"Welcome back, cadets, to day two of camp!"
A crisp, commanding female voice echoed through the whitewashed halls, amplified by the intercom system.
"Everyone, please head to your respective homerooms for the day! Your instructors will provide you with your agendas. And remember, tardiness will not be tolerated and will be handled accordingly!"
Nyota walked alongside Sage and Kilo, their footsteps tapping against the polished floor as they approached their homeroom. Sage let out a long sigh, while Kilo vigorously ruffled his hair before placing both hands on his head, his eyes squeezed shut.
"Yeah, welcome back," Kilo muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Right," Sage said flatly, barely acknowledging the announcement. "Forgot about that."
Nyota glanced at the brothers, noting their slouched shoulders and uneasy expressions. "What's wrong?"
Kilo kept his hands on his head as if to contain his frustration. "I just hate the idea of a school—or camp, for that matter. It's like signing up to have someone tell me what to do, as if I don't already know how to function." He dropped his hands and crossed his arms, frowning. "And let's not forget—boring."
Sage shrugged, his tone even as always. "Instruction's important, but I get what you mean. This place is... rigid. Everything feels excessively stern, and it's only the second day."
He continued, almost as if talking to himself. "When I first signed up, I thought becoming a spy sounded fun. Still do, actually. I figured this camp would be a good way to build discipline."
Kilo groaned loudly, throwing his head back in exaggerated despair. "Oh, come on with the discipline speech again! You sound like a walking lecture."
"I'm just saying." Sage smirked faintly.
Nyota watched their exchange with curiosity. "So, Kilo, why'd you come if you hate it so much?"
Kilo hesitated, his usual sharpness fading. "I don't know, really," he admitted after a pause. "I guess I just tagged along. Sage said it'd be useful, and... well, I'm sixteen. Where else am I supposed to go?"
The response felt heavy, and Nyota's attempt at humor didn't land as he had hoped. "You talk like you've got nothing better to do—no school, no parents, nothing?" He laughed lightly, trying to keep the mood from dipping.
But Sage's expression shifted. He turned to face the window, his hands sliding into his pockets. Kilo's gaze dropped to the floor, his usual energy replaced with silence.
Nyota quickly pieced it together. "Forget I asked," he said, feeling a twinge of guilt for pressing.
The somber moment made Nyota's own thoughts stir, tugging at something in the back of his mind. He tried to recall his past, his parents, but a strange fog clouded his memory. "That's right," he thought bitterly. "I never knew my parents. Maybe that's something we have in common."
He cleared his throat, shifting the conversation. "I do wonder, though, how you guys could feel so over this after just one day."
Sage finally turned back toward him, his expression unreadable. "You'll see," he said simply.
The three reached their classroom just as the attendance bell chimed.
The room was brightly lit, rows of desks lined up in precise order beneath the sterile glow of fluorescent lights. It had the clinical feel of an operating room, every corner too polished, every detail too controlled.
Nyota couldn't help but glance at Sage and Kilo again. Whatever weighed on them wasn't something he could fix, but he knew one thing for sure—this was going to be an interesting day.
A man with glasses sat perched on the corner of the desk at the front of the room, his legs crossed casually and arms folded against his chest. He wore a black overcoat adorned with four vivid blue streaks—two running down each side from his shoulders to the hem.
Despite his youthful appearance, not much older than Sage, he exuded an air of authority that was hard to ignore.
He glared at the brothers through the reflective lenses of his glasses. "You're late. Again."
The man's gaze shifted to Nyota, assessing him with an eyebrow raised. "And I see you've brought another one along to join your after-training workout. How thoughtful."
A ripple of reactions spread through the room. Some students exchanged uneasy glances, their faces tight with concern. Others barely stifled their amusement, their smirks betraying a desire to laugh.
Kilo bristled, his fists tightening at his sides. "We're in the room, aren't we?" he snapped.
"That may be true," the man replied evenly, "but you're not seated. Anything else to say for yourselves?"
Kilo took a step forward, but Sage quickly intercepted him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "You're right," Sage said calmly, keeping his voice level. "We're late. It won't happen again."
The man let out a small huff of disapproval before pushing off the desk. He strolled to the other side, rummaging through a stack of papers as though the conversation had already bored him. "It better not. You see, I really hate holding cadets after hours. It's a pain—extra paperwork, extra time, extra hassle. And trust me, the campus administration doesn't make it easy on any of us." He glanced up briefly, his eyes narrowing. "I'll see you all after the period."
He gestured to a cluster of empty desks near the front of the room. "Now, why don't you take a seat?"
Reluctantly, the three moved to the seats he indicated, Kilo muttering under his breath the entire way.
