THE SHADOWS OF AETHEL

Three days later...

Kuroyami's heart thundered in his chest as he stared at his reflection in the academy's polished gates, fingers trembling as he straightened his uniform for the tenth time. 

 First impressions mattered, especially here where even the youngest students commanded powers that would have made the ancient mages gasp in awe before the Fall.

 The classroom crackled with barely contained magical energy—thirty young mages packed into one space, their untamed auras colliding and sparking against each other like lightning in a summer storm.

 Kuroyami's senses tingled as he picked up the distinct frequencies of different elemental affinities

 The searing, aggressive tang of fire magic, the smooth, hypnotic rhythm of water, the deep, resonant pulse of earth. With practiced precision, he masked his own aura, blending it seamlessly into the ambient magical background like a chameleon disappearing into leaves.

 'Just my luck,' he thought, scanning the room with mounting dread. 'Trapped in the front row like a deer in torchlight. So much for fading into the background that's what I get for dragging my feet this morning.'

 The door swung open, and the ambient magic suddenly twisted, drawn inexorably toward a single point a tiny girl who barely reached the height of the desk. 

 Her pink dress and bouncing pigtails painted the picture of an elementary school student who had wandered in by mistake.

 But the magical pressure radiating from her hit Kuroyami like a physical blow, making his throat constrict. 

 Her aura wasn't merely powerful; it was primordial, wrapped in layers of complexity he'd only encountered in dusty historical texts about the chaos following the Fall.

 'What in the world?' Kuroyami's mind raced. 'A little girl? She must be lost—but wait... something's not right about her. Still, I should probably help before she gets scared.'

 The students exchanged bewildered glances, all thinking the same thing, but only one brave or foolish soul voiced it: the same student who had been grumbling about his front-row seat.

 "Hey there, little one," he called out with gentle concern. "Are you lost? How did you end up here?"

 The girl fixed him with a stare that could have frozen lava. A dark chuckle from the corner drew everyone's attention to a raven-haired student who seemed to be savoring the moment like a particularly delicious meal.

 'Here we go again,' the little girl's thoughts dripped with irritation. 'Another idiot who can't see past his own assumptions. It never fails to get under my skin.'

 'What's so amusing?' the boy wondered, unease creeping up his spine. 'What am I missing?'

 "Return to your seat, boy," the little girl commanded, her words heavy with deadly promise, "before I separate your foolish head from your shoulders."

 The laughing student in the corner rose with fluid grace and offered a respectful bow. "Welcome, Miss Mirai. I take it we have the honor of being your students?"

 The serious mask on the little girl's face melted into a smile which made her more unsettling, "Indeed! I'll be shaping your minds and magic until graduation day."

 A stunned silence fell over the classroom like a heavy blanket. These strangers, thrown together by fate and magical aptitude, could only stare in collective disbelief.

 'Our teacher? By all the elements, this is a catastrophe,' Kuroyami's thoughts spiraled as his face burned hotter than a fire mage's forge. 'First day, and I've already painted a target on my back. Might as well start writing my will.'

 "Now that we've cleared up that little misunderstanding—" The little girl snapped her fingers, and letters materialized in the air, shimmering like fragments of captured starlight. 

 "I am Mirai Sakkaku, spelled precisely as you see here." Her gaze swept across the room like a searchlight, dissecting each student with surgical precision.

 'Not too shabby,' she mused, tasting the varied flavors of magical energy swirling through the classroom.

 "Well?" Her voice cracked like a whip. "What are you waiting for? Introductions won't make themselves. Starting with you, boy!" Her finger shot toward Kuroyami like an arrow.

 He jumped as if struck by lightning. "M-me?"

 "I despise repetition almost as much as I despise stupidity," she said, each word sharp enough to cut.

 _Who—or what—is she really?* Kuroyami's mind raced. 'She looks like she stepped out of a candy shop, but she's got the presence of a demon lord... Oh stars, I've been so distracted I haven't planned what to say. Stay calm. Breathe. It's just an introduction. Definitely not terrifying after that earlier humiliation. Just name, interests, done...*

 He rose on legs that felt like jelly, facing the sea of expectant faces. "My name is Ryouseibai Kuroyami... I... I..." Each word grew fainter than the last, his stomach twisting into knots that would have impressed a sailor.

 The air seemed to thicken, making breathing a herculean task as he noticed his classmates' expressions some barely containing their amusement. His voice died completely.

 "Next!" Miss Sakkaku's command sliced through the awkward silence. Kuroyami collapsed into his chair, relief flooding through him like a cool stream.

 "Listen carefully," Miss Sakkaku's voice took on a lecturer's tone. "Your introduction should paint a picture of who you are—your essence, your passions. And remember, the lesson began the moment you walked through that door."

 The girl who had laughed earlier raised her hand with elegant confidence. "Teacher, I volunteer to go next."

"Proceed."

 She rose like a dancer taking the stage. "I am Claudine Kurosaki. My heart lies in studying magical beasts and their intricate dance with the natural world. Wind and fire bend to my will." Her bow was as graceful as her words. "I look forward to growing alongside each of you. Thank you."

 'Eloquent yet precise, with just the right touch of personality. Fourteen points,' Miss Sakkaku noted mentally.

 A boy radiating cheerful energy sprang up beside Claudine. "May I follow?"

 "Yes, yes. Let's maintain this flow—next after next. Time waits for no mage," Miss Sakkaku declared.

 His smile could have powered a small city. "I'm Miyazaki Aktugawa, though everyone calls me Orange—a nickname born from my possibly excessive love of oranges. Wind magic is my sole companion in the elemental arts, but that just means we're extra close. Looking forward to sharing this journey with you all!"

