"It's been a fucking day." Secretary Saiaka muttered, her voice edged with restrained frustration.
"Give her time." Ichii replied calmly, one of V's demon retainers standing with arms crossed, unbothered by the weight in the air.
They stood in a private cemetery nestled in the hills of Mount Uzumaki, overlooking the glittering sprawl of Tokyo far below. V remained motionless, a striking figure at one hundred and eighty centimeters—excluding the ten-inch black heels that stabbed the earth beneath her. Her eyes, cold as winter steel, bore into the night. The city lights barely kissed the sharp lines of her face.
"She has to eat," Saiaka hissed through clenched teeth, flicking her lighter to life and drawing in a sharp inhale from her cigarette. She rarely smoked—but tonight, her nerves had run dry.
"I thought you quit," came a familiar low voice behind them.
Minamoto Tomo.
The two demon retainers turned to glance at him, but Saiaka didn't even flinch.
"Do something about your girl," she muttered, exhaling smoke into the dark sky as Tomo stepped up beside her, settling between her and the Demons.
"Stop that," he frowned.
"She's been smoking twenty-four-seven, seven days a week, and I'm the one getting yelled at?"
"I wasn't yelling."
"Hey, hey…" Ichii raised a hand, attempting to mediate.
"Oh, now you fuckwit are on his side? Fine." Saiaka snapped, extinguishing her cigarette on the gravel with the sharp stomp of her heel. Her glare lingered before her voice dropped into something quieter. "He was hospitalized for a week, you know…" A pause. "Before V brought in the new kid, Matsumoto-sama was diagnosed with end-stage stomach cancer."
Tomo said nothing. He simply shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his gaze fixed on the back of V—on the way her long raven-black hair whipped freely in the wind. She stood straight as always, shoulders squared with the same unyielding resolve, even now.
"She visited him," Saiaka added, eyes narrowing. "Came out with her eyes so fucking swollen I almost didn't recognize her. That was only the second time I'd ever seen her break. The first… well, that was a long time ago."
"What happened, happened," Tomo said quietly, voice like gravel.
Saiaka lit another cigarette, hands trembling just slightly.
The four of them remained in silence, unmoving as statues beneath the moonlight, watching V from a respectful distance as she stood before two gravestones—those of her brother and Matsumoto Hirota.
And without needing to speak it aloud, they waited.
"Let me smoke just this once," Saiaka whispered finally, her voice cracking, eyes glossed with tears.
AKAI REN
I've been here three months. Ninety days. Two hundred and sixteen meals. Countless hours of pain, sweat, and inner screaming. And still… I am not used to this place.
The people? Mysterious and terrifyingly fit.
The surroundings? Beautiful but deceiving (I swear the sakura trees whisper insults… just like Ikari Sakura I'm crying inside).
The trainings? AAHHH THE TRAININGS!
Like right now. It's dawn. The birds are chirping. The sky's still rubbing the sleep out of its eyes. And me? I'm gasping like a fish on dry land.
"Awghh…" I exhaled dramatically, like I was in the final scene of a tragic samurai movie.
Not that I'm ungrateful or anything—Tomo-sensei is the strictest human-shaped monster I've ever met, and yes, I have gotten stronger. My abs are starting to form. I think. Maybe one and a half of them.
But still… why the hell am I the only one running laps at ungodly hours while everyone else is doing normal training things like… breathing??
*crying internally in silence*
Even so, for a delinquent gremlin like me who only knew how to throw punches in street fights, this school has taught me something shocking: morals. Discipline. Stuff I used to think were made-up concepts adults yelled about on TV.
Oh, and martial arts. Which is like, ridiculously hard. I got kicked in the face by a fellow first-years last week and they apologized by offering me a rice cracker. I ate it while bleeding. It was humbling.
Honestly though, I never imagined I'd have this kind of life: a comfy bed, three solid meals a day, and a future. A real one! Even if I've been reminded (at least ten times a week) that it's a dangerously short one. Still… pretty neat.
"Who even am I to be this blessed?" I whispered, smirking up at the sky as I stretched, bones cracking like popcorn.
Maybe… just maybe... I've grown. A little. And maybe—just a sliver of a possibility—Tomo-sensei doesn't dislike me as much as he used to.
...Slight chance.
"How are you holding up?" came The Voice from behind me—calm, grave, and sounding like it belonged to a man who wrestled bears before breakfast.
Tomo-sensei.
Dear gods. I forgot his specialty: appearing out of thin air like a ninja dad with judgmental eyes.
