Judgment vows (first): Chained by the Unseen

The wooden walls of the small cabin groaned with the force of another blow that shook from far away. Above, the Scarlet Gale ripped through it all—cannons thundering, men roaring, the ship herself heaving under storm and assault. But in this small nook of wood and darkness, Hikari sat huddled on the corner of his bed, back to the wall, knees up, head down.

The beads that hung around his neck no longer glowed.

They just hung.

Like empty baubles.

Like a memory that no longer mattered.

He heard every footstep above.

Every clanging of blade, every roll of cannonfire.

And he was paralyzed.

They were fighting—for his life.

And he couldn't do a goddamned thing.

"I hate it," he growled, so low he couldn't even quite hear himself, splintered with fury.

"Awww."

Lyra's voice crept into his mind like a cat curling into a lap—warm, soft, too damn cheerful for the mood.

"My adorable little judgment bean is pouting once more~"

"I'm not pouting," Hikari snapped.

"You're sitting in a corner with your face downturned, looking at the ground like it just told you that your fashion sense was out of date. That's definitely pouting."

He groaned and buried his face in his knees. "I just… I feel useless... Well i am useless."

"Oof..." Lyra yelped out in sympathy theatrically. "This emotional break is too heavy now... Want me to fetch you a void therapist? Or call you a comfort duck? They're made of stardust and healing energy. Very hip."

"Lyra, plea—"

"No no, I see. You're experiencing your hero crisis. It's eternal!"

She talked in an exaggerated, over-the-top, melodramatic voice. "'Alas! I, once divine, now reduced to mortal flesh, deprived of judgment's fire, unsuitable for blade or cha—'"

"...Lyra."

"—'How shall I save the world now with nothing more than these weak hands and emotionally restrained tears?'"

"I'm going to stab myself with a spoon," Hikari complained.

"You'd have to go ask the kitchen for one first. And I don't think Red lets kid get near sharp knives yet."

He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face. His heart still pounded from the last cannon blast, even though the ship had grown eerily quiet again on deck.

"You don't understand. They're out there risking everything. I'm just… here. Hiding. Breathing." He paused, stopped. "I'm not even the man... Wait... Girl i used to be. I am... Mortal and an boy now... I dont Understand my self.... The worst part Is.... I can't even fight."

Lyra giggled. "Well, yeah," said Lyra, "That's kind of the idea. You're not the girl you used to be. And so useless~ So now you get to discover who you are."

He didn't respond.

Not yet.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet.

"...Lyra?"

"Yes, my soft sad marshmallow?

"Is there a way… I don't know…" He paused, wrapping his fingers around the edge of the mattress, "...a way I can at least be not powerless?"

There was silence in his head, as if the introduction to a witty grin.

Then—

"Ohohoho... Finally. My boy asks the right question!"

He blinked. "So there is a way?"

"Naturally there is, darling. But it requires work. Honest-to-goodness work. Sweat-generating, brain-blanking, patience-shattering work. Can you do it?"

"I think I can..."

"Fine. Because I am not going to let you get away with indulging in self-pity any longer."

She cleared her imaginary throat.

"So! To not be a helpless little spud, you need options. And let's suppose something. you're no longer divine, so forget trying to 'summon judgment' or 'ask the heavens'—they hung up the line. But you can do something else."

"What?"

"Magic, silly wooby."

He blinked. "...Magic?"

"Yes! Sorcery. Arcana. Spellcraft. Enchantments. Elemental foolishness. The other way in which mortals make flashy things blow things up. Ring any bells?"

"But I—" he broke off, his gaze dropped. "I never worked at the magic. I wasn't allowed. The elders taught—"

"The elders wore ten robes and had forbidden snacks after lunch. Their opinions are worthless."

He puffed gently.

Lyra continued, more gravely now—though still with her flair. "See, Hikari. You were always told the divine chose you. That it was a one-in-a-million gift. But the thing is, that kind of power—divine or otherwise—isn't special. The world's full of secrets. You just have to learn."

He sat in silence, listening.

"Discover a book. Steal one. Borrow one from a creepy dude in a tower. Read until your eyes are bleeding. Then read some more. Study up on mana flow, elemental channels, casting circles, spell matrices, incantation control. Practice until your fingers burn. Until the wind whispers when you breathe."

She let that hang for a moment.

"And if you're really fortunate, one day, you'll cast a spell and not die.".

