Chapter 10: The Academy Wants Me Dead on the Second Day

The second morning was worse.

Not because of Rin. Rin was, again, on my chest. I was beginning to accept this as a permanent feature of my life, like gravity, or Sakuya’s rice cakes. She had migrated sometime around the fourth bell, curled up on my ribs with her face against my collarbone, and fallen into the deep, boneless sleep of a creature that has found its spot and will not be moved by man or god.

The worst part was the knock.

Three knocks. Firm. Polite. At the sixth bell. Before the sun had fully committed to existing.

Sakuya opened the door.

He was already dressed. His boots were already aligned. His hair was already combed. I was beginning to suspect that Sakuya did not actually sleep and simply stood in the corner like a suit of armor until the appropriate hour to begin being helpful.

Gale-sensei was at the door.

He was holding a cup of tea and a scroll. The tea was steaming. The scroll was not. He looked past Sakuya, saw me pinned to the bed under a cat girl, and took a long, slow sip.

“Takafumi.”

“Mmph.”

“Sixth bell.”

“I am aware.”

“You are horizontal.”

“I am aware of that also.”

“There is a cat on you.”

“She is not a cat.”

“There is a cat-shaped person on you.”

“Accurate.”

“Get up. Full gear. Training yard by the seventh bell. Bring your roommate. Bring the cat.”

He left.

Sakuya closed the door. He turned around. He was already holding out a basin of water, a towel, and a pear.

“Alfred-kun.”

“Do not say good morning.”

“Good morning, Alfred-kun.”

I peeled Rin off my chest. She protested. She always protested. The protest involved her fingers clinging to my shirt and a sound like a door hinge that needed oil. I set her upright on the bed. She swayed. Her ears were flat. Her eyes were closed. She was technically standing and functionally still asleep.

“Rin.”

“Mm.”

“Class.”

“No.”

“Rin.”

“Fish.”

“Fish after class.”

One eye opened.

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Two fish.”

“One fish.”

“Two fish, Alfred.”

“…two fish.”

Both eyes opened. She was awake. The negotiation had ended. I had, as always, lost.

We crossed the courtyard at a pace I would call urgent. Sakuya walked beside me, hands clasped behind his back, calm and unhurried, matching my stride without seeming to rush. Rin walked on my other side, hood up, tail hidden, eating the pear Sakuya had offered and refusing to acknowledge she was eating it.

The training yard was not the courtyard.

The training yard lay behind the Academy, past the west wing, through a gate I had not noticed yesterday, down a short stone path lined with torches still burning from last night. The path opened into a wide field of packed dirt, surrounded by tall wooden walls stained dark by rain and age, and what I sincerely hoped was not blood.

Thirty-five first-year students stood in uneven rows, shivering in the morning cold. Gale-sensei stood at the front with his tea and his scroll and the patient expression of a man about to ruin everyone’s day.

Good. You are all here. Some of you are dressed, some are not. Those who do not have 30 seconds to fix that will run the perimeter in their current attire. I do not care if that is undergarments. The perimeter is long and cold. You will learn to dress faster.

Three students in the back scrambled with buttons. The soup girl was already fully dressed, boots laced, hair tied, standing in the front row with the rigid posture of someone who had been waiting for this her entire life.

“Today It is your second day. Yesterday, I taught you not to blow yourselves up. Some of you listened. Today, we move to the part that matters.”

He unrolled the scroll. He held it up. It was a map.

A detailed map. Hand-drawn in black ink on heavy paper. It showed a dense mass of green forest cut through with thin blue lines for streams and dotted with small red marks that I could not read from where I stood. The forest sat north of the Academy grounds, bordered on the south by the training wall, on the east and west by steep ravines, and on the north by the base of the mountain range that backed the Academy plateau.

“This is the Thornwood.”

Murmurs.

“For those of you who grew up in cities and have never touched a tree, the Thornwood is a managed wilderness. It covers roughly four square miles of forested terrain north of the Academy. It contains natural hazards. It contains magical hazards. It contains creatures that do not care about your family name, your entrance exam score, or how many candles you can light.”

He looked at Maren Holt. Maren Holt looked at the ground.

“The Thornwood is where the Academy has conducted its field evaluation for the past sixty years. Your grandfather built the boundary wards, Takafumi, so if any of you die in there, blame his bloodline, not me.”

