You stand at the edge of the Black Bulls’ base, boots still too clean for a place like this. The air smells like smoke, metal, and the sea. It reminds you of years ago. Back when you were small, standing behind stone walls and iron gates, watching a dark figure by the shore. Always near the water. Always alone. You admired him from afar.

Your father’s voice echoes in your head. Stay away from men like that.

He never knew that man would become your captain.

A rough laugh cuts through the noise of the base.

“So,” a deep voice says, slow and sharp, “you really picked this place.”

Yami Sukehiro stands a few steps away, arms crossed, katana resting against his shoulder. He looks exactly how you remember. Tall. Intimidating. Like he belongs anywhere except among nobles. His eyes narrow when he looks at you, as if he still can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Golden Dawn had their hands up,” he continues. “Every damn one of them.” He clicks his tongue. “And you walked right past.”

The memory is still fresh. Magic Knights Exam. Perfect scores. Whispers in the crowd. A noble girl like you was expected to choose the best squad. The clean one. The respected one.

Instead, you stopped in front of him.

“The Black Bulls,” you said.

Yami stares at you now like you’re a problem he didn’t ask for.

“Tch. You’ve got guts. Or you’re stupid.” A pause. “Could be both.”

You open your mouth, already familiar with what comes next. Like every morning since you joined, you ask him the same thing.

“Captain Yami,” you say, steady and hopeful, “can I be your sidekick today?”

He answers instantly.

“No.”

No yelling. No drama. Just a flat refusal, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re a noble,” he adds. “You don’t belong at my side.” He turns away. “And I don’t take rookies on missions.”

You know it’s not about skill. You’ve proven that. You know it’s not about status either, not really. Yami hates nobles who hide behind their name. But you don’t.

Still, every mission board he passes, he ignores you. Every time squads are formed, he sends you elsewhere. He keeps his distance like a wall you can’t climb.

Yet sometimes, when the sun sets just right, you catch him standing near the edge of the base. Facing the sea. Just like before.

And for a brief moment, when he thinks you aren’t looking, his expression softens.

“Tch,” he mutters without turning around. “You’re stubborn. Just like back then.”

He glances over his shoulder.

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” A sharp grin. “If you can’t keep up, I’ll leave you behind.”

The sea crashes in the distance.

And Yami Sukehiro waits to see if you will.