He stared ahead, incredulous. "That's supposed to be inspiring?"

"It's realistic!" she chirped. "You want power? Then build it. And don't worry." Her voice warmed again, velvet and soft. "You've got the best cheerleader in the cosmos, remember?"

He snorted. "You?"

"Moi! Your beloved, patient, totally distractible cosmic auntie-slash-magical muse. I'll whisper in your head every time you drool over a book. I'll shower with pretend confetti when you can do fireball without incinerating your eyebrows. I'll be with you every step of the way—laughing with you, not at you... Mostly."

Hikari looked at his hands again.

They were still the same.

But maybe. maybe not forever.

A spark.

Small. Quiet.

But real.

"Alright," he breathed. "Let's start with books."

"That's the cinnamon roll in you, my starry cinnamon roll!"

"...Never say that to me again."

"Too late! Already sewn it on your pretend cape."

And to himself, Hikari smiled.

A new way. Not the one blessed.

Not the one cursed.

But the one earned.

Hikari leaned back against the wooden bulkhead, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if he could cut through the deck above and see sky. His thoughts reeled now—not so much his own impotence, but the world beyond this ship. Nine years.

Nine years the world had kept going without him.

And he had no idea what it had become.

"...Lyra," he whispered, the words a sigh-breathe. "What's happened to the world? What's it like now?"

He waited a moment for a response, for her silence, but it was unusual. Then she spoke, her voice quieter than before, a thread of sorrow embroidered in her customary silk-woven voice.

"Complicated," she said. "But I'll tell you. You deserve to know."

Hikari's heartbeat reduced slightly as he heard, his hands resting in his lap.

"Once you vanished, once the Hollow Queen took your immortality and redrafted you… reality shook. The seal on Kurohana wasn't just broken her—it destroyed the weave that held many of the other things with it."

He swallowed.

"See, your world—Nipporin, if you will—was protected once. Prayers, bloodlines, relics of judgment, all that fine stuff. Ancient customs kept the rot contained. But when the mark of the divine was stolen, when the Kanshisha vanished… " she paused,

"...the balance disintegrated."

Hikari's heart tightened.

"What did they do to the people?" he demanded. "My village… my nation…"

"Spaced out," Lyra muttered.I"It started slowly. Strange winds. Flashes of light in the air. Then there was this one day—everything contorted. People vanished. Whole families from Yamaoka just. disappeared. The traditions no longer worked. The earth couldn't recall how to keep what it was built to suppress."

He was chilled.

"They were transported—transplanted. Rolled like dice onto the board of life. Some were rolled into the uncharted territories of the West. Some were set within desolate ruins. A few were blessed, adopted by other peoples who yet possessed virtue to impart."

"...And the rest?"

Lyra was quiet for a moment.

Then she spoke:

"Others fell in barren places. Cursed places. Where the wind is flame and the earth has been hollowed out for a long time. Where the things that once wandered under shrines and stones now move freely. The people like us. Or other beings who know the world called them 'corruptions' some kind of virus, but I know your kind better at naming something. You call them…"

"Cursed spirits," Hikari finished.

His voice trembled.

Lyra's reply was soft.

"Yes, dear boy. And now they roam."

"…And no one stopped them?"

"There were some who tried it. Gallant swordsmen, rogue, priests, even some divine-obsessed cultists who wished to take your place. Some even tried calling upon ancient gods to seal the gaps."

"Did they succeed?"

"Does it sound like they succeeded?"

Hikari exhaled slowly.

His mind saw the vacant walkways of Yamaoka—now vacant. The shrine where his mother used to pray. The training grounds where his father's voice used to ring out. Haruka's herbs drying under the eaves.

Lost.

Blown to the wind.

And cursed spirits crawling through the wreckage.

He felt it again—that gnawing pain. That quiet shame. He hadn't volunteered to disappear, but he had because of him.

"…I should've been there," he whispered.

"You couldn't," Lyra said firmly. "You were the seal, Hikari. The instant they stole what made you divine, the world collapsed around the hole you left."

He clenched his fists.

"…Then I'll rebuild it."

"Oh?" Her voice perked up again.

"I'll train. I'll study. I'll get stronger. I'll find the scattered people—rebuild what's left."

He paused, then added softly, "I owe them that."

Lyra's voice curled warm and proud.

"Then let's begin. Page by page. Spell by spell. You'll carve a new name into this broken world."

And Hikari bowed his head—

Not in shame.