"Better than yesterday, I guess," I replied, managing not to squeak. No more trembling voice like my first month—I was a warrior now. I adjusted my jersey like a pro.
"Thirty laps for warm-up, right?" I added, grinning like an idiot as I assumed my ready stance. Time to suffer with dignity. I got this. I got this. You are strong. You are pain-resistant. You are hydrated.
"Not today," he said.
"Eh?" My body twitched in confusion.
"The Special Class students have returned. You'll be training with them today."
"EH?"
"And tomorrow, I'm sending you on your first mission. With your team."
"EHHHHHHHHHHHH?!?!?"
**
It was a looooong day.
Like, "I-can't-feel-my-legs-and-my-soul-left-my-body-three-hours-ago" kind of long. I'm genuinely struggling to remember how breathing works.
The Special Class senpais? Absolute monsters. There were only two of them—two!—but they mopped the floor with me like I was a training dummy made of wet paper.
But you know what? I can't even be mad.
Because damn… I have nothing but pure respect and admiration for them. They're the real deal. Power, grace, terrifying auras—senpai-level perfection.
And that was just our first meeting.
I'm scared for my future now.
EARLIER TODAY
I was told to come back after breakfast. Just rest a little, they said.
But sit still? Me? While Yamada, Ryosuke, and Sakura were out there sharpening their skills like warriors forged in battle?
Absolutely not.
There I was, chewing on a rice ball like a distracted goblin, while they moved like gods across the training yard. Every strike, every step—they were getting faster, stronger, deadlier. In just three months, they've evolved into monsters. Focused. Relentless.
And I just sat there like a glorified mascot.
Damn it.
I want to catch up. No—I will catch up. I don't care if I'm just a "mere-human." So what? Even a regular mortal can claw his way to greatness, right?
"Ehh? He doesn't look so bad. Got some meat on 'im."
A gravelly voice dropped from above. Literally. An upside-down face dangled from the rafters, inches from mine.
I flinched. "I—I'm sorry, may I know who you are?"
"Hehehe, why doncha tell me who you are first, eh? Akai Ren, right?"
"…Okay, but how am I supposed to tell you who I am if you already know who I am?"
"HUUHH?" He blinked at me. Multiple times. Like an overloaded NPC. Before I could react, a hand shot up and slammed his face down onto the concrete cafeteria floor with a resounding *thud*.
"Idiot." That guy approached, cool and composed, hands shoved in his coat pockets. "Don't mind him. He's got a screw loose—was dropped on his head as a baby. Repeatedly."
He gestured lazily at the twitching body on the floor. "That's Gomei. I'm Reiji. We're your trainers."
"What—wait, trainers?!"
"No time for chatter." He cracked his knuckles. "Waterfall. Now."
And like that, we were off.
Ten. Straight. Hours.
TRAINING MONTAGE — "WATERFALL HELL & SENPAI MAYHEM"
WATERFALL TRAINING — HOUR 1
The first slap of ice water hit me like karma for all my past sins.
I barely got a breath in before—
"STAND UP STRAIGHT!"
*WHACK!*
"NO BENDING!"
*WHAM!*
"NOW THROW A STRIKE WHILE HOLDING A BOULDER!"
Yes. A boulder. I looked like a meatball trying to do karate.
Meanwhile, Gomei had recovered and was doing somersaults on a tree like an over-caffeinated squirrel.
"JUST RELAX AND FLOW—LIKE THIS!" He shouted, cartwheeling into the river and almost drowning.
Reiji ignored him.
"You have power, Ren. But you throw punches like an old man swatting flies."
HOUR 3 — PUNCH PRACTICE
We moved to a clearing filled with suspended logs.
"Strike each one. In rhythm. No hesitation."
I nodded. Determined. I inhaled. Focused. Found my center.
*WHAM* — Missed the first one and hit myself in the nose.
Gomei cackled from the treetops. "YOU LOOK LIKE A DRUNK DUCK!"
"Do you want to die today, Gomei?" Reiji muttered, eyes twitching.
HOUR 5 — SPARRING SESSION
"Alright," Reiji said, cracking his knuckles. "Hit me."
"…You sure?"
"Come on, meatball. Try."
I focused, aimed, and launched everything I had—
*BOOM.*
A clean hit to his jaw.
Time froze. Even birds paused mid-flight.
Reiji slowly turned back, his grin wider. "Not bad."
