Malcolm Sinclair squinted against the morning sun as he stepped off the ship onto Kagetsu soil. The wooden dock creaked beneath his boots, a sound almost drowned by the cacophony of the harbor – sailors shouting in a language he barely understood, gulls screaming overhead, and the constant slosh of water against the hulls of ships. The air tasted of salt and fish and something unfamiliar – a spice perhaps, carried on the breeze from the market stalls that lined the waterfront.

  He hitched his pack higher on his shoulder and glanced back at the vessel that had brought him across the Jade Sea. The Southern Wind had been his home for the past three weeks. It felt strange now to be standing on solid ground, especially ground so far from Redoak.

  "Watch yourself, lad," a gruff voice called out in Common. Captain Renlow, a weathered Redoak sailor with skin like tanned leather, nodded at him from the deck. "These Kagetsu folk don't much care for our ways. Mind your manners."

  "I'll try not to start any diplomatic incidents," Malcolm called back with a grin that felt more confident than he truly was. "Appreciate the passage."

  The captain grunted in acknowledgment before turning away to berate a deckhand. Malcolm took a deep breath and turned to face the city of Lumina.

  It sprawled before him, a maze of narrow streets climbing up the gentle hill from the harbor. Unlike the sprawling, practical wooden structures of Redoak, the buildings here were constructed with a precision that seemed almost obsessive – elegantly curved tile roofs in deep blues and greens, walls of white plaster and dark wood beams arranged in perfect geometric patterns. Even from here, he could see the small gardens tucked between buildings, meticulously arranged stones and precisely trimmed trees creating miniature landscapes.

  Higher on the hill, he spotted what must be the Imperial Palace, its multi-tiered roofs gleaming gold in the morning light. And further still, almost at the edge of the city, perched what could only be Enshin Academy – a massive compound surrounded by high walls, with pagoda-like structures rising above them.

  Malcolm swallowed. That distant collection of buildings was to be his home for the next four years. His parents should have been seeing him off to an apprenticeship in the family business, not... He cut the thought short, the familiar weight of grief settling in his chest.

  "First time in Kagetsu?"

  Malcolm turned to find a short, balding man with a clipboard looking up at him. The man wore the dark blue robes of a harbor official, complete with a small embroidered insignia Malcolm didn't recognize.

  "That obvious, huh?" Malcolm answered, extending his hand automatically. "Name's Malcolm Sinclair."

  The official stared at Malcolm's outstretched hand without moving to take it, his expression a careful blank.

  "Oh, right," Malcolm mumbled, hastily withdrawing his hand and attempting a bow instead. He'd been briefed on this during the journey – no handshakes in Kagetsu, especially not with officials. Bowing was the proper greeting, with the depth indicating relative status. He bent at the waist awkwardly, not sure how deeply was appropriate.

  The official's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. "Your arrival papers, please."

  Malcolm fumbled in his vest pocket and produced a sealed envelope bearing the Royal Council's crest. The ship's manifest had listed him as a diplomatic passenger, which had raised a few eyebrows but spared him from the crew's usual hazing of landsmen.

  The official broke the seal, eyes scanning the document within. His eyebrows rose slightly as he read.

  "Ah, you are the Redoak student for Enshin Academy." The man's tone shifted subtly, becoming more formal. "I see the arrangements have been confirmed. Sinclair-san, please follow the blue path markers to the Academy Reception Office in the Central District. Present these documents there." He handed Malcolm a second sealed envelope, this one bearing the Academy's flame insignia. "Do not deviate from the marked path. Do not speak to merchants. A guide will meet you at the district checkpoint."

  "Appreciate it," Malcolm said, reaching for the papers. "Any chance of grabbing some breakfast along the way? Ship food wasn't exactly—"

  The official had already turned away, moving to the next arrival, a merchant with a wagon of crates being unloaded from a neighboring vessel.

  Malcolm sighed. So much for small talk. He tucked the papers into his inner pocket and adjusted his pack once more. The weight of his meager possessions reminded him of everything he'd left behind. Most of his family's things were in storage back in Redoak, under his uncle's supervision until Malcolm came of age to decide what to do with the business. All he had now were some clothes, a few books, his father's pocket watch, and his mother's silver hairpin – that and enough coin to live comfortably for a while, thanks to the "diplomatic compensation."

  Blood money, some would call it. A kingdom's way of saying "sorry we accidentally killed your parents during trade negotiations, here's enough silver to make it go away." But the scholarship to Enshin Academy – that had been Malcolm's own idea. If he was going to be stuck in Kagetsu for the formal mourning period anyway, he might as well get an education out of it. Besides, there was nothing waiting for him in Redoak but an empty house and pitying looks.