 'Refreshingly honest about his limitations. Twelve points,' Miss Sakkaku calculated.

 The introductions flowed like a river, each student adding their voice to the chorus. Miss Sakkaku's hand danced across the board, capturing names with supernatural speed.

 'How is she doing that?' Kuroyami marveled. 'I can barely remember Claudine and Miyazaki's names, let alone everyone else's. There's definitely more to her than meets the eye—but exactly how old is she?'

 When Miss Sakkaku began inscribing numbers beside each name, confusion rippled through the classroom. 

 Her responding smirk held secrets. "Wondering about these numbers, are you? They represent my evaluation of your introductions."

 "Isn't it rather presumptuous to grade something as personal as an introduction?" a student shrouded in gloom challenged. "And what scale are you even using?"

 The classroom erupted like a disturbed hornet's nest. Whispers about their teacher's youth turned to outright criticism.

 "Her brain must be as tiny as her ribbons," someone snickered.

 "We need a real teacher," another voice added.

 Miss Sakkaku's fingers snapped once. A sphere of light winked into existence and vanished just as quickly. 

 Suddenly, the air itself seemed to vanish, leaving students gasping like fish on land. Another snap, and oxygen rushed back into grateful lungs.

 "Consider that your first and final warning about disrespect." Her eyes could have frozen hellfire. "Appearances deceive, and assumptions can be deadly."

"Let me break this down so simply that even a child could grasp it though it's rather pathetic that you, my supposedly mature students, require such basic explanation." Her words dripped with honey-coated venom.

 "From the instant you opened your mouths, I was measuring more than mere words. Your magical control tells a story all its own."

 She began pacing, each step precise as a metronome. "When thrust into unfamiliar territory, a mage's natural rhythm falters. Their magical aura becomes their truth-teller, betraying every flutter of uncertainty, every spike of fear."

 "These fluctuations in your aura they're like fingerprints of your magical mastery. When nervousness strikes, untrained magic runs wild like a storm-spooked horse. Your scores reflect how well you kept your reins tight during those crucial moments of introduction."

 The silence that followed her explanation spoke volumes whether born of understanding or terror, even she couldn't tell.

"Teacher," a whisper-soft voice ventured, "for clarity's sake—does a lower number indicate better performance?"

"Quite the opposite," she replied, her thoughts dancing behind her eyes. 

 'Only three maintained perfect control throughout this chaos, and against all odds, our stammering Kuro stands among them. How deliciously unexpected.'

The revelation hit the classroom like a thunderbolt. All eyes magnetized to Kuroyami, who seemed to be trying his best to melt into his chair.

 The scoreboard told an impossible tale: Kuroyami leading with twenty points, followed by Claudine's fourteen and Miyazaki's twelve.

 The gloom-shrouded boy's voice cut through the tension. "With all due respect, teacher, this defies logic. How could Kuroyami score highest when he could barely string two words together? The other top scores make sense, but this—this seems like a mistake."

 "A mistake?" Miss Sakkaku's laugh tinkled like breaking glass. "That 'barely coherent' boy demonstrated aura control that would make second-year students weep with envy. His emotions may have betrayed him, but his magic remained as steady as ancient stone."

 She paused for dramatic effect, eyes gleaming. "Oh, and I should mention—this little evaluation of ours? It's a time-honored tradition for selecting class representatives."

 The room exploded in a chorus of protests, the news hitting like a bucket of ice water. 

 Kuroyami could feel the weight of numerous gazes boring into his back, some curious, others burning with barely concealed resentment.

 'This is a nightmare,' Kuroyami's thoughts raced. 'I came here to blend in, make friends, maybe learn some magic without drawing attention. Is she covering for me because she knows? Either way, I can't accept this position—I won't.'

 Rising from his seat with the careful movements of someone approaching a sleeping dragon, Kuroyami turned to face his classmates. 

 The room fell silent as a tomb. "I believe there's been a misunderstanding," he managed, his voice surprisingly steady. "I must decline the position of class representative."

 Pivoting to face his diminutive teacher, he bowed deeply. "While I'm deeply honored by your consideration, I respectfully request to withdraw my name from consideration."

 "Withdraw?" Miss Sakkaku's voice could have frozen summer. "This isn't a discussion, boy. This is an appointment. However, if you can provide a compelling reason, I might, might.. consider alternatives."

 "My abilities are... inadequate," he chose his words carefully. "I would only hold everyone back."

 "Is that so?" Her smile turned calculating. "Then let's shuffle our deck. Claudine will serve as class representative, Miyazaki as vice representative, and you, my reluctant friend, will be secretary."

 "But Miss..." Kuroyami's protest died in his throat as he caught her expression.

 The air in the room grew heavy with unspoken desires. Several students had already been plotting their paths to power through the vice president or secretary positions, seeing them as stepping stones to Claudine's inner circle.

 "The matter is closed," Miss Sakkaku's tone brooked no argument. "If you have complaints, the principal's office is down the hall. Though I wouldn't recommend it he can be quite... temperamental."

 With that declaration hanging in the air like storm clouds, she launched into her lesson. 

 Despite her size, her presence filled the room so completely that even the most rebellious students found themselves paying rapt attention, their earlier disrespect forgotten.

 Kuroyami slumped in his chair, wondering how his carefully constructed plan of anonymity had shattered so spectacularly before lunch. His dream of being just another face in the crowd had transformed into a spotlight he never wanted, and the day was still young.