Once they were settled, the man clapped his hands together and addressed the class. "Let's try this again, for those who may have conveniently forgotten. I'm Lieutenant Newman of the Lunanova Police Force, but you can call me Jora. I'm your instructor for the next thirty-two weeks."
A faint murmur ran through the room, and Jora let it subside before continuing.
"Apparently, you all scored higher than expected on your entrance exams—congratulations. That means, of all the homeroom classes here, this squadron is one of the few slated to graduate this year. So take a good look around." He gestured to the room with a sweeping motion. "This is your squadron. Or, in simpler terms, your family for the next ten months."
He turned to the wall behind his desk, where several sealed boxes were stacked neatly. Picking up a box cutter, he began slicing through the tape. "Now, up here, I've got your uniforms." He pulled one out, holding it up for display. It was similar to his, though the accented details were white instead of blue, with a single streak running down each side.
"I'll need two volunteers to distribute these. They've all been pre-packaged with your name tags, so you'll know which is yours."
Two cadets quickly came forward, grabbing stacks of uniforms to distribute. Along with the uniforms, each cadet received a thick textbook and a sleek black backpack.
As the volunteers moved through the room, Jora leaned back against his desk, arms crossed again. "Your uniforms are themed white because, for now, you're neither spies for EPSA nor assassins for the RSAA. When you graduate, you'll get to choose between the two agencies."
He tapped the blue streaks on his own coat. "If you join EPSA, your uniform will be themed blue, like mine. If you opt for the RSAA, it'll be red. Either way, that's a decision you'll make when the time comes."
Jora straightened, his tone shifting to something more lighthearted. "Now, for today's agenda: we'll start by getting you acquainted with how Lunanova's government is structured. Afterward, we'll move on to some basic training. And if you impress me, I might just arrange some early sparring practice. Sound good?"
A mischievous grin tugged at his lips. "I'm sure you'd love that."
The class remained silent, most nodding in agreement, though a few looked apprehensive.
"Any questions?" Jora asked, scanning the room.
Every head shook in unison, the cadets' quiet compliance reflecting a mix of nerves and anticipation.
"Sounds like a plan," Kilo murmured under his breath, his grin betraying his excitement.
Nyota, seated between his companions, raised his hand. "Excuse me, Jora."
Jora glanced up from the whiteboard he was prepping and adjusted his glasses. "Yes! And remind me of your name again?"
"Nyota."
"Right, Nyota." Jora nodded. "I remember you, faintly, from yesterday. My apologies—it's my duty to remember everyone, and I promise I'll have it down by the end of this week. What's your question?"
"EPSA and RSAA—what exactly are these two... again?" Nyota asked, choosing his words carefully.
Jora smirked. "That's an unusual question for someone from Lunanova, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Yesterday's orientation was a lot to take in, and I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't review for you."
He strode to the whiteboard, picking up a marker as he spoke.
"EPSA stands for the Electric Path Spy Agency. RSAA is the Red Stone Assassin Agency. Their names give you a decent idea of their roles. EPSA agents are primarily spies—intel collectors, strategists, and covert operatives. But the 'spy' label isn't always as clandestine as it sounds; they're just as likely to interact openly with the public.
"RSAA, on the other hand, is combat-focused. They handle high-risk operations and specialize in close-quarters fighting. While both agencies are trained for combat, RSAA agents are more lethal.
"The police force faction, which I'm part of, is made up mostly of EPSA agents, while the RSAA dominates the military faction. This strategic arrangement ensures balance between intelligence and combat prowess in our government.
Lunanova District, as I'm sure you know, operates under somewhat of an authoritarian regime. Today, it functions more like a dictatorship, with the head of law enforcement and the military at the helm."
He paused, turning back to face the class. "If you're even slightly patriotic, you probably know who that is: Director Noriko Tachi."
Nyota's heart skipped a beat. The name felt familiar, deeply rooted in his mind, though he wasn't sure why.
"Noriko," Jora continued, "is widely regarded as the strongest leader not just in Saprius, but possibly the world. She's a hero to the District. She's transformed Lunanova's economy, bolstered national security, and expanded its geographic borders on multiple occasions.
"She even established orphanages," Nyota thought to himself, recalling fragmented memories. "She gave orphans a path forward by training them for roles in law enforcement. That's why I'm here."
Jora's voice pulled him back to the present. "The reason I bring this up is to explain how our government is structured. It's essentially divided into two factions: the military and the police force. Both factions draw from EPSA and RSAA personnel. The police force is about three-quarters EPSA, while the military is the reverse—three-quarters RSAA."
