Aman caught the bundled black fabric Zephyr tossed at him—a fresh shirt, still folded neatly, as if the guy carried spares for situations like this.
He didn't question it since he was the one who asked. Stripping off the bloodied rags of his old one, he tugged the new shirt on.
It hung a bit loose on his frame, the sleeves slightly long and the hem brushing past his hips—Zephyr was easily ten centimeters taller—but somehow, Aman liked it that way. It felt comfortable and easy to move.
"Urgh.."
"Hmm..."
"I-I can't see..."
Around them, groans and murmurs rose as students and faculty began stirring.
Zephyr's frown deepened, his eyes scanning the room like a predator assessing threats. Aman squinted—his vision still slightly blurred from Exorcist Eye's use—but even he could see the confusion spreading through the crowd.
