Akira sat on the back steps of the dormitory, knees pulled close to her chest, the faint smell of laundry soap drifting from the open windows above.

Someone was blasting music from the second floor, the sound was just muffled enough to blend with the night insects buzzing around the lamps.

Her turquoise hair slipped out of its messy tie, strands with lilac tips falling against her cheek. She tucked them back behind her ear, though they always found a way to escape again. Her hands rested in her lap, skin still carrying faint scrapes from training. She rubbed at them without thinking.

The school loomed behind her, shadows stretching long across the training yard. Tomorrow meant more drills, more sparring, more of her stumbling through lessons where others seemed to glide.

She tried. She really did, but the words still echoed in her mind, ones she couldn’t shake no matter how much she smiled through them.

"Not suited for assassination."

Her Aunt's voice wasn’t cruel when she said it, but that didn’t make it sting less. Like she was only borrowing space in a world too sharp-edged for her soft corners. Better for chores, better for staying out of the way. Better off not trying.

She brushed dust from her skirt and tied her hair back again, the elastic pulling too tight this time. Yellow eyes lifting to the sky.

The stars were faint tonight, barely visible against the city glow, but she searched for them anyway. Just to remind herself they were still there, even if hidden. With one last glance at the faint stars above, she slipped quietly back inside.