He turned to Nyota with a small smile. "I know that was a lot of information. Hopefully, it answers your question."
Nyota nodded, noting the other cadets scribbling notes in their notebooks. Sage was writing diligently, while Kilo, true to form, leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head, completely unfazed. Nyota quickly opened his notebook and began jotting down what he could recall.
"I'll give you all a few minutes to write that down before we move on," Jora said, giving the class time to catch up.
Sage raised his hand. "Jora?"
"Go ahead."
"Just to confirm, the District's government has two factions, and each faction includes two agencies, correct?"
"Exactly right, Sage," Jora replied with an approving nod.
Once the room quieted, Jora erased the board and began writing again. "Now, let's break it down further. Lunanova's police force is exactly what it sounds like—its primary role is maintaining public order and interacting with the people on a daily basis. The military, on the other hand, focuses on external threats and international affairs."
"There are ranks within the governmental factions," Jora began, writing on the whiteboard. "The police force has five ranks: Warrant Officer, Chief Warrant Officer, Lieutenant, Colonel, and General. The military's ranks are Private, Corporal, Sergeant, Master Sergeant, and Sergeant Major."
He underlined each list before continuing. "Now, these ranks are further divided into classes: B-Class, A-Class, and S-Class, with B being the lowest and S the highest. The majority of agents stick to one agency for their entire career, but those who rise to the top—whether through skill, nomination, or sheer luck—may serve both factions and agencies if they choose."
Jora turned to face the cadets, gesturing with his marker. "Climbing the ranks depends on your skills. Earlier ranks can be achieved quickly, but progress slows significantly at higher levels. For instance, many in the military never rise beyond Master Sergeant, and most stop at Sergeant."
He tapped the board for emphasis. "When you graduate from here, you'll typically get to choose between joining the police or the military. But, let me warn you: police positions are in high demand, and those requests are often overturned. Most cadets end up being assigned to the military instead.
"To graduate, you need to complete a minimum of two semesters of cadet training—what you're doing now. Many cadets serve more than one year. However…" Jora smirked, "you've all been described as a 'special batch,' so don't expect a conventional path."
The cadets exchanged uncertain glances. Jora continued before they could dwell on it.
"Here's another important point: while Lunanova District is still technically called a 'district,' it's functionally an empire. This change came about through treaties and pacts with surrounding states and countries—many of which surrendered their sovereignty to join Lunanova.
"But it wasn't always this way. Lunanova used to be a republic, long before Noriko Tachi came into power. Over time, the government shifted into a mix of authoritarianism and martial law."
Jora tossed his marker onto the tray and shrugged. "But hey, I don't see anyone complaining. She's a phenomenal leader, and all of us should devote our lives to her."
The room fell silent as Jora's tone shifted, his usual nonchalance giving way to an edge of irritation. Nyota and the brothers exchanged wary looks, wondering if something beyond the lecture was bothering him.
"Anyway," Jora resumed, "Lunanova's expansion isn't just about territory. It's about resources, funding, and investments—especially in defense and law enforcement. That's why we don't just have one cadet campus. With Lunanova now holding 20% of the entire continent of Saprius's population—a staggering increase from the original 5–10% at the country's establishment—more campuses were necessary to meet the demand."
The cadets scrambled to write down Jora's words. The information was coming fast, and none of it was on the whiteboard. Feeling the tension in the room, Jora chuckled.
"Relax, you won't need to know any math for your assessments." He paused, letting the room settle before delivering the final point.
"Now, let's talk about Noriko Tachi—our Director, head of both the military and police, and leader of Lunanova's regime. She's the reason many of you are here. Noriko has provided countless opportunities, even families, to cadets in need. She's our 'savior,' as some like to call her."
Jora used air quotes for "savior," his tone carrying a note of sarcasm.
The room's atmosphere turned somber. The cadets, Nyota and the brothers included, exchanged perturbed looks. They couldn't deny Noriko's importance or the reverence they'd been taught to feel toward her. Yet the idea of devoting their lives to another human, as though she were a god, felt unsettling—especially when they were borderline confident true gods actually existed.
The weight of their situation hit them all at once. They were too far in to back out now.
Jora read the unease in their expressions and sighed. "Yeah… sit tight and relax, 'cause there's no going back from here."
--
Kilo lunged at Sage with his staff, relentless in his attempts to land a hit.
CRACK!
Each strike came faster than the last, but Sage evaded with precision, moving like a shadow.
After their lesson on Lunanova's rigid structures, Jora had led the squadron to the campus's smaller outdoor sparring courts. His instructions were simple: no abilities and no excessive force. Yet, the weight of the day's revelations lingered in the air.
