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The fight had already begun when the first onlookers arrived.
It was deep in one of Night Raven College’s lesser-used hallways, where the lanterns flickered dimly and dust collected in the corners. A place far from prying eyes—at least, that was the plan. But word traveled fast in NRC, and a small crowd had already gathered, whispering among themselves as they watched.
The Leech twins were outnumbered.
Jade had been the first to go down. Someone had blindsided him, catching him mid-step with a well-placed strike to the ribs. The impact had forced him to his knees, breath coming in sharp, controlled inhales. The attackers—five or six of them, upperclassmen mostly—had wasted no time, one grabbing Jade’s collar and yanking him forward while another drove a fist into his stomach.
Floyd had reacted instantly, his usual lazy posture snapping into something sharp and dangerous. His first punch sent one of the assailants crashing into the wall, but then three more were on him, forcing him back with calculated, brutal efficiency. Someone caught him in the jaw. Another grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back to hold him in place.
For a moment, it looked like he might break free.
Then a heavy boot slammed into the back of his knee, and he buckled.
The crowd watching was divided. Someone had asked why they were not using magic, then another pointed out that the attackers snatched the twins' magic pens and threw them somewhere. The attackers themselves seem content with using physical violence. Yet, knowing all of this, nobody wanted to interfere.
“This is bad,” one student muttered, shifting nervously as he watched Floyd hit the floor.
“Heh, I dunno, man,” another chuckled, arms crossed. “Those two have had it coming for a long time.”
Someone else scoffed. “Yeah, and what do you think happens when they get back up? You think Floyd’s gonna forget this? Jade?”
“That’s assuming they get back up.”
A tense silence followed.
Nearby, a first-year looked pale. “We should get a professor.”
“Are you crazy? What, you wanna get dragged into this? If we get involved, we’re next.”
“But—”
“Besides,” another interjected, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at them. They’re not so tough now, are they?”
A third-year exhaled sharply, his gaze locked on the fight. “You think this’ll stop them? That’s the problem with guys like you. You don’t get it. This—” he gestured at the brawl, at Floyd spitting blood onto the floor, at Jade gritting his teeth as another punch connected with his ribs—“this isn’t gonna end here.”
Someone else nodded, crossing their arms. “Yeah. I don’t care how many people they pissed off. There’s a reason no one messes with them.”
“That reason just got taken down.”
Another silence.
A different voice, hushed and uncertain: “What’s Azul gonna do when he finds out?”
At that, a few students stiffened.
Because that was the thing. The Leech twins were terrifying, yes—but Azul Ashengrotto was another matter entirely. The housewarden of Octavinelle was not known for emotional outbursts or wild revenge. He was known for cold, meticulous payback, the kind that didn’t leave bruises but still managed to ruin lives.
And if the twins were hurt—badly—then this was more than just some petty fight.
It was an act of war.
The murmurs spread through the crowd, growing more frantic.
"Azul? What's he gonna do? Cry about it?" one student scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Without those two meatheads backing him up, he's nothing. Just some scrawny, four-eyed businessman who got lucky."
"Yeah, what’s he gonna do, sue them?" another laughed, earning a few chuckles from the ones who thought the whole thing was justified.
"You're an idiot if you think Azul’s harmless," a third-year snapped, voice low. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the fight. "You ever seen what happens when someone crosses him? It doesn’t happen right away. But then suddenly, their luck goes to hell, one thing after another, until they’re drowning, and by the time they figure out why, it’s too late."
"Exactly," another muttered, arms wrapped around themselves like they were already cold.
The first student scoffed. "So what? Make them sign some stupid contract?"
"No. He’s going to ruin them."
That sent a shiver through the crowd.
A tense silence followed before someone near the back exhaled sharply. "Doesn't matter what he does. What matters is what they do." They gestured at the twins.
Because the fight wasn’t over.
Jade, still on the ground, was pushing himself up onto his palms, blood trailing from a split lip. His breathing was slow, controlled, but his shoulders were tense. Floyd, on the other hand—Floyd was laughing. A low, wheezing chuckle that sent a different kind of unease crawling up some of the spectators’ spines.
One of the attackers, standing over him, shifted uncomfortably. "The hell’s so funny?"
Floyd lifted his head, grinning wide despite the blood at the corner of his mouth. His pupils had blown wide, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and something far less safe.
