Prologue

Spring, six years ago. The day of the entrance ceremony.

"Ah, so this is the famous ancient Jack."

New students streamed down Flower Road to the school building. One boy stopped along the way, gazing up at the ancient cherry tree. Any number of other students followed in his wake—hangers-on, under his thumb before they'd even arrived. Their presence, coupled with his arrogant tone, sent a message that his was a name of some repute.

"Had it failed to be in full bloom for my arrival, I was prepared to give it a good kick."

"Has it met with your approval?"

"Yes, barely. But it has earned a passing grade. I see no need to dirty my boots here."

Nodding at his crony's question, he continued gazing up into Jack's boughs. That is, until irritated snarls reached his ears.

"Yo, keep moving. You're blocking the path."

"Don't you see the bottleneck behind you?!"

Complaints from the crowd at his back, as to be expected—this was a one-lane road down which all new students had to proceed. Strolling leisurely while gazing at the flowers was one thing, but any break in the flow created a jam, especially with so many flunkies at the boy's side.

Except he merely snorted, hardly sparing the irritated first-years a sidelong glare.

"I could ask you the same," he said. "The path remains open. Proceed."

He glanced toward the rear of his gaggle, where a small pocket remained—just barely wide enough for someone to squeeze through.

The students arguing with him looked ready to pop a vein.

"…Unlikely as it seems, by 'path,' you mean that sliver?"

"We gotta go single file? Everyone behind you's gotta squeeze themselves through, then?"

The scowls behind them deepened. Resolutely blocking their way, the arrogant boy had the gall to look faintly surprised.

"That is how the weak abide. A lesson you ought to have learned by now."

No remorse for his actions—rather, utter contempt for those speaking to him. That was the last straw for this crowd. Words would be useless here. Their hands reached for wands or blades.

"…Picking a fight before we're even through the gates, huh?"

"Time to smash that nose in."

They, too, were Kimberly first-years and not about to let anyone their age mock them. The boy's flunkies all braced themselves. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife—but instead…

"…Augh?!"

"Eek—!"

"Wha…?"

Shrieks went up from behind. Puzzled, all turned to look—and found the crowd parting to make way for something else. Looming over the retreating crowd was the top half of a rectangular black box.

"""…Ngh…?!"""

The parting crowd at last revealed the lower half: a boy, carrying a coffin twice his size. His feet sank into the soil with each step he took, his breathing heavy but steady, his eyes sparing not a glance for the blooms that lined the path. His stride soon took him to the factions clashing before ancient Jack the Unblooming.

"Move."

The moment his voice echoed, every soul stepped aside: the boy who'd first blocked the path, his cronies, and the students who'd picked a fight with them. All here were mages, and their instincts told them loud and clear—this was not someone to trifle with.

He passed through the eye of the conflict, taking one step at a time, heedless of the first-years giving him a wide berth. A voice drifted down from the coffin on his back, the voice of a girl that only he could hear.

"Almost at the school, Cyrus. Did you say hi to the other new students? First impressions are everything!"

"I did. Lots of surprisingly pliant meat."

"Honestly, you have got to stop calling people 'meat'! I've told you this over and over; you'll never make friends that way!"

Letting her lecture go in one ear and out the other, he passed through the gates, and looming ahead was the school building, his new place of learning. The edifice projected pomp and gloom in equal measure. To the boy's eyes, it reeked of death—no more and no less than his own home. He put his impressions into words.

"…Like a tomb."

Yet, a smile played on his lips. One glance had made him certain. Here, his search would not be in vain.

"It'll do. I can scavenge both meat and bones as I please."