The storm arrived without warning.
No gradual darkening of the sky.No slow gathering of clouds.
One moment, the night above Hikari Academy was clear—stars sharp and distant. The next, the air compressed, heavy and charged, as if the heavens themselves had drawn a breath and refused to release it.
Kurogane felt it before he heard it.
His chest tightened—not in pain, not this time—but in response.
Lightning does not ask.
Lightning recognizes.
He stood at the edge of the eastern training grounds, robes pulled tight around his small frame, watching clouds coil unnaturally fast across the sky. Wind twisted in conflicting currents, dragging moisture into spiraling layers. Distant thunder rolled once—low and deliberate.
Raishin appeared beside him without sound.
"It's early," the man said.
Kurogane didn't look away from the sky."It feels… close."
Raishin nodded. "Good. That means your core isn't resisting anymore."
Behind them, footsteps approached.
Measured. Controlled.
Raien stopped a few paces away, fire crest dim against the dark.
"So," he said quietly. "This is where you disappear at night."
Kurogane tensed.
Raishin glanced at Raien, then back at the storm. "You weren't invited."
Raien met his gaze without flinching. "I wasn't told to leave."
A pause.
Raishin clicked his tongue softly. "Fire users and curiosity. Fine."He stepped aside. "Stay behind the third line. If lightning bends toward you—move."
Raien frowned. "You say that like it might choose me."
Raishin didn't answer.
The first drop of rain fell—hissing as it struck stone.
Then the sky broke.
Rain slammed down in sheets, driven sideways by violent wind. The training grounds' wards flared faintly, stabilizing the terrain as thunder cracked directly overhead.
Kurogane swallowed.
"I've never done this," he said.
Raishin turned sharply. "Incorrect. You've never let it happen."
He stepped behind Kurogane, placing one hand lightly against his back—between his shoulder blades.
"Do not summon," Raishin said. "Do not shape."
The pressure in the air rose.
"Stand still," Raishin continued. "And listen."
Kurogane closed his eyes.
At once, the world expanded.
He felt the storm—not as sound, not as motion—but as tension. Vast, layered pressures sliding against one another far above. Fire hidden in clouds. Water charged and heavy. Wind tearing paths through resistance. Earth grounding it all below.
And between them—
The silence.
The line.
Lightning waited.
A blinding flash split the sky.
Kurogane cried out as energy surged toward him—not through the air, but through alignment. His body trembled violently, muscles seizing as instinct screamed at him to stop, to recoil, to reject it.
"Don't," Raishin snapped. "You pull back now, it will rip through you."
The second bolt struck.
This one found him.
Not directly—not flesh—but the space inside him, the conduction point Raishin had awakened.
Blue-white energy threaded through his chest.
Kurogane screamed.
Stone beneath his feet fractured outward in a perfect ring.
Raien swore and stepped back, flames flickering uncontrollably along his arms.
"I can feel it," he shouted over the storm. "It's dragging everything sideways!"
Raishin held firm. "Good."
The lightning didn't burn.
It didn't explode.
It flowed.
For one impossible moment, Kurogane stood like a living rod between sky and ground, light crawling across his skin in branching patterns that vanished as quickly as they appeared.
And then—
It passed.
The storm recoiled slightly, as if surprised.
Kurogane collapsed to one knee, gasping, rain soaking through his robes, heart hammering violently.
Raishin released him and stepped back.
"…You did it," Kurogane whispered.
Raishin exhaled slowly. "No. You survived it."
Another thunderclap rolled—but farther away.
The storm began to move on.
Raien stared at Kurogane like he'd just watched something fundamentally wrong with the world.
"That wasn't spellcasting," he said quietly. "You didn't do anything."
Kurogane shook, arms wrapped around himself. "I didn't have to."
Raien looked up at the retreating clouds.
"…Damn."
They didn't get a chance to rest.
The bell rang—deep, resonant, unmistakable.
Council summons.
"Already?" Raishin muttered.
Kurogane's stomach dropped.
The council chamber felt colder than before.
Not physically.
Judgment always does that.
Mizuki stood at the center, hands folded. Akihiko paced. Masako watched from the shadows. Kenji sat rigid, unreadable.
Raien was brought in as well—unexpected, but not unwelcomed.
"You were present," Mizuki said to him. "You will speak."
Raien hesitated only a second.
"I saw lightning," he said. "Real lightning. Not fire displacement. Not plasma. It passed through him—and didn't destroy him."
Akihiko swore. "Then it's worse than we feared."
"No," Mizuki replied. "It's exactly what we feared."
She turned to Kurogane.
"You successfully conducted atmospheric discharge," she said. "An act forbidden for twelve thousand years."
Kurogane bowed his head. "I didn't summon it."
"That distinction will not matter to history."
Masako's voice cut in softly. "The boy is becoming a focal point."
Akihiko slammed his hand on the table. "This ends. Now. We impose a limit."
Mizuki's eyes sharpened. "A deadline, then."
"Yes," Akihiko snapped. "Either he stabilizes lightning within acceptable thresholds—or we seal it permanently."
Silence fell.
Kurogane looked up slowly.
"How long?" he asked.
Kenji swallowed. "…Six months."
Six months.
Raien stiffened.
Raishin's jaw tightened—but he said nothing.
Mizuki met Kurogane's gaze. "Six months to prove this path doesn't lead to disaster."
"And if I fail?" Kurogane asked.
Akihiko didn't hesitate. "Then you will be contained. Or removed."
Raien took a sharp breath. "He'll die."
Akihiko's voice was cold. "Then history will record a tragedy instead of a catastrophe."
The words landed like a blade.
Mizuki closed her eyes briefly.
"…Very well," she said. "Six months."
The council dispersed.
Outside, dawn was breaking.
Raien walked beside Kurogane in silence.
Finally, he spoke. "If you're walking into hell," he said, "don't do it alone."
Kurogane looked at him.
Raien extended a hand.
"Fire bends under lightning," he said. "Maybe it's time I learned why."
Kurogane took it.
Above them, the last of the storm faded.
But the sky did not forget.