"You’re all so dead," he giggled. "Like, so dead. Ahaha, I can’t wait~"
Another hush fell over the crowd.
Someone swallowed hard. "Yeah. This… this isn’t over."
And somewhere, in the back of their minds, they all had the same thought.
Azul Ashengrotto is going to find out.
It started as a whisper.
A passing remark in the halls.
Then, Azul caught the words that made his blood run cold.
"—Leech twins—attacked—"
He barely registered who said it. His heart slammed against his ribs, a deafening thud in his ears.
"What did you say?" His voice was sharp, controlled—too controlled.
The unfortunate student who had spoken flinched. "I—I don’t know the details! Just that someone jumped them—I think near the west wing—"
Azul didn't wait for more. He turned on his heel, his pace brisk—then faster—then a full sprint.
His mind whirled with possibilities, all of them worse than the last.
Jade and Floyd aren't weak. No one in their right mind would fight them head-on.
Which meant it had been an ambush.
By the time he reached the scene, a crowd had already gathered. Students clustered around, murmuring, their expressions ranging from shock to morbid fascination.
And not a single one of them was helping. Typical. Useless. All of them.
Azul shoved through, not caring who he pushed aside, his breath coming fast and heavy.
Jade and Floyd were always untouchable.
That was how it had always been. They were his closest confidants, his partners, his trusted enforcers. NRC was a dangerous place, but Azul never worried—not truly—because he knew they were strong. Knew they could handle anything.
And yet, there they were.
Jade was barely upright, slumped against the wall like a discarded puppet, his uniform torn, his tie missing. One eye was swollen shut, and a cut along his temple dripped blood down his cheek in thin, dark streaks. His breathing was labored, and his usually pristine gloves were stained red. His fists were clenched tight, knuckles bloodied, still ready to fight despite the fact that he could barely lift his head.
Floyd was worse.
Sprawled on the floor, his long limbs twisted unnaturally. His right arm—Azul’s stomach churned at the sight of it, bent at a sickening angle, broken. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, staining his sharp-toothed grin. He should have been unconscious from the pain, should have been groaning or cursing or at least angry.
But when his bleary, unfocused gaze found Azul, he smiled.
Not a smirk, not the sharp-edged grin he wore when playing with his prey. It was smaller, softer, and yet somehow more unbearable.
It was trust.
A certainty that Azul was there now, that everything was going to be fine.
Something in Azul snapped.
Rage surged through him like a tidal wave, swallowing reason, drowning hesitation. He didn’t think, didn’t calculate, didn’t plan.
He moved.
The crowd barely had time to process what happened before the first punch landed.
“Holy shit,” someone breathed.
Azul—Azul—was fighting.
Not with magic. Not with underhanded deals or clever words. No smooth negotiations, no careful maneuvering.
Just raw, physical violence.
A deep, primal part of the onlookers recoiled. Azul Ashengrotto didn’t fight like that. He never fought like that.
And yet, there he was—fist colliding with a student’s face, sending him crumpling to the ground.
“You should have thought about the consequences,” Azul said, voice dangerously soft. “Before you decided to test me.”
A shudder ran through the watching students.
“Did—did you see that?” Cater whispered, voice hushed, phone clutched tightly in his grip but utterly forgotten. His usual casual grin was gone, replaced with wide eyes and parted lips. “He just decked that guy.”
“Damn.” Ruggie let out a low whistle, arms crossed as he leaned against a pillar. “Didn’t know Azul had it in him.” His tail flicked once, ears twitching as another sharp impact echoed across the courtyard.
“He’s mad,” Epel muttered, his grip tightening on his sleeves. His knuckles were white. “I’ve never seen him like this.”
“No one has,” Rook said, fascinated with the sight, as his eyes gleamed with interest. “A storm, brewing for a long time, unleashed at last… magnifique~”
Malleus stood at the very edge of the crowd, silent, watching. The flickering lamplight cast deep shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable. His emerald eyes gleamed, sharp as cut gemstones, as Azul struck another attacker down with a vicious twist of his arm.
“Terrifying,” Jamil murmured, his arms crossed. His fingers tapped against his elbow, his gaze never leaving Azul’s movements. “And yet, somehow expected.”
Kalim swallowed hard, barely managing to tear his gaze away from the brutal display. “But… but he’s Azul! He doesn’t fight! He makes people fight for him!” His voice wavered, uncertain.
