Kenji's day started later than usual, a rare luxury. The sunlight streaming through the blinds felt brighter, softer even, as if it were giving him permission to take things slow for once. He yawned, stretching his arms over his head, groaning as his muscles reminded him of Daichi's relentless drills.
"Finally, a day off," he muttered, rolling out of bed and scratching his head as he shuffled to the kitchen. The fridge was as bare as his energy levels—half a carton of eggs, some questionable leftovers, and a lonely bottle of water. "Guess grocery shopping's on the agenda."
After a quick shower, he pulled on a hoodie and jeans, grabbed his keys, and headed out. The streets of Nagazora were already alive, bustling with the typical weekend crowd. He weaved through the chaos on his scooter, the hum of the engine blending into the city's noise.
The mall wasn't exactly where he wanted to spend his free day, but it was practical. Clothes, groceries, maybe something resembling a treat—it had everything. He parked in the crowded lot, securing his scooter before heading inside.
As soon as the cool air-conditioned breeze hit him, he realized just how packed the place was. People moved in clusters, chatting, shopping bags swinging at their sides. Kenji rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing a nearby map of the mall. "Alright, food court first, then maybe I'll check out that sports shop."
His stomach grumbled in agreement as he made his way toward the escalators. He passed by storefronts filled with bright advertisements and mannequins dressed better than he ever could be. The smell of freshly baked pretzels and roasted coffee wafted through the air, momentarily distracting him.
"Focus," he muttered to himself, though his eyes lingered on a bakery window for a beat too long before he shook his head. "Groceries first. Then I'll think about splurging."
The sports shop caught his attention on the way to the grocery store, its window display showing off sleek new sneakers and racks of equipment. He slowed down, peeking in. His shinai was holding up, but the gloves Daichi lent him had definitely seen better days.
He hesitated, glancing at his wallet. "It's not a crime to look, right?" he reasoned, stepping inside. The smell of new gear hit him immediately, clean and oddly metallic. Rows of gloves, pads, and shinai lined the walls. He wandered toward the boxing section, picking up a pair of gloves and testing the feel.
"Too soft," he muttered, trying another pair. "Too stiff."
The balance between practicality and budget was always tricky, and it didn't help that he had zero idea what brand Daichi would approve of. He sighed, putting the gloves back. "Probably better to wait."
He made a mental note to ask Daichi for advice later. He walked back out into the mall, the sports shop lingering in his mind as he headed toward the grocery store.
---
The grocery store was predictably packed, a chaotic tangle of people navigating narrow aisles with their overstuffed carts. Kenji grabbed a small basket, silently congratulating himself on coming here with a list in mind. Eggs, milk, instant ramen—easy enough. He weaved through the crowd, dodging a pair of kids arguing over a box of cereal and a distracted shopper blocking half the aisle with their cart.
He was halfway to the produce section when a loud, unmistakable voice cut through the noise.
"Mei-Senpai, look! They have the limited-edition chocolate I told you about!"
Kenji stopped in his tracks, a chill running up his spine. He turned his head slowly toward the source of the voice. Standing by the snack aisle, holding up a box of chocolates like it was a rare artifact, was Kiana.
Raiden Mei stood beside her, her posture graceful even as she sighed. "Kiana, that's not on the list."
"But it's important! It's got almonds in it. That's, like… healthy, right?" Kiana insisted, clutching the box to her chest.
Mei pinched the bridge of her nose, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward. "We're here to get essentials, not stockpile sweets."
Kenji blinked, unsure if he should keep walking or duck into the next aisle. Before he could decide, Kiana spotted him. Her blue eyes lit up with recognition, and her grin stretched ear to ear.
"Hey, it's Kenji!" she called out, waving enthusiastically.
Kenji groaned inwardly, offering a weak smile and a small wave. There was no escape now. Kiana practically skipped over to him, Mei following at a more measured pace.
"What are you doing here?" Kiana asked, her tone cheerful and curious, as if she hadn't just ambushed him.
Kenji raised his basket slightly. "Uh, shopping?"
