Cat dreams and Fox secrets

Ray woke up to someone tugging at his blanket. — "Wake up, waake uuup," a voice purred beside him — soft, sing-songy, and painfully enthusiastic. He cracked one eye open. — "Lio..." — "Good morning! It's almost eight! I haven't eaten since last night — I'm going to die! My paws! I have paws!" Lio flopped onto the edge of the bed like a lazy cat, stretching out and tugging gently at the sleeve of Ray's pajama shirt. — "Hurry up! The cafeteria's in the south wing, and if we're not first, they'll steal all the tuna pies from me!" Ray slowly sat up, as if gravity had doubled. He wasn't fully awake yet, but he already sensed that Lio was the kind of roommate who'd wake him every day under the excuse of some "extremely important reason" involving food, sleep — or both. — "You do realize I've only slept for... what, like-" he glanced at the glowing numbers on his enchanted clock, — "six hours and thirty-seven minutes. That's not enough." — "Uh-huh, but you look great," Lio said shamelessly. — "Your hair's so tousled, it looks like you're about to transform into a drama villain. Let's go, villain." Ray sighed. He wondered why the fox part of him hadn't rebelled yet. The Academy's corridors were full of life in the morning — not the loud, chaotic kind you'd find on city streets, but thick and drowsy, humming with a low magical buzz, like a beehive before a storm. Scents drifted through the halls: warm bread, fresh herbs, roasted meat, woodsmoke, tea, mint, a bit of dust from library shelves, and the faint tingle of magic — it lingered in the air like the smell of rain. Old, but alive. Students moved about like creatures from different worlds: werewolves yawned lazily, stretching their paw-like hands and snapping their fangs — not out of hostility, just habit. Two vampires and a dryad emerged from an archway, mid-argument — judging by their tones, it was either about the class schedule or a recent girlfriend someone had 'accidentally bloodied.' — "Don't stare too long," Lio whispered as he guided Ray through the bustling lobby. — "Especially not at the senior girls from the Binding Magic department. One time, a centaur stared too long... Now he sings lullabies under her window. Since autumn. In every language." Ray raised an eyebrow. — "Was that a joke?" — "Take it how you want." Before he could decide how to respond, they entered the dining hall. The room was grand — semi-circular, with ceilings that faded into magical mist, stained glass windows depicting shimmering scenes from different eras of the Academy, and tables that stretched or shrank depending on how many were seated. Scents floated through the air from every corner of the world — and not just the human one. Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, unexplainable. Some dishes looked familiar. Others whispered in unknown tongues. One table even had a floating bowl of soup with a blinking eye that tracked the cook's every move. — "There." Lio pointed toward the neutral cuisine section with a pleased grin. — "That food won't curse you. At least... not right away." While Lio energetically piled his tray with cutlets, fried rice, warm rolls, milk tea, and pies (with tuna, as promised), Ray approached another counter — the one with the scent of forest and morning light. Energy pricked at him inside, as if his body instinctively knew what it needed. He took green tea, light and smoky like damp leaves. A couple of rice balls with sesame and pickled plum. A handful of dark berries that looked like blueberries but smelled sweet and wild. A small plate with roasted pumpkin slices and thin radish rings in honey. Simple food, yet filled with subtle energy. — "Aha! So you're not the kind who lives on coffee and air," Lio commented, dropping onto the bench beside him. — "Much better." — "I need to stay stable," Ray replied simply. He didn't explain that even this food was more than nourishment — it was fuel to keep his disguise from unraveling by noon. — "You talk like you're a magical artifact," Lio snorted, biting into a pie. — "And you eat berries like a forest spirit. Are you sure we shouldn't put you in a display case?" Ray gave him a glance but said nothing. Lio didn't seem to be trying to pry. He just talked — openly, warmly. Like he lived in a world where no one had claws hidden beneath their skin. For a while, they ate in silence. Soft morning light filtered through the stained glass. The hall echoed with the clink of spoons, the murmur of conversations, and the quiet ripple of magic — shadows behind one student morphed shapes; a book on someone's tray came to life and scurried back to the kitchen; above a group of fairies hovered a tiny thundercloud as they argued. — "Do you think," Lio said around a mouthful of pie, — "that anyone here is just a 'normal student'? No secrets, no past disasters, no tails — metaphorical, I mean?" Ray smirked. Almost. — "Not a single one." — "Exactly. At least it's honest," Lio nodded. — "Everyone here's got something. It's like a club for walking mysteries. Except you never know who might curse someone if the coffee spills." He stretched, yawned, and carefully adjusted his tail so it wouldn't get squashed. — "Alright! Food is sacred. But now — to battle." He stood. — "Let's go. I'll show you the archive. We'll sort your schedule before the brawl for 'good slots' begins. It's like a fight over the last piece of tuna." Ray stood up, feeling the warmth of food and tea settling gently inside him. He really did feel better. He didn't know yet how his school day would go, or who'd sit beside him in lectures — but he could already feel: this place was real. The magic. The walls. The weirdness. Lio. And now — it was his. After breakfast, they headed to the magical archive — a place where first-years built their schedules, and upper-years slowly lost their minds trying to trade out of classes with "lecturing walls that run laps." From the outside, the archive looked normal enough — a stone tower wrapped in creeping moss. But inside... it felt like the pocket of a mad librarian. Shelves reached to the dome ceiling — if that even was a ceiling, and not just another inverted floor. Books whispered, sang, argued. Some had feathers. Inkwells walked on legs, their ink shimmering or smelling like snow or moonlight. Behind the counter sat the archivist — a tall woman with spiderlike fingers, triple-layered glasses, and a pendulum swaying endlessly in her hair. Her gaze pierced as if she already knew what crimes you'd commit mid-semester — and was preparing the report. — "Shinohara, Ray," she said without looking up. — "Free orientation across departments. Core blocks plus three electives. Here's your course chart." She snapped her fingers, and a translucent table appeared in the air before Ray. The rows shimmered softly: History of Magic, Self-Control and Suppression Techniques, Fundamentals of Aura Perception, Mythology and Magical Contracts, Latent Powers and Their Nature, Mandatory Defense: Theory and Practice. Ray scanned the list and chose: History of Magic (to blend in — and he knew the subject well), Aura Perception (in case anyone tried to 'scan' him), and Latent Powers — because the name felt suspiciously on-point. While he confirmed his choices, a mini-drama unfolded nearby. — "Why can't I take 'Potion-Making: Cats and Claws'?!" Lio complained, struggling with a sentient book that slapped his fingers and whacked him with its spine. — "Because the course is unaccredited, written by a troll with no teaching license, and cursed twice," the archivist said flatly without looking up. — "Pfft. Even if it is cursed, that's no reason to deny students access to crucial knowledge!" Lio huffed, but the book still darted back to the shelf. He narrowed his eyes as if sensing something, then confidently reached for another tome — old, bound in something like hide, with a faded title: Border Spirits and How to Work with Them. — "I'll take this," he said quietly, settling into a chair. — "They cling to me anyway. Maybe now I'll understand what they want." Ray tensed slightly. He remembered the night before — the balcony, the dim sky, and the cats. Ghostly. Half-transparent, smoky, with mismatched eyes and soft, shadowy steps. They'd circled near his and Lio's room... like they already knew him. Ray didn't mention that. Or the one sitting right now on the windowsill — a gray silhouette with flame-like eyes, watching Lio with open fondness. They weren't supposed to be visible. Not to regular students. — "They cling to you?" Ray asked carefully, keeping his face neutral. Lio shrugged. — "Yeah. No idea why. Maybe I smell nice? Or I'm warm. Or maybe I've got that 'safe harbor for lost souls' energy. Or maybe... cats and spirits both like fluffy things." — "One time a spirit lived in my backpack for two weeks. Ate my ink. Got mad whenever I tried doing homework." — "You never summoned them?" Ray asked, quieter now. — "Nope. They just show up. Especially between sleep and dreaming. You know that moment when you're almost asleep? That's when they're like, 'Ooh, warm spot!' They chill a bit, then vanish." Ray swallowed, hiding a smile — partly from Lio's words, partly from relief. He didn't understand why spirits were so drawn to him — but the fact they also clung to Lio was... strange. And comforting. He confirmed his course selection, and his schedule lit up blue. The archivist tilted her head. — "Good luck, boys. And remember — academic dismissal isn't the only way to die in your first year." They left the archive and headed back. The day was warming, the air scented with moss, stone, and something... promising. Back in the room, Ray carefully laid out his schedule, studied the routes, and realized most of his classes would be in the Leviathan Tower (blue-green wing), and the rest in the Shimmering Garden — where, rumor had it, professors changed shape mid-lecture 'for educational effect.' He sank onto his bed, shoulders relaxing slightly. Lio was already sprawled by the window, sketching something in his notebook. His tail swayed like a pendulum in the morning sun. — "Are you always this... perky in the morning?" Ray asked, still tasting the warm tea on his tongue after all the running around. — "Only when there's food. And sunshine," Lio replied. "And... when I feel like the day's going to be interesting." Ray smiled faintly. He was almost certain: yes. The day would be interesting. And after that — it would only get deeper.