Chapter Text
Sanemi stands in front of the mirror, adjusting the lapels on his brand new, fitted wizard’s robe. He couldn’t believe it still, despite the letter of acceptance still sitting open on the nearby table.
A full ride into the premier magic school in the country.
He’d passed his aptitude test with flying colors, his untrained magic prowess a marvel amongst children his age.
He’d never really considered himself special before, and still didn’t.
He recalls countless nights spent holed up in their room, waiting out the storm of their father’s temper while their mother desperately worked damage control. An old magic book cracked between them, darkness illuminated by the low glow of a hand-me-down wand; Sanemi would pull Genya into his lap and enchant him with dazzling light shows.
He’d create fairy tales out of nothing, fantastical stories, Genya’s favorite being the one about a pair of sibling swordsmen that swept across the land, eliminating evil demons and wizards.
To Sanemi, it had been nothing more than a parlor trick, something meant to entertain and comfort his siblings. He would never be a true wizard, not without the money to send him to a proper school. And he’d convinced himself that he didn’t care either. All that mattered was his family, his siblings, and his baby brother, Genya.
He’d never imagined he could make something of it. He’d always assumed he’d end up in some dead-end job, scraping together spare yen to keep food on the table for his family. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d even get to do something he liked.
But then, at eleven years old, just like every other child in the world, he’d taken his magic aptitude test, and everything had changed. Suddenly, they were bombarded with letter after letter, all offering him admittance and scholarships to various magic schools and universities across the land, some even coming from across the sea. Suddenly, people cared about the boy with ratty white hair and patchwork clothes.
When the letter from Kimetsu Gakuen arrived, their mother wept tears of joy and hope. Even their father, terse and heavy-handed as he was, looked upon him with something like pride that day. And Sanemi had started to believe—believe that he could make something of himself someday, that he could provide for his family.
They had accepted the full ride gratefully.
The only problem was that Kimetsu Gakuen was hundreds of miles away, a boarding school across the country. He’d have to leave his family behind, only getting to see them on holidays and breaks.
It hadn’t set in at the time. But now, just a few hours before he was due to head out, it was hitting him all at once. And with their mother due to give birth to baby Koto any day now, the timing couldn’t have felt worse.
“Sanemi!” Their mother calls from the kitchen. “If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss breakfast! I’d hate to send you off on an empty stomach!”
He sighs, grabbing his hat from the nightstand and plopping it on his head. When he steps into the kitchen, he’s greeted by the familiar, cozy atmosphere of his family, sans their father, who had already bustled off to work. Good riddance.
Genya was busy corralling the twin toddlers into their seats and setting the table with baby Shuuya strapped to his back. Sumi bounced in her high chair, playing with her bowl of baby food, unattended. Shizu slaved over the stove, making a much heartier than usual breakfast. A pot of miso soup was boiling as she cooked up some eggs for everyone to get a tamagoyaki, steamed rice, and nori.
Hiroshi manages to break away from Genya as Sanemi steps through the threshold, the boy oohing and aahing over his fancy new robes. They’re soft, embroidered with gold thread and his favorite shade of green on the inside of the cape and bottom of the hat; it was lined with downy owl feathers and woven from divine sheep’s wool.
Something his family could never even hope to afford on their own.
Genya is quick to follow Hiroshi, herding the boy back to his seat. He doesn’t say a word to Sanemi, barely even looking at him, and the white-haired boy deflates.
It had been this way for the past week, Genya barely looking at him, much less talking to him. He doesn’t have time to dwell on his disappointment, Shizu squealing as soon as she notices him.
“Oh, there’s my handsome boy! Those robes suit you so well, baby.”
Sanemi flushes but smiles at his Mama, spreading his arms to show off the pattern inside. She claps her hands, eyes twinkling with joy. She pulls out a chair and ushers Sanemi to sit, levitating some food into his bowls with a flick of her wand.
“Eat up! Your train leaves in about an hour, and we still need to leave time to stop by the bookshop to pick up your textbooks. You triple-checked your bags, right? Oh my, I can’t believe my little boy is so grown up already!”
Sanemi nods through a mouthful of rice, eyes darting between her and Genya, who picks sullenly at his food. He swallows, chewing his lip as his ma’s babbling fades into white noise. He was less concerned about what he was bringing with him to school and more concerned with what he was leaving behind.
The soup begins to boil over, and Shizu jumps to turn down the fire, leaving Sanemi to his thoughts. He finishes his food in relative silence, watching Genya begin to bottle-feed Shuuya from across the table while Shizu serves up food for the twins. His time at home is rapidly dwindling, and the clock seems to move faster than it ever has.
Genya hands Shuuya off to their mother after feeding him, and Sanemi finally sees his chance.