“Thank you, Sensei.”

“You are not welcome.”

He rolled the scroll back up. He tucked it under his arm. He finished his tea in one long swallow and set the empty cup on a fence post with the care of a man placing a crown on a head.

“The evaluation is simple. You will enter the Thornwood in pairs. You will navigate to a checkpoint marked with a red flag. You will retrieve the flag. You will return it to the training yard. The pair that returns first earns top marks. The pair that returns last scrubs the dining hall for a week. The pair that does not return at all will be retrieved by the senior students, who will be very amused, and you will never hear the end of it.”

A hand went up. The boy from House Ashford. Toren Vail. The fisherman.

“Sensei, what kind of creatures?”

“The kind with teeth, Vail.”

“How many teeth, Sensei?”

“More than you. Next question.”

Another hand. The girl who had been staring at Rin yesterday. Short brown hair. Sharp eyes. She had a sash with no house colors, which meant common birth, which meant she had earned her place on talent alone.

“Sensei, are weapons permitted?”

“Weapons are permitted. Magic is permitted. Running away is permitted and, in some cases, encouraged. The only thing not permitted is leaving the boundary wards. If you cross the ward line, you will be pulled out automatically and fail. The Thornwood is contained. You are contained. Whatever is in there with you is also contained. Questions about that.”

Nobody had questions about that.

“Pairs.”

He produced a second scroll. Smaller. A list.

“The Academy has assigned pairs based on your entrance evaluations, your mana profiles, and the professional judgment of the instructional staff. This means I picked them. I picked them this morning. I picked them while drinking my first cup of tea, which is my most honest cup. You will not trade partners. You will not negotiate. You will not cry.”

He began reading.

“Holt and Vail.”

Maren Holt looked at the fisherman. The fisherman looked at Maren Holt. Neither seemed thrilled. Neither complained.

“Sera and Dorn.”

The soup girl and the sleeping boy. The soup girl’s face fell. The sleeping boy did not react because he was asleep. Standing up. With his eyes closed. I respected him deeply.

“Takafumi and Sakuya.”

I looked at Sakuya. Sakuya looked at me. He was already smiling. He had probably been smiling since before the list was read. He had probably smiled in whatever theoretical sleep he experienced and woken up smiling and smiled through breakfast and was now smiling at the news that he would be spending time in a dangerous forest with me, which was, to him, apparently the best thing that had happened since rice cakes.

“Alfred-kun.”

“Yeah.”

“We are partners.”

“Yeah.”

“I will take care of you.”

“Please do not phrase it like that.”

“I will support you.”

“That is also strange.”

“I will be nearby.”

“…fine.”

At my other side, Rin’s ears went straight up.

“Alfred.”

“You are coming too.”

“Good.”

“You are my summon. You go where I go.”

“Good.”

“This is not — Rin, this is not a territory thing.”

“Good.”

She was looking at Sakuya. Sakuya was looking at her. They were both smiling. Rin’s smile showed teeth. Sakuya’s smile did not. I was standing between them, and the temperature had dropped by several degrees despite the rising sun.

Gale-sensei finished the list. He rolled the scroll back up. He looked at us.

“The evaluation begins tomorrow at dawn. You will be given a map, a waterskin, and nothing else. Everything beyond that, you provide yourselves. If you do not own a weapon, the armory will lend you one. If you do not know how to use a weapon, I suggest you learn between now and dawn. If you do not wish to participate, you may withdraw, return home, and explain to your families why you are no longer attending the Royal Academy of Magic. I have been told that conversation is worse than anything in Thornwood.”

He paused. He looked at me. The scarred eyebrow went up.

“Takafumi.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“A word.”

The other students began to disperse. Sakuya hesitated, then stepped aside when Gale-sensei’s gaze moved to him with the quiet weight of a man who was not making a request. Rin did not step aside. She stood next to me with her tail curled around my ankle and her arms folded. Gale-sensei looked at her. She looked at him. Her ears did not go down.

“…the cat stays.”

“She stays, Sensei.”

“Mm.”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to me. It was not a map. It was not a schedule. It was a handwritten note on plain paper, three lines long.

I read it.

I read it again.

My blood went cold, then hot, then cold again.

“Sensei, where did you get this?”