  Blue ceramic tiles embedded in the cobblestones marked the path he was supposed to follow. Malcolm took one last look at the harbor, at the Southern Wind that represented his last physical connection to home, and then started walking. Each step forward felt like another step away from everything familiar, everything safe.

  The streets were already bustling despite the early hour. Merchants were setting up stalls, their wares arranged with the same precision Malcolm had noticed in the architecture. Nothing was haphazard here – even the fish in the market were laid out in perfect rows, smallest to largest, their silver scales gleaming in the sunlight.

  People moved with purpose, their strides quick and their conversations muted. Most wore robes in subdued colors – deep blues, soft greens, earthy browns – with geometric patterns stitched along the hems and sleeves. Their hair was universally black, styled simply, often tied back with wooden pins or combs.

  Malcolm, with his sun-bleached brown hair, tall frame, and Redoak-style clothing – practical leather boots, brown trousers, a loose white shirt, and a rust-colored vest – couldn't have stood out more if he'd tried. People noticed him, their eyes lingering for a moment before politely looking away, conversation pausing briefly as he passed.

  He found himself unconsciously trying to shrink, to take up less space. His normal stride was too long, his normal voice too loud for this place. Even his breathing felt somehow wrong – too deep, too noticeable.

  The blue path took him through increasingly prosperous districts. The salty tang of the harbor gave way to the aroma of unfamiliar foods – something fermented and savory, something else sweet and bready. His stomach growled in response, reminding him he hadn't eaten since the previous evening.

  A small stall selling steamed buns caught his eye. The plump, middle-aged woman tending it was arranging the white, puffy creations in a bamboo steamer. They looked like clouds, and the smell was heavenly.

  Malcolm stepped toward the stall, fishing in his pocket for coins, only to remember the harbor official's instruction: Do not speak to merchants. But surely that didn't mean he couldn't buy food? What kind of ridiculous rule was that?

  His hesitation caught the vendor's attention. She looked up, saw him, and her expression shifted from welcoming to wary. She gave a small bow and then deliberately turned away, focusing on rearranging her already perfectly arranged buns.

  Right. Foreigner. Probably best not to make a scene on his first day.

  Malcolm rejoined the blue path, ignoring the persistent growl of his stomach. He'd find food later, once he'd properly checked in at the Academy. There had to be a dining hall or something similar there.

  The path led him to a large, open square dominated by a central fountain – a bronze dragon coiled around a pillar of stone, water streaming from its mouth into a circular basin. Beyond the fountain stood a checkpoint of sorts – a roofed gateway with two guards in formal black uniforms standing at attention.

  As he approached, a young woman stepped forward from beside the gateway. She wore Academy robes – deep blue with silver embroidery along the edges – and her black hair was pulled back in a perfect knot, not a strand out of place. Her face was a careful mask of politeness, but her dark eyes betrayed a hint of reluctance.

  "Sinclair-san?" she inquired, giving him a precise bow – not too deep, Malcolm noted, but not shallow enough to be insulting.

  "That's me," he replied, attempting to return the bow at the same angle. "Malcolm Sinclair. You must be my guide?"

  "I am Kazai Mira, second-year student at Enshin Academy. I have been assigned to assist with your transition." Her Common was flawless, though heavily accented with the clipped consonants characteristic of Kagetsu. "You have your documents?"

  Malcolm produced the sealed envelope from his pocket. "Right here. Listen, I don't suppose there's somewhere to grab something to eat on the way? I'm starving after that voyage."

  Mira's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes – surprise, perhaps, at his directness. "We do not typically eat until the mid-morning meal. However, if you are truly experiencing discomfort, we can stop at an appropriate establishment before proceeding to the Academy."

  "I'd appreciate that," Malcolm said, trying to temper his grin. Three weeks of ship's biscuits and salt pork had left him craving anything fresh.

  Mira nodded once, turning to the guards and presenting some kind of identification token. They examined it, then Malcolm's papers, before stepping aside to allow them passage through the gate.

  "This way," Mira said, setting off at a brisk pace down a side street. Malcolm lengthened his stride to keep up, nearly colliding with an elderly man who gave him a startled look.

  "Sorry," Malcolm called over his shoulder, earning a small sigh from Mira.

  "In Kagetsu," she said without slowing or turning to look at him, "it is customary to bow when offering an apology, not to shout it across the street."

