The meeting was not labeled a hearing.
It was called a progress review.
Kurogane noticed the distinction immediately.
Metrics lined the far wall—clean graphs, rising stability indices, flattened variance. Numbers that suggested improvement without ever mentioning cost.
Valen stood near the center, hands folded behind his back.
"Adaptation rate exceeds projection," he said calmly. "Lightning compliance has improved by seventeen percent over baseline."
"Compliance," Raishin repeated.
No one corrected him.
Mizuki sat to the side, expression unreadable. Masako leaned on her cane, eyes fixed on the metrics as if they were a puzzle missing too many pieces.
"And the internal brace?" Masako asked.
Valen paused. "Stabilized."
Raishin's jaw tightened. "Or conditioned."
Valen inclined his head. "Semantics."
Kurogane stood quietly, feeling the internal brace respond to the room itself—alert, attentive, ready.
"Demonstrate," Akihiko said from the upper tier.
Kurogane did not move.
"Demonstrate," Akihiko repeated, more firmly.
Kurogane raised his hand.
Lightning flowed.
Clean. Efficient. Exact.
The arrays chimed approval.
Silence followed.
"Excellent," Valen said. "Textbook response."
Masako's eyes narrowed.
"That pattern," she said slowly, "isn't textbook."
Valen turned toward her. "It aligns with Council doctrine."
"No," Masako replied. "It predates it."
The room stilled.
Raishin felt the shift immediately.
"Masako," Mizuki warned.
Masako didn't look at her.
"That cadence," Masako continued, "that inward orientation before release—where did you learn it?"
Valen hesitated.
Just long enough.
"…From legacy material," he said carefully. "Pre-Consolidation theory."
Raishin exhaled sharply.
"Say the name," he said.
Valen's eyes flickered.
"There's no need—"
"Say it," Raishin pressed.
The room held its breath.
Valen swallowed.
"…Raiketsu."
The word fell into the chamber like dropped glass.
Kurogane felt the internal brace tighten—not painfully.
Recognizing.
Masako closed her eyes.
Akihiko stood slowly. "That doctrine is sealed."
"And yet," Masako said, "you teach its skeleton."
Valen straightened. "We teach what works."
Raishin laughed once—a short, humorless sound.
"That wasn't teaching," he said. "That was inheritance."
Valen's voice cooled. "With respect, Instructor Raishin, you withdrew before refinement was possible."
Raishin took a step forward.
"And you continued after ethics failed," he replied. "You don't understand the damage because you've only seen success graphs."
Akihiko raised a hand. "Enough."
Kurogane spoke for the first time.
"That name," he said quietly. "Why does it matter?"
Silence returned.
Masako met his gaze.
"Because it belongs to the last man who believed lightning could be convinced," she said. "Not endured. Not understood."
"Controlled," Raishin added.
"And what happened to him?" Kurogane asked.
Akihiko answered.
"He was removed."
Kurogane frowned. "Killed?"
Akihiko did not respond.
The absence stirred faintly at the edge of Kurogane's awareness—not speaking.
Listening.
Masako sighed. "That's the lie they let survive."
Valen stiffened. "We are done here."
"No," Raishin said. "We're not."
He turned to Kurogane.
"You feel how easy it's getting," Raishin said. "How lightning answers before you ask."
Kurogane nodded.
"That's not mastery," Raishin continued. "That's memory waking up."
Valen's voice sharpened. "You're projecting fear."
Raishin met his gaze.
"You're teaching a ghost."
The arrays dimmed slightly—no alarm, no surge.
Just enough to be noticed.
Akihiko watched it happen.
And for the first time, he did not look confident.
"End the session," he said.
As the metrics faded and the room began to empty, Kurogane remained still.
"Raiketsu," he said under his breath, testing the sound.
The internal brace responded—not approving, not resisting.
Acknowledging.
Outside the chamber, sealed systems logged a change they did not understand.
Name correlation detected.Pattern cross-reference expanded.
Deep beneath the academy, in places without doors or witnesses, something long denied definition felt a familiar alignment and adjusted accordingly.
The name had been spoken.
And lightning remembered.