But in silent vow.

Hikari's eyes shut to the soothing rhythm of the waves.

His breathing relaxed.

The soothing roll of the ship lulled him into that magical half-dreaming state where memory and fantasy were indistinguishable. He curled up under the thin blanket, back against the cabin wall, and muttered to himself alone—

"...Tomorrow… I'll start learning…"

And even as he said it, doubt crept along the edges of his mind.

Can I really learn magic?

What if I fail?

What if I'm just… nothing, now?

And then—

Silence.

Not the groan of wood. Not the susurration of the ocean.

Just…

A familiar velvet dark.

A sky of impossible stars stretching endlessly in all directions.

His feet no longer touched the ship's floor.

His body floated weightless in that comforting, impossible expanse.

And she was already there.

Humming softly, sitting with one leg crossed over the other on a glowing shard of floating obsidian. Lyra's head nodded gently to her own off-key beat as she stared out at the whirling sky. Her hair fell loosely down her back like liquid starlight, and her astral veil streamed about her, studded with constellations. Her humanoid form shone gently under the loose fabric—human enough to be familiar, but her shape was slightly too refined, too liquid, her limbs slightly too economical.

And behind her

Four other arms dangled loosely, each with a spinning portal: one of flame, one of silver mist, one that was like a whirlpool of eyes, and one that pulsed like the heartbeat of a dying star.

She hold portal now. Back then he meet her for tge first time. She just hold one big purple orb. Not its portal.

She shifted her head as she saw him.

Her smile was immediate.

"Ah! You finnaly here, sleepyhead!" she yelped out, leaping up onto her feet with an agility that sent the veil back and forth. "Welcome to my kingdom! The Void! Not as barren as you'd imagined, eh?"

She spun once where she stood, the stars behind her rearranging with her whirl. "Ten out of ten in appearance. Requires work on functionally."

Hikari blinked intensely, then rubbed his eyes once more. "...Why am I here?"

"In your dreams, silly girly boy!" she said, tapping at her temple. "You finally fell asleep daydreaming about magic and your adorable magical potential. Which means… your very own Cosmic Aunt-slash-void tutor is summoning you to your first class!"

He stared at her for a very long moment.

And slowly, awkwardly, he realized—

She looked. different. But its seems... She look the same but...

No, not in the flesh. She'd always been this way. But here, now, with the stars behind her, with the warmth of her being unmasked by cannon fire or catastrophe—he saw it.

She was beautiful.

More beautiful.

Ethereal. Uncommon. Captivating.

The curve of her smile. The glint of knowing humor in her eyes. The press of her body moving toward him—not with weight, but with affection.

His chest tightened, hard and without cause.

No, no no—

He shook his head wildly. This is not right. I'm a boy now. She's like. an acquaintance. An infuriating aunt. Not.

Not that.

She was a cosmic entity. A guide. A tease. Not a woman to—

"Uhuhuhu~" she laughed suddenly, cocking her head. "You're making that face again."

"What face?"

"The oh no she's lovely and I'm getting feelings I don't know what to do with face. It's adorable, really."

"I'm not making that face."

"Yeah, you are."

"I'm no—"

"Anyway~!" She slapped all six hands together simultaneously, and a wave through the emptiness echoed with wind chimes and bells. "Lesson one! Time to learn some fundamental magic. We'll begin small, so you don't blow up."

"Wow... That's comforting. Reallyn't," Hikari growled.

She extended one of her lower arms, making a ripple in the air to her side. A glowing translucent diagram materialized, soft and blue: a stylized human shape surrounded by whirling lines and orbs.

"Okay, pay attention, sweetie," she said, now with the confidence of someone who'd done this a million times—most likely to herself. So sad. But probably she happy to do it. "Magic—real magic—isn't about yelling words and throwing fireballs. It starts with mana."

Hikari nodded slowly. "Okay… what is mana?"

She pointed theatrically up towards the sky with all six of her fingers.

"Mana is the breath of the world. The glint of life. The gossip in blood. It's power. Encompasses you. Occupies you. Passes through all. Every living thing has mana—but some individuals cannot feel it."

She leaned forward, tapping on his chest with one finger. "Even you, defenseless ex-Mrs.Kanshisha no-more. Still possess it. Just asleep."

"How do I feel it?" he questioned, more intrigued now.