He follows Genya out of the room, grabbing him once he’s sure they’re alone.
“Genya.”
The boy stares at the floor, the hand wrapped around his upper arm, keeping him in place.
“We need to talk. Now.” He leaves no room for argument, dragging the boy into their bedroom. He shuts the door behind them, crossing his arms and blocking the only exit.
“About what?” Genya asks with faux innocence, still refusing to look directly at Sanemi.
Sanemi grits his teeth and gestures at the space between them. “This! This whole, ignoring me right before I’m about to leave thing! I get that you’re mad at me but-”
“’M not mad,” the boy mumbles.
“Then why the cold shoulder? You’ve barely even looked at me this past week! We share a room, and I’ve still barely seen you!” His voice begins to rise, growing louder and angrier with each word until…
Genya sniffles, tears dripping down his cheeks as the boy finally meets his eyes.
“I-I’m sorry!!”
Sanemi feels his anger turn to ash on his tongue. His Genya, always the crybaby.
“About what?”
Genya fists the bottom of his shirt, hiccupping miserably as he tries to stifle his tears.
“Mama said I gotta be strong. ‘Cause if I cry, then Nemi might feel guilty about goin’ to school. And Daddy says I just hold you back… But it’s hard! ‘Cause Nemi is leaving! But I don’t wanna make you feel bad so…”
“So, you thought avoiding me wouldn’t make me feel bad?”
The boy falls silent, pensive. “I just didn’t wanna be a crybaby.”
Sanemi sighs, then kneels on the carpet so that they’re at eye level with each other. He opens his arms with a soft “C’mere.”
Genya falls into them, burying his face against his chest and getting snot on his nice, white, pressed shirt. But Sanemi doesn’t care about that, just focuses on soothing the boy.
“We could have spent all that time together, Gen.”
“I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay. Just don’t ever do it again, got it? I don’t care if you snot all over me; don’t forget about me.”
“I don’t want Nii-chan to go…”
“I know, but I’ll be back at every holiday and break, and I’ll bring everybody treats and souvenirs!” He shifts back a bit so he can see Genya’s tear-streaked face. “You’re my home, Genya, and I’ll always come back to you. I have to do this for the family.”
Genya nods along, sullen. He really was proud of his Nii-chan. Their parents had stressed the importance of Sanemi going to this big school to them. He felt selfish, wishing Sanemi would stay with them anyway.
Eventually, their mother knocks at their door. “Boys, it’s getting late in the day! We have to get Sanemi to his platform before noon!”
Sanemi sighs, loosening his grip enough for Genya to step away. He dries Genya’s face with his sleeve before they leave, not wanting to worry their mother.
“You ready?” He whispers softly. Genya nods, sniffing loudly one last time. He had to be brave. For Nemi.
They step out of their bedroom hand in hand, running down the hallway to greet their family outside.
Sanemi and Genya pile into the minivan, Genya squeezing into the back with their little siblings and Sanemi getting the front passenger seat as the man of the hour. Sanemi feels a building mix of dread and excitement the closer they get to his final destination.
First, they had to stop by the bookstore, a musty old corner store where they had custom-ordered Sanemi’s textbooks. They should have arrived the day before yesterday, but something in the supply chain involving the magical ink needed to make the books had gone awry.
Supposedly, the books used at Kimetsu Gakuen were special, with each textbook handwritten in lightclave squid ink, a mythical breed of squid known for being elusive and ephemeral. From what he’d heard, it could bend the written word for the easiest interpretation of the mind, one of the many reasons Kimetsu’s teaching method was so renowned.
Normally, the textbooks alone would run upwards of 100K yen, a price tag that had made Sanemi’s eyes bulge and heart skip a beat with panic. However, the school had assured them that they would cover the cost of all supplies and housing, as well as tuition and meal plans, meaning Sanemi simply had to get himself there and pay for little things like pens and paper. Of course, all extracurriculars would have to come out of pocket, though Sanemi had no intention of straying from his main goal.
The bookstore owner, a kindly older man who stank of ointment, greets them at the door, ushering them to the back of the shop where he stored the rarer texts in a temperature and light-controlled room. He brandishes the thick book, bound in real leather, and reverently hands it off to him as if passing off a mystical artifact and not a middle to high school-level textbook. Sanemi supposes he’s not far off; a book like this in the Middle Ages would have been legendary.
He opens it up as soon as it’s in his hands, marveling at the way the soft blue ink shifts and sways like a living creature, arranging itself into legible words. He’d landed on the page talking about simple mass recalculation spells, spells to change object density so they sink or float or become heavier or lighter, such as the ever-popular feather fall spell. Apparently, there was a lot of math and quick calculations that went into it.