Then—
*KNEE TO THE RIBS.*
*ELBOW TO THE SHOULDER.*
*AND A SWEEP TO MY SOUL.*
I hit the ground with the grace of a dropped bag of wet rice.
"But remember…" he crouched beside me, steam rising off his skin like a boss battle entrance. He cracked his neck, then his knuckles, then removed his black shirt, muscles carved like sculpted stone.
"Precision beats power. Timing beats speed."
He looked down at me, smirking. "Tomo-sensei's favorite quote."
My eyes lit up like someone had just handed me a rare anime sword.
"Yes, Senpai…" I coughed out blood. Maybe a tooth. "I will remember."
HOUR 8 — MENTAL ENDURANCE
"You'll be doing stance meditation now."
I sat under the waterfall again.
Cold. Wet. Shaking. Frogs judging me.
"Control your thoughts. Empty your mind."
A leaf landed on my head. I sneezed.
"You failed."
HOUR 10 — FINAL ROUND
"LAST ROUND! YOU EITHER GRADUATE THIS SESSION A FIGHTER OR GO HOME A SALAD!"
Reiji and Gomei stood on either side, armed with wooden swords.
"Dodge," Reiji said.
I blinked.
"Wait—"
*CRACK.*
I was already rolling. Dodging. Leaping. Gritting my teeth.
Then I saw it—an opening.
I slid under Reiji's swing and landed another strike to his chest.
*Thud.*
He looked down. Impressed.
"Not bad."
I was panting like a dog in July, soaked, bruised, and probably had mild hypothermia.
But I was smiling.
Wide.
"Again?" I asked.
Reiji raised a brow.
"…You're a freak. I like it."
**
"Riiiiiight...!" I exhaled dramatically, stepping out of the bathroom, steam clinging to my skin. "Gaaah—whatever! Totally worth it! Those fights were insane!" I grinned, still buzzing, and opened the fridge.
Empty.
"Huh? Did I eat everything unconsciously?" I scratched my head.
"Nope. I ate them. Consciously."
"HUH?" I spun around like I'd been shot.
There—legs kicked up against the wall, lounging on my bed like it was hers—was Sakura, casually munching on my last bag of chips.
Oh. It's just Sakura.
Wait. SAKURA?!
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?!"
"Eating your snacks." She replied without blinking.
"Why don't you eat your snacks in your room?"
"I ran out in mine."
"Could you maybe run out quietly and go buy your own next time?!"
"I could," she said, popping another cookie in her mouth, "but this was faster."
I sighed hard enough to deflate a tire. "Okay but, how did you even get in? I locked the door…"
"You forgot the terrace door." She jerked a thumb toward the open window behind her. "By the way, put on some clothes, you're half-naked."
"I just showered!"
"Still. My eyes are not ready for that much skin before snacks."
**
I cracked open a can of Coke, took a long swig, and finally glanced at the pink-haired intruder lounging in my room. "Uhm… how long are you planning to stay, exactly?" I raised a brow as I sank into the study chair.
"I don't recall ever specifying," Sakura replied casually, not even looking up from the snack in her hand.
"It's eleven o'clock."
"Yup."
"Sakuraaa…"
"Oh, come on." She rolled over on the bed like a cat stretching. "Loosen up a little. Weren't you supposed to be some badass delinquent at your last school? Surely you've been up past eleven. Or what—no luck sneaking girls into your room before?"
I blinked. Then said nothing. Which somehow made the silence heavier.
Eventually, Sakura sighed like she was giving up, pushing herself off the bed. "You're boring," she muttered, adjusting her oversized pajamas.
"Wrong."
"Blegh." She shot me a glare. "You are, though."
"You're wrong about the room."
She paused mid-step. "Dude, what?"
"I didn't have one before. A room, I mean." I leaned back in the chair, eyes on the ceiling. "This is the first time I've had a room to myself. In my fifteen years on Earth."
She stared at me for a moment. "So what, I'm supposed to feel sorry you came from some crowded orphanage with bunk beds stacked like pancakes?"
"I'm not asking you to feel anything. Just… saying I'm grateful." I tilted my head. "Also, did Yamada tell you that?"
She scanned me. Up and down. Once. Twice.
"Okay, that's uncomfortable," I muttered.
"I read your file."
"You what?"
"Ryosuke and I snuck into his grandfather's office. There wasn't much info on you, though."
Of course. "You could've just asked me. I would've told you anything. Sneaking around wasn't necessary. There's nothing interesting about me."
Sakura tilted her head. "You're really clueless, huh? Do you always just go along with whatever people say?"
