Ryu leaned back against the counter, the steam from his coffee curling lazily into the air. He raised the cup to his lips, his eyes flickering toward Seijuro, who stirred in the bed. "Don't be too surprised," Ryu said casually, the corners of his mouth quirking up. "You were out for a while, so naturally, I had to look after you."
His posture was relaxed, his long legs crossed as he leaned back in the chair next to the bed. The early morning light filtered through the room's blinds, casting faint shadows on his sharp, angular features.
Seijuro blinked, his mind sluggishly piecing together fragmented memories. He recalled the moment the Nephom had been about to finish him off. Then, out of nowhere, Ryu—and someone else appeared. The image of another figure, cold and detached, flickered in his mind. "Yeah," Seijuro murmured to himself, "I do remember. The other guy... The Nephom said his name was Lucien Graves, right? You both showed up right when I was about to get killed."
"Yeah... I remember now," Seijuro murmured, his voice rough as if it hadn't been used in days. He frowned, his thoughts swimming. "I guess you two kinda saved me when I lost."
His hands tightened into fists as the memory of his defeat replayed in his mind.
Ryu gave him a sidelong glance, setting his mug down on the counter. "Kind of? That's one way to put it."
Seijuro winced as he tried to sit up, his muscles stiff and aching. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice sharp with urgency.
"You're in the dorms of the Three Divine Academies," Ryu replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Seijuro's eyes widened. The weight of that revelation hit him like a punch to the gut. His gaze darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The clean, minimalistic decor and faint scent of antiseptic made it feel clinical. The lack of furniture, besides the basics. Something you'd expect from a typical form room but not from one of the most prestigious Martial Arts Academies in the world.
Ryu leaned forward, putting his cup of coffee aside, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Healing the damage caused by the Nephom was easy," he said, his tone steady but laced with concern. "But the damage caused by your Shindō... well, that's another story."
Seijuro froze, his ears locked on to his words.
"Your Shindō," Ryu continued, "is actively adapting, countering and mirroring abilities that don't belong to you. That's why your body was breaking down—it can't handle the strain."
"Yeah," Seijuro muttered, lowering his gaze to his hands. "I know. It's been like this for as long as I can remember. Normally, it just takes a day or two for me to recover after using it. But... combined with the damage from the Nephom, I guess it was worse this time."
Ryu's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a grave tone. "It wasn't just your body. A piece of your Reitō was on the brink of shattering."
Seijuro's head snapped up, his face pale. "What?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "My Reitō… shattering?" He stared at his trembling hands, as if searching for cracks in his very soul.
Ryu nodded grimly. "If it weren't for Lucien's technology, we might not have been able to save you. Every time you use that Shindō, you're putting your body and Reitō at risk. That's a nasty power you've got there."
Seijuro sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Ryu's words settling on him like a suffocating blanket. Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet brushing against the cold floor. He tugged the blanket off and sat hunched over, his head hanging low. "That's funny," he muttered, his voice hollow. It seemed a deep realisation had hit him.
Ryu frowned, crossing his arms. "What are you talking about?"
"I failed the test, didn't I?" Seijuro shrugged, his expression resigned. "Even if I enrolled at the Academies, my own power would kill me before a Nephom could."
Ryu's lips pressed into a thin line. He watched as Seijuro stood and made his way unsteadily toward the wardrobe. "Can I get a shirt?" Seijuro asked, not waiting for an answer as he opened the wardrobe and pulled out a plain white one.
As Seijuro slipped the shirt on, he continued, "Listen, it doesn't matter anymore. I failed. End of story."
Ryu's jaw tightened. "You didn't fail," he said firmly. "You survived. You survived against a for that was stronger than you and that means something."
Seijuro snorted, his hand reaching for the doorknob. "I didn't ask for your help. Honestly, you should've just left me for dead, it would've been better than living in this horrible world."
Ryu's mind raced with conflicting thoughts. He couldn't let Seijuro leave—not after everything. Not with what he knew about Nephom 001. The room fell silent for a moment. Ryu clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "You'll throw away your potential if you walk out that door," he said, his tone sharp. But in the back of his mind, darker thoughts swirled. "Just listen to me kid, you know about the Academies 'experiments'. Which means if you don't stay and decide to walk out that door, then I'll have no choice but to kill you."
"Think it over," Ryu said, his voice low and intense. "You've got promise, Seijuro Matsuda. I saw it when you fought that Nephom."
Seijuro's hand lingered on the doorknob, his shoulders tense. "Potential doesn't mean much when your own power is trying to kill you," he said bitterly.
Ryu took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm not trying to save you out of pity. I'm doing it because I believe in what you can become. The Academies can help you strengthen your body, your Reitō—"
"Why exactly do you want me here so much?" Seijuro interrupted, his voice rising. He turned to face Ryu, his eyes blazing. "So I can keep fighting and breaking until there's nothing left of me? Yea no. As much as I want to, I'm not going to go out like that."
Ryu stared at him. He had done all he can, it was all for nothing.
Seijuro turned back to the door and twisted the knob. The faint creak of the hinges sounded deafening in the tense silence. Ryu's breath hitched as he saw the door inch open. His hand twitched as if ready to strike before Sei could even step out.