His little siblings stood on their tiptoes to look at the book, too, fascinated at the idea of something so expensive so close. Genya wrinkled his nose when he noticed all the math on the page. Their mother bowed and thanked the old man before quickly ushering them back to the beat-up minivan they’d had since Sanemi could remember.
Next up on their little adventure was the train station, where Sanemi’s cross-country adventure would truly begin. They lived towards the center of the city, near the downtown slum adjacent areas, so it was a bit of a drive to make it outside the city where the train station was. Gradually, the tall industrial jungle of the main city faded and made way for dozens of cookie-cutter houses, many of which were nicer than their own.
Someday, Sanemi would be able to buy them a house like that, a place where everyone could have their own room, where they’d have food on the table every single day. He’d send his siblings to school with the money he’d make as a successful wizard, Kimetsu Gakuen producing some of the best and most famous wizards in history.
They pull up at the train station right on schedule, van sputtering to a stop in a faded parking spot. They pile out of the van, Genya helping his siblings safely exit the vehicle while his mother rounds the back of the van to grab Sanemi’s bags. Sanemi takes the opportunity to look around.
The train station is mostly empty, except for one lone car, accompanied by a mother and her son. The boy waves enthusiastically at him, and Sanemi immediately writes him off as unimportant, turning to help Genya tend to his siblings instead. It may be the last time he sees them for months, after all. One by one, he greets them, ruffling Hiroshi’s hair, fixing Teiko’s crooked bow, lifting Sumi onto his hip, and kissing little Shuuya on his forehead from where he’s perched in Genya’s arms. Finally, there’s Genya, who looks up at him with suspiciously shiny eyes.
Sanemi smiled at him, remembering when he was ten and Genya was five, and the little boy had shyly confessed to him that Sanemi’s smile was his favorite. But it didn’t feel like enough. God, he had to do something special for him. He couldn’t just leave like this. That’s when it hits him. He plants a quick kiss on Sumi’s forehead before setting her down.
“Ma, wait!”
Shizu pauses. She had been busy taking Sanemi’s bags to the loading area, each one meticulously tagged and labeled. Sanemi sprints over, grabbing the duffel bag and unzipping it, rifling through it in the middle of the train station, and messing up his neatly folded clothing.
C’mon… c’mon… he was pretty sure he’d put it in this bag. Aha!
He snatches up his prize, zipping the bag up and legging it back over to Genya, who stares at him in bewilderment. Shuuya, ever the team player, laughs at his antics, clapping his hands excitedly at all the commotion.
“I want you to have this,” Sanemi pants, holding out the hand-me-down wand that he’d received for his fifth birthday just before he’d found out he was going to be a big brother. The same wand he’d used to tell Genya stories with all these years. Sanemi couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner! It was tradition for kids to get at least a training wand by five years old, and Genya was seven, for fuck’s sake.
“A-are you sure? What about you?”
“Eh, the school’s ‘sposed to fit me with a fancy new wand, and it's past time you got a start on your magic.”
Genya’s face splits in a wide grin as he clutches the wand in his hand. The suspicious shine turns to full-blown tears as Genya sniffles loudly, trying to keep them at bay.
“I’ll practice every day!”
“Good! I’m plannin’ to send you to a good school!”
Genya laughed wetly, pulling him into a one-armed hug; Shuuya squished between them. Sanemi lays his head over Genya’s, reveling in the moment before he’s pulled away by the sound of the train horn.
“That’s my cue.”
Genya nods, sullen, and Sanemi sighs, turning to grab his carry-on bag from the front of the van. His ma is waiting for him by the train platform, beckoning him toward his future with an eager gleam in her eye. He steps up to the boarding platform, and she squeezes him in a big hug, planting a noisy kiss on his cheek.
“You’re gonna do great things.”
“Thanks, ma.”
She smiles as she pats his shoulders, ushering him forward and onto the train. It’s one of the more old-fashioned passenger trains, painted a deep red, black, and white on the outside with forward-facing seats and warm interior lighting on the inside. There are a sparse few people scattered here and there but the train cars are empty for the most part. Sanemi has no problems finding an empty row of seats to drop his bag and himself into, scooting over so he’s pressed to the window.
From there, he can see his family huddled together, waving him off. They press close to each other, his mama kneeling in the center with her arms wrapped around them as the children enthusiastically wave. Sanemi’s eyes begin to burn, and tears well in his eyes, unbidden. He roughly wipes them away. He couldn’t afford the time to cry. Wouldn’t let tears blur the last image of his family he’d see for months, the one thing he loved most in this world.
There’s a jolt as the train begins to lurch forward, sounding off one last time to let any stragglers know to clear the path. Genya suddenly breaks away from the family, shoving Shuuya into their Ma’s arms and chasing after the train, shouting something unintelligible. Sanemi jumps from his seat, climbing over the other seats and passengers to keep Genya in sight and ignoring their protests. But eventually, they lose sight of each other, and Sanemi sighs, slumping back to his chosen seat.
