
Good, he thought.
Very good.
The hologram appeared an hour later.
Not dramatically. Not fully.
Just a partial projection hovering in an empty corridor, like a glitch.
"You overdid it," the hologram said.
Royoshi looked at him. "I thought I did a good job in maintaining the act."
"You tripped like someone who wanted to be noticed, like a pick me boy."
"HEY!" Royoshi replied. "DON'T CALL ME A PICK ME BOY!! But… that's fair, I guess."
The translucent man folded his arms. "Inconsistency means believable clumsiness. You can't fail without intent."
Royoshi frowned. "That sounds… opposing."
"It is," the hologram replied calmly. "Get used to it."
Royoshi leaned against the wall. "So, according to you, what's the ideal failure ratio?"
Some seconds passed.
"Thirty percent."
"You just made that up." Royoshi blinked.
"Yes."
"That feels reckless…"
"Effective things are reckless."
By midday, Royoshi had improved a little. Not trying to fail on purpose. Just enough to calm the Citadel.
Not to convince it.
But just to… confuse it.
Which, according to the 'hologram,' was the point.
He lost a sparring match against a loud and overconfident second—year who burned half his Shuryoku reserves in the first thirty seconds only. Royoshi blocked efficiently for exactly five seconds too long, then he purposely mistimed a deflection and got knocked flat.
The second year celebrated.
Royoshi laid on the floor longer than necessary, staring at the ceiling.
Ow. He thought.
Worth it though.
"Are you okay?"
He heard a voice and rolled his head slightly.
Ishara stood above him, hand extended.
He took it without thinking.
"Thanks, and yes, I'm okay…" He acted like he was hurt.
She pulled him up with controlled strength, eyes investigating his face.
"You're doing it on purpose," she said.
"No—no, I really got hurt," he replied.
"Don't try to fool me, I can see it on your face."
Royoshi sighed. "Alright, fine, I was hoping you wouldn't notice."
They stepped aside as the next pair took the floor.
"You didn't do this yesterday," Ishara continued. "Yesterday you were… better."
"That's the problem."
"You're underperforming purposefully."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Royoshi hesitated.
Because the truth sounded crazy.
Because a hologram or someone was training me wasn't exactly casual conversation. It would make him look insane.
"I just don't want attention," he said instead.
Ishara raised an eyebrow. "Then you chose the wrong citadel."
"That's… also fair."
"Royoshi," she said, more quietly now, "people are already watching you. Failing won't stop that.
"I mean it might…" he replied. "If I fail, weirdly enough."
"You're exhausting…," she said.
"Thanks, I guess?" he replied sincerely.
That earned him a flat look.
That afternoon, the Citadel reviewed the footage.
Not openly, but eyes lingered longer on Royoshi's file.
High potential.
Irregular output.
Inconsistent behaviour.
One analyst frowned at the screen.
"He doesn't match any known growth curve."
Another leaned back. "Or maybe… he's gaming the system."
"Why would he do that?"
The analyst shrugged. "Some people don't want to be seen."
"He has good potential, maybe because he shares the same last name as Echo."
"Maybe someone is trying to interfere with him…?"
The room fell silent.
Royoshi felt the air change before he heard the voice.
"Stop smiling."
"I wasn't smiling.
"You were internally satisfied," the hologram said.
Royoshi shrugged. "It's been a productive day today, though."
"You failed too cleanly in the second spar," the translucent man continued. "And too sloppily in the third."
Royoshi groaned. "Dude, you're incredibly stubborn…"
"Yes."
They stood on an excluded part of the Citadel's roof, stars visible and the moon shining. Winds soaring.
"Today," the hologram said, "we introduce stress."
Royoshi tensed. "Physical?"
"Mental."
"That's the worst thing."
"Correct."
The man gestured. "Now sit down and circulate."
Royoshi sat down and inhaled.
The faint current slowly began to stir.
"Now," the man continued, "hold circulation while recalling something you avoided."
"I don't—" Royoshi's jaw tightened.
"Choose," the man said calmly.
Royoshi swallowed.
A memory surfaced unmasked.
A conversation he never started.
A moment where he could have stepped ahead…but he didn't.
His breath faltered.
Circulation glimmered.
Pain flared—not fast, but heavy.
"Good," the man said. "You're leaking."
Royoshi clenched his fists. "That doesn't sound good… it doesn't even feel good."
"No," the man agreed. "It feels truthful."
The pressure intensified.
Royoshi fought the instinct to shut himself down, to seal everything away again.
Stay, he told himself.
Just stay.
The current started to stabilize.
Barely.
"Alright, that's enough."
Royoshi collapsed, staring at the sky.
"Why does it feel like you're always disappointed in me?" he muttered.
"I'm not," the man said finally. "I'm cautious."
"About what?"
"About your progress."
Royoshi frowned. "Why?"
"Because liking things makes people reckless."
That same night, Ishara found Royoshi on the Citadel balcony.
He sat on the edge, legs dangling over nothing, city lights far ahead. Wind tugged at his uniform.
"You're going to fall if you are not careful," she said.
"Maybe later," he replied. "Probably not tonight."
She sighed.
"Is this seat taken?"
"Nope."
She sat beside him.
They watched the sky for a while, the moonlight landing on them.
"You don't talk too much to others, you know," Ishara said eventually.
"I talk when there's actually something worth saying."
"And is there something now?"
Royoshi hesitated for a bit.
"Yes," he said. "But I'm not sure I should."
She looked at him. "Try."
He exhaled slowly. "Do you ever feel like trying makes things worse?"
She considered that for a bit.
"No," she said. "Trying makes regret quieter—but heavier."
He glanced at her.
She met his gaze.
"Whatever you're doing… It's not a weakness."
"That's comforting," he said. "Thanks."
She smirked a little. "It's an observation, not encouragement."
They stayed there together watching the stars for some time.
Far away, where reality and time bent around. The place that did not exist on any map. Sevran Axiom stood alone.
The air around him vibrated with controlled Shuryoku, condensed to a degree that would have crushed most bodies.
He listened.
Not with ears.
With intent.
There it was again.
A fluctuation.
Inconsistent.
"Suppressed."
"Rikishu," he murmured. "You're still teaching, aren't you."
The pressure shifted.
"And you chose someone who doesn't want to be chosen."
He stepped forward.
"He might even suffer something worse than you." he smirked a little.
"But that," Sevran Axiom said softly,
"is something new you are doing. And I'm highly interested in it."