  "Right. Sorry about that... I mean..." Malcolm fumbled. "I'll work on it."

  "Indeed." Her tone suggested that she expected him to work on a great many things. "The establishment ahead serves tea and morning rice. It will be sufficient until the midday meal at the Academy."

  The tea house was small and elegantly appointed, with low tables and cushions instead of chairs. Malcolm felt absurdly large as he folded his frame to sit across from Mira, his knees bumping the underside of the table.

  A server appeared almost immediately, bowing to Mira, who responded with a few quick phrases in Kagetsu. Malcolm caught only a word or two – enough to know she was ordering for both of them.

  "I can order for myself," he said as the server departed.

  "You speak Kagetsu?" Mira raised an eyebrow, the first real expression he'd seen from her.

  "Well, no, but—"

  "Then I have saved us both the embarrassment of your attempt." She adjusted her sleeve, a minute movement that somehow conveyed volumes of disapproval. "Sinclair-san, it would be beneficial if we established certain expectations immediately. You are here as a guest of the Imperial Court, a situation which places significant responsibility on both yourself and those assigned to assist you."

  "Look, I get that you didn't volunteer for babysitting duty—"

  "I did not say that." Her interruption was sharp, immediate. "Such an assumption about my motivations would be both incorrect and inappropriate. I was selected for this assignment based on my academic standing and language proficiency. It is an honor to be entrusted with diplomatic responsibility."

  Malcolm felt heat rising to his face. "I didn't mean to imply—"

  "Your intention is irrelevant. The effect is what matters in Kagetsu society." Mira folded her hands in her lap, her posture impeccable. "I understand your background has not prepared you for our customs. This is why I have been assigned to provide guidance. However, your willingness to learn will determine how successful our collaboration will be."

  The server returned with a tray bearing a pot of tea and two small cups, followed by a second tray with bowls of rice topped with what looked like pickled vegetables and a soft-boiled egg.

  Malcolm waited until the server had departed before responding. "Fair enough. I apologize for the assumption." He attempted a seated bow, which must have been acceptable because Mira gave a small nod in return.

  "Your apology is acknowledged. Please, eat." She gestured to the bowl before him.

  Malcolm picked up the chopsticks provided, grateful that his mother had insisted he learn to use them when trading partners from the East visited their home. The rice was perfectly cooked, each grain distinct yet sticky enough to hold together. The pickled vegetables added a tangy contrast, and the egg, with its golden, runny yolk, brought richness to the simple dish.

  "This is delicious," he said, realizing too late he'd spoken with his mouth full.

  Mira took a sip of tea, a shield against whatever judgment she was undoubtedly making. "The tea is particularly good here. It is from the high mountains in the northern province."

  Malcolm tried the tea – it was vegetal and slightly bitter, nothing like the sweet, fruity teas favored in Redoak. He managed not to make a face, but Mira seemed to notice his reaction anyway.

  "Western palates often find our tea too astringent at first," she said. "In time, you may come to appreciate its subtleties."

  "I'm sure I will," Malcolm replied, not entirely convincingly. He returned to the rice, which was much more to his taste. "So, Enshin Academy – what should I expect? The diplomatic briefing was pretty vague."

  Mira set her cup down with deliberate precision. "Enshin Academy of the Alchemist's Flame is the premier institution for alchemical studies in the Nine Kingdoms. Students typically prepare for years before attempting the entrance examinations. Only one in twenty applicants is accepted." She paused, and Malcolm caught the unspoken question in her eyes: How did someone like you get in?

  "I'm here on a diplomatic scholarship," he explained, the familiar knot forming in his throat. "My parents were killed during trade negotiations last month. A structural collapse at the Guild Hall." He forced the words out matter-of-factly, as if speaking about someone else's tragedy. "The scholarship was part of the reparations package."

  Mira's composed expression flickered, a moment of genuine sympathy breaking through. She set down her teacup with deliberate care, the soft click against the table the only sound between them for several heartbeats.

  "I was informed of the circumstances but not the details," she finally said, her voice softer than before. "Please accept my condolences for your loss."

  "Thank you." Malcolm busied himself with the last of his rice, using the motion to hide the way his hands wanted to tremble. He'd had enough of pitying looks during the formal mourning ceremonies, enough of strangers telling him how sorry they were while their eyes slid away uncomfortably.

  "The accident was extensively investigated," Mira said after a moment. "It was determined that aging support beams had been compromised by an infestation of timber beetles. Three Imperial citizens also perished. The Guild Master resigned in disgrace."