He tries to get comfortable, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. He had a six-hour journey ahead of him, so he might as well get settled in now. But just as he’s about to drift off about thirty minutes in, someone plops into the seat directly in front of him, turning around and peering over the top at him. He tries to ignore the very blatant staring at first, squeezing his eyes shut and turning toward the window. But the longer it goes on, the more it begins to get under his skin.
“What,” he growls.
“Were those your siblings? From the window? With the one that ran after the train?” A boyish voice replies.
“Nunya.”
“I thought it was sweet! You’re the oldest, right?”
Sanemi grunts in reply. The other boy takes this as an admission and an invitation, swinging around the seat and sitting himself down right next to Sanemi instead. What the fuck. He opens his eyes, staring at the boy incredulously.
It’s the kid from the parking lot. This close, he can make out his features more clearly, from his stupid gap-toothed smile to his hair that was slicked back to expose his huge ass forehead and the two little claw-like scars below his left eye. He looks about one or two years older than Sanemi, but Sanemi’s still sure he can take him if need be. The boy’s grin widens when he notices Sanemi looking at him, and he holds out his hand to shake.
“Hi! I’m Masachika Kumeno! I meant to say that back at the station but you seemed kinda busy.”
“I don’t care.”
The boy, Kumeno or whatever, seems unphased by his callous response, eventually retracting his hand. Kumeno eyes his clothing and visibly brightens further, if that were somehow even possible. This kid was like a living lightbulb, glowing and buzzing with electric energy.
“You’re going to Kimetsu too! I’ve never seen you before, so that must make you my Kohai!”
Sanemi stiffens, slowly turning back to eye the other boy warily. This dolt was going to Kimetsu Gakuen? But sure enough, even though he wasn’t wearing the outer robes like Sanemi, he had on the pressed, white-collar shirt that went under the vest and cape. The boy giggles at him.
“You know you don’t have to wear the full getup all the time, right?”
Sanemi’s face warms against his will, and he shoves the other boy out of his seat. Kumeno laughs it off, brushing himself off.
“Hey, I’ll show you around when we get there. Just don’t be shy, yeah?”
“I don’t need shit from you.”
“Everyone needs a friend,” he sighs dramatically. “And I guess it’s up to your faithful senpai to show you that!”
“I don’t give a shit about your stupid senpai fantasies. As far as I’m concerned, you’re competition. And I’ll crush you if you get in my way.”
Something close to pity flashes in the other boy’s eyes, and Sanemi can’t take it anymore, plopping back down in his seat and setting his bag in the seat next to him to block the other boy, a clear sign he didn’t want to be messed with. Thankfully, the other boy seems to get the hint, returning to the seat in front of him and facing forward.
For the next few hours, Sanemi has peace. But still, he can’t get that look out of his head. Who did Kumeno think he was? Looking at Sanemi like that? They’d barely met and already he was looking down on him?
After a few hours of riding in silence, his stomach growls, and he sighs. He starts to dig through his carry-on bag for some snacks when he finds a small parcel carefully wrapped in cloth with a note tag tied to it. He turns it towards him curiously.
“Dear Nemi! Ma and I made you something special for the road!”
Interest piqued, he unwraps it, revealing a small bento box. Sliding it open, he finds it stuffed to the brim with rice, seasoned beef, and…
Ohagi. Homemade.
Gods, he was gonna miss them. He goes straight for the ohagi, biting into the sweet, lumpy bean paste and pulling at the sticky mochi in the center. It was perfect. Exactly the way he liked it. If only he had some matcha to go with it.
He finishes it off in three huge bites, licking his fingers clean before shutting the box. He sets it to the side and wiggles around in his seat, trying to get as comfortable as possible, ready to sleep off the rest of the trip.
He checks out the window, seeing nothing but vast fields of crops and towering trees in the distance. He wonders what his family is doing right about now. They should be home by now. Their mother had taken the morning off from work to see Sanemi off, but by now, she would have surely gone off to work. That would leave Genya home alone with all the kids, as it was a Sunday, meaning no school for the lot of them.
He could picture them now, Hiroshi and Teiko causing chaos as they fought over who got to play with what. The twins loved each other, truly, but they were also always at each other’s throats. Sumi, spoiled as she was, was probably demanding Genya’s undivided attention. Ever since she had popped out of the womb, they’d bent over backward to give her everything she could ever want, and while she was still a sweet girl, she could be quite the brat when she wanted to be.