"Ahhh, that's the question!" she responded, wiggling her finger. "To sense mana starts with silence. Focus. Breath. You'll need to sense stillness—and by that, I don't mean sitting crosslegged like a restless child in a prayer robe. I mean listening."

She crossed her legs in mid-air and floated, motioning for him to sit across from her. A star-circle was created below them like an ad-hoc platform.

"Close your eyes. Breathe in. Deep. Let your chest fill."

He did it, exhaling cautiously.

"Now," she muttered, "listen. Not with ears. With intent. Feel the hum beneath your skin. The pulse behind your breath. That's your mana core. It's not a muscle—but you build it the same way. Attention. Practice. Control."

He stayed still, heart unwinding.

And then—

A tingling.

Just behind the ribs. Barely there. Like the whisper of air in his chest.

His eyes grew wide.

"I—felt something."

Lyra grinned. "That's it! That's your mana waking up. It's like a shy fox. Don't scare it!"

She got to her feet quickly, raising one hand. A tide of blue light flickered over the nothingness above them, leaving sigils in its wake.

"Once you can feel your mana, the next is channeling. You tap intent, focus, and gesture to shape the energy into form. Spells are languages—instructions for your mana to follow. They're thought-formed, emotion-empowered, and repetition-solidified."

He blinked. "So. magic is like... meditation?"

"Meditation that can blast holes in mountains," she said happily. "But yes!"

"...Sounds like.. a cursed technique," Hikari muttered under his breath.

Lyra burst into laughter right away, throwing her head back and swinging it to and fro with exaggerated drama, while her veils of starlight curled up about her. "Ohhh~ listen to you! That's elder's little voice creeping back in, isn't it?" She shook a wagging finger at him, six extended, accusing fingers, as though to catch him at cookie-nicking from the star's pantry.

"'Sounds like a cursed technique.' Hah! Darling, everything sounds cursed when you've been raised in a land where people flinch at their own shadows."

Hikari looked down, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to sound... like that."

"Oh no no, I love it," Lyra sighed. She was hanging upside-down in the vacant space now, her toes pointing towards the sky and her hair streaming towards him like a skein of glittering threads. "It means those pinched-face, prayer-mumbling robe fanatics managed to etch a bit of doctrine into your back. But guess what?"

She spun in mid-air like a floating leaf and came down gently, right side up again.

"This shoud be easy for you."

He blinked. "Easy?"

"Easy? You have done it before already. You just did not know you were doing it."

Lyra flashed a derisive smile and raised her hand, whirling a miniature portal over her palm. It sparkled like a glass plate, and then—snap—a brief ghostly chain flashed out and was gone again.

"Remember that, don't you?"

He nodded slowly, wide eyes. "That's… how I used to summon my judgment chains."

"Right," she smiled. "Divine power, yes, but focused. You used mana. You had to tap that energy and push it through intent, through ritual, through form."

She drifted closer, until they sat facing each other once more, cross-legged on the star-circle that spun.

"Now we're skipping the divine part and cutting right to you. Pure mortal mana. Yours to command, control, and ultimately—order."

Hikari took a deep breath, focusing again.

Lyra's voice dropped to a gentle humming song, guiding his breath.

"Okay. You recall when I said to listen for the pulse behind your breath?"

He nodded. "I felt it the last time. Like… a spark."

"Good," she replied. "Now follow it. Don't hurry. Let your breath move it. Let it rise."

The emptiness deepened around them, save for the narrow border of starlight on Hikari's body. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the heat rouse behind his ribs. Gradually… it roused again. A gentle thrum. Gentle… then increasing. Like a beat to be remembered.

"Now focus," Lyra breathed. "Will it to your hands."

He raised them slowly.

"Picture warmth. Flame. Not big. Not hot. Just the very first spark. The warmth before a fire's born. Have your mana flow from that sight."

The buzz within him flowed—bright, trembling—and amassed in his hands.

A heartbeat passed.

And then—snap.

A spark. Tiny. Like a firefly being made.

And next… a trembling of flame.

Tiny. Dainty. Almost hovering just on top of his cupped palms.

"Yes!" Hikari gasped. "I—I did it!"

The fire pulsed once, soft and golden.

Lyra clapped her hands—all six of them. Each clap echoed like celestial chimes.

"Well done, sweetheart! You're officially no longer just a void-stranded ex-priest. You're a firestarter now! A magical boy in training!"

But then its extinguish.

Hikari couldn't help it.

He laughed.