“It was in my office when I arrived this morning. Slipped under the door.”

“Who delivered it.”

“If I knew that, Takafumi, I would not be handing it to you with this expression on my face.”

I read it a third time. Three lines. Clean handwriting. Familiar handwriting. Handwriting I had seen on lunch boxes, birthday cards, and a pinwheel tag at a summer festival ten years ago.

【Alfred-kun will be in Thornwood tomorrow. Please make sure he is paired with someone who will keep him safe. I have already chosen who. Thank you for understanding, Gale-sensei. The dried plums are from the Tower garden. I hope you enjoy them.】

“Sensei.”

“Yes.”

“The pairs.”

“Yes.”

“You said you chose them this morning.”

“I said I chose them this morning.”

“Did you choose them this morning?”

He looked at me. The scarred eyebrow was all the way up. He reached into his robe again and produced, with the slow, deliberate motion of a man presenting evidence, a small cloth pouch. He opened it. Inside were dried plums. Six of them. Perfect.

“Takafumi.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“I chose them this morning.”

“But.”

“But I had help.”

He took a plum. He ate it. He chewed slowly. He nodded once, to himself, the way a man nods when something is exactly as good as he was told it would be.

“She is, I will admit, extremely persuasive.”

“Sensei.”

“The plums are excellent.”

“SENSEI.”

“Go prepare, Takafumi. Dawn comes early. Bring water. Wear good boots.”

He turned and walked back toward the Academy with his hands in his robe pockets and the pouch of plums tucked under his arm. I stood in the training yard holding a note written by a girl locked in a tower forty miles away who had somehow, in the span of a single night, identified my class schedule, learned about the evaluation, chosen my partner, bribed my instructor with fruit, and slipped a message under a door she could not possibly have reached.

Rin read the note over my shoulder. Her ears were flat. Her tail was very still.

“Alfred.”

“Yeah.”

“The handwriting.”

“Yeah.”

“It is the same.”

“Yeah.”

“She is in a tower.”

“Yeah.”

“How.”

“I do not know, Rin.”

“…I do not like her.”

“You have not met her.”

“I do not need to meet her.”

“Rin.”

“She is too close, Alfred.”

I folded the note. I put it in my pocket. I looked north, past the training wall, toward the dark treeline of the Thornwood where, tomorrow at dawn, I would walk into a forest with a partner Sakura had chosen for me, carrying water and wearing good boots, following a plan I had not made and could not see the edges of.

Sakuya appeared at my shoulder. He had, at some point, acquired two waterskins and a short blade in a leather sheath. He held out one waterskin.

“For tomorrow, Alfred-kun.”

“…Sakuya.”

“Yes.”

“How long have you known about the evaluation?”

“Gale-sensei announced it just now.”

“And you already have waterskins and a knife.”

“The kitchen staff is very accommodating, Alfred-kun.”

“…the kitchen staff.”

“Yes.”

“The kitchen staff gave you a combat knife.”

“They are very thorough, Alfred-kun.”

I took the waterskin.

I did not ask more questions.

Some answers, I was beginning to understand, were not answers at all. They were doors that opened into rooms I was not yet ready to enter, and the rooms were full of plums and perfect handwriting and boots aligned by the bed and smiles that never, ever stopped.

We walked back to the dormitory—the three of us. Rin is on my right, holding my sleeve—Sakuya on my left, holding a waterskin. The courtyard was bright with late morning sun. Students moved in clusters, talking about the Thornwood, trading rumors about what lived inside it. Someone said wolves. Someone said boars. Someone said there was a golem left over from the founding that wandered the north ridge and collected skulls.

I did not listen.

I was thinking about plums.

I was thinking about handwriting under a door.

I was thinking about a girl in a white tower who could reach me from forty miles away without leaving her room, and about a boy walking beside me who had swept my floor, made my breakfast, and been placed at my side by a hand I could not see.

The dormitory door closed behind us.

Rin sat on my bed. Sakuya sat on his. I stood between them with a folded note in my pocket and a waterskin in my hand and the growing, quiet, certain knowledge that I had not made a single decision about my own life in at least a week.

Tomorrow was the Thornwood.

Tomorrow was the evaluation.

Tomorrow, at dawn, I would walk into a forest.

I sat down.

I drank water.

I did not think about plums.

I did not succeed.