Then there was little baby Shuuya. If Genya had been Sanemi’s baby, then Shuuya was Genya’s baby. The boy had even got the final say in picking out the baby’s name. He was always attached to Genya’s hip in some way, shape, or form, strapped to his back or held in his arms. It worried Sanemi a bit just how fast Genya was maturing to take care of his siblings, but he also couldn’t help but be proud.
Sanemi’s eyes droop, drifting off to thoughts of his precious family. He wishes he could bring them all with him, pile all his siblings into his arms, and hold them close. He longed to whisk his mother away from her dead-end job that forced her to work while heavily pregnant.
He curls up on his side as he imagines it, eyes sliding closed. His heavy lashes flutter, brushing over his rounded cheeks. They are in a brand new house as they welcome the new baby into their life, baby Koto. Their mama is smiling as she kneels to show him off, the rest of his little siblings gathered around in awe at the newest arrival. Everyone has their own room, a fresh meal on the table. Mama has nowhere to be, having just given birth. Even their normally dour father is happy, sitting in his favorite reclining chair, sober and present.
Sanemi drifts off with a smile.
“Oi, Oi! Nemi! Wake up!”
Sanemi’s eyes snap open at the sound of that nickname coming from an unfamiliar voice. He abruptly sits up, nearly smacking foreheads with Kumeno, who had been hovering over him while he slept. Creep.
“What the fuck did you just call me?”
“Nemi? That’s your name, isn’t it? I saw it on the card from your bento!”
Sanemi rises from his seat, steps forward so he’s nose to nose with Kumeno, and grabs a fistful of his shirt.
“That’s not my name. It’s Sanemi. Shinazugawa to the likes of you,” he spits.
Kumeno raises his hands placatingly.
“Sorry, man. Just wanted to wake you up since we’re about five minutes or so from our stop. Just figured you’d want to know.”
Sanemi peers out the window, seeing that they’d indeed just about made it to the first stop. From here, he’d have to walk into town and find the designated meetup point they’d assigned for him. From there, he’d be escorted onto campus. Supposedly, the school was huge. From the pictures he had seen, it combined modern architecture with old, the iconic sprawling castle feel with all the modern amenities one would expect from a state-of-the-art school.
He grumbles to himself, stepping back and letting Kumeno go, but not without shooting him one last withering glare.
“If I hear you even think that name again, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
He grabs his bag from the seat and goes to wait by the doors, holding onto a nearby railing and pointedly ignoring the way the Kumeno boy stares after him. The train slows to a stop, and the doors slide open; Sanemi hardly waits even a second before hopping onto the platform. He pushes past the people waiting to board, beelining for the luggage cart so he can grab his shit and get to the meeting spot.
Which was a good 20-minute walk away that he had to make while hauling all of his shit. He sighs and hangs his head.
The sum of Sanemi’s life possessions could thankfully all be fit into one large suitcase, a duffel bag, and a carry-on backpack, so the struggle of carrying everything wasn’t too bad. He loops the duffel bag around the handle of the suitcase, piling it on top and shrugging the backpack onto his shoulders.
Sanemi was thankful he’d been born into a big city, as it made navigating the streets of downtown much easier. As it was, he easily weaved in and out of the crowds, following the signs that would point him toward the park.
He was supposed to meet with an attendant named “Goto,” who would then guide him to his dorm, drop off his bags, and take him to the introductory ceremony. He hoped this Goto guy had a car or something. He eyed the passing traffic at the crosswalk, waiting his turn to cross the street.
He was supposed to meet him by the statue that they’d erected of the first headmaster of Kimetsu Gakuen, the head of the Ubuyashiki clan and one of the most celebrated wizards and philanthropists in the world.
Sanemi rounds the corner of a building, the last turn before he should arrive at the park where the statue was erected, only to freeze in place at the sight that greeted him across the street.
The creature stands tall, with autumn-dappled feathers fanned for all to see. Its chest, snow white and speckled with dark brown, is puffed out. Its neck is slender but graceful, leading up to a round head set with deep-set, golden yellow eyes and a sharp, curved beak. Its front legs end in wicked talons, scraping curiously at the earth as it paws restlessly.
Its backside is sturdy and furred but still carries the same speckled pattern, like an appaloosa horse. Its feathered tail flicks at the air and its hooves, which are firmly planted and solid, kick up dust as it shuffles in place. Under the sunlight, Sanemi swears he can even see a slight green shimmer to its folded wings.
A hippogriff.
Half griffon and half horse, a rarity amongst magical creatures.
People stop in their tracks to stare, some even daring to come closer and take pictures. That’s when Sanemi finally notices that there’s a man perched on the great beast’s back. He looks about average height with narrow eyes. That was about all Sanemi could make out, the rest of his face shrouded by a dark head wrap and a paper mask that covered his face from the nose down. He’s dressed in a black button-up and baggy black pants with riding boots that reach mid-calf.
And where did they happen to be settled?
