The Root Beneath

The days that followed were strange.

Yuzu walked the Academy halls like a ghost in someone else's story. He smiled when spoken to, nodded during lectures, and practiced cultivation postures in the gardens like everyone else — but inside, everything had changed.

The sigil on his hand was hidden beneath a bandage, and Master Gelmo had instructed him never to remove it in public. "Let them see what they expect," the gardener had said. "Not what you've become."

What he'd become still didn't have a name.

Every night, when Yuzu closed his eyes, he returned to that orchard within him — the strange, inner plane where his tree stood, taller now than before. New skills blinked into being like fireflies.

[Skill Gained: Flavor Pulse – Rank F]Send out a short-range aura wave to reveal nearby flavor sources.

[Passive: Taste Memory]Any fruit, aura, or flavor you've experienced can be recalled perfectly.

They weren't powerful. Not yet. But they were his.

And they were growing.

Still, the fear remained. What if someone saw his mark? What if the Fruit Council discovered the Primordial had been consumed — and not destroyed?

Yuzu moved carefully, spoke little, and avoided attracting attention.

But trouble, as always, had a way of finding him.

It started during a basic cultivation class in the Nectarium, a spiraling greenhouse filled with scented mists and low-hanging fruits. Students were paired up to practice "Fruit Bond Symmetry," a technique used to align their spirits for future evolution.

Yuzu had been excused — officially listed as "unbonded." But when Professor Petalthorn wasn't looking, one of the upper students decided to put him on the spot.

A girl named Vesca, ranked Citrus Class A, stepped in front of him with a smirk.

"Still pretending to be flavorless?" she asked, tossing her orange-blossom braid over one shoulder. Her Fruit Spirit — a gleaming blood-orange wisp — shimmered beside her.

Yuzu didn't answer.

"You know, we have a tradition," Vesca said, voice syrupy. "If someone's rejected by the Bloomstone, they're supposed to kneel and ask their peers to 'squeeze out a drop' for them." Laughter rippled through the surrounding students.

He turned to leave.

"Scared?" she called after him.

He paused, hand tightening at his side. The old Yuzu would've walked away. The old Yuzu had walked away. But something in him — something buried deep — twisted like a root pushing through stone.

He turned back. "You want to test flavors?" he said quietly. "Let's test."

Vesca blinked. "You… what?"

The surrounding students gasped. A challenge. From a Zero-Flavor.

Professor Petalthorn noticed the commotion and approached, brow arched. "What's this?"

"Kaien challenged me," Vesca said quickly, grinning. "I accept."

Yuzu didn't speak. He simply stepped into the sparring circle.

Professor Petalthorn frowned. "This is irregular…"

"Let him try," Vesca purred. "If he's really flavorless, he'll just faint from the first taste."

The other students formed a ring, eager to witness the humiliation.

Yuzu closed his eyes.

Inside, his orchard responded.

The tree pulsed.

[Flavor Pulse — Activate]

He sent the aura wave outward. To the others, it looked like nothing. But to Yuzu, the world became a blur of taste: Vesca's aura was a sharp, acidic tang layered with floral bitterness. Fast. Flashy. Easy to overextend.

The moment she dashed forward, he moved.

He didn't block her strike.

He tasted it.

Every movement, every aura wave she emitted, was like a meal. Her spirit was fast, yes, but repetitive. Predictable.

Yuzu ducked left, spun low, and tapped her spirit directly.

[Devourer's Seed — Passive Activated]

A flash. The taste surged through him — a burst of citrus heat.

But it didn't fully transfer. He staggered backward, coughing, the taste too wild to digest in one go. Vesca looked shaken, her spirit flickering erratically.

"What… what did you do to me?" she hissed.

Yuzu didn't answer.

Professor Petalthorn stepped in quickly, ending the duel. "That's enough."

There was silence.

Then whispers.

He hadn't defeated Vesca, but he hadn't been defeated either. A Zero-Flavor who could touch a Class A's spirit without being knocked unconscious? That was impossible.

And yet.

Rumors spread like pollen.

Yuzu left the greenhouse without another word, heart pounding.

That night, he returned to the fig tree at the edge of the Academy. Master Gelmo was already waiting, trimming a hedgerow with tiny snips of a knife made of thorn.

"You broke cover," the old man said simply.

Yuzu nodded. "I couldn't just—"

"I know," Gelmo cut in. "Sometimes roots break the surface. Can't be helped."

Yuzu sat beside him. "I felt something during the fight. When I touched her spirit… part of it stayed with me."

Gelmo's leafy brow rose. "What part?"

"I don't know yet. But I can feel it growing."

The gardener hummed. "Careful. Every fruit you devour adds a branch to your tree. And every branch carries weight."

Yuzu glanced at his hand. The sigil shifted again — now tinged slightly with orange and crimson, reflecting Vesca's aura.

"Do you think the Council will come for me?"

Gelmo snipped a dead leaf. "Eventually. The Primordial doesn't stay hidden forever."

"What should I do?"

The old man stood, brushing soil from his knees. "You grow. Quietly. Strongly. And when the time comes… you harvest."

Yuzu remained there long after Gelmo left.

The stars came out, glowing faintly above the Academy towers. Somewhere deep inside him, the tree pulsed again, branches stretching wider across his inner orchard.

More skills were forming.

More flavors were calling.

And far away, in the shadows of the Nocturna region, a second sigil shimmered into being — this one black as pitch, its fruit twisted and smoking.

Two forces had tasted awakening.

And the war hadn't even begun.