Kiana tilted her head, her grin mischievous. "Obviously. But what for? Snacks? Groceries? Secret weapons?"
Kenji smirked faintly, shaking his head. "Just groceries. Nothing exciting."
Mei stepped up beside Kiana, her expression calm as always. "Good evening, Kenji. Didn't expect to see you here."
"Yeah, same," Kenji replied, trying to ignore the awkwardness bubbling in his chest. "I didn't know you two hung out."
"Of course we do!" Kiana said, slinging an arm around Mei's shoulder. Mei didn't even flinch, clearly used to it. "Mei-Senpai and I go shopping all the time. She keeps me from buying too much junk food."
"I try," Mei added, casting a knowing glance at the chocolate box still clutched in Kiana's hands. "Not always successfully."
Kenji chuckled. "Sounds like a full-time job."
"You have no idea," Mei replied, her voice tinged with amusement.
"So what's in your basket?" Kiana asked, leaning in before Kenji could stop her. "Eggs, milk, spinach… instant ramen? Dude, is this your whole diet?"
Kenji held the basket away from her, raising an eyebrow. "It's called efficiency."
"It's called boring," Kiana shot back, crossing her arms. "You gotta live a little! Get some snacks or something fun."
Kenji shrugged, glancing at Mei for support, but she merely smiled faintly, clearly content to let Kiana run the show. "I'm on a budget, okay? Can't afford to splurge on junk food."
"Lame," Kiana declared, though her tone was more teasing than judgmental. She held up the chocolate box again. "See this? This is living."
"I thought you said it was healthy," Kenji quipped, earning a laugh from Mei.
Kiana pouted dramatically. "Details. Anyway, why don't you shop with us? We can help you pick out something better than ramen."
Kenji blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, I don't want to intrude—"
"You're not intruding," Mei interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. "Besides, we're almost done. You might as well join us."
Kiana's grin widened. "See? Mei-Senpai agrees. C'mon, it'll be fun!"
Kenji hesitated, glancing at the crowded aisles ahead of him. Shopping alone suddenly felt a lot less appealing compared to tagging along with the two of them. He sighed, relenting. "Alright, fine."
"Awesome!" Kiana cheered, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the produce section. "Let's get you something good!"
Kenji stumbled slightly, shooting Mei a helpless look. She just smiled, following at her own pace.
The next twenty minutes were a whirlwind. Kiana had apparently appointed herself as Kenji's personal shopping coach, offering unsolicited advice on everything from fruit selection to snack pairings. She insisted on adding items to his basket, ranging from a bag of spicy chips to a carton of strawberry milk.
"Trust me, you'll thank me later," she said, tossing in a pack of instant mochi.
Kenji raised an eyebrow. "Are you just buying stuff you like and putting it in my basket?"
"Maybe," Kiana replied shamelessly, grinning.
Mei, meanwhile, took a more practical approach. "You should get some fresh vegetables. They'll help with recovery after training."
Kenji nodded, grateful for the sensible suggestion. "Good idea. What's easy to cook?"
"Carrots, broccoli, maybe some bell peppers," Mei said, pointing to the neatly arranged displays. "You can stir-fry them with some rice or noodles."
Kenji grabbed a few of each, ignoring Kiana's exaggerated groan. "Veggies are boring," she complained, clutching her chocolate box like a lifeline.
"They're necessary," Mei countered, her tone patient. "Unlike that."
Kiana stuck out her tongue but didn't argue further, though she did sneak a bag of gummy bears into Kenji's basket when she thought he wasn't looking.
By the time they reached the checkout line, Kenji's basket was an eclectic mix of essentials and indulgences. He glanced at the total with a wince but handed over his card without complaint.
"See? That wasn't so bad," Kiana said, her grin unwavering as she helped bag his items.
"Easy for you to say," Kenji replied, shaking his head. "You're not the one paying."
"Hey, I gave you free advice. That's worth something."
Mei chuckled softly, glancing between them. "You'll survive, Kenji. And now you have more variety in your meals."
Kenji smiled faintly, nodding. "Thanks. Both of you."
