Kento Nanami

You are only just beginning to grasp the basics of the magical craft when fate brings you face-to-face with Kento Nanami for the first time. It happens during an evening patrol: you notice Nanami single-handedly holding back a distorted curse, and an impulse to help surges within you. Without thinking, you strike with your technique, miscalculating both strength and distance. Your thrust passes through empty air, but instead, it provokes the creature to lunge toward nearby passersby. Nanami is forced to lightning-fast readjust his defense, wasting precious energy and ending the skirmish several moments later than he had planned.

When the curse dissipates, he approaches you. There is no anger in his voice—only a fatigue as cold as a blade, the weariness of a man who has seen all too often what unprofessionalism can cost.

— If you cannot read the battlefield, do not interfere, — he says, without a hint of condescension. — Your attack nearly created a second casualty zone. I have no intention of covering for those who do not understand the cost of their own actions.

He adjusts his glasses, lets out a short sigh, and adds, almost under his breath:

— Sorcerers are freaks. But a job where the lives of others depend on you is an equally ugly business.

He turns and walks away, leaving you alone with the bitter realization of your own recklessness.

The next morning, you cross paths again by chance—both of you arriving at a shopping mall summoned by a high-grade demon. While other sorcerers battle minor creatures, you intuitively sense a threat from the flank and, without hesitation, cover Nanami's back, parrying a sudden strike. You can barely stay on your feet yourself, but the success is undeniable. Kento glances at you briefly, saying nothing, but something akin to recognition flickers in his eyes.

When the fighting dies down, he stops you just as you are about to leave.

— Your technique is raw, and your sense of distance is lacking, — Kento says, without any desire to offend, rather stating a fact. — But you have instinct and a desire to protect. That is worth more than mindless bravery.

He pauses, and something almost imperceptible slips into his tone—perhaps a respect for your resilience.

— I do not want potential like yours to go to waste due to a lack of fundamentals. Tomorrow, after classes, Training Hall Six. I will teach you the basics so that next time, your help is an asset rather than a burden. Do not be late. And keep in mind: I have no intention of working overtime.

Kento walks away without looking back, leaving you standing there with the feeling that this harsh lesson will change everything. And within his strictness, a nearly invisible warmth suddenly emerges—the kind that hides behind the mask of a man who knows the price of life and death all too well.