Reborn in Type-Moon: Starting by Adopting Sakura - Chapter 9

Sakura's hand was warm in his, her face pressed against his arm as she slept. For the first time since she'd come to Tokyo, she looked completely at peace.

Yuu watched her breathe quietly. "Imaginary Number," he murmured to himself.

It was about as rare as magical affinities got. He'd made a promise to Tokiomi that he'd help Sakura reach her full potential. The question was—what did that even mean?

The thing about Imaginary Number was that so little was understood about it. Yuu only knew a few others who shared the same affinity—one of them a guy from his old department who’d been just as much of an oddball as he was.

Lev was probably still buried in his research somewhere in the Eleventh Department, chasing theories that made sense to no one but himself. German, brilliant, and completely antisocial. He'd earned his Fes ranking before he was thirty, which should have been something to celebrate. Instead, he'd become the department's resident hermit.

The Archaeology Department had never been much to write home about—easily the most overlooked of the Eleven. For a while, people thought maybe Yuu and Lev would change that. Two promising young magi, both with unusual talents. But that optimism hadn't lasted long. Lev disappeared into increasingly esoteric research that never seemed to produce anything useful, earning him a reputation as the "research bug" who never left his lab. And Yuu's tendency to dabble in everything meant most people assumed he'd never commit to mastering anything.

Neither of them had ever really cared what the department brass thought anyway.

"You know what drives me crazy?" Lev used to say during their late-night conversations. "We get maybe fifty years to do real research. Fifty years! After that, you're supposed to spend the rest of your life training some kid to pick up where you left off. It's not enough time."

The traditional path for mages—dedicate half your life to learning, then dedicate the other half to teaching your successor. Pass the torch and hope they could carry it further than you did.

"So find someone worth training," Yuu would tell him. "Someone who can actually make use of what you're working on."

"Absolutely not!" Lev had shouted that day, loud enough that Yuu's ears were still buzzing hours later. "None of them have what it takes—not the time, not the talent, and definitely not the backbone for this kind of work. And don't even get me started on blood relatives. I wouldn't trust my own family with a grocery list, let alone my life's research. This is something only I can do."

It was typical Lev—completely allergic to the idea of taking on students or grooming a successor. Most mages saw it as their duty, their legacy. Lev saw it as a waste of time.

The night before Yuu left the Clock Tower, Lev had asked him to meet for tea at Lincoln Park. He'd seemed unusually quiet, even for him.

"I had this dream," Lev said, stirring his tea without really drinking it. "Saw my own grave, if you can believe that. There were two girls there—one with short hair walking away, another with long hair leaving flowers. The long-haired one caught up with the first girl as they headed down the hill. The whole thing felt like it was happening in 2014, though I have no idea why that matters. Probably doesn't mean anything, but I figured I'd tell someone."

Yuu had brushed it off, told him dreams were just dreams. Lev smiled and changed the subject, but there was something unsettling about the whole conversation.

Looking back, it definitely wasn't the kind of dream that left you feeling optimistic about the future.

Yuu didn't put much stock in prophetic visions or whatever, but one thing was crystal clear: Lev would be a disaster as Sakura's teacher. The guy could barely handle normal human interaction, let alone guide a young girl through something as complex as Imaginary Number.

So who else was there? Trisha Fellows came to mind—she worked as a personal attendant for one of the Animusphere family members and happened to share the same rare affinity. But while she had the right magical element, her actual skills were pretty mediocre. Nowhere near the level Sakura needed if she was going to reach her real potential. Plus, the Astronomy Department was filled with pretentious weirdos who loved the sound of their own voices. Yuu had dealt with enough of them to know that putting Sakura in that environment would probably turn her into some kind of insufferable weirdo.

Yuu went through every magus he could think of at the Clock Tower. None of them felt like the right fit.

"Guess I'm doing this myself," he muttered.

It wasn't going to be easy. But he'd given Tokiomi his word.

The truth was, Yuu didn't have much experience teaching Imaginary Number to anyone. He wasn't exactly a perfectionist, but Sakura had been placed in his care, and he wanted to do right by her. With talent this rare, shouldn't she have access to the best possible instruction?

"Too bad the Clock Tower doesn't believe in personalized teaching," he thought.

The whole educational system there was still running on traditions that were ancient when his grandparents were young. Most of the faculty treated innovation like a dirty word. Half of them probably didn't even know what a smartphone was. Then again, if he thought they were behind the times, they probably saw him as some kind of radical.

The storm outside had finally died down. Moonlight was starting to filter through the breaking clouds.

Yuu started to reach for a book on the shelf, but realized Sakura was still holding onto his hand, even in her sleep.

He smiled and settled back into the chair beside her bed. Might as well use the time productively. He closed his eyes and let himself sink into the meditative state that most mages from the Age of Gods practiced regularly.

Not that it was particularly unusual for someone from the Archaeology Department to know a few ancient secrets.

But something felt different tonight.

Usually when Yuu meditated, his mind became perfectly calm—like looking into still water. The whole point was to expand that sense of clarity, to push the boundaries of what he could perceive and control. For magi who relied on High-Speed Divine Words or could skip incantations altogether, this kind of mental discipline wasn't optional.

Tonight, though, something had brushed against that calm surface. Just for a second, he'd felt connected to something else. Then it was gone, leaving barely a trace.

Yuu focused harder, trying to sink deeper into the meditation.

Outside, Tokyo pulsed in silence beneath the neon glow—traffic moved like blood through veins, convenience stores flickered like lures in the dark, and the streets teemed with people who never slept.

High above, the moon watched from a clearing sky, pale and still, like an eye that never blinked.