  Malcolm nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His parents had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time – a meaningless accident that had shattered his world completely. And now here he was, in a foreign land, about to attend a prestigious academy for which he was utterly unprepared, all because going home to an empty house seemed unbearable.

  "May I ask why you chose Enshin?" Mira's question was surprisingly gentle. "The reparations would have covered attendance at any Imperial institution."

  Malcolm took a sip of tea, the bitterness matching his mood. "I've always had an interest in alchemy. Back home, I used to help mix remedies at my cousin's apothecary shop." It wasn't entirely true – he'd occasionally helped sort ingredients, but had never been trusted with actual mixing. "And Enshin is supposedly the best." He attempted a smile. "Besides, I needed... I needed to be somewhere different. Somewhere without memories."

  Mira nodded, seeming to accept this explanation. "The Academy will certainly provide a structured environment during your period of grief. However, I must caution you that the curriculum is extremely rigorous. Students who have studied for years still struggle with the fundamentals."

  "I'm a quick study," Malcolm said with more confidence than he felt. "And honestly, I could use the distraction."

  Mira's expression suggested she thought "distraction" was a poor motivation for academic pursuit, but she didn't comment further. Instead, she produced a small scroll from her sleeve.

  "This is your preliminary schedule. Today we will complete your registration and settle you in the first-year dormitory. Tomorrow you will undergo preliminary assessment to determine your foundational knowledge and magical aptitude."

  "Magical aptitude?" Malcolm frowned. "I thought this was an alchemy school."

  "Alchemy at Enshin is rooted in the cultivation and application of the alchemist's flame," Mira explained, a hint of something like pride entering her voice. "All students must demonstrate basic flame aptitude before beginning formal studies."

  "Flame aptitude," Malcolm repeated. "Right." He had no idea what that meant, but admitting it now seemed like a poor strategy. He'd figure it out tomorrow.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Mira watched him for a moment, then sighed almost imperceptibly. "Have you ever accessed your soul space, Sinclair-san?"

  Malcolm blinked. "My what now?"

  The look that crossed Mira's face was difficult to interpret – something between concern and resignation. "I see. This may be more challenging than anticipated." She rose gracefully to her feet. "We should proceed to the Academy. Master Seiran will need to be informed of your... starting point."

  Malcolm stood as well, feeling distinctly off-balance. "Is that bad?"

  "It is unusual," Mira said diplomatically. "Most students have been developing their soul space since early adolescence."

  "And I'm guessing this soul space thing is important?"

  "It is fundamental to all alchemical practice at Enshin," Mira confirmed, leaving coins on the table for their meal. "But there have been students who developed theirs later than usual. It will simply require... additional effort on your part."

  Great. He was already behind before even setting foot in the Academy. Malcolm followed Mira out of the tea house, his momentary satisfaction from the meal evaporating as quickly as it had come.

  The streets were busier now, filled with people going about their day. Malcolm noticed how they moved around Mira with small, respectful nods – the Academy robes clearly commanded respect here. A few curious glances were directed his way, but nobody stared outright. That kind of rudeness would probably violate about a dozen social rules in Kagetsu.

  They passed through a series of increasingly well-kept neighborhoods. The buildings grew larger, the gardens more elaborate. Finally, they arrived at a wide avenue leading up to an imposing gate – the entrance to Enshin Academy. The gate was flanked by two stone statues of what appeared to be lions, though with oddly shaped heads and bulging eyes. Above the gate, the Academy's emblem – a stylized flame within a circle – was carved into the stone.

  "The Guardian Lions," Mira explained, following his gaze. "They are said to ward off evil influences and protect the pursuit of knowledge within."

  Two guards in formal Academy uniforms stood at attention. They straightened as Mira approached, giving her respectful bows which she returned. She presented Malcolm's papers and her own identification again.

  One guard examined the documents carefully before nodding. "The foreign student is expected. Please proceed to the Registration Hall."

  The gates swung open, revealing a long stone path flanked by perfectly manicured gardens. Cherry trees in full bloom created a canopy of pale pink above them, petals occasionally drifting down to carpet the path. In the distance, Malcolm could see a complex of buildings – some that appeared to be classrooms or lecture halls, others that might be laboratories or workshops, and set further back, what looked like dormitories.

  Students moved between buildings, all wearing variations of the Academy uniform – the younger ones in simpler robes similar to Mira's, the older students in more elaborate versions with additional embroidery or accessories that presumably denoted rank or specialization.