Right next to the statue where Sanemi needed to be. As amazing as it was to see a real-life hippogriff, he didn’t feel like getting mauled by some rich prick’s pet. And the guy had to be rich. Hippogriffs were notoriously hard to breed and, as such, were more of a status symbol than anything. He'd read about them when he was little and had a bit of a hyper-fixation on magical creatures.
He edges as close to the statue as he can get, hoping the guy won’t notice him to no avail.
Honey-brown eyes land on him and widen.
“Hey! You, kid!” The man in black shouts. He tugs on the reins, guiding his steed into a light canter. Sanemi warily backs up.
"Hold on! I’m Goto,” he introduced. “And you fit the description of the Shinazugawa kid I’m supposed to be picking up.”
Sanemi freezes mid-step. No fucking way this was the guy. The man laughs at his expression and Sanemi glowers up at him.
“Surprised about my ride? Man, they don’t tell you new kids a thing, do they? We at Kimetsu take particular pride in our magical creature program, and one of our previous headmasters was pretty enamored with hippogriffs. So, it became a sort of tradition to give new students a fly-over tour of campus on the back of one.”
He slides off the creature’s back and crouches next to it, forming his hands into a platform.
“C’mon, I’ll help you get settled. The school isn’t too far from here, just about a five-minute flight. On the way there, I’ll give you a brief run-down on what you can expect from the commencement ceremony.”
Sanemi stares at Goto, overwhelmed. He clutches the bottom of his robe in his fists, brows furrowing in anger. He can hear the same people who were staring before whispering amongst each other, and Sanemi finds himself back in grade school all over again. Why wouldn’t they just tell him about this? Were they trying to get a rise out of the poor boy, rub it in his face that he truly didn’t belong there?
But there’s no malice in the man’s eyes as he waits there patiently. Sanemi grits his teeth together, forcing himself to let go as he steps forward and lets Goto help him onto the beast’s back.
The perspective shift is immediate. Instantly, the people who were staring felt so much smaller, so much less consequential. He wonders if this was the view other children had when they rode upon their father’s shoulders.
He can feel every shift, every twitch of the hippogriff’s muscles between his legs, and he clutches handfuls of its feathers to hang on. Goto climbs on just in front of him, doing a half-turn on the beast’s back.
“Just a reminder that you signed a waiver when you signed up to go here, kid. So, you better hang on tight.”
Sanemi’s widen just as Goto digs his heels into the creature’s sides. It screeches, and the onlookers yell in alarm, stumbling back as it crouches its front legs, great wings unfurling to either side of them. They were even more beautiful up close, shimmering under the sunlight. The beast crouches on its front legs, flapping experimentally a few times. Sanemi feels the shimmy of its haunches and grips tighter to both the beast and Goto. It launches itself with one great leap, wings flapping frantically to catch the wind. Sanemi's hair is blown back by the wind, and he resists the urge to childishly hide his face against Goto's back.
The hippogriff circles the park a few times before swooping down, grasping his bags in its front talons, and with a few more strong flaps, they’ve taken to the air, the people below them mere afterthoughts. Sanemi watches them grow smaller and smaller until he can’t even make them out anymore.
From this high, he could see practically the whole city laid out below him. All the twisting and turning roads, the cars dotted along them in orderly little lines. Clouds drifted in and out of view, fluffy and white and so close he could touch them if he just leaned a little to the side. Before he can test his theory, Goto grabs his attention once more, this time by gripping his arms. He meets Goto’s stern glare.
“Keep your body positioned over the hippogriff at all times. I made that joke about the waiver, but it’d be a lot of trouble if you went and fell off.”
Sanemi yanks his hands from Goto’s grip, burying them in the hippogriff’s thick feathers to hold on.
“Tch. ‘M not stupid.”
But Sanemi doesn’t dwell on it for long, as in the distance, he can see the glittering water surface of a large lake. And just over the top of the jewel-like surface, he sees it.
Kimetsu Gakuen.
Great pillars of dark marble hold the colossal eastern-style castle up, and spiraling towers that pierce the heavens loom over them. Surrounding the sprawling courtyard and great lake is a grove of wisteria trees, all in full, brilliant bloom despite the early fall season. The blossoms scent the air beautifully; even this high up and far away, he can smell them. In the air, he spots dozens of other hippogriffs, each with their own pair of riders, coming from all directions but all convening on the magnificent building in the center.
It was like a scene straight out of the legends Sanemi used to tell Genya: soaring amongst the clouds to a land of magic and dreams. In that moment, Sanemi truly felt destined for greatness.
Goto, as if sensing his awe, throws a smirk over his shoulder.
“Pretty great view, huh!? Welcome to the infinity castle!”