---
The evening buzz of the mall wrapped around them as they left the store, bags in hand. Neon signs reflected off the glossy tiles of the wide hallway, and the faint hum of chatter from the nearby food court filled the air. Kiana swung her bag dramatically, nearly hitting a passerby, who shot her a confused look.
"Mission accomplished!" she repeated, grinning from ear to ear.
Mei gave her a patient smile before glancing at Kenji, who adjusted his grip on the plastic bags in his hands. "Do you have time to grab a bite, Kenji? The food court's right there."
Kenji blinked, surprised by the offer. "Uh… yeah, sure. Why not?"
"Great!" Kiana said, already marching toward the food court like a general leading troops. "Let's go. I'm starving."
"You just bought snacks," Kenji pointed out, falling into step behind her.
"Snacks don't count as food," Kiana replied over her shoulder. "They're like… pre-food."
Mei chuckled softly. "She's not wrong."
Kenji sighed but couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face.
The food court was a chaotic hub of activity, with families, couples, and groups of friends occupying nearly every table. The air was thick with the aroma of fried chicken, sizzling noodles, and freshly baked pastries. Kiana made a beeline for a table near the window, slamming her bag onto the seat to claim it.
"Alright," she announced, standing tall and scanning the nearby stalls. "I'm feeling burgers. Mei-Senpai, what about you?"
Mei set her bags down gracefully and considered for a moment. "Maybe ramen. It's been a while."
"Kinda ironic, considering I have a stash of it in my bags," Kenji muttered, earning a snicker from Kiana.
"What about you, Kenji?" Mei asked, tilting her head. "Any cravings?"
"Anything that doesn't scream 'broke college student'. Even though I'm not in college" he replied, grinning.
"Good luck with that"
A few minutes later, they regrouped at the table, each balancing a tray of steaming food. Kiana had predictably gone for a double cheeseburger with fries, Mei carried a perfectly arranged bowl of ramen, and Kenji settled for a simple beef bowl and miso soup.
Kiana wasted no time diving in, her fries disappearing at a rapid pace. "So, Kenji," she said between bites, "how's training going? Mei-Senpai keeping you in line?"
Kenji chuckled, sipping his soup. "If by 'keeping me in line,' you mean absolutely destroying me, then yeah, she's doing great."
Mei glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and a dust of red across her cheeks. "I wouldn't call it destruction. It's just… thorough instruction."
"Thorough," Kenji repeated dryly. "Sure."
Kiana laughed, pointing a fry at him. "Sounds like you've got it rough. But hey, you're surviving, right?"
"Barely," Kenji replied, shaking his head. "Between this and Daichi's sessions, I feel like I'm living at the gym and dojo."
Mei's chopsticks paused mid-air. "Wait… you're training with Daichi in the mornings? That old guy who was boxing champion a few years back?"
Kenji nodded. "Yup. Four days a week. Then deliveries during the day, and kendo in the evenings. Seven days a week."
Kiana nearly choked on her burger. She thumped her chest, swallowing hard before gaping at him. "Hold up—seven days a week? Are you serious?"
"Pretty much," Kenji said casually, taking another bite of his beef bowl.
Mei set her chopsticks down, her expression shifting to something between confusion and concern. "That's… a lot. Don't you get any rest?"
Kenji shrugged. "Rest is for when I'm dead."
"Don't joke about that!" Surprisingly it was Kiana who said that, leaning forward. "Why are you pushing yourself so hard? That's not normal. I mean it would be normal if you were training to be a Valkyrie, but for a normal person it's not."
Kenji offered a lopsided grin, deflecting her concern. "Let's just say I've got my reasons."
Kiana squinted at him, suspicion clear in her eyes. "You're being all mysterious. What's the deal?"
"It's nothing bad," he said, giving them a reassuring smile. "I just… have something I'm working toward. That's all."
Kiana raised an eyebrow. "Something like what?"
Kenji chuckled, shaking his head. "It's a secret."
"Lame," Kiana muttered, though her tone was more playful than annoyed. For some reason, he felt like Kiana's gaze became intense for a moment, 'it was probably nothing'.