  For the first time since arriving in Kagetsu, Malcolm felt a flicker of excitement cutting through his grief and anxiety. This place was unlike anything in Redoak. It hummed with a sense of purpose, of history, of knowledge accumulated over centuries.

  "Enshin Academy was founded eight hundred years ago," Mira said, apparently noticing his expression. "The main hall ahead was part of the original construction. The Emperor himself laid the cornerstone."

  "It's impressive," Malcolm admitted.

  "It is home," Mira replied, a rare warmth coloring her voice. "And if you apply yourself with diligence and respect, it may become yours as well."

  They approached the main hall – a massive structure with a sweeping, multi-tiered roof. The entrance was framed by intricately carved wooden panels depicting alchemical processes Malcolm didn't recognize. Inside, the ceiling soared overhead, supported by massive wooden beams. The space smelled of incense and old paper, with an underlying hint of something chemical – probably from the alchemy labs.

  Mira led him to a desk where an older woman in administrative robes sat surrounded by scrolls and ledgers. After a brief exchange in rapid Kagetsu, the woman produced a thick folder and handed it to Mira.

  "Your registration materials," Mira explained. "We will go through them in detail after you are settled in your dormitory. For now, we should proceed to Master Seiran's office. He oversees all first-year students and must formally accept your enrollment."

  They navigated through a labyrinth of corridors, passing classrooms where students sat in perfect rows, listening to instructors or practicing techniques Malcolm couldn't begin to understand. Some appeared to be meditating, while others worked with small flames dancing above their palms. In one laboratory, students in protective aprons carefully measured ingredients into mortars.

  Finally, they stopped before a door marked with a simple nameplate: "Seiran Noh, First Year Master." Mira knocked softly and waited.

  "Enter," called a deep voice from within.

  Master Seiran's office was smaller than Malcolm had expected, and cluttered in a way that contrasted with the precise organization he'd seen elsewhere in Kagetsu. Scrolls and books were stacked on every available surface, and shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of mysterious substances. The man himself sat behind a desk piled with papers. He was middle-aged, with streaks of gray in his otherwise black hair, and a stern expression that seemed permanently etched on his face.

  "Kazai-san," he acknowledged with a nod to Mira. His gaze shifted to Malcolm, assessing him with sharp eyes. "And this is the diplomatic student."

  "Yes, Master Seiran," Mira said with a deep bow. "This is Sinclair Malcolm, the scholarship recipient from Redoak."

  Malcolm bowed as well, hoping the depth was appropriate for addressing a teacher. "Thank you for accepting me into your academy, sir."

  Master Seiran's eyebrow raised slightly at Malcolm's form of address, but he didn't comment on it. "The circumstances of your admission are unusual, Sinclair-san, but not unprecedented. Foreign students have studied at Enshin before, though rarely without prior magical education."

  "I'm afraid I don't have much background in formal magic," Malcolm admitted. "But I'm eager to learn."

  "Eagerness without foundation is like flame without fuel – bright but momentary," Master Seiran replied. "Kazai-san, has he been evaluated for soul space development?"

  "Not yet, Master. I thought it best to bring him directly to you upon learning of his... starting point."

  Master Seiran frowned. "You have not accessed your soul space before?"

  Malcolm shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure what that is, sir."

  The master sighed, setting down his brush. "I see. This complicates matters significantly."

  "I'm a quick study," Malcolm repeated, feeling increasingly out of his depth. "And I worked in my cousin's apothecary back home, so I know the basics of herb preparation and—"

  Master Seiran held up a hand, silencing him. "Western herbalism and Kagetsu alchemy are as different as candlelight and sunlight. One provides basic illumination; the other transforms everything it touches." He considered Malcolm for a long moment. "However, the diplomatic arrangement specifies four years of education, and it is not my place to question the Royal Council's decisions."

  He rose from his desk and moved to a clear space in the center of the room. "We will conduct a preliminary assessment now. Kazai-san, please remain as witness."

  Mira nodded, moving to stand against the wall.

  "Stand here," Master Seiran instructed, pointing to a circular design inlaid in the wooden floor. Malcolm complied, trying not to show his nervousness.

  "Close your eyes," the master continued. "Breathe deeply and regularly."

  Malcolm closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as instructed.

  "Visualize a space within yourself – not your physical body, but the essence of your being. This space belongs only to you. It exists outside physical constraints yet is intimately connected to you."

  Malcolm tried to imagine what that might mean, picturing a dark, empty room inside his mind.

  "This space, unique to each person, reflects your nature and potential. For most, it begins as a simple spherical area. What do you see?"