"Not exactly. I once punched a teacher in the face for telling me to start a fake riot to cover up some rich kid's crimes."
She snorted. "And you actually did it. Nice."
"Yeah. Got suspended. Then expelled. Fucked-up dropout. Now I'm here."
"Well, you're in school now, aren't you? So technically, you're not a dropout anymore." She settled next to me, onto the desk, arms crossed.
For a moment, I studied her. She was actually kind of cute up close. Or maybe that was just the teenage hormones talking.
Shit.
She's very cute.
"I guess you're right," I murmured with a small smile.
"You ready for tomorrow?" She asked suddenly. "It's your first mission."
"Heh. I'm nowhere near your level, but I'll survive."
Silence again. Thick and weird.
Then she said, "V-sensei…"
"Huh?" I raised an eyebrow. "What about her?"
"She can't see the Spectres," Sakura uttered softly, leaning in until her face was barely inches from mine. Her eyes locked on mine, unreadable. "Just. Like. You."
My heart skipped.
WHAT?
**
Sakura ended up crashing in my room last night.
We talked until sleep won the fight. She took the bed, I took the floor—classic gentleman move, I guess. Now, with barely three hours of shut-eye, my head's pounding like someone's drumming inside it.
But her words from last night are still echoing.
V-sensei can't see Spectres?
How? Everyone says she's insanely strong. Tattoos that move on their own, reflexes sharper than a blade… how could someone like that not see them?
Gods, this headache isn't helping either.
Flashback: Last Night
"She can't see them." Sakura stated, lying back on my bed, arms tucked under her head. "But she can sense them. Even if they're miles away."
"That… sounds cool."
"I saw her once. Pulled her revolver and shot a Demon dead from a rooftop. Nailed it, no hesitation."
"Damn. That's… impressive."
"Can you sense them too?"
"Well, I can't exactly see a sabotamic particle, but I know it's there. Last time I acted on instinct, really. Does that count?"
"If you train your instincts hard enough, sure—it counts."
"Think I've got a shot? At becoming someone like her?"
She laughed. "Ha! That's cute."
"Yeah, what the hell was I thinking…"
"You're good with your fists, I'll give you that. But in our world, you need more than just a strong right hook."
"Gotcha."
"But hey… V-sensei once told me anything's possible. She said that when I was six."
"Six? You knew her since then?"
"She's been my mentor for as long as I can remember. My parents kinda forced her into it."
"Forced?"
"I think. It's fuzzy. She was trained by my older cousin before he died… no one in my family talks about it. No school record, either. Same with Ryosuke's dad. And Yamada's mom."
"That's… heavy."
"Yeah. All four of them—my cousin, Ryosuke's dad, Yamada's mom, and V-sensei's brother—trained her. They were basically legends during the Great War, mid-'80s. Heroes. Saints, even, according to my parents."
"I've read about that war."
"It's in the Soshiki history books, but there's nothing about their personal lives."
"Stuff like that shouldn't be public, Sakura."
"Maybe. But we know nothing. Just that we're related to them. Hell, we barely know anything about our homeroom teacher, and she's been around since we were in diapers!"
"Hmm..."
"All my life… I've been treated like a princess."
"Well, I mean… it is kinda obvious."
"Not just me. Ryosuke and Yamada are heirs too."
"Wait—are you saying they're princesses too?" She smacked me upside the head. "Okay, okay! No need to go all Mortal Kombat on me."
"Anyway. The Minamotos own this academy, right? And a bunch of businesses across Japan. Ryosuke's the only son of the Principal's eldest. He'll inherit everything someday."
"Cool. But again, ouch. My head's still ringing from your fist."
She gave me the kind of side-eye that could file a criminal charge.
"Yamada's different though," she continued. "He's literally an Earl by birthright."
"Wha—wait, for real?"
"For real."
"Damn. Dude's a royal."
"His mom passed when he was little, and his dad not long after. The Aratas brought him back from England when he was eleven. But he told me V-sensei was the one who convinced him to join Soshiki."
"I see…"
"No, I don't think you do."
"Well, I get the gist."
"Do you get my point?"
"That V-sensei was trained by your cousin, Ryosuke's dad, and Yamada's mom… and now she's training you three? Yeah. Brain's still functioning, thanks."
"Weird, huh?"
"Coincidences happen."
"Not this precise."
"What do you mean?"
She slowly crawled off the bed and sat in front of me on the floor. Our eyes locked.
"Who the hell are you really, Ren?"