“Wait, like the Infinity Castle?! From the legend?!” Sanemi has to yell to be heard over the roaring wind rushing past his ears.
“One and the same!” Goto shouts back.
The castle in the distance grows ever larger and more intimidating the closer they get. Goto gently tugs the reins, guiding the hippogriff into a wide turn, leading it toward one of the many buildings scattered along the campus grounds.
The hippogriff circles a dirt clearing behind the building. It drops his bags in a heap, landing a few feet away, talons digging into the dirt for traction and as it skids. Goto takes the opportunity to stretch his cramping arms and legs.
“From here, we’ll be taking you to the auditorium for commencement. There, they’ll determine what level you’re at.”
Right.
Kimetsu Gakuen had a bit of a unique sorting system for students. While students were separated by grade like a typical school, students were also separated further by skill level. “So that the exceptional may succeed and those that need special attention can receive it,” they had said. But really it was a glorified ranking system, another aspect adding to the highly competitive atmosphere of the academy. There were eleven ranks, the first ten named after the heavenly stem: Mizunoto, Mizunoe, Kanoto, Kanoe, Tsuchinoto, Tsuchinoe, Hinoto, Hinoe, Kinoto, and Kinoe. Finally, there was the highest rank, the most illustrious of all: the Hashira rank. Named as such as they were destined to become pillars of society, most could only dream of having the talent and skill to be in the Hashira class.
Some were practically born into the class, like the famous Rengoku clan, while others were more of a surprise entry. Even Sanemi had heard about the supposed ex-convict turned prodigy student. If he remembered correctly, the guy should be in his final year at the school.
Goto slides off the back of the hippogriff, helping Sanemi off before stooping over to grab his bags. A few attendants emerge from the building, a young woman and her helper taking the reins of the hippogriff and leading it away.
“Now, c’mon. I’ll help you drop your bags off and then walk you to the entrance hall.”
Goto gestures to the building. A few feet away from them, another hippogriff lands, a shell-shocked student clinging to their attendant on its back. They really did do this for every new student, then.
“You’ve been placed in the Wind dorms. It’s the dorm specifically for those who got in on a scholarship. Something about the snotty brats who paid to get in, not wanting to associate with “freeloaders” or whatever. This was the best compromise.”
Great. In other words, the “poor people’s” dorms.
Goto must notice the look on his face because he’s quick to reassure.
“That’s not to say they’re bad! Quite the opposite! It’s one of the older buildings on campus, sure, but it’s got all the modern amenities you could want!”
He hands off Sanemi’s duffel bag so he can free up a hand to open the door. The inside is so much more extravagant than Sanemi had imagined. He steps into the wide-open lobby area, head swiveling to take in every inch of the place. The most baffling part was how modern it all looked. From the outside, it looked like something straight out of a fairy tale: an imposing castle with a courtyard full of sprawling estates and stables.
He wondered vaguely what the rich people's dorms must look like.
Goto leads Sanemi up the stairwell to the freshman floor. They stop in front of room 221.
“This is your stop. And just a heads up, but your roommate got here a couple of days before you. Try not to start anything, would you?”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”
Goto shakes his head, pulling out a wand from his sleeve and tapping the knob. It unlocks with an audible click. He pushes open the door, revealing a medium-sized room with two beds on either side, bigger than the one Sanemi shared with his brothers back at home. Half of the room is already covered in stuff, clothes and small trinkets. Stuffed in the corner is an empty terrarium filled with rocks and small plants, as well as a little heat lamp.
His mystery roommate is nowhere to be found, however.
“He must already be at commencement, then. Which you have about 20 minutes to get to. So, drop your bags off, and let’s get a move on. You’ll have all day to get set up after commencement lets out.”
Sanemi rolls his eyes, tossing his bags on the spare bed. His roommate had chosen the bed by the windows, which meant Sanemi got the bed closest to the door. Whoever the guy was, he sure liked his monotone colors. Not that Sanemi was a particularly colorful person.
He follows Goto back out the door and down the hallway. He stares down at his shiny new boots, cape fluttering around him as he walks. This all felt so… surreal—the fancy buildings, the fancy clothes, and having to share a room that big with only one person. It felt like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole like he fundamentally wasn’t made to be there.
He was led out the front doors and onto the lawn area. A well-worn path led up to the main castle, where a dozen or so other students made their way up the hill to the main building. Goto cocks his head at him curiously.
“Go ahead and ask your questions now. Once I drop you off at commencement, we’ll be going our separate ways.”
Sanemi blinks up at him, thinking for a moment.
“Who are you?”
“Eh? I already told you, I’m Goto.”
“I mean, to the school. You don’t look old enough to be a teacher.”
“Oh! I’m an attendant. I handle all the stuff in the background that’s below the teachers’ pay grade,” Goto explains.