Vil scoffed, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “And you think he can’t fight?” His voice was cool, unimpressed, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.
Kalim fell silent, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his vest.
Riddle stood stiffly, his brows drawn together as if in conflict. His grip on his pen—usually used to call a collar—was loose. He looked away. “Just this once, I will not collar him.”
Sebek shifted uneasily beside him, his usual rigid stance faltering as he stared at the unfolding scene. “...Shouldn’t we do something?”
Leona snorted, arms lazily draped behind his head, though his tail was flicking with interest. “Go ahead,” he drawled. “See if you make it out with all your bones intact.”
Sebek’s mouth clamped shut.
Azul stepped forward.
The air turned cold.
Azul’s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts. His knuckles ached, but he didn’t care.
The bastards who did this were still conscious. That was unacceptable.
A student tried to run. Azul moved faster, sweeping his leg out, sending the boy crashing to the floor. He landed hard, gasping, eyes wide with panic.
He knew.
They all knew now.
Azul Ashengrotto wasn’t weak.
Azul Ashengrotto wasn’t harmless.
Azul Ashengrotto was furious.
And someone was going to pay.
They had tried to hold him back—at first, without magic, thinking it would be enough. They had grabbed at his arms, his shoulders, his waist, thinking that a scrawny merchant would be easy to restrain.
They were wrong.
Azul thrashed, ripped through their grip like they were made of paper. He fought like a beast unleashed, like a monster dragged from the depths of the ocean.
A Savanaclaw student—a third-year—had managed to grab him in a chokehold from behind. For a second, it looked like it might work.
Then Azul threw him.
There was a sickening thud as the third-year crashed into the floor, gasping.
"Shit—he’s strong—"
"What the hell, he’s just a dorm leader—"
"Not just a dorm leader, idiot—he’s a deep-sea merman—!"
That realization hit the crowd like a stone sinking into water.
Azul never fought. Azul let Jade and Floyd do the dirty work. Azul hated confrontation. Azul preferred smooth words, contracts, debt, and control.
But that was because Azul chose not to fight.
It wasn’t because he couldn’t.
Deep-sea mers weren’t just rare—they were dangerous. And an octomer, with his hidden strength, his extra limbs in his true form, his ability to crush and hold and drown—
They had never seen Azul fight because he had never needed to.
But now, they were seeing it firsthand.
And it was terrifying.
It wasn’t just the raw, terrifying strength. It was the way he fought, fast and brutal, without the hesitation of someone who had never been in a fight before. He knew how to break people.
And he was trying to break them.
They had never seen Azul lose control before.
He had lost it now.
His breath was ragged, wild, his pupils blown so wide that his irises were nearly eclipsed. His coat and hat was thrown away sometime during the fight. His hair, normally pristine, was disheveled, a lock falling into his face. He looked almost feverish. And his mouth—his sharp, clever mouth—was curled into something vicious. He was ready to keep going.
He wanted to keep going.
Some students who had been smugly watching before were now pale and shifting uncomfortably, glancing toward the professors' quarters as if expecting Crowley to come storming in at any moment. Others weren’t even breathing too hard, lest they draw Azul’s attention.
Even Savanaclaw students, who had been watching the fight with interest, seemed hesitant. The stronger ones—the real muscle of NRC—weren't stepping forward.
Leona, still leaning against the wall, let out a low chuckle. "Heh. Guess I was right. None of you wanna try your luck, huh?"
No one answered.
Because no one wanted to get near Azul.
"Someone—someone get a professor! He’s going to kill them!"
The desperate shout from the back of the crowd barely registered in Azul’s mind.
Hands grabbed at him again—more this time, stronger, desperately trying to haul him back. Someone locked their arms around his waist, someone else pulled at his arms, and another grabbed at his shoulders, trying to restrain him before he could move again.
"Get his arms—!"
"Dammit, he’s not stopping—"
"Use magic—!"
Someone did. A sharp pulse of dampening magic surged over Azul’s skin, trying to force his muscles to weaken.
For a second, it worked.
Then Azul snarled, ripped through the spell, and kept moving.
Someone cursed. "What the hell?!"
"How is he this strong—"
Azul wasn’t hearing them.
