Sometimes people suffer for unjust reasons, forced to bear the consequences of simply existing. Some people are treated like dirt because they are dirt. I was such a case. That was the epiphany I had while falling down the cliff.
I could feel my consciousness fading as the blue sea turned red and black. Laughter surrounded me as the bitterness of metal and betrayal filled my mouth. This is going to be the end, isn’t it? If my siblings were still alive, I wanted to tell them I was sorry for failing them. I’m sorry, Mom and Dad. I couldn’t protect them. It’s my fault. Those thoughts raced through my mind, threatening to consume me, but the immediate threat of lethal injuries drowned them out.
The perpetrator giggled as she brushed the hair from my face. The wetness on my cheeks—was it water or tears? It didn’t matter. As my consciousness slipped away, she whispered something in my ear before forcibly kissing me, one last humiliation.
“I’ll see you in school, Asai~”
The last thing I heard was the swish of swimming tails and the sound of a carriage arriving. My final thought was of her cruel smile and the panicked voices around me. Then everything faded to black.
“Thanks for the lift. Have a good evening.”
I got off the carriage, thanked the coachman, and waved goodbye. No loose shoelaces, robes neat and tidy—good enough for now. The moment my foot touched the ground, pain shot through my leg so sharply I nearly lost my balance. I fell straight onto my ass. Great. That would make moving around even more fun.
Eventually I forced myself up, grabbed my crutches from my bag, and started moving. Any attempt to look as put‑together as my soon‑to‑be classmates was obliterated. Lucky me.
“Oh, kiddo, are you okay?” the coachman asked with genuine concern. I waved him off.
“I’m fine, nothing to worry about.” I chuckled as I steadied myself on the crutches. He said goodbye again, and I grinned back at him.
Being a land‑dweller—or pretending to be one—was difficult enough thanks to gravity. Chronic pain made it a literal and metaphorical headache. I walked through the gates, my blurry vision doing little to stop me from appreciating the jet‑black patterns on the metal, the owl statue gazing down, or the gentle breeze carrying the scent of jasmine.
There was no time to contemplate, so I went through the school gates. Mindless chatter overwhelmed my hearing, mixed with the smells of different students—some more pungent than others. The sound of shattering glass, laughter, spray paint, and general chaos reminded me exactly what kind of academy this was.
Nightshade Owl Academy: both a pride and a shame to attend. How did I end up enrolled here? I wouldn’t be able to answer if anyone asked. But who turns down a scholarship to a prestigious academy?
As I walked alongside the stampede of students, I heard distressed chirping. Driven by curiosity and compassion, I chased the sound, ignoring the irritated students I bumped into. A tiny nestling, no bigger than my hands, chirped in panic. Probably calling for its parents. But there was no nest in sight—no scent of its mother, nothing.
Where were its parents?
And remember that stampede I mentioned? Yeah. Ignoring it had consequences. I got trampled. I managed to scurry to the side, but not before getting stepped on. As long as the bird was safe, I could deal with a few bruises.
My robe was covered in footprints, but the nestling was unharmed. Its scent was weaker now… hopefully its parents would still recognize it once I found the nest.
Except… there was no nest. Only the ghost of one—broken shells, scattered branches, shredded leaves. Destroyed.
I assumed the parents had left long ago, probably after some assholes vandalized it. Did they respect anything?
I couldn’t leave the poor thing alone. With most students already inside, the walkway felt empty. No more footsteps blocking my vision, no more robes brushing past me. I could finally smell jasmine instead of sweaty teenagers.
Once the main entrance came into view, I saw two blurry shapes ahead. I hid the bird inside my robe and prayed to any deity that I wouldn’t be noticed.
I tried to be stealthy, hoping they wouldn’t see the movement under my robes. As I got closer, I could make out their faces—guards dressed like old‑fashioned knights. Maybe they actually were.
A wave of judgment washed over me when one of them looked my way. I tried to stand on my own two feet despite the pain. Better that than being seen as a burden. I held my crutches horizontally, pretending I didn’t need them.
