I AM EXTRA IN A SHONEN MANGA

The sky above the training grounds of Veyl Academy was quiet, but Ceyla Nox was not.

She stood alone in the far quadrant—where Echo dummies lined up in neat, soulless rows. Their blank faces watched her silently. Mocking her. Echo sparks fizzled along the lines carved into the stone tiles beneath her feet. Her breath came hard, uneven.

"You are from the Nox family, yet your emotion is full of hate."

"How can you use the Storm…? Ah—I know! Your Storm Affinity must be hate also!!"

"Monster."

The voice of her brother echoed again and again in her mind, like thunder bouncing off the walls of a cage she couldn't escape.

"Tsk…"

Her hand twitched, Shinrei rising on instinct. Storm energy coiled around her knuckles, crackling with pressure and sharp static scent.

She stepped forward.

CRACK!

Her punch shattered through the nearest dummy, lightning screaming out with a burst of blue-white. Another swing. Another dummy vaporized. Again. Again. Sparks danced along her arms like angry spirits, as if they too had no place to go.

"I'm not a monster."

She wasn't sure who she was telling anymore. The dummies? The sky?

Herself?

And then—

"Easy… you'll destroy the whole field."

A calm voice drifted in behind her. Cool. Casual. Familiar.

She froze mid-swing, eyes narrowing. Her shoulders twitched, body tense like a coiled spring.

"Hmph. It'll just regenerate," she muttered without turning.

Then, she did.

Her wolf-cut hair swayed as she whipped around violet Shinrei still flaring faintly around her fingers.

Her eyes locked onto him.

"You… you again?! Why are you here!"

Khael Corzedar stood a few meters away, hands in his pockets, wind tugging gently at the collar of his uniform. His expression was unreadable—neither smug nor friendly. Just present. Just him.

"Relax," Khael said, his voice even.

"I'm just here to train too."

Ceyla's jaw clenched.

"Tch. Don't bother me!!"

Her storm crackled louder at her side, like it mirrored the rise of her frustration.

But Khael didn't flinch. Didn't rise to her challenge.

He just watched.

And quietly, inside, he thought:

(This is the beginning… If I want to change her fate—if I want to stop her from becoming that version of herself… I have to reach her.)

But first… he had to get her to stop trying to blow him up.

The air between them was taut.

Not with violence yet.

But with that stillness that always came just before lightning chose a path to strike.

Khael stepped onto the cracked training field, gaze gliding over the scorched wreckage of a dummy that now barely resembled a figure. Its chest had been reduced to ash and smoke, the scent of burnt stone still curling upward like incense from a pyre.

He tilted his head.

"That one didn't stand a chance," he murmured.

Ceyla didn't bother hiding her scoff.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

Khael didn't respond. He didn't grin or apologize either.

He just kept walking toward the far edge of the field, away from her, but never turning his back completely. Calm. Deliberate. Like someone who wasn't here to provoke her… but wasn't afraid of her either.

She watched him from the corner of her eye, one fist still faintly crackling with latent storm Shinrei.

(He didn't leave…)

She didn't trust it.

Not when most people either fled at her outbursts or flinched like she was a bomb about to go off.

Not when even her own clan couldn't look her in the eye without seeing the end she'd one day bring.

Khael set his small pack down. Cracked his knuckles once.

Took a stance not one born of formal instruction, but self-taught. Wind began to swirl lightly at his feet, like his breath had stirred the world around him just enough to respond.

"Let's do this," he muttered to himself.

Then he moved.

No explosive burst. No flashy storm-step.

Just quiet, practiced strikes. Efficient. Sharp.

The wind bent to his rhythm, whispering around his limbs with each motion like it had known him a long time. His body turned and snapped like a dancer mid-pattern, each movement clean, each breath measured.

Ceyla didn't speak.

Didn't throw another punch.

Didn't ignite another dummy.

She just… watched.

Wind and storm shared the field, but for once neither howled.

The silence stretched between them.

Only broken by the whistle of wind-blades from Khael's forms… and the faint fizz of lightning still hiding somewhere beneath her skin.

Then—

"Why are you even training here?" she asked suddenly, arms crossed.

"There's another area. You didn't have to come here."

Khael didn't stop moving.

But his voice came back calm, steady.

"I'll be honest."

He exhaled. Pivoted into a low stance.

"I wanted to know you."

That stopped her.

She blinked.

"…What?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Like I said."

He straightened. Turned just enough to meet her eyes.

"I want to know the real you."

Ceyla's jaw clenched.

"I don't need a teammate," she muttered.

"Good," Khael said. "Because what I want… is to be your friend."

The word hit her harder than any blow.

Friend.

For a moment… Ceyla wasn't standing on cracked stone.

She was back in the greenhouse, years ago.

Soft light. A mother's voice.

"Ceyla… one day, there will be someone who can cry with you… laugh with you… share with you."

"Someone you can call a friend."

Her fists loosened slightly.

But her voice, when it came, was quieter. More brittle.

"You don't know me."

Khael nodded slowly.

"Not yet. But I want to."

Ceyla's storm flared again just for a heartbeat. A warning flash, not a strike.

Her lips curled, part defiant, part trembling.

"You think just saying that makes you different from the others?" she snapped, voice rising.

Khael didn't flinch. Just listened.

"They all say it. They all want something. And when they see what's really inside, they walk away. Or worse, they stare like I'm already some kind of monster."

Her fingers clenched again. Not in fury but in defense.

Like she was holding herself together.

She looked at him now, eyes glassed with fury and something deeper. Loneliness so old it had teeth.

"You say you want to know me? Then know this—

I'm angry. I hate how people look at me. I hate that I care. I hate that my own brother called me a monster."

The air around her shimmered, lightning dancing through it like emotions with no place to go. Her breath hitched once. She turned her face away.

"…So don't waste your time, Khael."

"Don't look at me like I'm someone worth befriending."

here was silence. A hard one.

And then—

Khael walked forward. Slowly. Not reaching out. Not forcing it. Just… closing the distance.

When he was close enough to speak without yelling, he said:

"Good. Now I do know you a little more."

Ceyla blinked. The storm stuttered.

"You're angry. You're scared. You're still standing. That's all I need to know today."

"And for what it's worth…"

His voice was quieter now. Steady.

"…You're the first one I've met here who's honest."

Ceyla stared at him. Breathing uneven. Lightning fading into silence.

A long beat passed between them.

She didn't smile. Didn't speak.

But her eyes flicked down, then away less defiant now.

"…Idiot," she muttered under her breath.

Khael just gave a small grin.

"Probably."

To be continue