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There are several ways to get into the Magic Knights: the most common and, truthfully, the easiest—despite the troublesome and unfavorable odds—is to take the annual exam; a lesser known method is to have a captain notice and vouch for you, being recruited into their squad specifically; and the most rarest of ways is to preform an outstanding, selfless, and heroic act that goes officially recognized by the Wizard King himself. He will ask you to serve the kingdom and, if you accept, he will appropriately place you within the squad he sees fit.
You, of course, are not capable of such an act.
It’s not that you wouldn’t if the occasion called for it, it’s more along the lines of not seeing yourself as physically and mentally able to do so. The life of a Magic Knight wasn't for you, you knew. Risking life and limb to bring peace to the people—if you were lucky, the money was good; if you weren’t, the responsibility was overwhelming. And besides, your magic, while it could have its uses in combat, had to be honed and required quite the bit of mana. You weren’t ambitious enough for that, or had the drive to better your skills and abilities.
You lived a quiet, simple life. As a child, you found your magic niche while playing with your mother’s jewelry box, as you were often wont to do. The ring you held in your hands floated out of reach and expanded, hovering in midair as the center filled and distorted, showing you the image of your mother within. She was shocked, peering at you through the circle. She told you her own ring had floated off of her hand and did the same as you had described, growing larger and showing your face in the center.
With a bit of practice, you learned how to control it. You marked the remaining rings, and your mother gave you one to keep—it was a useful communication tool. And with time, you learned even more. Expanding them was easy, but shrinking proved dangerous; they could be used as a location device, promote protection, and enhance observation beyond normal capacity.
It wasn’t uncommon for a person to live their entire life without a grimoire—but in your community, it was expected to make the trip once you reached the required age. At fifteen, the book that found you was of average size and it’s contents held only a handful of spells. Despite it, your mother was proud; so you accepted it as it was and thanked the tower master for the opportunity. In the following weeks, you spent much of your free time thumbing the pages, memorizing each word it held.
As you grew, and as the years passed you by, the pages filled at a snail’s pace—but that was okay with you. Ring magic, you found, had its uses in day-to-day life. It helped you get around town quickly and easily, and there wasn’t ever the worry about forgetting something at home, or anywhere else for the matter—a quick portal trip was all it took if you had previously marked the area beforehand.
That, against your better judgement, was all it took for a certain Magic Knight to notice you, too.
They were a rough and rambunctious crew, you knew, the brigade stationed just outside of your town. Being within close proximity to their base of operations, it was common to see it's members fulfilling duties around the local area, out running errands, or even during their leisure time. Even obscured by the trees, their daily activities could be heard coming from the forest—training, or arguing, or whatever else they could be doing, out in their parts of the woods.
Captain Yami Sukehiro got up early to get the daily paper every day. You know this because you ran into him that day, trying to get a head start on your chores. The sun was barely above the horizon when you stepped out of the ring—directly into his path. You stumbled, startled, but he had better reflexes. He caught you before you fell, and when your ring returned to your finger, you noticed his eyes lingering on it.
It took a moment more to realize he still held you in his arms after steadying you.
He was a built man, and standing there so close to him, pressed against his chest, briefly made you feel like the protagonist of one of those books you hoped you kept hidden in plain sight amongst countless others, on your bookshelf. Large compared to your considerable frame, ruggedly handsome, an intensity held in the shape of his brows, and brimming with unreachable magic power.
The newspaper he had acquired was tucked at the small of your back, beneath the warm hand that rested there. You heard it crinkle as the light in his steely eyes changed.
“Say,” he said, low and thoughtful. “How would you like a job?”
He asked you this, but his hold on you didn’t relent. In fact, it grew stronger, before you felt your weight shift, and was unceremoniously tossed over his shoulder without giving you the proper chance to answer. You felt when he started walking, the rocking of the entire world through your eyes as the scenery changed from buildings to trees.
And that’s how you found yourself sitting on the couch inside of the Black Bulls HQ. Captain Yami had briefly left you there before traveling further into the old building, only to come back dragging a sleepy-looking man, still in his bedclothes.
It was by this man—Finral Roulacase, you eventually realized; he looked considerably different having just rolled out of bed—at the behest of the captain, that the perks of being a Magic Knight was read to you. They were very nice benefits, of course, but, you told them, you didn’t really have any interest in joining their squad, or any, for that matter; and that you appreciated the job opportunity, really, but you really had to get back to your errands—
“There’s no way I’m letting that type of magic go,” Yami said, and towered over you. “Not when it’s so useful.”
Finral, having sensed your internal distress, cleared his throat. After catching the captain’s attention, he scratched at a cheek idly. “Now Yami, you can’t exactly force someone to join if they don’t want to…”
“Yes I can. I’ve done it before.” The captain turned back to you as he said: “And I’ll do it again.”