“…So, like a janitor?”
Goto’s eye twitches, and he resists the urge to thump the little shit on the back of the head. He’s not… wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to put it so bluntly!
“Did you used to go here?” Sanemi barrels on as if he hadn’t just insulted Goto’s entire livelihood.
“Sure did,” Goto sighs, letting it go. “Most of the people who work here are alumni. It’s kind of a tradition for the school to hire its students. The teachers that work here were all former students as well. We even have a couple of Hashira-level alumni teaching this year. Lucky for you. Granted, the pickings have been slim as far as Hashira go.”
“Let me guess, you weren’t Hashira level?”
“Nah, I was a Tsuchinoe and proud of it. Middle of the pack is where it’s at. Ah, speaking of. You seem like the overachiever type but don’t take it too hard if they put you with the Mizus. Most first-years are placed there and have to work their way up.”
Sanemi glowers at Goto, instantly defensive.
“Not to tell you it’s not possible to start higher, but magic is a bit like a muscle, in my opinion. You gotta work it to get it to the skill and prowess needed for the Hashira class. First-year Hashira are pretty rare.”
“Don’t underestimate me. I got in on my own ability.”
Goto shrugs.
“You and a whole dorm full of people. The headmaster is known for his generosity, so don’t go getting a big head already. You’ve only just begun to prove yourself.”
If Sanemi was being entirely honest, he didn’t really care about the status that came with being awarded the Hashira title. All he really wanted was to be able to support his family, and if being a Mizunoto was enough, then so be it. Sanemi didn’t really have dreams for himself, only his family. But this Goto guy was really pissing him off.
“Fuck off. I don’t have to prove shit to you.”
He storms ahead on the path, brushing past Goto. He didn’t need a guide to get to the giant-ass obvious castle. He was perfectly capable of following a straight path, thank you very much. Goto lets him run ahead with a shake of his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leisurely strolls behind.
Sanemi pauses at the steps to the main building, blocking the path. Students of all ages shove past him, glaring at him in annoyance, but Sanemi doesn’t give a damn. He catches a glimpse of the entrance hall, packed to the brim with bodies chattering amongst themselves. After another moment, he ascends the steps, stepping through the propped-open doors.
The atmosphere inside is almost oppressive. The entrance hall alone is grand and sprawling, finished with marble and the finest aged wood. It is lined with long banquet tables and rows upon rows of seating, hanging lanterns lining the ceiling and walls like a sea of firelights. He swears he sees them drifting and moving about and wonders if they’ve been enchanted. He can’t imagine a reason why other than just to show off that they could.
Imposing carvings and statues of ancient gods and famous wizards line the walls, staring down at him with judging eyes. He swears their pupils follow him as he passes.
He makes his way to the nearest table, perching himself on one of the end seats, noting the way many of the students group together by age and even further by familiarity. Already, he could see the formation of cliques, even among the clearly new students. But it didn't matter much to Sanemi. He wasn't here to make friends.
The chair next to him is pulled out, and someone plops down next to him. Why the hell would someone pick that seat out of all…?
“I lost you after the train!” A familiar voice exclaims.
Kumeno. Of course.
“It’s almost as if I didn’t want you to find me,” he replies dryly.
The other boy simply laughs him off and throws an arm around Sanemi’s shoulder. Sanemi bristles at the unwelcome touch, shoving him off and scooting his chair farther away. Kumeno, however, doesn’t seem to take anything he does personally.
“How was your ride here, though? Man, I wish I coulda seen your face when you saw the hippogriff. It’s a pretty well-guarded secret tradition to surprise newbies with it. Oh! And I saw you were coming from the wind dorms! That’s where I’m staying, too! Man, I can really feel a connection between me and you.”
“What are you? Some kind of stalker? Stop following me!”
A sudden hush falls over the room, and Kumeno’s face turns serious. He turns in his seat, facing forward and head slightly bowed with respect.
Sanemi follows their collective gaze, eyes landing on a rather frail-looking man. Long black hair gently frames his face, which is, frankly, hard to look directly at. Mottled, purple skin covers the top half of his head, twisting his otherwise soft visage into something truly grotesque. Milky eyes that bulge from his head, swollen with disease, sweep over the room, pale, chapped lips upturned in the faintest smile. He is haunting. Attractive and twisted, but he exudes an air of peace.
On either side of him, there is a girl. The children are identical, with matching white hair, cropped short, and empty eyes. They smile blankly, each holding one of the man’s pale hands as they guide him to the front of the stage. The one on the man’s right pulls a wand from her sleeve, pressing it into his hand. He raises it with a trembling hand, pressing the point to his Adam’s apple. He must cast some kind of sound projection spell because, in the next moment, a voice echoes through their minds like tinkling bells.
“Welcome, my children.”