Mei didn't press further, but her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before she picked up her chopsticks again. "Just don't overdo it," she said. "Pushing yourself too hard can do more harm than good."
"I'll be fine," Kenji assured her, though his thoughts betrayed him. He couldn't explain it to them. That he wasn't just training to get stronger or prove himself. He was preparing to try and be something bigger.
A warrior. A protector. Maybe even a hero.
He just wasn't ready to say it out loud.
The rest of the meal passed in lighter conversation, with Kiana leading most of it. She recounted a chaotic story about a kendo tournament where someone tripped and accidentally sent their weapon flying into the judge's podium. Kenji laughed, genuinely enjoying the moment.
As they finished up and began gathering their things, Kiana turned to him, her usual grin firmly in place. "You're weird, Kenji. But in a good way."
"Uh, thanks?" he replied, unsure how to take the comment.
Mei gave a soft laugh. "It's true. Not many people would take on your schedule and stick with it."
Kenji smiled, adjusting the straps of his bag. "Guess I'm just stubborn."
"More like mentally challenged" Kiana teased, nudging him with her elbow.
Kenji shook his head but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips as they made their way out of the food court together. Hanging out with people he could call his friends was actually pretty nice.
---
What he planned to be a quick trip to the mall, turned out to be a full day hangout with Kiana and Mei. After a whole day of fun, it was finally time to head home.
The cool night air greeted them as they stepped out of the mall, the neon lights casting long shadows on the sidewalk. The buzz of evening life in Nagazora carried faintly in the background.
"Well," Kenji said, adjusting his bag over his shoulder, "this has been… interesting."
Kiana grinned, swinging her shopping bag. "That's one way to put it. Don't forget, you owe me a rematch when you finally learn how to properly swing that shinai."
"Right," Kenji replied, rolling his eyes. "I'll pencil that in between my next few life-threatening training sessions."
"Good," Kiana said with a mock-serious nod. "I'll be waiting."
Mei smiled softly, her gaze steady as she looked at him. "Thanks for tagging along, Kenji. It was nice having you with us."
Kenji rubbed the back of his neck, a little bashful. "Yeah, it was fun. Maybe next time, I won't almost drop your bags."
"That's a big maybe," Kiana teased, poking him in the side.
Kenji chuckled, taking a step back. "Alright, I'll see you both around. Try not to get into too much trouble, Kiana."
"Trouble? Me?" Kiana said, feigning innocence. "Never."
Mei gave him a slight nod. "Take care, Kenji."
He waved and turned, walking down the street, the fading glow of the mall behind him. As his figure disappeared into the distance, the playful energy between Mei and Kiana shifted.
"Did you feel that from him? Like the other times?" Kiana asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. Her usual carefree tone was replaced by a quieter one.
Mei glanced around, her sharp eyes scanning for anyone nearby. When she was certain no one was listening, she replied, her voice equally hushed. "Yeah. He has this strange… energy radiating off him. It's getting stronger too."
Kiana frowned, tilting her head as she considered Mei's words. "Do you think he could be dangerous?"
Mei shook her head almost immediately, her expression firm. "I don't think so. He might be hiding something, sure, but he doesn't seem like a bad person."
Kiana studied Mei for a moment, her own skepticism softening. "If you say so," she said, though her tone carried a hint of hesitation. She slung her bag over her shoulder and gave a small shrug. "But if he does something weird, I'm calling dibs on taking him down."
Mei sighed, shaking her head but smiling faintly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
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The moonlight streamed through the small window of Kenji's room, casting pale silver streaks across the walls. His desk, a cluttered mess of notes, fabric scraps, and tools, looked like a chaotic workshop. The faint hum of the city outside was barely audible over the rustle of fabric in his hands.
Kenji sat cross-legged on his bed, holding up the final piece of his creation. His breath caught for a moment as he inspected it, his heart pounding louder than he'd like to admit. He spent so much time and most importantly, money on this thing. But its finally done.
He stood abruptly, fists clenched in a mix of excitement and nerves, and stared at the suit laid out before him on the bed. His heart raced as he took a step back, then another, taking in the full picture.
