Ken didn't feel comfortable anywhere in Grimoire. Not really. While the strange city wasn't frightening in the same way that the Dark Hour or Tartarus had been, the sense of foreboding that came from being trapped in an unfamiliar place with no control and no purpose was unrelenting and that somehow seemed worse to him. Unnatural darkness and labyrinthine towers and monsters that only lasted until morning didn't seem so bad by comparison. But he was trying not to dwell on this and had stubbornly begun carving out a routine to keep himself and his mind busy: exploring the city in the morning, studying or reading at the library in the afternoon, and training with Koromaru in the evening until he was exhausted. Then sleep. If he could sleep.
Now, heading up the steps and through the double doors into the larger of the city's libraries, he performed a mental evaluation of where he'd left off. While part of him realized how absurd it was to be continuing his lessons in a place like this and in circumstances like these, it felt good to do something so mundane. So normal. It calmed his nerves and made him feel grounded, even if just for a little while. And besides...he was a member of the student council, wasn't he? It wouldn't be right for him to return home and be too far behind in his lessons to ever catch up. He pulled in a breath and smiled wanly to himself, murmuring in his native language to the small white dog trotting at his heels, "At this rate, I will be at the top of my class. Right, Koromaru?" The dog yipped, the sound echoing in the entry and making the boy flinch reflexively. This was still a library, after all. He glanced over his shoulder and put his finger to his lips to silence his friend before he could bark again, then turned the corner into the main body of the building.
He made his way toward the shelves, but slowed as he spotted a figure moving among the tables and the rows; a dark-haired man pouring something from a thermos as he leaned over a eclectic collection of books and an ornate staff bobbed against his back. The boy's grip on the spear propped against his shoulder (he'd gotten in the habit of carrying it everywhere) tightened, but he willed it to loosen and ventured hesitantly, "...Hello?"