For the first time in what had seemed like lifetimes, pure, unsullied joy flowed out of his mouth. His fingers trembled, not with fear, but with awe. He stared at the little flame that danced over his skin as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

And then—

The memory struck.

Unbidden. Blunt.

An orange flash.

A younger Hakari, hands outstretched before him, eyes wide in wonder as a flame—a larger, brighter one—danced around his fingers.

He was perhaps thirteen.

Haruka had clapped, laughing in wonder. Hikari had sighed. "That's amazing, Hakari!"

And Hakari had grinned. Wide. Blindingly wide.

Until—

"Where did you learn that?"

Takashi's voice.

Cold. Cruel.

The recollection shifted.

The grin on Hakari's face vanishing.

Takashi strode into the courtyard, his katana in its scabbard but his voice as unforgiving as any blade. "Who taught you to cast?" he had growled again, eyes narrowing.

"I… I read a book," Hakari had stammered, shrinking.

"And you simply decided to cast? Without judgment? Without training?"

"But I thou—"

"You thought nothing." Takashi's voice had thundered. "That is cursed technique! It is not our path. It taints judgment."

Even Haruka had taken cover behind a pillar.

Hikari had witnessed it all—too young, too quiet.

Too afraid to speak up.

Too afraid to defend his brother.

In the emptiness, the memory disappeared like a ghost, and Hikari sensed the joy in his chest contract in on itself like a pent breath.

The fire in his hands weakened.

Lyra, still hanging near, tilted her head.

Her smile disintegrated.

"…Aww," she murmured, her voice softening. "There it is. My little emotional crash."

"I just remembered him," Hikari breathed. "When he revealed his first flame."

Lyra sighed and drifted down, near enough to brush her hair against his shoulder.

"Let me guess," she breathed, wrapping him in one of her many arms like a universal scarf. "Papa Takashi didn't really have a celebration?"

Hikari shook his head. "He was furious. He was outraged like Hakari had broken some kind of holy rule. But Hakari just. wanted to learn. Like I do now."

Lyra sighed.

"Darling," she whispered, "you were taught to suppress this. Of course it feels suffocating. That's what trauma does. It makes you believe that happiness is a sin."

He looked at his hands again, the dying flame a testament to his past.

"I should've defended him," he breathed.

Lyra touched his cheek with one of her lower hands, cool and soothing.

"You were a kid, Hikari. You weren't ready. But you are now. And this time—" she grinned, lips curling with pride, "—nobody's going to make you lose this. Nobody."

He gazed into her eyes.

And the fire returned slowly.

Small, but steady.

Like a promise.

Like a start.

Hikari drew in a breath slowly, surely.

The flame he'd called danced serenely over his hands, gold and unmoving now, not trembling. He wasn't smiling, not exactly, but the conflict in his eyes had stilled. The memory of Hakari still lingered on him like a flavor, but he was calm again.

Lyra drifted closer, the sparkling veil of stars behind her flowing softly like liquid shadow. She smiled and reached down to give Hikari's silky white hair a few affectionate pats.

"There we go, my little emotional pastry," she murmured, "you've survived your first existential wobble and called fire in the same night. I'm so proud I could burst into glitter."

Hikari rolled his eyes but didn't push her hand away.

Her voice lifted, shifting gears in that way only Lyra could—like a maestro of universal mayhem.

"Alrighty then!" she applauded all six of her hands in an overlapping sequence that rang with odd bells and something that might've been a laugh from a nearby star. "Time for part two! You've learned to light a candle, now let's keep you from getting stabbed while you're trying to read a spell!"

"…Wait, what?"

She beamed brightly. "We're doing Strengthen Techniques, sweetie!"

"Strengthen…?"

"Yes! Because picture this—" she spun midair, snapped her fingers, and conjured a shimmering illusion beside them. a mage happily casting a spell with their hands glowing. "Look! Such a delicate spellcaster, completely focused—oh no!"

A shadowy figure appeared behind the illusion, raised a blade, and—

"Keeehhk!" Lyra said dramatically, pantomiming a slash across her neck with one hand while three other hands threw glitter like confetti.

Hikari winced. "…Why are you like this?"

She smirked. "Because I'm entertaining. Now focusss!"

The illusion broke with a snap, and she descended to float directly beside him.

"There are various types of strengthen magic," she continued more seriously now, summoning glyphs into the air. "You have Physical Fortification—increasing your strength, speed, reflexes. Then there's Magical Protection—barriers, resistances, aura-based defense. And of course, my personal favorite—Mental Shields! For when someone attempts to burrow into your juicy little brain and puppet you like a drama student."