A low chuckle escaped his lips. Then it grew into a laugh—a laugh that quickly transformed into an outright whoop of triumph. He jumped, pumping his fist in the air like a kid who'd just aced their exams. "It's done!" he shouted, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. "Finally, it's done!"
The sound of his voice echoed in the small room, and he froze for a second, glancing at the thin walls. If his neighbors hadn't already labeled him the weird guy next door, tonight would seal the deal. Still, he didn't care. The adrenaline coursing through him wouldn't let him feel embarrassed.
Kenji turned back to the suit, his smile softening as a surge of emotions bubbled up in his chest. He ran his fingers over the fabric, feeling the rough stitches in some places and the smooth patches in others. The colors were muted—deep charcoal with faint red accents that lined the seams. A hood and a makeshift mask completed the ensemble.
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't sleek like the suits he'd seen heroes wear on TV or in comics. But it was his.
"Guess this makes it official," he murmured, picking up the mask and holding it in his hands. The fabric was thick enough to obscure his face but light enough to breathe through, designed with countless trial and error over the past weeks.
He plopped back down on the bed, holding the mask in his lap as his excitement began to settle into something quieter. "This is insane," he muttered to himself, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. His legs bounced nervously, the realization of what he'd just completed starting to sink in.
A vigilante suit. A literal, honest-to-god vigilante suit. What was he thinking?
He let out a long sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "This is the dumbest thing I've ever done."
But the words didn't have the weight they should have. Deep down, he knew they weren't entirely true. There was a pull in his gut, something he couldn't quite explain but couldn't ignore either.
The idea had started small, just a passing thought after his sparring sessions with Daichi or kendo drills with Mei. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do more—that simply training wasn't enough.
His powers were growing, evolving in ways that made him both excited and uneasy. If he didn't figure out how to control them, how to put them to use, he might end up hurting someone. Or worse, he might end up doing nothing at all.
His thoughts drifted to the nights he spent staring at his ceiling, wondering what his next step was supposed to be. Training alone felt incomplete, as though it was only the groundwork for something bigger. But what?
He picked up the mask again, letting his thumb trace the edges. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about the risks. Becoming a vigilante wasn't just reckless; it was borderline idiotic. No support, no backup, no safety net. And if he got caught?
He was pretty sure it wasn't illegal to be a superpowered vigilante, but he was sure that there had to be some trouble if he got found out. That was a whole other can of worms he didn't want to open.
"But it's what I need to do," he whispered, his voice firm despite the chaos in his head.
Kenji placed the mask down gently and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're an idiot, Aoyama," he muttered, but the hint of a smile lingered on his lips. It wasn't about glory or recognition.
It wasn't even about proving something to himself. It was the pull—the undeniable instinct that screamed at him to step up, to be more than just another guy walking through the city pretending not to see the cracks in it.
He thought about the faces he'd seen during the Honkai attack: the panic, the fear, the helplessness. Now, though, he had a choice. He could turn away, go back to training quietly, or he could follow the pull.
Kenji stood again, pacing the small room. "What if I screw this up?" he asked the empty air. His reflection in the cracked mirror across the room offered no answers.
He stopped by the desk, his hand hovering over a notebook filled with sketches and notes about the suit. Some pages were crumpled from frustration, others marked with scribbles and adjustments. The suit was more than fabric and thread—it was the culmination of weeks of planning, of channeling his doubts and determination into something tangible.
"If I don't try," he muttered, clenching his fists, "I'll never know."
The thought steadied him, grounding his racing mind. He turned back to the suit on the bed and slowly began putting it on, piece by piece. The fabric felt heavier than he expected, though he knew it was just his nerves. When he slipped the mask over his head, the world seemed to shift. The room felt quieter, his breathing louder in his ears.
He turned to the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. He tilted his head, taking in the figure he barely recognized. His eyes, visible through the slits in the mask, glinted with something he hadn't seen in a while, resolve.
"Well," he said to the reflection, his voice muffled but steady, "guess this is me now."