The invitation arrived wrapped in silk.
Literally.
A formal emissary stood at the academy's outer gate at dawn, clad in neutral colors, expression polite to the point of emptiness. The seal on the scroll shimmered faintly—official, recognized, impossible to ignore.
Mizuki read it once.
Then twice.
Her lips pressed together.
"They're fast," Raishin muttered when she summoned them to the council chamber. "Too fast."
Kurogane stood quietly, hands folded, listening.
"Who?" he asked.
Mizuki handed him the scroll.
The Concord of Asterra formally invites the Academy's unique student to participate in a cooperative exhibition exchange. Purpose: mutual understanding, transparency, and goodwill.
Raien snorted. "That's not an exchange. That's a spotlight."
"Yes," Mizuki agreed. "Which makes refusal… political."
Raishin's voice was sharp. "And acceptance suicidal."
"The Concord is neutral," Akihiko interjected. "Militarily respected. Publicly restrained."
Masako's gaze slid toward him. "And quietly obsessed with old disasters."
Akihiko stiffened. "Careful."
"No," Masako said calmly. "Honest."
All eyes turned to Kurogane.
"You're deciding?" he asked.
Mizuki shook her head. "The Council decides."
A pause.
"But we'll allow you to hear why."
Raishin folded his arms. "Say it plainly."
"They want to observe how lightning behaves outside academy wards," Mizuki said. "Different audience. Different expectation."
Kurogane felt the hum inside his chest answer that thought—just once, curious.
Raishin noticed.
His jaw tightened.
"If you go," Mizuki continued, "it will be limited. No combat. No demonstrations unless requested."
"And if they 'request'?" Raien asked.
"Then we will be watching very closely."
Silence lingered.
Finally, Kurogane spoke.
"If I refuse," he said, "they'll assume I can't control it."
"Yes," Mizuki replied.
"And if I accept," he continued, "they'll try to learn how to make me react."
"Yes."
Raishin exhaled sharply. "This is exactly what I warned about."
"I know," Kurogane said quietly.
He looked at Raishin. "But hiding hasn't stopped them from imagining worse."
Raishin met his eyes. For a moment, something old and pained surfaced there.
"Once," Raishin said softly, "I accepted an invitation like this."
The room stilled.
"And?" Kurogane asked.
Raishin didn't answer.
Masako closed her eyes. "That silence is your warning."
Mizuki broke it. "We accept."
Raishin turned sharply. "You can't—"
"I can," Mizuki said evenly. "Conditions will be set. Escorts assigned. Boundaries enforced."
She looked at Kurogane. "And you will decide how much of yourself the world is allowed to see."
The preparations were immediate.
Within hours, wards were reconfigured, routes secured. Rumors moved faster than messengers. By nightfall, half the capital already knew where Kurogane would be in three days.
Kurogane stood alone later that night, on the balcony outside his assigned quarters.
City lights flickered below like distant stars.
The hum returned.
Stronger now.
Not excitement.
Recognition.
"You hear them," he murmured.
Lightning stirred—not violently, not eagerly.
Attentive.
Raishin's voice came from behind him. "Lightning remembers crowds."
Kurogane didn't turn. "Did it… listen to them?"
Raishin stepped beside him, gaze fixed on the horizon. "It listened to certainty."
Kurogane swallowed. "What did you do?"
Raishin's fingers twitched—a barely restrained tremor.
"I showed them I could endure anything," he said. "And the lightning believed me."
Kurogane closed his eyes.
Below, the city waited.
Above, unseen factions adjusted their plans.
And far away—too far to name—something that had once made the same mistake felt a familiar tension in the air.
The invitation was only the beginning.