  "Nothing," Malcolm admitted after a moment. "Just darkness."

  "Focus more intently," Master Seiran instructed, his voice taking on a rhythmic quality. "Look beyond the darkness. The space exists whether you perceive it or not, just as the stars exist during daylight hours though we cannot see them."

  Malcolm concentrated harder, trying to pierce the darkness he'd imagined. For a moment, nothing changed. Then, slowly, something began to take shape – not a room exactly, but a defined area, small and confined, like standing in the center of a bubble that extended barely an arm's length in any direction.

  "I see something," he said hesitantly. "A small space, maybe a meter across? It's dark, but I can sort of... feel its boundaries."

  He heard Master Seiran make a small noise of surprise. "Only one meter? Are you certain?"

  "Yes, sir. It's very small. And there's something else..." Malcolm concentrated harder. At his feet, barely visible in the mental darkness, was what appeared to be a small depression in the floor – like a shallow bowl, filled with a liquid so dark it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. "There's some kind of... pool? A very small one, like a bowl of black liquid."

  He opened his eyes to find both Master Seiran and Mira staring at him with similar expressions of confusion.

  "A pool?" Master Seiran repeated. "Within your soul space?"

  "Is that not normal?" Malcolm asked, looking between them.

  Master Seiran exchanged a glance with Mira before addressing Malcolm again. "Soul spaces typically manifest as empty spherical areas. They do not normally contain features such as pools."

  "Also," Mira added, "a one-meter diameter is extremely small. Most students your age would have developed spaces of at least ten meters through regular meditation."

  "Wait, so what exactly is a soul space for?" Malcolm asked, his curiosity piqued by their concern. "What do people usually do with them?"

  Master Seiran looked slightly taken aback by the question, as if Malcolm had asked what air was for. "Soul spaces serve many purposes in advanced alchemical practice, but their most fundamental function is storage. Practitioners store materials, books, tools, and personal items within their soul space for convenient access."

  "Storage?" Malcolm's eyebrows shot up. "You mean like... putting actual physical objects inside?"

  "Of course," Master Seiran replied matter-of-factly. "That is the primary purpose most students first learn to utilize."

  "Hold up," Malcolm said, straightening suddenly. "Are you telling me people here just... carry stuff around inside themselves? Like, in some kind of personal pocket dimension?"

  Master Seiran blinked at the unfamiliar terminology but nodded. "It is the most basic application of one's soul space."

  "Holy shit—" Malcolm caught himself, but not quickly enough to miss Mira's widened eyes. "Sorry. But that's— That's insane! You guys can just put things INSIDE yourselves? Like, actual physical objects?"

  He was practically bouncing on his toes now, gesturing animatedly with his hands. "So you're telling me I could stash my money in there? Or books? Or—wait, food? Does food stay fresh? Can people see what you're storing? Is there a weight limit? Can thieves somehow break into it?"

  The questions tumbled out in rapid succession, his voice rising with each one. In his excitement, Malcolm did something that would have been perfectly normal in Redoak but was clearly inappropriate here—he grabbed Mira by the shoulders and gave her a quick, enthusiastic hug.

  "This is the coolest thing I've ever heard!"

  Mira stiffened slightly, her cheeks coloring with a faint blush as she took a measured step back. Her expression wasn't horrified, merely surprised and slightly embarrassed. Master Seiran's eyebrows rose, but a hint of amusement played at the corner of his mouth.

  Malcolm's enthusiasm faded as he registered their reactions, suddenly remembering where he was. "Oh—I'm so sorry," he said, backing up a step. "I wasn't thinking. Back home, that's just how we... I mean, when people get excited..."

  Master Seiran cleared his throat. "In Kagetsu, physical contact is generally reserved for family members or formal contexts such as medical treatment," he explained, his tone instructive rather than scolding. "Though I understand Western customs differ significantly in this regard."

  "Different indeed," Mira murmured, smoothing her robes with practiced dignity. Despite her composure, Malcolm could see a flicker of what might almost be amusement in her eyes. "Perhaps we should add 'appropriate physical boundaries' to your cultural orientation."

  "That would probably be a good idea," Malcolm agreed sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry about that. I'll try to be more... contained."

  "But wait," he continued, his curiosity quickly overriding his embarrassment, "how exactly do you put things in and take them out? Like, physically, what do you do? Do you have to be in some kind of trance? Does it hurt? Can other people see it happening?"

