Daiki sat on the edge of the infirmary bed long after they'd both left, elbows resting on his knees, bruised hands dangling loosely in front of him.
A signal flare.
That's what they said he was now. Something glowing in a world he didn't even know existed twenty-four hours ago. He hadn't chosen this, hadn't wanted it, but now he was supposed to catch up before something worse found him first.
He'd never felt more out of place.
And that was saying a lot for a guy who was thrown into an orphanage where clean socks were considered the lottery.
He muttered under his breath, "All I did was try to help someone..."
Later that afternoon, a knock came at the door.
A boy about his age stood outside. He was shorter than Daiki by a couple of inches, with buzzed black hair, a faint scar under one eye, and a sharp jawline. He had a cool-looking uniform that was a little neater than it needed to be.
"You're the Late Bloomer, right?" he asked.
Wow. So that was his name now.
"Yeah."
"I'm Asuma. I was told to bring you to Dorm C. Grab your stuff."
Daiki looked around at the empty infirmary room. Even his phone was broken now.
"...This is my stuff."
Asuma didn't react. He just turned and started walking.
Daiki followed him down the quiet wooden hallways, his socks soft on the polished floors. They passed small training rooms, quiet offices, and a garden courtyard with a koi pond and stone lanterns. The sun had started to dip low behind the treetops, painting the temple roofs in soft gold.
Asuma finally spoke.
"Word is, you took down a Yurei bare-handed."
Daiki rubbed the back of his neck. "Is that what people are saying?"
People he didn't even know.
"That, and you nearly killed yourself doing it."
"...Sounds about right."
Asuma smirked a little, but didn't press further.
They eventually reached a plain two-story building near the back of the campus. Dorm C, compared to the temple-like buildings everywhere else, this one looked like a regular high school dorm. Aging wood, cement steps, rows of windows, and a faded sign with the kanji for Shinyo.
Asuma led him up the stairs and down a narrow hallway.
"Room 2-C," he said, stopping at a door. "You'll be sharing it with an upperclassman. Don't touch his stuff unless you want a fight."
"Cool," Daiki said. "Love that for me."
Asuma turned to leave, then paused.
"You don't have to prove anything to anyone," he said. "Just stay alive. That's all you need for now."
Before Daiki could respond, he was gone.
Inside, the room was small but functional. Two beds, two desks, a shared closet, a single sliding window that looked out over the woods, and even a small bathroom. One side of the room almost looked like a training ground more than a bedroom. Everything was alighned and nothing was out of place. There was even a pair of boxing gloves lying on the desk. The other, Daiki guessed it was his, was completely bare.
He flopped onto the mattress with a soft grunt, arms behind his head.
There was still a faint ache in his knuckles.
That desperate feeling from last night hadn't come back. But he could feel something deep inside his chest. A hum, low and steady. Like it hadn't left... just gone quiet for now.
The door creaked open.
Daiki sat up.
A tall, athletic-looking boy stepped in. He had short and ruffled pale white hair, and gallons of sweat dripped down his face. He looked about Daiki's age, but he was probably a year older.
They stared at each other for a second.
"You're the stray they dumped in my room?" the boy asked, tossing a bag onto his bed.
"....Yup," Daiki said. "Nice to meet you two."
The boy sighed and peeled off his shirt. "I'm Jin Narukami. Try not to snore."
"Noted," Daiki said flatly.
Jin opened a small drawer and pulled out a book, placing it on a table with great care.
"Word around town is that you awakened your Ketsugojin during a Yurei attack," he said. "You're a Late Bloomer, then."
Daiki furrowed his brow. "Yeah. Everyone's calling me that like it's a bad thing or something."
"Not necessarily," Jin said, grabbing a towel from his drawer. "It just means you've got catching up to do. Most of us were aware of our abilities when we were kids. A lot of people here come from long lines of Exorcists."
"Cool," Daiki muttered, lying back on the bed again. "I'm starting at the bottom."
Jin paused. "Look, you're here now. That's more than a lot of people get. Don't let it get to your head, though. You're not special for beating one Yurei."
"Believe me," Daiki said, "I don't feel special at all."
"Good," Jin said flatly. "Keep it that way."
He slung the towel over his shoulder and moved toward the door.
"They're probably going to evaluate your Ketsugojin soon. See what you can do and what you can't. Try not to mess up. People here are going to constantly pester you about the fact that you can't control your abilities yet. They're gonna try to test you."
"Like fight me..?"
"This isn't a normal school. Here, strength and control matter. If you're weak, someone will show you how weak."
He glanced back one last time over his shoulder.
"But don't let someone decide who you are before you do."
Daiki watched him leave, the door shutting quietly behind him.
He didn't know what to make of the guy. He was blunt, maybe even kind of an asshole, but there was something honest about him. No sugarcoating. No complex dumps of information.
Daiki appreciated that.
He stared up at the ceiling, the last bits of daylight fading through the curtain.
So he was a "Late Bloomer." Whatever that meant in this world.
He just knew that he hadn't come here to impress anyone.
He just didn't want to die.