Soulless Soul

Chapter 23: Fated Meeting

The academy courtyard was unusually lively. Students rushed between buildings, instructors barked orders, and conversations about the upcoming Royal Rumble echoed from every direction. The atmosphere was thick with the nervous energy of hundreds of new recruits, all eager to prove their worth in the trials ahead. Groups of young martial artists huddled together, whispering strategies, sizing up potential rivals, and trying all their best to survive. The stone-paved plaza acted as the beating heart of the campus, a swirling vortex of ambition, anxiety, and youthful pride.

Near one of the stone walkways stood a boy quietly reading a booklet distributed during orientation. He remained perfectly still, a calm island in the middle of a chaotic sea of rushing bodies. His long blond hair flowed past his shoulders, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze, catching the golden sunlight in a way that made it shimmer. Combined with his delicate features and striking blue eyes, it wasn’t difficult to mistake him for a girl. He possessed an elegant, almost ethereal grace that seemed entirely out of place in an academy built for brutal combat. Unfortunately, someone did mistake him.

"Hey, pretty."

Arya didn’t look up. He kept his eyes focused squarely on the page detailing the academy’s historical ranking system, hoping that a lack of reaction would cause the speaker to lose interest and wander away.

The voice came again, louder this time and tinged with a sharp edge of irritation. "You deaf?"

He slowly lowered the booklet and met the group of three students standing before him. They had completely blocked his path, their shadows stretching across his bench. The trio wore their uniforms with a deliberate sloppiness, buttons undone and collars turned up, a universal sign of rookies trying to look intimidating.

"Can I help you?" Arya asked, his voice polite but entirely devoid of warmth.

The tallest among them smirked, leaning forward with an arrogant tilt of his chin. "We’re looking for the girls’ dormitory. Think you can point us in the right direction?"

"I’m afraid I can’t."

"Oh? Why not?" The tallest student chuckled, glancing back at his two companions to ensure they were appreciating his charm. "Afraid we’ll take up too much of your time? Or maybe you just want to keep all the directions to yourself?"

"Because I’m a boy."

Silence. The noisy chatter of the surrounding courtyard seemed to dip for a brief second as the words registered. Then, loud laughter erupted from the three boys.

"Good one," the tallest gasped, wiping a tear from his eye.

"That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard today," the second one chimed in, shaking his head. "Come on, stop playing around. What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing sitting out here all alone anyway? Reading an orientation manual? We can show you around the campus ourselves."

"No, seriously," Arya replied calmly, his expression entirely deadpan as he closed the booklet on his lap. "I’m a boy."

One of the students walked closer, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Arya’s smooth jawline and slender frame. "If you’re a guy, then why do you look prettier than half the girls here? There’s no way."

Another reached toward Arya’s hair, a mocking grin on his face. "Let’s see if it’s a wig—" A large hand grabbed his wrist before he could touch it. The grip was instantaneous and absolute, locking down on the boy’s arm like a steel vice.

"I wouldn’t do that."

The students turned, their grins instantly vanishing at the sudden intrusion. Standing behind them was a muscular student with short brown hair and sharp brown eyes. Broad shoulders stretched the academy uniform to its absolute limits, giving the impression of a seasoned fighter rather than a first-year student. The newcomer’s posture radiated raw power, and the sheer physical presence was enough to make the three boys instinctively take a collective step back. The grip on the student’s wrist tightened just enough to cause a wince before letting go.

"...Sorry, sir," one of them muttered instinctively, bowing his head slightly in deference to what he assumed was an older, high-ranking upperclassman.

The newcomer frowned, crossing two thick arms over a broad chest. "I’m not a sir."

"Huh?" The tallest student blinked, confused by the correction.

"I’m a girl."

The three students stared. They looked at the short, practical hair, the towering height, the massive shoulders, and the distinctly heavy, powerful frame. There wasn’t a single delicate line or soft curve to be found.

"...You’re joking," the second student whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

"No."

Another awkward silence followed, far heavier and more suffocating than the first one. The bustling noise of the academy courtyard rolled around them, but their small circle felt entirely frozen in time. The three bullies looked back and forth between the two people standing before them, their brains visibly short-circuiting as they tried to process the visual data.

The tallest student scratched his head, his face turning a deep shade of crimson.

"So... she’s a girl..."

"And he’s a boy..." the second muttered, gesturing weakly toward Arya.

"I know," Gideon said dryly, her voice deep and carrying a sarcastic rumble.

"Shocking."