  "The process is quite straightforward once you have sufficient practice," Master Seiran explained. "One focuses on the item to be stored, visualizes the soul space, and mentally directs the item into it. With proper technique, the item simply... disappears from physical reality and manifests within the soul space."

  "Disappears?" Malcolm's eyes widened. "Like, vanishes into thin air? And nobody else can see inside my soul space or access my stuff?"

  "Correct," Mira affirmed. "Your soul space is entirely private. No one else may access it without extremely specialized techniques that are strictly regulated."

  "And it doesn't hurt at all," Master Seiran added, seeming to anticipate Malcolm's next question. "The sensation is often described as a slight warmth or tingling in the palm when transferring objects."

  "What about size limits? Can you put in something huge like a... I don't know, a table? Or is there a weight limit?"

  "The limiting factor is the size of your soul space," Master Seiran explained. "If an object can fit within your space, you can store it, regardless of its physical weight. However, items too large for your space cannot be stored."

  "So with my tiny one-meter space, I couldn't store much," Malcolm said, thinking out loud.

  "Precisely," Mira confirmed. "Perhaps a few small items at most."

  "Your enthusiasm for learning is commendable," Master Seiran said, the hint of a smile still visible. "If somewhat more demonstrative than we are accustomed to. To address your earlier questions, you will need to engage in proper flame meditation techniques daily to gradually expand your soul space. Most students manage to increase their space by approximately one meter per year with disciplined practice."

  "Wait, it can GROW? You can make it bigger through meditation?" This revelation seemed to excite him even more than the storage aspect. "So theoretically, how big could it get? Is there a limit? Do different people have different growth rates? What's the largest soul space anyone's ever had?"

  Mira exchanged a glance with Master Seiran, her composure fully recovered as she answered. "The Academy records mention several masters with soul spaces exceeding fifty meters in diameter. Grandmaster Kaiven, the head of Traditional Methodology, is said to have a space of nearly sixty meters."

  "Sixty meters?" Malcolm whistled, clearly trying to imagine it. "That's like... bigger than this entire office! And it's just... inside you? Mentally? And you can just walk around in there, organizing your stuff?"

  "Indeed," Master Seiran nodded. "Many advanced practitioners spend significant time within their soul space, not merely for storage but for internal cultivation and refined alchemical work. The controlled environment allows for greater precision."

  "However," Mira added with a note of caution, "with your starting size being so small, it will be extremely difficult to catch up to your peers. Even with diligent practice, you would likely remain significantly behind in capacity."

  Master Seiran nodded gravely. "Most students begin with at least ten meters and expand from there. Starting at one meter puts you at a considerable disadvantage."

  To their surprise, Malcolm's face lit up. "So I'm starting at the bottom and can only improve? That's not actually a problem - that's opportunity!" He grinned widely. "Where I come from, we have a saying: 'Nowhere to go but up.' Besides, if this pool thing turns out to be useful, maybe that makes up for the small size?"

  Master Seiran blinked, clearly caught off guard by Malcolm's optimism where he had expected disappointment or discouragement.

  "That is... an unusual perspective," he said carefully. "Though I should caution that the development of one's soul space requires consistent discipline, not merely enthusiasm."

  "I'm a hard worker," Malcolm insisted, still energized by the possibilities. "And hey, when you start this far behind, every bit of progress feels like a win, right?"

  Mira and Master Seiran exchanged another glance, seemingly unsure how to respond to this unexpected positivity.

  "Most students would be discouraged by such a disadvantage," Mira observed.

  Malcolm shrugged. "Back home, my dad always said that complaining about where you start doesn't get you to the finish line any faster." A flash of sadness crossed his face at the mention of his father, but it quickly gave way to renewed curiosity. "Anyway, you mentioned doing actual alchemy inside these soul spaces. How does that work?"

  "As I mentioned," Master Seiran explained, "advanced practitioners can perform intricate alchemical operations within their soul space. The environment is completely controlled, free from external contamination, and allows for perfect temperature regulation through the alchemist's flame."

  "You can DO alchemy in there?" Malcolm was practically vibrating with excitement now, though he kept his hands firmly clasped behind his back. "Like, mixing potions and stuff INSIDE your own head? That's—that's beyond incredible. That's revolutionary! How soon can I start learning how to do this meditation thing? Can I start today? Right now?"

  Master Seiran's amusement was more visible now. "Your eagerness is noted, Sinclair-san. Kazai-san will arrange your meditation instruction as part of your orientation schedule. Though I must caution you that expanding one's soul space requires patience and consistent effort, not merely enthusiasm."