Most of the cadets stayed in clusters, murmuring about the unsettling truths Jora had shared. But Nyota, Sage, and Kilo chose to work off their tension through sparring. For Nyota, especially, it was a chance to distract himself from the gnawing mystery of his fractured memory.
Kilo leaped high, his staff arcing downward toward Sage. But Sage rolled out of reach, spun behind him, and struck Kilo's back with his own staff. Kilo stumbled forward, landing hard on the ground.
"Get up," Sage commanded, extending a hand. "You're lucky I'm not using my flames."
Kilo glared at him but accepted the hand.
"Don't put so much force into your airborne strikes," Sage advised. "If you see me evading, adjust and get ready to defend. You're leaving yourself wide open."
"You guys are pretty athletic," Nyota said, leaning on his staff. He saw their sparring as a good opportunity to learn more about his companions.
"I've been wondering—what were your pasts like? Your childhoods?"
Kilo brushed Sage's hand away and staggered to his feet, catching his breath. "What kind of question is that?"
Sage stepped in, trying to defuse the tension. "C'mon, man. One day, we might actually have to fight together. You can't keep that attitude if we're supposed to be allies."
Nyota added, "I just don't know much about either of you. It's best to get acquainted with the people you'll be working with for a while."
Sage smirked. "Well, from the looks of it, you don't know yourself too well either. You've been forgetting things left and right."
"True," Nyota admitted, still wrestling with the gaps in his mind. Every revelation felt like another missing piece in a puzzle that only grew more complex.
Kilo wiped his forehead. "I get we're having a conversation, but that doesn't mean we have to stop fighting." He charged at Nyota without warning.
Nyota reacted instinctively, dodging to the side and swinging his staff at Kilo's head. Kilo ducked just in time, his movements sharp but growing more reckless.
"Well, look at that," Sage said, clearly impressed. "Looks like we've got ourselves a natural-born fighter. All three of us are already solid at hand-to-hand combat. Next, we just need to master our abilities."
Sighing, Sage finally answered Nyota's question. "Fine, I'll bite. Kilo and I were born and raised here in Lunanova, like most people in this squadron. Our mom stayed home to raise us, and Dad was always on business trips. He was an RSAA agent, funny enough."
As Sage spoke, Kilo pressed harder, his strikes becoming stronger and faster, but Nyota matched him step for step, holding his ground.
Sage's tone darkened. "Unfortunately, they both passed away."
Kilo exerted immense force into his next strike, but Nyota blocked it effortlessly once again. He noticed Kilo's frustration growing, visible in the way his grip tightened on his staff.
With a sudden leap backward, Kilo broke away, lowering his head so that his face was obscured.
"My condolences," Nyota said gently, lowering his staff.
"Thanks," Sage replied. "Our father's job kept him away a lot. It wasn't his fault—he tried to be there for us when he could. But then there was this… incident on the job. We never got the full story. He left one day and never came back."
Nyota noticed Sage's voice waver slightly, but he pressed on.
"And then Mom got sick," Sage continued, his tone quieter now. "After she passed, it felt like the end of everything—at least for me. But it's why I'm here. None of this is a coincidence." He sighed. "Dad was a wise and charitable man. He always encouraged us to care for others. That stuck with me. I want to follow in his footsteps."
"When he wasn't busy, he'd drop little nuggets of wisdom," Kilo cut in, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "He had this one quote he loved to repeat: 'Leaders become great not because of their power, but because of their ability to empower others.'" Kilo let out a dry chuckle. "Corny, right?"
"It's the truth," Sage said, resting his staff on his shoulder. "I've come to terms with our reality. Kilo… still struggles to."
Kilo remained motionless, staring at the ground.
Nyota shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry—I shouldn't have brought this up. I'll stop."
Kilo finally spoke, his voice low but steady. "No, it's fine. I've got questions of my own—about you, about the world, and even about myself. It wouldn't make sense for me to get mad at you. You don't know us, and we're… roommates, after all."
Kilo looked up at Nyota then, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. He forced a smile, but Nyota could tell it wasn't entirely sincere. Even so, he decided to drop the subject, knowing the conversation had already pushed boundaries.
The sparring court was growing quieter. The rest of their squadron had already returned to the campus building. The evening light cast long shadows across the court as the day neared its end.
"I think that's enough practice for today," Nyota said, breaking the silence. "We should head back. Jora mentioned he needed to talk to us before we left."
Sage nodded, and Kilo silently followed as the three made their way back inside. They returned their sparring equipment to the racks before heading to their homeroom, bracing themselves for whatever their mentor had to say.