The students exchanged embarrassed glances, utterly humiliated by their own profound lack of perception. They had managed to insult a terrifyingly strong girl and hit on a perfectly calm boy within the span of two minutes. Sensing the eyes of other nearby recruits starting to turn toward their little drama, they scrambled for a dignified exit.

Before retreating, one of them muttered under his breath, "What kind of parents give their son a girl’s name... and their daughter a boy’s name?"

Arya blinked, capturing the comment. He looked up at the towering girl. "Your parents actually named you Gideon?"

She nodded, a faint, amused smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "And yours is Arya?"

"...Yes."

The three students looked between them one last time, witnessing the bizarrely perfect inversion of expectations, before quietly deciding this situation was far stranger than they wanted to deal with.

"Forget it."

"Let’s just go."

Within seconds, they turned on their heels and disappeared into the crowd, moving at a brisk pace to put as much distance between themselves and the duo as humanly possible.

Arya let out a small sigh of relief, feeling the tension drain from his shoulders as he slid the orientation booklet back into his satchel. "Thank you."

Gideon shrugged, rolling her shoulders to loosen her muscles. "I hate people who pick on others. Especially rookies who think they own the place just because they have a few loud mouths."

She studied him for a moment, her sharp brown eyes scanning his soft features, his long, pristine hair, and his slender build. Up close, she could see the faint structural differences, but the initial impression was still undeniably striking. "So... you’re really a guy?"

Arya smiled, a weary but patient expression he had worn a thousand times before. "I get asked that a lot." "I get the opposite," Gideon replied, letting out a booming laugh that seemed to shake the very air. "Usually, people call me ’sir’ until I break their ribs in a sparring match, and even then, half of them think I’m just a really polite boy."

For a brief moment, they simply looked at each other, recognizing the shared, highly specific struggle that had likely plagued their entire childhoods. Then Gideon laughed again, the tension completely breaking. "Our parents must’ve had the same sense of humor."

Arya couldn’t help but laugh as well, the genuine amusement bubbling up from his chest. "It certainly feels that way. Maybe there’s a secret society for parents who want to confuse the world."

She extended a large, calloused hand, the palm covered in the hard ridges of years of heavy weapon training. "I’m Gideon."

He shook it, his smaller, smoother hand gripped firmly but respectfully by hers.

"Arya."

"Well... at least now I know I’m not the only one people mistake."

"You definitely aren’t," Arya agreed, adjusting his posture. "Though I think your mistakes usually end with people being a lot more polite than mine do."

"True," Gideon grinned. "Fear is a great modifier of manners."

Just then, a familiar voice echoed loudly across the courtyard, cutting through the general din of the crowd. "Sky! Doctor Ronald said those supplies need to reach the training hall before class starts!"

"I know!" came the frantic reply from somewhere down the path.

Both of them glanced toward the walkway, their conversation pausing as they watched the commotion. A black-haired student hurried past, struggling to balance two heavy wooden crates stacked almost to his chin. The crates looked incredibly dense, filled to the brim with iron weights, training weapons, and various medical jars that clinked dangerously with every movement. His steps were careful but hurried, his eyes wide and completely locked onto the top edge of the wooden box to keep the stack from tipping over. His expression was entirely focused on not dropping anything rather than the students around him, completely oblivious to the stares of the students. He was a portrait of pure, unglamorous hard work.

Without stopping, he adjusted his grip with a small, grunted heave and continued marching doggedly toward the training hall.

Gideon watched his retreating figure disappear around the stone corner of the main building. "He looks busy."

Arya nodded, watching the dust settle where the boy had walked. "Probably helping one of the instructors. I saw him earlier carrying a stack of target mats toward the archery range."

"Seems like a decent guy," Gideon noted, appreciating the solid, uncomplaining work ethic. "Most kids here would think they’re too good for manual labor."

"So do you," Arya said, turning back to her.

She looked back at him and grinned, her competitive spirit flaring back to life as she remembered the real reason everyone was gathered in the plaza. "You planning to enter the Royal Rumble?"

"I am," Arya replied, his voice quiet but steady. Beneath his gentle appearance lay a quiet resolve that matched her own.

"Good." She punched her open palm confidently, a sharp slap of leather and skin. "If we run into each other, let’s make sure neither of us are half dead too early. It’d be a shame to lose my only kindred spirit in there."

Arya smiled, a little more brightly than before, feeling a genuine sense of camaraderie for the first time since passing through the academy gates. "I’d like that."

For the first time since arriving at the academy, neither of them felt completely alone. Neither realized that the quiet student carrying Doctor Ronald’s supplies would one day become the teammate who would change both of their lives.

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