His blood was still boiling, his mind locked onto the single fact that the twins were hurt, and the ones responsible were still breathing.
He wanted them to suffer.
To drown.
To regret.
His body coiled for another attack.
Then—
"Azul!"
The voice cut through like a blade.
His head snapped toward them.
Jade.
Jade, still slumped against the wall, still bloody and bruised and barely upright, smiling that wry, knowing smile. "It’s over," he said, voice calm despite everything.
Azul’s mind stuttered.
"It’s over," Jade repeated, quieter this time, something unreadable in his gaze.
Floyd groaned beside him, shifting slightly, eyes half-lidded but still watching Azul. "Ugh… land fights suck…" He wheezed out a breath, his voice slurred from exhaustion and pain. "‘Zul… quit makin’ a scene… we already won, didn’t we?"
Something in Azul fractured.
All at once, the rage drained from his limbs.
Not gone—never gone—but the moment shattered, and Azul saw.
The blood on his hands.
The bruises on the twins.
The broken bodies of the students who had dared lay hands on them.
The horrified expressions of the crowd.
And—most importantly—Jade and Floyd, still hurt. Still vulnerable. Still not safe.
Azul inhaled sharply, and when he exhaled, it wasn’t fury anymore. It was something else.
Something worse.
He wrenched himself free from the hands restraining him, but he didn’t attack. Didn’t even glance at the fallen students anymore.
They weren’t important.
Only two things mattered now.
"…Jade. Floyd."
The crowd watched, stunned, as Azul dropped to his knees beside them, the same hands that had struck with fury now reaching out—shaking, uncertain, gentle.
He hesitated. Then, without thinking, he pulled them both in.
Jade let out a quiet breath, sinking against him. Floyd didn’t struggle, wiggling closer to him, minding his broken arm.
Azul held them tight.
The whispers in the crowd died.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
The infirmary beds weren’t exactly spacious, but that hadn’t stopped the twins from telling Azul to push two of them together to make more room. The result was a makeshift shared cot, barely wide enough to fit all three of them, but it didn’t seem to bother the twins in the slightest.
Azul, on the other hand, sat stiffly between them, arms crossed, back rigid. Floyd was sprawled on one side, his good arm draped lazily over Azul’s waist, while Jade reclined on the other, his fingers just barely brushing against Azul’s sleeve.
“…This is ridiculous,” Azul muttered, but he made no effort to move.
“Ridiculous is you sittin’ there like a stiff little rock,” Floyd snickered, shifting slightly to nudge his chin against Azul’s shoulder. “C’mon, relax~”
Azul huffed. “I am relaxed.”
Jade chuckled, low and knowing. “No, you’re not.” His voice was still hoarse, but there was a teasing lilt to it. “You’re stewing.”
Azul let out a slow breath, staring down at his hands. His knuckles were wrapped in fresh bandages, hiding the bruises and cuts beneath. Even after the nurse administered potions and salves for him to use, it still left marks. It felt surreal, like none of it had actually happened—that if he blinked, he’d wake up, and the twins wouldn’t be lying next to him looking like they’d barely crawled out of a fight for their lives.
The quiet between them wasn’t entirely comfortable.
“…I lost control,” he murmured at last. His voice was low, hoarse. “I—” His fingers curled into the sheets, jaw tightening. “I wasn’t thinking. I just saw you both, and I—I reacted.”
He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “It was reckless.”
Floyd let out a raspy laugh. “Reckless? Nah. That was awesome.”
Azul shot him a sharp glare. “Floyd—”
“I mean it!” Floyd propped himself up slightly, wincing as he did. “You shoulda seen yourself, Azul! Those guys didn’t stand a chance. I dunno what was scarier—watching you wreck them, or them now knowing you’d been hiding all that strength this whole time.”
Jade smiled faintly, his voice still holding a teasing lilt. “Quite the dramatic reveal. You had everyone fooled.”
Azul’s face twisted, and he dropped his gaze. “It wasn’t meant to be a reveal,” he muttered. “I—” He hesitated. “…I just didn’t want anyone to see me like that.”
Jade and Floyd exchanged a glance.
“Like what?” Floyd asked, tilting his head.
Azul exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “…Like some violent brute who doesn’t know when to stop.”
Jade hummed thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t say that’s what we saw.”
Azul frowned. “Oh? Then what did you see?”