“Good evening, Mister…?” one guard asked, pulling out a scroll.
“Asai,” I blurted. Please don’t ask for my first name. Please. The guards exchanged a look and nodded.
“You may go in, madame.”
I internally cursed myself. I should’ve pushed harder for the name change. I wanted to curse the guards too, but how were they supposed to know? And besides… I didn’t want to be sent to a camp if such things existed here.
“You were right the first time, sir…” I muttered too softly.
“Pardon? I did not hear you—”
“You were right the first time, sir.” Please don’t stop me from entering. Please don’t deem me unsafe. Why do I overthink everything?
“…I see. Go in then, Ma—ehem—Sir.”
I thanked them and rushed inside. They were probably already making remarks behind my back, but I didn’t care. I had an attendance ceremony to get to.
The halls were dimly lit, so I placed my hand on the brick walls to guide myself. I probably shouldn’t use magic right now. The comforting jasmine scent was gone. Why did these things always happen at night? It was extremely dark.
I wandered until I heard chatter and followed it to a large hall filled with students in black robes—beastmen, fae, humans, mersharks. The mix of sweat and perfume made it hard to focus. My vision was too poor to make out details, and the torches weren’t helping.
“It seems we are missing one, sir,” a stern feminine voice said.
I flushed. It was probably me.
“Ah, yes. Asai, I assume? I expected that one to be delayed… considering the circumstances they were found in,” an older voice replied.
I stepped inside. A few people looked at me, so I pulled my hood over my head. The pain in my foot reminded me to use my crutches again.
A tap on my shoulder made me jolt. A girl stood there—human, from what I could tell. She smelled like coffee. Mocha, maybe.
“Oh, hi! I noticed you just walked in! I’ve been talking to the other students! Gosh, I’m so excited for my first year—are you? Oh, I’m so sorry, I haven’t introduced myself! My name is Nemesis! Yes, odd name, but I promise I’m not trying to intimidate you! I’m glad to possibly have a mer friend—your scales look very nice! Oh, I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
Her excited rambling reminded me of Comet when she came home from school.
“I’m Hikaru,” I replied. She extended her hand, grabbed mine, and caught me when I nearly lost balance. She looked away, embarrassed.
“I’m so, so, so sorry! I should’ve been more careful!”
She tried to let go, but I kept my grip. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”
She relaxed, and we chatted. Nemi loved to ramble. I learned she liked bunnies, was good at alchemy, and her favorite color was baby blue. Even if I didn’t show it, I appreciated someone being nice to me—whether she meant it or not.
“Oh! And I also like coffee! It helps me stay awake during exams.”
Without thinking, I said, “That explains the smell.”
She froze. “Were you smelling me?”
I looked away, mortified. “I—I didn’t mean to! Mersharks just have a good sense of smell—sorry if that was weird—”
Nemesis burst into laughter, tossing her head back. Her blonde hair got messy as she wiped a tear from her eye. I pouted. Was she mocking me?
“Oh, Hikaru, it’s fine! I know. I just wanted to tease my new friend! And someone as gorgeous as me should smell good, haha!”
She was confident. Impressively so.
The conversation continued until she suddenly gasped. “Oh! I’m so, so, so sorry! I should ask you questions too since we’re friends now! I’m terrible at this friendship thing!”
Her face turned red as she pouted. Then she perked up again. “Okay! Tell me about yourself! Favorite food? Favorite animals? Do you like bunnies?”
I opened my mouth to answer—or confess about the bird—when the masculine voice boomed:
“Attention! Attention! Everyone! The ceremony is about to begin!”
The lights went out. Ember filled the air. Two small flames flickered at the far end of the room. Nemesis gripped my sleeve, barely containing her excitement.
The man clapped his hands. The fire crackled.
“Welcome to a new year at the prestigious Nightshade Owl Academy. Mrs. Cromwell, would you mind informing the first years while I finish preparations?”
Nemesis whispered, “Pssst! Do you think we’ll be in the same dorm? It’d be so cool! Sleepovers! Classmates! But there are other cool people too—”
I shrugged. She whined.
