The morning was colder than usual.
Mist still clung to the stone walls of the academy, curling between the blades of uncut grass and whispering through the training grounds.
Sayaka clutched the black-red blade at her side — Dragon's Breath — its sharp hilt biting into her palm with every step.
It's not like you'll respond anyway…
But at least you look cool, she thought bitterly.
She finally spotted the west field.
Empty.
Except for one person — standing beneath a crooked training post, arms folded, black coat fluttering in the early breeze.
Dev.
Sayaka took a breath and raised her hand.
"HEY, De—"
She cut herself off mid-scream, slapping her other hand over her mouth.
"Oops… I mean—" she mumbled, quickly jogging the rest of the way, cheeks red.
He barely glanced at her. "You always yell like that?"
Sayaka scratched the back of her head, laughing nervously. "Only when I'm late. Or excited. Or nervous. Or—"
"...So always," he said flatly, finally turning to face her.
His eyes flicked down to the sword she carried.
"Hmm."
Sayaka straightened her posture. "What?"
He stared for another moment.
"That sword."
"What about it?"
"It's legendary," he said, as if she didn't know. "Dragon's Breath. One of the forbidden Spiritual-class weapons forged during the Great Despair Era. Power of elemental fusion. Can't be lifted by anyone unworthy."
Sayaka nodded. "I… know all that."
He raised an eyebrow. "Then why do you carry a sword that refuses to acknowledge you?"
That stung.
"I—" she started, then looked down at the weapon. "I don't know. It responded once. Just once. Then nothing. But… Greff said I could still carry it. That maybe it's asleep."
Dev walked slowly around her, hands in his coat pockets, scanning her stance.
"Carrying it means something," he admitted. "It's not a fake sword. If you weren't chosen, you wouldn't be able to budge it from the floor."
He stopped behind her.
"But if you can't use it… then what's the point?"
Sayaka's fingers clenched.
"That's why I'm here."
There was silence.
Then a quiet exhale.
"Alright," Dev said. "Let's make it growl, even if it's asleep."
Sayaka blinked. "What?"
"I'm going to teach you how to force a Spiritual weapon to temporarily awaken. Not truly — that takes resonance, bonding, and trust."
He walked up to her, motioning her to draw the sword.
She pulled it slowly — the weight still immense, but oddly familiar.
He came closer.
"Stand firm. Like this."
He adjusted her feet with his own — surprisingly gentle for someone so cold. She flinched slightly as his hand moved her wrist.
"Let the hilt rest in the groove of your palm. Not grip — rest."
Sayaka obeyed, the position unfamiliar.
"Now… breathe. Focus on your heartbeat. Not your fear. Not your doubts. Just… your rhythm."
My rhythm?
She took a deep breath.
I don't hear anything special…
Just… thump. Thump. Thump.
Dev raised a hand.
"The Dragon's Breath reacts to primal instincts. Survival. Rage. Pain. But also resolve."
Sayaka closed her eyes.
Resolve…
I want to live. I want to fight. I want to prove I belong here…
She opened her eyes — sharper, more focused.
Dev nodded.
"Now. Swing."
She swung.
Just once.
And the moment her blade cut through the air—
A faint shimmer rippled across it. Red. Like flickering firelight. It was gone in a flash.
Sayaka gasped. "Did you see that?!"
Dev smirked — just a little. "Temporary resonance. Told you."
Sayaka stared at the sword, her chest rising and falling.
It reacted… it finally…
Her eyes sparkled.
"…Thank you," she whispered.
He looked away.
"Don't thank me yet. You've got a long way to go, loudspeaker."
She grinned.