The council convened at dawn.
Not at the usual hour.Not in the public chamber.
Kurogane knew that before anyone told him.
He sat alone outside the sealed hall, hands resting loosely on his knees, lightning unusually still beneath his skin. Not calm—watchful.
Raien was alive.
That was all that mattered.
For now.
The doors opened.
Mizuki Yukihana stood in the threshold, expression carefully neutral.
"Kurogane," she said. "Come in."
The chamber was colder than the infirmary.
White stone walls curved inward, etched with suppression arrays that hummed softly—old, powerful, absolute. The elders sat in a semicircle, faces carved with fatigue and restraint.
Akihiko didn't waste time.
"We've reviewed the incident," he said. "Extensively."
Kurogane bowed. "Raien survived."
"Yes," Akihiko replied. "Against expectation."
Masako leaned forward slightly. "You were given clear parameters. Minimal reliance. Voluntary override."
"I followed them," Kurogane said quietly.
Kenji's voice cut in, measured. "You broke them."
Silence.
"You withheld lightning under lethal pressure," Kenji continued. "That is not restraint. That is defiance of your own biology."
Mizuki watched Kurogane carefully.
Akihiko folded his hands. "Your file has been updated."
A crystal panel ignited beside him.
Status Change:Subject exhibits autonomous lightning regulation.Dependency risk altered—no longer linear.Outcome projection: unstable divergence.
Kurogane stared.
"Explain," he said.
Masako spoke softly. "You have passed the point where simple containment solves the problem."
Akihiko nodded. "Which brings us to the council's decision."
The air tightened.
"Six months is no longer acceptable," Akihiko said. "Events are accelerating."
Mizuki's jaw tightened. "You're shortening the window."
"Yes," Akihiko replied. "Three months."
Kurogane felt it then.
Not lightning.
Weight.
"And if I fail?" he asked.
Akihiko met his gaze without hesitation.
"Then your autonomy ends."
The words landed with finality.
Kenji added, quieter but no less heavy, "Sealing. Partition. Or permanent exile from the academy system."
Exile meant death.Not immediate.But inevitable.
Mizuki stepped forward sharply. "He saved another student's life."
"And endangered the institution," Akihiko snapped back.
Kurogane raised a hand slightly. "If I succeed?"
A pause.
Masako answered. "Then you will be recognized as a unique classification."
Not relief.
Reclassification.
Raishin's voice cut through the chamber, calm and dangerous. "You're asking a child to prove he won't become a disaster—by surviving increasingly lethal conditions."
Akihiko looked at him coldly. "You trained him."
"I taught him to choose," Raishin replied.
"That may be the problem."
Silence stretched.
Finally, Mizuki spoke.
"We vote," she said.
One by one, the elders indicated their choice.
The result was unanimous.
Akihiko exhaled. "Three months. No extensions. Increased observation. Restricted missions only."
He looked directly at Kurogane.
"You will be watched at all times. Any uncontrolled lightning discharge above threshold will trigger intervention."
Kurogane bowed slowly.
"…Understood."
As he turned to leave, Masako spoke again.
"Child."
He stopped.
"You have done something rare," she said. "You frightened lightning by refusing it."
Her eyes softened slightly.
"But lightning remembers those who deny it."
Outside the chamber, the doors sealed shut behind him.
Raien was waiting in the corridor, pale but standing, supported by a cane of crystallized fire.
"You look terrible," Raien said weakly.
Kurogane managed a small smile. "You're not dead."
"Disappointing, I know."
They walked together in silence.
Three months.
No room for hesitation.No margin for mercy.
Deep inside Kurogane's chest, lightning stirred—not angry, not eager.
Focused.
As if it, too, understood the terms.