Jade’s visible eye softened. “We saw someone who was protecting us.”
Azul’s breath caught.
Floyd grinned, shifting again to lean against Azul’s side. “Yeah. You weren’t just pissed, you were pissed for us. And that’s kinda sweet, y’know?”
“Sweet?” Azul echoed, aghast.
Jade chuckled. “Yes. Sweet.”
Azul groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Seven, I hate you both.”
Floyd snickered. “No, you don’t~”
Azul refused to dignify that with a response.
After a beat, his voice softened. “…You two scared me,” he admitted. “When I saw you like that…” He swallowed thickly. “I thought—”
He couldn’t finish the sentence.
Jade’s expression turned gentle. He reached out, resting a light hand over Azul’s own.
“We’re still here,” he murmured.
Floyd hummed in agreement, tightening his grip around Azul’s waist. “Yeah. Ain’t gonna get rid of us that easily.”
Azul let out a shaky breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his lips into a thin line.
Then, finally, he squeezed back.
His gaze flickered to the infirmary doors, where the professors and the Headmage had come and gone, speaking in hushed voices. He caught snippets of conversation—“injuries were severe”, “excessive force”, “it was self-defense, but still”—and his stomach twisted.
Even though it had been an act of defense, even though he hadn’t meant to go so far, there would still be consequences. They couldn’t just ignore the fact that several students had been left bloodied and barely conscious in the aftermath. Azul had lost control, and everyone had seen it.
He had no regrets about protecting the twins. He never would.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t bracing himself for what was to come.
Floyd, for all his usual aloofness, seemed to pick up on it. “Quit stressin’,” he mumbled. “You’re not the only one who almost killed someone, y’know. Pretty sure I woulda finished the job if I wasn’t already half-dead.”
Azul shot him a glare. “That is not reassuring.”
Jade chuckled. “What he means to say,” he murmured, “is that you did what you had to do. And no matter what happens next…” He met Azul’s gaze, steady and unshaken. “You’re not alone in it.”
Azul swallowed hard.
Floyd’s grip tightened. “Yeah. You got us, ‘Zul. We’ll figure it out.”
For a long moment, Azul said nothing.
Then, finally, his shoulders slumped just slightly.
Floyd and Jade were nestled against him, their exhaustion evident as the healing potions took effect. Their breathing was slow, steady, the kind that came when the body finally gave up fighting the pain and surrendered to rest.
Azul kept his arms around them, one hand resting lightly against the back of Floyd’s head, the other curled around Jade’s back.
He had always been careful with them.
Even in his worst moments of anger or stress, Azul had never lashed out at them. Never raised his voice in true fury, never lost control around them. He had promised himself, after his overblot, that no matter what, he would never become something they feared again.
Tonight had nearly broken that promise.
But despite the blood, despite the bruises, despite the wreckage he had left behind—Jade and Floyd still trusted him. They still leaned into his touch, still let themselves rest against him, still smiled at him.
His chest ached.
“…Fools,” he murmured, voice softer now, barely above a whisper.
His hands moved on their own.
A palm ghosted over Jade’s back, tracing down his spine. Fingers brushed through Floyd’s tangled hair, smoothing it down. He tilted his head slightly to press a kiss to Floyd’s forehead, then shifted to do the same to Jade.
They hummed in quiet contentment, half-asleep, barely reacting beyond the way they burrowed closer.
Floyd nuzzled into his neck, breath warm against Azul’s skin. His arm, still wrapped in fresh bandages, twitched slightly before settling over Azul’s waist. “Mmm… warm…”
Jade let out a slow exhale, resting his head against Azul’s shoulder. His fingers curled lightly in the fabric of Azul’s shirt. “You always were overly sentimental, Azul.”
Azul huffed a quiet, breathy laugh. “And you two are exhausting.”
“Mm… love you too, Boss…” Floyd slurred.
Azul’s breath caught.
Jade, already on the verge of sleep, smiled faintly. “Indeed.”
Azul swallowed hard. Then, with slow, careful movements, he let himself relax fully against the pillows, arms tightening around them both.
“…Rest now,” he murmured. “You are correct—we’ll deal with the outcome later.”
The words he didn’t say hung in the air between them, warm and unshaken.
Thank you.
I love you.
The twins drifted off into sleep.
And Azul stayed awake, holding them close, making sure they were safe.