Hikari blinked. "Your favorite...Has that ever happened to you?

She tightened her eyes, like... Remembering something. But she quickly shake it off. "Uhh.. Alright! Let's not speak of the period I was possessed by a cosmic eel who wanted to teach interpretive dance."

He wisely chose to let that one pass.

"However," she continued, finger aloft, "the one you'll probably love the most? Weapon Enchantments!!"

She snapped, and a glittering, ghostly image of a sword sprang into existence—flaming with fire down its blade.

"See? Beautiful and deadly. And you once practiced with a sword, so I'm sure your body already remembers how to move. We just need to polish it."

"I…" Hikari looked away briefly, then admitted in a tiny voice, "I used to sneak into the training park when no one was looking. At night."

Lyra's grin grew wider. Warm.

"I know," she murmured, not joking, just proud. "You were like a little judgment girl not wanting to appear too willing to battle, but secretly swirling her chain like a storm."

Hikari's face reddened slightly, but he did not object.

"Kusarigama," he murmured.

She blinked. "Hmm?"

"The weapon I used," he clarified. "It's called a kusarigama. A sickle and chain."

Lyra gave a small squeal of pleasure, somersaulting upside down in delight. "I knew you had Fashion!!"

Her hands moved rapidly now, calling up a ghostly kusarigama, its chain whipping through the air like a snake.

"I always loved that weapon. So theatrical! Whip, snare, slice—it's like a dance with extra murder." She twirled, letting the weapon follow her motion. "Now imagine it enchanted! A flame edge! Or shadows! Or even gravity magic so the chain pulls through armor—phew! Or its x portal! Imagine you can took off enemy off guard... By summoning portal and pull them inside with Kusarigami! I'm getting tingly just thinking about it."

"Lyra, focus." Hikari said, exasperated.

She smiled. "Right! So! Enchanting a weapon is a matter of putting mana into it. It has to like you, first. Bond a bit. Whisper to it. Take it out to dinner—"

"Lyra."

"Sorry."

She flicked a sigil into the air. "Here's how it works: Focus your mana. Push it through your dominant arm—yes, yes, that adorable noodle of an arm—and into the weapon. You're not just coating it. You're infusing it. Like a tea bag in fire."

Hikari took a breath.

Even without a weapon, he mimicked the motion—reaching out with his right arm, imagining the weight of the sickle was there, the chain around his wrist.

He drew his mana forward again—feeling it in his chest, heartbeat behind breath.

And then…

He imagined it flowing down his arm.

Golden warmth flowed down into his fingertips.

His palm flashed. A tiny burst of reddish-orange light curled outward like ribbon—

And vanished.

But Lyra erupted into applause.

"YESSSSS!" she screamed, whirling in mid-air and slapping all six of her hands together like a one-woman cheerleading squad. "That's it! That's the start! You're channeling it through! You're going to be so lethal once you get your hands on an actual weapon. You're going to be a dashing magical judgment prince of chaos!"

Hikari breathed heavily, the light dissipating.

But he smiled.

A bit.

It was working.

He was learning.

"You're doing great," Lyra said, drifting close again, nudging his shoulder. "Soon you'll be chaining, slashing, fireballing—and no one will be able to stop you. Not even your adorable death-obsessed brother."

Hikari exhaled. "...Thanks, Lyra."

She winked. "That's Professor Lyra, to you."

And in the void, beneath the glimmer of ancient stars and unspoken promise, Hikari's journey finally felt like it had begun.

Or... maybe the journey hadn't started at all.

For as Hikari stood in Lyra's boundless void, surrounded by the sparkling points of dead stars and unrealized potential, holding a summoned training sword she'd just cheerfully called into his hand—he realized one very unfortunate truth.

He couldn't infuse it.

Not a hint of energy.

No fire.

No glow.

Just… a sword.

Very normal, very non-magical sword.

"...It's not... working," he snarled, fingers tightening on the hilt as his eyebrows contracted in silent frustration.

And behind him—

Pop!

Lyra reappeared. But now dressed as—

Oh gods.

A cheerleader.

Her flowing veil of stardust now tied into twin buns. Her flowing astral gown traded for a short, shimmering skirt of constellation threads, a cropped top with a shining star on the chest, and—

Oh no.

