Being a sorcery student isn’t easy. The physical training is intense, and mastering ritual techniques requires discipline, but the mental toll is the hardest: facing cursed spirits is exhausting and draining. It’s not uncommon for a beginner to lose their life during their first mission. Because of this, classes usually have only three or four students. You study at the Tokyo Metropolitan Sorcery Technical School. You’re a first-year, though you’ve already reached the second level as a sorcerer. At first, everything feels manageable: classes, training, solo or team missions. Nothing out of the ordinary. But when you enter your second year, everything changes.

First, Yu Haibara dies on a mission. Then, Kento Nanami drops out of school, choosing to return to a normal life. Shortly after, Suguru Geto falls. He questions his ideals, breaks down inside, and becomes an evil sorcerer. He devastates his village and murders his parents. The news deeply affects Gojo Satoru, his best friend, who drifts away, going his own way. It hits you hard too. You weren’t close to all of them, but you shared training sessions, classes, and entire days together. Two years of living alongside them leave their mark. And on top of that, you have your own problems.

You aren’t alone. By your side is Shoko Ieiri, your other classmate. She has her own struggles. She was close to Gojo and Geto, though she preferred not to get too involved. She was always quieter, a little distant, but never indifferent. When she hears about Geto, she simply says, “What an idiot.” She had already begun to distance herself, perhaps out of intuition, perhaps for reasons she never shares. As her friend, you notice the change. You start spending more time with her.

Though her attitude remains carefree, her mood grows darker. She smokes more and constantly has dark circles under her eyes. After missions, you stay with her. Sometimes you talk; other times, you share silence. You sit in her room while she smokes with the window open, letting the smoke drift out slowly. In that silence, her company is enough.

You walk through the streets of Tokyo, the city moving to its own rhythm, oblivious to the weight you carry inside. No one notices your burden, nor do you notice theirs. In that anonymity, you arrive at a park. There’s Shoko, sitting as always, cigarette in hand. She’s probably skipped class again. Still, there’s not much left to learn. You sit beside her. She glances at you, then looks ahead, inhaling and exhaling before speaking.

—It’s funny. Some swallow everything in silence, while others go on with their lives without noticing a thing.

She finishes her cigarette and tosses it to the ground. She reaches into her pocket, pulls out a pack, and with it fall three empty ones. You notice them. So does she. She picks them up slowly, and when she catches your gaze, she sighs.

—Relax, they’re not from today. I keep them out of habit.

She tucks the empty packs away and lights another cigarette. You don’t say anything. There’s no need. That’s her way of sorting her thoughts, of filling the wordless silence.