Chapter IV.LII (4.52) - Second Term Midterms

  “Impressive,” Professor Grove acknowledged. “You’ve come a long way quickly, Kaga.”

  In front of the wisp professor loomed a massive, multi-headed bear. It growled and shifted. Then Kizu released his carefully crafted illusion, revealing himself at its center, ice sword in hand. It was difficult to layer the illusion with divinations to keep it realistic, but if he did it properly, he could theoretically strike from within with a weapon. Now the real challenge would be maintaining the illusion while simultaneously casting an offensive spell, completely separate. That remained out of reach for the moment, but he felt on the cusp of a breakthrough. Every successful combination of magic he managed so far felt satisfying beyond belief.

  “Thank you, professor.”

  “You’ve exceeded my expectations. I expect next year I will see you among my S class students.”

  “Does that mean I passed the Divination B midterm?” Kizu asked.

  “Yes, you’ve certainly passed. I’ll give you a complete write up of my thoughts on your performance in a week. Now return to the courtyard and please send in the next student.”

  Kizu bowed to the wisp and exited her office.

  “Aoi, you’re up next,” he called out as he rejoined his peers.

  The princess nodded in his direction as she rose from her seat. He heard her muttering to herself as she passed him by. “In theory, the technique should be as simple as carving wards into the bones….”

  He had no idea what that had to do with combining illusions with divination magic but he wished her the best as he sat down on the courtyard’s freshly cut grass. Nervous students chattered, preparing for the test while those like himself who’d completed it, relaxed and enjoyed the sunshine.

  On the other side of the courtyard’s pond, he noticed Emilia watching him intently. Despite sharing two classes with him, she thankfully hadn’t approached him since the cafeteria after her return to the academy, but he had the impression that rather than giving up on him, she was instead bidding her time.

  Well, she could continue to wait for decades. It made no difference to Kizu.

  In contrast to Emilia’s constant attention, Kizu saw Finn off to the side, diligently studying with four different books open. He appeared to be cross referencing as his attention snapped from one page to the next book’s. Never once did Kizu’s brother even glance in his direction.

  This midterm’s success had been a simple result of practice and dedication. However, his previous class’ midterm had returned less of a bounty with its results. Summoning F remained completely impossible. The spellcraft just was utterly out of reach. And Professor Oasaji refused to allow Kizu to push himself again like he had in the first class. Instead, Kizu had spent the last couple months simply copying summoning circle designs and attempting every possible summon in a fruitless hope that one of them might click for him. His midterm performance had just been him sketching out a circle with no result.

  Politics F and Rejuvenation and Restoration F were both paper tests that he passed with flying colors, having memorized the content with ease. Not that either of those two professors had been particularly impressed by his display of knowledge. Krimpit and Taroe rivaled one another for the position of Shinzou Academy’s grumpiest professor.

  However, Kizu expected his upcoming classes to be more like his results in Divination B. He had basically mastered basic auditory illusions for Illusions A so that should be an easy midterm. He had moved on to trying to mimic complicated sounds like speaking.

  In their last Numerology F class Professor Knoff had been so pleased by Kizu’s most recent display of sums that he called on him to explain and help the other students in class.

  For Combat F he was supposed to write up a report about their experience working on the field completing their quest. But Evie insisted that she take on the bulk of the report herself, since she saw her contribution as lacking. And Kizu had enough on his plate that he let her take that off his shoulders without too much resistance.

  The bell rang, dismissing them from class. Stina joined him as Kizu started off towards the other end of the academy where the Drama Club was practicing their performances. While Kizu was a few centimeters taller than average, Stina's height dwarfed him by a head, making him feel a bit like a child in her shadow.

  As they exited the courtyard, Kizu caught a glimpse of Emilia glaring at Stina’s back. Kizu considered trying to explain that nothing was happening between him and Stina, but then decided it wasn’t his responsibility to coddle and reassure Emilia.

  “Kaga, how do you view your role in our stagecraft?” Stina asked as they walked. “You appear pensive. Are you not satisfied?”