  "Patience. Right. Got it." Malcolm nodded rapidly in a way that suggested patience might not be his strongest virtue. "But seriously, this is the most amazing thing I've ever heard of. In Redoak, we've got nothing like this. Nothing even close."

  Mira's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps you will bring new perspectives to our practices, just as we have introduced you to concepts unfamiliar in your homeland."

  Malcolm hadn't considered that possibility. For all his excitement about what he could learn here, it hadn't occurred to him that his outsider perspective might have something to offer in return. The thought gave him a momentary sense of purpose amidst all the disorientation of the past weeks.

  "I'd like that," he said, with uncharacteristic quietness. Then, unable to contain himself: "But first, I really need to learn more about this soul space thing. How exactly does the meditation work? Does everyone's space look the same inside? What about this weird pool in mine?"

  "The pool is indeed unusual," Master Seiran said, returning to his desk. "I have not encountered such a feature before in an undeveloped soul space. It may be a reflection of your unique background or perspectives." He began writing rapidly on a scroll. "You will require specialized training to develop your soul space to a functional size. Until then, practical alchemy work will be exceptionally difficult for you."

  Malcolm's heart sank. Was he going to be thrown out before he'd even started? "I'm willing to put in the extra work, sir."

  Master Seiran looked up, his expression unreadable. "That is fortunate, as it will be required of you. Kazai-san will continue as your guide and will arrange additional meditation sessions to help develop your soul space."

  Mira nodded, though Malcolm thought he detected a hint of reluctance in her posture.

  "Additionally," Master Seiran continued, "given your... unique circumstances, you will be assigned to resource management training alongside your foundational studies."

  "Resource management?" Malcolm asked.

  "You will assist with the collection and proper disposal of materials from the various departments," Master Seiran explained. "It is an appropriate assignment for someone with your level of preparation, and it will familiarize you with the materials used in alchemical processes."

  Garbage duty. He was being assigned to garbage duty. Malcolm struggled to keep his expression neutral. "I understand, sir."

  "Very well. Kazai-san will show you to your dormitory and help you establish a schedule. You will begin your duties tomorrow after the flame aptitude assessment."

  "Thank you for your guidance, Master Seiran," Mira said, bowing deeply.

  Malcolm bowed as well, mimicking her depth. "Thank you, Master."

  As they left the office, Malcolm felt a weight settling on his shoulders. What had he gotten himself into? He was thousands of miles from home, surrounded by a culture he barely understood, about to begin studies for which he was completely unprepared, all while trying to process the loss of his parents.

  "Don't look so defeated," Mira said quietly as they walked toward the dormitories. It was the first time she'd spoken to him without being prompted. "Resource management is not a punishment. It is a legitimate path to understanding materials."

  "It's garbage duty," Malcolm replied, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "Let's not pretend it's anything else."

  Mira was silent for a moment. "Perhaps. But even in garbage, there can be value for those willing to look for it."

  Malcolm glanced at her, surprised by the almost philosophical response. "Is that a Kagetsu saying?"

  The corner of her mouth twitched – not quite a smile, but the closest he'd seen from her. "No. It is merely an observation."

  They continued walking, cherry blossoms drifting down around them like pink snow. Ahead, the dormitory building loomed – his home for the next four years. Malcolm took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.

  Garbage duty or not, he was here now. And if there was one thing his father had taught him, it was that there was always a way to turn a bad situation to your advantage – if you were clever enough to find it.

  "So," he said to Mira, a hint of his natural optimism returning, "tell me more about this alchemist's flame I'm supposed to be developing."

  She gave him a sidelong glance that might have contained a hint of approval. "It begins with proper meditation, which clearly you have never practiced. We have much work ahead of us, Sinclair-san."

  "Malcolm," he corrected. "If we're going to be spending all this time together, you might as well use my first name."

  "That would be inappropriate," she replied immediately. "You are not family or a close acquaintance."

  "I'm from Redoak," he countered. "In my culture, it's appropriate."

  Mira considered this for a moment. "When we are alone, then, I will use Malcolm-san as a compromise. In public, proper address is non-negotiable."

  "I'll take it," Malcolm said with a genuine smile. It was a small victory, but right now, he'd take what he could get.

  As they approached the dormitory entrance, Malcolm cast one last look back at the Academy grounds. Despite everything – the grief, the culture shock, the daunting challenges ahead – a small part of him felt something unexpected: curiosity. This strange place with its rigid customs and mysterious magic was going to be his world now.

  And somewhere in that mysterious "soul space" of his, with its peculiar black pool, might be the key to making it work.