Then she grabbed my shoulders—one hand dangerously close to the bird.
“Asai Hikaru, promise me we’ll still be friends even if we’re sorted into different dorms.”
She held out a pinkie. Her ice‑blue eyes were anxious.
Trying not to be a jerk, I hooked my pinkie with hers. It felt silly, like a death oath.
“Why’re you laughing? Do you not take me seriously? Ehhh?” She leaned close, eyebrows furrowed.
“I wasn’t laughing,” I lied. She playfully punched my chest until someone cleared their throat.
“Ms. Morningstar. Asai. What is this ruckus?” Mrs. Cromwell’s voice cut through the room. She smelled like tobacco masked by perfume. I resisted the urge to pinch my nose.
We bowed. The nestling shifted in my robe. I prayed no one noticed.
“My apologies, Madame. We didn’t mean to be loud.”
She let it slide, and we returned to the line.
Students formed a semicircle. The faint fire suddenly burst to life. Some screamed. Others stared in awe. The snickering from the semicircle of older students irritated me. Mrs. Cromwell appeared behind one of them, making him jump.
Then she returned to the fire. Nemesis lifted me so I could see. Being short was a curse.
The headmaster arrived, carrying something heavy.
“A mirror?” Nemesis whispered, lifting me again. I saw its vague outline.
Mrs. Cromwell sighed. “Took you long enough, Headmaster Ambrosia.”
“My apologies. Have you explained the ceremony?”
“I’m afraid not. I had to deal with this batch of unruly children.”
He chuckled. “Understandable. Please explain it now.”
She addressed the room.
“The sorting ceremony has been a tradition for hundreds of years. Each student is placed into a dorm based on what the mirror and the Flames of Wisdom deem fit. This includes your skill sets, academic records, mental health history, and other information.”
How do they even get those records? Some students had families to provide them. I didn’t.
Pain shot through my leg again. I hissed. Nemesis clamped a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. When she reached toward my chest to steady me, I shoved her hand away.
“What was that for?” she whispered sharply.
I sighed, opened my robe slightly, and let the bird peek out. Nemesis gasped. I covered her mouth before she squealed. She mimed zipping her lips. I rolled my eyes.
Mr. Ambrosia clapped. “Now that it’s clear—Sinclair, step forward.”
Sorting began. Students were pushed into water, fire, mirrors—whatever this ritual was. Nemesis kept lifting me to see.
“Oof, my arms hurt… Hikaru, couldn’t you be taller?”
“Not something I can control. My cousin is even shorter.”
Eventually, it was my turn.
My heart pounded as I stepped forward, wincing with each movement. Mrs. Cromwell extended her hand.
“I believe it would be preferable if I held onto those for now,” she said, pointing at my crutches.
“I don’t want to be a bother, ma’am…”
“It is no bother, child.”
I handed them over.
“And your little companion too.”
I flushed as the bird hopped into her hand.
Facing the fire again, I froze as it formed a hand that reached toward my head. It dug into my scalp, scraping through my thoughts. My memories flickered in the flames.
Then I was shoved into the mirror.
Darkness. Weightlessness. I floated in nothingness, swimming through void like water, though I still had land‑dweller legs.
A bright light appeared.
What do you believe you are?
The voice came from nowhere.
“What…?”
What do you believe you are, child?
I couldn’t answer.
You seem lost. There is something you cannot see about yourself that others can. You have a beautiful soul—fierce and fragile. But tell me… what do you wish to study so I may decide?
“I… I want to be able to protect others. Is there anything for that?”
There is…
Suddenly I was yanked upward, as if pulled from water. I hit the floor, coughing like a human drowning in air. Two students lifted me to my feet.
“Dude, we thought you got stuck! You okay?”
I nodded, dazed. My robes now had royal‑blue trims. Gladioluses. Grim. The gemstone on my necklace glimmered.
Then a voice announced:
“Welcome to Gladipulcher, Asai Akane…”