"I'll give you on more chance," Ryu thought desperately. But all he said was, "Just rethink it."
Seijuro paused, the door half-open. For a fleeting moment, Ryu thought he might stay. "Thanks for the lecture," he said dryly. "But I've had enough of people telling me what I should do with my life."
"I do what I want."
Seijuro hesitated for a brief moment, his hand still on the doorknob. Ryu's tense posture behind him suggested that the he was prepared to act, to kill Sei right on the spot—but before anything else could happen, the door swung open fully, and a figure stepped into view.
Standing there was a boy clad in the Academy's student uniform. His innocent face was framed by short, straight hair, and his big, round eyes carried an honesty that seemed out of place in such a world. Yet, at that moment, those same eyes looked a little sad, as if weighed down by something. His small frame, barely reaching 5'6", only added to his unassuming demeanor.
The boy's gaze landed on Seijuro, and suddenly, his somber expression brightened into a wide, almost childlike grin.
"Sir Seijuro!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of relief and happiness. "You're finally awake!"
Seijuro, still leaning on the door, squinted at the boy with a sharp edge of confusion. "Do I know you?" His tone carried the distinct annoyance of someone who didn't have time for whatever this was.
The boy's cheerful expression faltered, his grin quickly fading into a crestfallen frown. "Eh? Y-you don't remember me?" His voice cracked slightly, as if Seijuro's words had physically hit him.
"Seriously, who the hell are you?" Seijuro pressed, folding his arms impatiently.
Ryu cleared his throat, stepping forward as if to diffuse the awkward tension. "That's Souta Takada," he explained plainly.
"Souta Takada?" Seijuro echoed, rolling the name on his tongue as if trying to remember where he'd heard it. "Doesn't ring a bell."
Souta scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. "Uh, I was in the enrollment exam... You saved me from those two guys? And, uh, took me and my sister's points?"
Seijuro's face lit with faint recognition. "Ohhh, that kid," he said, his tone dismissive. "Right, right. What do you want?"
Souta's nervous laugh turned into a dry chuckle, clearly embarrassed by Seijuro's curt attitude. "W-well, um, this is actually my dorm room. And, uh… apparently, we're dorm mates now?"
Seijuro's nose scrunched in obvious disgust. "Ew," he muttered, the single syllable carrying all his disdain.
Souta's expression fell again, his optimism thoroughly squashed for the second time in as many minutes.
Ryu sighed, shaking his head. "You really shouldn't treat the person who helped you pass the test like that, Seijuro."
"What are you talking about?" Seijuro asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I thought I failed the test?"
Ryu crossed his arms, his voice taking on a sharp edge. "This kid—Souta—he's the reason you're even standing here right now. He gave you a share of his points so you could pass."
Seijuro froze, staring at Souta. For a moment, a flicker of something unrecognizable crossed his face—gratitude? Embarrassment? He wasn't sure himself. Instead, he did what he always did: deflected. "Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, his tone cold. "I really let a weak little grunt like him save me? That makes it twice in one day." His lip curled in disdain. "Guess I really don't deserve to be here."
Ryu's patience snapped, and he grabbed Seijuro's shoulder with a firm grip, spinning him around to face him. "Listen," Ryu growled, his voice low and dangerous, "I can respect you wanting to leave the Academy, but dismissing the kid's kindness? That's a new low. Do you have any idea what this boy has been through?"
Seijuro's eyes narrowed. "Why should I care?"
Ryu's grip tightened, his face twisting in anger. "You really are self-centered, aren't you?" he said, his voice thick with frustration. "This kid's sister was eliminated by the same Nephom that almost killed you. They barely escaped with their lives, but his sister knew she couldn't make it. So, she gave up the rest of her points to make sure he could pass. Do you get it now?"
Seijuro blinked, his expression unreadable.
Ryu released him with a shove, stepping back to calm himself. "And when you were lying half-dead, this kid didn't even hesitate. He gave up his own points for you. Do you know what he said?"
Seijuro didn't respond.
"He said, 'Seijuro saved me. He's a good person. He deserves a second chance.'" Ryu's voice softened, but his words carried the weight of raw truth. "And you repay that by calling him pathetic?"
Souta looked down, fidgeting nervously. "It's okay, Ryu. Really—"
"No, it's not okay." Ryu snapped before turning his attention back to Seijuro. "Fro the little few minutes I've heard you talk, I've realised you're nothing more than a self-centered, egotistical brat who doesn't deserve the kindness this boy has shown you."
The words hit Seijuro like a punch to the gut. His usual mask of indifference faltered, his lips tightening into a thin line. He turned away, staring at the door as if it held all the answers he didn't have.
Ryu took a deep breath, his anger dissipating. "You can leave if you want. Someone who gives up so easily isn't meant for this place anyway."
Those final words pierced through Seijuro like a blade. For the first time in years, something other than irritation or anger flickered in his chest—shame. He didn't turn back, but his hand slipped off the doorknob, hovering hesitantly.
"I'm sorry…" Souta muttered quietly, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to cause trouble for you."
Seijuro clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The room fell silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air as everyone waited for his next move.