Damn. “Well!” you clapped your hands together and slowly stood. “You make a hard offer, Captain, but I think I need some time to think about it. How about I get back to you at a later date?”
Your plan of slinking away didn’t end up well, not when your every path was blocked by the sudden appearance of dark, unmovable walls. You knew of Yami Sukehiro’s magic; pitch-black and abysmal, rare enough that you’ve never seen the attribute firsthand. With the shadowy structures obscuring all available exits, you were trapped. Out of possible options, you opened up another portal and jumped through it.
“Damn it, don’t just stand there—move!” You picked up the pace as footsteps thundered behind you, the Magic Knight captain chasing you through the ring.
“Y-yessir!” Finral hopped through the portal as well, just as it closed up behind him. As the band returned to your finger, barreling through an alleyway, he squinted. “Wait…are you replacing me?”
“That’s your new backup,” Captain Yami pointed, and as you glanced over your shoulder to look, his grimoire floated beside him; flipping through page after page, as he settled on the desired spell.
You only got a few more feet before you felt the tendrils, wrapping around your waist. You kicked your legs, but it was useless—you were hauled up above the ground, surrounded by a lightless bondage. Frantic, you looked towards your ring—but it became engulfed by the darkness protruding from his grimoire, unresponsive. With nothing left to try, you gulped, and stopped your struggling.
They had you now.
“There,” the captain lit a cigarette as he approached. His spell held you above his head, but lowered you to eye level as he drew closer at a languid pace. “Now that you’ve had some time to mull it over, how about we make this official? Finral.”
The young man had just caught up to the two of you, bent over at the knees as he caught his breath—but straightened as soon as he was called. They exchanged silent looks before he sighed, reaching behind him through one of his own portals and taking out a piece of paper.
“Um,” he began. “This is the official document you would have to sign in order for us to classify you as a Magic Knight…It will be sent over to admissions to be properly filed away once you do.” He looked up at you, then at the captain beside him. “Of course, you don’t have to sign it—”
“You do,” Yami chimed in.
“…I guess you do.” Finral sweated, and held up the paper and a pen to your now-free arm—the one without your ring. “Just, uh, sign there at the bottom and you’ll be, you know, enlisted into the Black Bulls...!” Quieter, almost private, between the two of you—“It’s not so bad, really. I kind of like it.”
Taking the pen from him, you heaved a sigh. You thought about your rings, and how you should probably start carrying more of them around instead of just the one. You thought about how there were still chores to be done. You thought about your mother—and about how you could use whatever feeble earnings you made as a Magic Knight to support her in her old age, however difficult it might be.
Finral held his hand up behind the document for purchase as you signed your life away to the Bulls.
The captain snatched up the paper as soon as you were done and looked it over. “Huh, so that’s your name.” He handed it back to Finral, who placed it gently through a portal, presumably to be sent away later.
“Captain Yami,“ you started. You wiggled a bit at the binding still holding you, and felt it give a little. “You said you wanted my magic. I guess I should let you know that I don’t have any offensive spells. I don’t know how much use I could be, really. I can’t fight.”
“That's not a problem,” he offered you a hand, helping you down to your feet surprisingly gently. And as you stood there before him, the first rays of sunlight peeking out from behind his hair, you were reminded of his features—broad-shouldered and rough-hewn, sharp and angular—as the shadows pulled away from his face. “You can open gates, that’s the type of magic I’ve been looking for. And I’ve found it. I want you.”
You felt warmth coloring your cheeks at his choice of words; and faintly, you realized that neither of you had let go, hand still held in his between the two of you. You’ve heard rumor of his unimaginable strength, able to crush boulders and crumble any wall, but you felt only the smallest amount as he gave a light squeeze. And you wondered then, if he knew what he was doing.
“Take me where I need to go,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking from you. This loser isn’t always available, even when he should be.” A glare at Finral sent a shiver down the man’s spine. “I’m guessing your magic is similar to his—you need to mark places first, right?”
“Um, yeah.” This was all going way too fast.
He turned back to Finral. “The two of you, go and imprint on all the places you have.”
“What?” Finral was as flabbergasted as you. “Do you know how long that will take? That’s a lot of magic power—and how do you think—”
“Shut up,” Yami turned to walk away. “Surpass your limits, both of you.” As he left the alley, taking center directly in the sun, he looked back. Cigarette smoke wafted around him, and your eyes locked. “We’ll catch up later. You and me are going to spend a lot of time together, from now on.” He smiled then, a small grin that reminded you that your hand was still raised in the air, after he had let go of it. “Welcome to the Black Bulls.” Stepping into the sun, he disappeared, laughing all the while; loud and boisterous, the full-body kind, like it was the most hilarious thing in the world—like he knows he’s won.
You felt yourself blushing, despite yourself.