She had pom-poms.

All six hands were clutching pom-poms. And she was bouncing. Light on her feet. Ponytail swinging.

"Come on! Hikari!" she exhorted in a sing-song voice that echoed out like the most cursed shout of encouragement ever uttered across galaxies. "You can do it, my sweetie pieeee! You got this! Don't let that sword win!"

Hikari sighed deeply. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I believe in you!" she sang, spinning in midair and sprinkling cosmic glitter atop his head. "Now focus, my lovely noodle-armed protégé! Push that mana! Think of your hot, burning inner power!"

He accepted the sword again, biting back a groan as he closed his eyes.

He focused.

Mana. Move it down the arm. Into the grip. Into the blade.

Nothing.

Not even a sizzle.

Lyra's eyes widened in feigned offense. "What do you mean no spark?! Not even a fizz?!"

"I can't do it!" Hikari finally shouted, stepping back and letting the sword hang from his hand. "I can't use strengthen magic, not on a sword. I'm not built for it. I'm just—"

"Noooo!" Lyra sobbed melodramatically, spinning in mid-air as if auditioning for a space opera tragedy. "Don't you dare say that, mister 'I summoned a flame a few minutes ago and emotionally overcame his past trauma!' You are not giving up on me now!"

"I've never been good with weapons and magic okay!" he muttered. "They were always separate."

"Who says they do?!"" she said, swimming near. "Look, look—remember chapter. uh, nine? Ten? One of those? The one where your father—Mr. Grump Grump McSwordFace—used magic? Ring a bell?"

Hikari blinked. "My… father?"

"YES!" she said, floating directly in front of him now, spinning pom-poms in a cyclone of judgment. "Takashi! The traditionalist sword guy who sneered at magic and made angry noises when Hakari tried to talk about fire spells!"

Hikari's breath hitched slightly. "He always said magic was a cursed path…"

Lyra leaned in, nose nearly touching his, eyes wide and too sparkly.

"And yet!" she whispered dramatically, "he used it."

"What…?"

"The Sun Blade."

Her voice dropped like thunder.

"You saw it. When he fought Hakari. That wasn't divine magic. That was mana. His sword burned with sunlight. Not fire. Sun. Which means he studied. He practiced. Quietly. Secretly. Because he cared."

Hikari's grip on the sword tightened.

Lyra gave a soft smile now, her tone less teasing.

"He watched Hakari master fire. He watched you rise in holy chains. And even if he never said a word—he followed. He learned. He bent his own rules for the two of you. That's what parents do, even when they're emotionally constipated."

Hikari's voice broke. "So… he see him... Actually."

Lyra nodded gently. "Of course he did, darling. He just had the emotional depth of a particularly thick tree between his family and tradition. One side he want to support his son. Tradition say magic is... Cursed technique."

The sword trembled in his hand once again.

He took a breath.

And again—he shut his eyes.

Mana, low and consistent.

Down his arm.

Into the hilt.

Believe.

At the base of the blade, a soft luminescence stirred—faint at first. A glimmer. A murmur. And then—

Light.

Golden. Pale. Sun-warmed.

The sword blazed along its edge.

Small, but tangible.

"I… I did it."

Lyra screamed with excitement.

"YESSSS! That's my boy!! That's my incandescent starlit banana cream pie!!!"

"Please stop referring to me as food."

"NEVER!" she screamed, spinning in a wild midair flip as all six pom-poms erupted in sparkles. "YOU'VE LEVELED UP! Weapon upgrade complete! Look at you go, precious murder child!"

He let the blade fall, breath catching—his chest rising with that strange mix of awe and giddy disbelief.

But then he looked at her again.

"You can stop being a cheerleader now."

She froze.

Mid-pose.

One leg raised, pom-poms splayed, cosmic skirt flying.

A beat passed.

"Too late."

"No...Lyra. Seriously sto—"

"Oh no no," she purred, floating nearer in slow, menacing cheer-bounces. "You brought out this shape. And I am alive. You don't get to take that away from me, Hikari~ not after i keep reviving you on the sea repeteadly 9 or maybe 4 years straight."

"I will never take magic lessons again."

"Don't threaten me with a good time!"

He groaned into his hands.

And so it began…

The long, painful, sparkly hours in the Cosmic Classroom.

Where the void sang, the stars blinked judgment, and Hikari's cosmic ex-cheerleader auntie trained him like the world depended on it.

Because it probably did.