Chapter 7: The Unknown Masks

 Arashi walked through the academy halls, hands in his pockets, as the words from his meeting with the Student Council carved themselves into his thoughts like a blade against stone.

 "You can decline the offer, but you can't decline the game."

 'Tsk. What a pain.'

 He never liked games he didn't set the rules for—they invariably ended with blood on someone's hands. Usually not his.

The weight of lingering stares pressed against his back like phantom daggers.

 Whispers followed him like hungry shadows, growing louder and more insistent after his duel with Renji and the Council's sudden, unwelcome interest in him.

 "Is he really that strong?" The voice trembled with a mixture of awe and fear.

 "The Student Council noticed him. He has to be." Conviction laced with uncertainty.

 "Maybe he's hiding something." This one, at least, had some insight.

 'Brilliant deduction,' Arashi thought dryly, his face remaining an impenetrable mask of indifference.

 He turned a corner sharply, hoping to escape the endless murmurs that clung to him like cobwebs, but—

 SLAM!

 A hand smacked against the wall before him, the sound reverberating through the empty corridor.

 Blocking his path was a familiar face, framed by hair the color of midnight struck by lightning.

 Ilyana.

 And judging by the dangerous glint in her molten gold eyes, she had heard everything.

 "Arashi," Ilyana started, her voice dangerously smooth, like silk hiding steel beneath. "I heard some interesting things today."

 Arashi tilted his head slightly, obsidian eyes revealing nothing. "You hear a lot of things."

 She narrowed her eyes to razor-thin slits. "The Student Council invited you."

 He didn't answer, watching the frustration build behind her carefully composed features.

 She folded her arms across her chest, tapping a finger against her elbow with mechanical precision. "You refused them."

 Still silent. The corridor seemed to grow smaller around them.

 She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of storm clouds that always surrounded her. 

 "Do you have any idea how rare that is? How many would kill for what you just tossed away?"

 'I can think of worse things,' he mused, remembering hands stained crimson and promises made in darkness.

 She sighed, her breath carrying the weight of exasperation before her gaze turned sharp enough to cut. "Why?"

 Arashi considered lying—it would be easy, familiar, like slipping on an old glove.

 But she was too perceptive, too attuned to his usual tactics. 

 Her eyes had always seen more than he wanted to reveal.

 So he gave a half-truth instead, a rare concession.

 "I don't like being controlled." Four simple words that concealed an ocean of history.

 Ilyana scoffed, the sound echoing off the stone walls. 

 "Since when are you the rebellious type? You've always calculated every move like you're playing some grand chess game no one else can see."

 'I'm not rebellious. I'm the calculating type,' he thought but didn't say.

 Some truths were better left in the shadows where they belonged.

 She studied him for a long moment, golden eyes boring into his soul as if searching for cracks in his armor.

 Finally, she sighed again, shoulders dropping a fraction. "Fine. Do whatever you want. But you've made enemies by rejecting them. Powerful ones."

 Arashi already knew that. He'd been making enemies since before he could walk.

 The Student Council didn't take rejection lightly. Their pride was as fragile as it was immense.

 And if they couldn't recruit him, they would test him instead. Break him, if necessary.

 A part of him wondered—how far would they go to expose what lay beneath his carefully constructed facade?

 And more importantly—how far was he willing to let them before he showed them exactly who they were dealing with?

 That night, as Arashi lay in bed, the moonlight spilling across his face like liquid silver, his mind drifted back to his past.

 Faint memories, blurred by time and blood. 

 Faces he tried to forget but couldn't. Screams that still echoed in his nightmares.

 A promise made in the dark, sealed with a mark he carried still.

 A name whispered in fear by those who knew what lurked in the shadows.

 And then—

 A presence.

 His eyes snapped open, muscles tensing beneath the thin blanket.

 Someone was watching him.

 From the rooftops across the courtyard, a figure cloaked in darkness stood perfectly still against the night sky.

 Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head, gaze locked onto the window. 

 The silver moonlight cast long shadows across the room, turning familiar objects into crouching beasts.

 A shadow flickered in the moonlight, purposeful and alert.

 A test.

 Or a warning.

 Either way—

 The game had begun without his consent.

 And this time, he couldn't avoid playing. The pieces were already in motion, the board set by unseen hands.

 The cold wind rattled against the window like skeleton fingers seeking entry, carrying with it the whispers of something unseen. 

 Arashi's eyes remained fixed on the figure outside, his body still as a predator watching its prey, breath slowed to near imperceptibility.

 Then—movement.

 The shadowed figure leaped down with inhuman grace, landing soundlessly on the balcony just outside his room.

 A mask of gleaming obsidian obscured their face, but the faint amber glow of their eyes beneath the hood hinted at something unnatural, something other.

 'An assassin?' Arashi's mind cataloged possibilities, probabilities, escape routes.

 He reached for the plain sword beside his bed—deceptively ordinary to untrained eyes—but didn't unsheathe it.

 Instead, he waited, coiled like a serpent ready to strike.

 And then—

 Tap. Tap.

 The masked figure knocked on the window, the sound absurdly polite in the tense silence.

 Arashi blinked. That was...unexpected.

 His grip on the hilt loosened slightly before he finally stood and made his way to the window, movements fluid and cautious. 

 Unlatching the lock, he swung it open just enough to let the night air slip through, carrying with it the scent of rain and secrets.

 The figure tilted their head slightly, a curiously avian movement, then dropped a letter onto his windowsill without a word.

 Before he could react, they stepped back into the shadows—

 And vanished, leaving behind nothing but the whisper of disturbed air.

 Arashi stared at the envelope, his instincts already screaming that this wasn't something to ignore.

 The paper was expensive, the wax seal unmarked yet somehow familiar. He unfolded it carefully, eyes scanning the elegant handwriting within, each stroke precise and deliberate.

 "You are being watched. The Student Council is only the beginning. The real game is about to start."

 Beneath the message was a single symbol—

 A tear-shaped insignia, drawn in black ink that seemed to absorb the moonlight rather than reflect it.

 Arashi's breath stilled, the room suddenly too small, too confining.

 The Unknown Masks.

 They were here.

 And they knew about him—about the past he'd buried beneath layers of deception and careful planning.

 The fragile peace he'd constructed was beginning to crack at the edges