  “I wish I had a smaller part,” Kizu answered honestly. “I’m having trouble keeping track of my lines. It’s easier when I have another character on stage to play off of, but being the ronin means too many soliloquies for my taste. It’s sort of a pain.”

  “And yet, you did not oppose our director’s assigned role.”

  “I owe Faible a lot. He’s been helping me a lot this semester. My history rank has soured up thanks to his tutoring. And, besides, the play itself has helped me on several of the history exam questions as well.”

  They passed by the Art Club’s room. Inside was a frenzy as students prepared their best works to showcase on Parents’ Day. He hopped to the left, barely dodging a glob of rainbow paint that burst from inside the room. It instead landed on Stina’s black boots. She glanced down at the splatter of color on her dark outfit. Then the color simply absorbed into the boots, consumed by the darkness.

  “Interesting enchantment,” Kizu commented.

  “Unlike the Hon covens, we Tross witches believe that our image carries power. Better to not spoil it by appearing as uncouth, sloppy louts.”

  “So you think you’re more civilized?” Kizu honestly agreed with that assessment. If anything, Chiame’s outbursts in Ione supplied evidence of the fact that a Hon witch would never have the self control to keep her composure in an academic setting.

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  A smirk touched the edges of Stina’s lips as she looked down at Kizu. “You believe me civil? I would devour the eyes of Titans if given only a shred of an opportunity. The opportunity to glimpse the supreme power entices me beyond the reach of any lesson. Oblivion awaits those who remain content in their societies.”

  They entered into the large ballroom they’d used for the school dance last semester. Now it had been converted over to a stage and makeshift auditorium, with rows of seats raised up and suspended in the air by magic.

  Kizu and Stina walked up to the stage and found themselves plunged into the middle of an argument.

  “You don’t understand, I’ve already signed the contract. It’s magically binding.” Basil wore an even more outlandish outfit than usual. Some sort of circlet with potion bottles stuck to it. Each bottle held a letter, spelling out J-I-N’-S-B-R-E-W.

  “That doesn’t match with your character at all!” Faible snapped back. “Even if I was willing to fold on the issue, which I’m not, Professor Krimpit was remarkably clear to all of us about altering the text.”

  “Nothing in the text states my character doesn’t wear a potion tiara,” Basil insisted. “Come on, man. There’s no backing out of this sponsorship now.”

  Kizu spotted Ione lounging in the auditorium seats, her feet up on the seatback in front of her as she spectated. He split from Stina to sit next to Ione.

  “Basil signed a contract to wear that hat?” he asked her, trying to piece together the conversation.

  “Yeah. It’s a sponsorship with Jin’s Brews and Tonics. They’re a potion brewing company that’s based out of Hon. Apparently someone in the company caught wind of Basil’s role as the announcer in the contest at the start of the semester and appealed to him for a sponsorship. He has to wear that hat for the next couple weeks and he’s contracted to mention their company four times during his next speech in front of a crowd of over four hundred people.”

  “Which will be the performance for Parents’ Day,” Kizu surmised.

  “Unless he can set up a different speech in front of hundreds of people.”

  Kizu met her eyes and they stared at each other. Then they burst into laughter.

  Faible momentarily turned his ire on them and ordered Kizu to go backstage and get dressed for rehearsal. Ione didn’t have any outfit to change into as their summoner, but she joined him anyway.

  “How’d your midterms go?” Kizu asked.

  “Hm. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail. Stunning success. Fail. And fail. About what I expected.”

  “You failed your combat class?” Kizu asked.

  “Okay, I didn’t actually fail that one,” Ione admitted. “But it sounds more dramatic if I only have one successful class.”

  “Did you also have a quest assignment?” Kizu asked. He figured she probably would have mentioned it by now if she had, but Ione rarely spoke about her other classes. Likely a result of her sleeping through most of them.

  “No. Arclight rotates the classes that get quests each quarter. There aren’t enough quests in town for her to do the assignment every quarter with every class. Last year I took on a quest to investigate a worm infection of a nearby orchard of magically enhanced pineapples. I had hoped that the worms might acquire some sort of unique magical quality from the fruit. Alas. Just normal worms. Summoned a few critters to snack on them and finished the assignment in an hour or two.”

  “What is the point of magical enhanced pineapple?”

  “Who knows? I’m in the Drama Club. Not the Gardening Club. Raise your arms and I’ll tie that for you.”

  Kizu did as she commanded and she tied the knot of his obi sash. Then she straightened his kimono. Or, at least he assumed that until he saw himself in the mirror. He looked more lopsided than ever.

  “Have you tried tying your hair back in a rugged bun?” Ione suggested. “And maybe don’t shave for a few days. Might be more of a rugged ronin style.”

  “What do you know about ronins?”

  “Oh, my family was founded by one. That’s how we got into the prison business centuries ago. A ronin was hired to watch over war captives. And he did a phenomenal job. So he founded a prison. We have paintings of him in our house. He was notorious for deciding that dismemberment was a solution to most problems.”

  Kizu didn’t recall any paintings of a limb chopping rogue samurai in Ione’s house when he visited. Granted, he hadn’t exactly searched the place.

  “Are you parents coming to Parents’ Day?” Kizu asked. “I only saw them in passing and didn’t introduce myself to them when I visited Hon.”

  “Hm. One will probably. Coin flip which. They’ll want to chat to the professors about updates on Sene’s potential.” Ione paused. “And your parents?”

  Kizu blinked. Despite all the talk about the upcoming Parents’ Day, he hadn’t actually considered his own family. They felt so disconnected from his life. He received a weekly envelope with an allowance and that was the limit of their contact.

  “I…I don’t know. When they sent me off to the academy at the start of last semester they mentioned that they’d come to the end of the year tournament. They didn’t say anything about Parents’ Day.”

  “My mother is dead,” a new voice said.

  Kizu whirled around to see Akira leaning against the wall not far from them. His always present slight smirk on his face.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Kizu said stiffly.

  “So am I. She was a good mother.”

  Kizu wasn’t certain if Akira was actually being genuine about the comment. His inflection remained unchanged from his usual cool tone. Kizu didn’t think he’d ever seen the prince phased by anything.

  “But plenty of the Hon nobility will show up,” Akira continued. “My grandmother will certainly be around. I’m certain she’ll come watch our performance.”

  “Great.” Kizu hadn’t been nervous before, but knowing that spiteful woman would be in the audience planted a seed of worry. Irrational as that might be.

  Akira, like Kizu, was dressed with a kimono. His character was one of Kizu’s fellow stranded countrymen from Hon who died in the first act and had less than a dozen lines. During one of their tutoring sessions, Faible had confided in Kizu that he simply didn’t know what to do with the prince. Akira simply had no talent for acting. He went onto the stage and spoke in the same creepy tone as always and never dropped his smile. Faible had privately dubbed Akira as ‘the worst actor to ever grace the stage before my eyes.’ But the gnome also felt like he couldn’t cut him and put him on prop duty or anything because the nobility might feel snubbed to not have him on stage. That concern made more sense now that Kizu knew Akira’s family would be present.

  “I would have thought the Hon nobles would have other duties to distract them from a bunch of kids playing pretend on a stage,” Ione said.

  “Oh no,” Akira shook his head. “Even Emperor Sasaki said he will be present. He’s very excited about the little vacation.”

  “Sasaki’s coming to visit? Cool.” Basil said, interjecting himself into the conversation. Apparently his disagreement with Faible must have finally concluded. He took his place in front of a mirror and his hands blurred with enhanced speed as he applied make-up. “Also, Kizu, Faible wants you on stage. Launch into your lines from Act 2, scene 4. He’s worried that your counterpoint in that scene is lacking synergy with you and wants you to review it together. Make sure you enter stage left this time.”

  “Oh!” Ione sat up. “That’s the scene where I summon the raptor and the butterflies! I’ll get ready too.”

  They got up and started towards the exit.

  “Good luck, Kaga,” Akira said. “I’ll be watching.”

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