Keiko stood atop the cathedral crowning Strömberg's gothic world. She was familiar with his usual world, and she was a little surprised by how little he'd changed the grim city of the dead.
At the base of the ascending tiers of the massive city were the markets and the tall, narrow homes of the poorest folk. From there, the buildings grew larger, and the streets widened and became more extravagant, but the basic enemies became smarter, stronger, and more unified in combat. At the peak was the massive cemetery, lined with the most inhuman Doorwalkers, and the cathedral hosting the final boss.
"The clues are all placed well?" she asked over the screaming crows and howling monsters below.
In response to her voice, the creature roosting at the bottom of the bell tower shifted, massive feathers chafing loudly against each other. She flinched before she could remember that Strömberg had severely limited the power of his walkers for the F-Grade exam.
Strömberg peeked out of the lantern he resided in. She raised it in her grasp. His humanoid, tiny flame form peered up at her.
"Of course. The character that begins the 'quest' will even call out to them. They'd be unfit for duty if they ignored a little girl in need."
A cold gust gripped them, ruffling her lab coat and cutting through her simple black skirt and white dress blouse. Her ID, clipped to the coat, twisted on its metal clip, threatening to wrench free or break. She pressed it back down, frowning at the ghastly wind.
A scream carried through the air, and the wind subsided.
"If they don't," Keiko decided, "we'll fail them. There's no room for the unkind or dull in the Doorkeepers of the future. Not if we have a say."
Strömberg nodded. "You approve, then?"
Keiko nodded. "Yes. The enemies become more difficult as they ascend?"
"Yes. The final walkers will require an understanding of the world. They cannot pass without learning the door, and it will become significantly difficult if they fail the 'quest.'"
Keiko nodded and gestured to exit, holding the lantern out at a safe distance.
The transition occurred in a blink. She was familiar enough to see each stage, but it wasn't visible to the untrained eye.
Strömberg's lantern expanded outwards as it folded into a single side–an iron gate. He disappeared from inside in a flash of fire as the door snapped open, consuming her in the light. Then, they were back in the herb gardens of the Intelligence Division's headquarters.
The transition left her blinking at the rapid change in light, then she was back to business.
She turned to Strômberg, who was back in his broad, towering shape. The flames wisping off his head had returned to the calm, dark brown hair on his head, and his dark eyes no longer burned as they sat behind thick glasses.
"I want your time before the exam starts. I want you to take a look at the theory the team monitoring the door incidents has cooked up," she said.
Strömberg nodded and followed quickly behind her as she headed back to their labs.
Vice Captain Fujioka, as Doctor Moon had promised, was a mentor with a similarly strange blade to hers.
Fujioka also had a similar build to hers, though he was a bit broader with built-up muscle, so each movement felt possible as they went through them together.
Fujioka was a loud man, maybe a few years Hisako's senior, with a deeply energetic nature that almost carried a physical warning–the shaggy mohawk of purple-dyed hair atop his head. The rest of his hair was an undyed black, but it'd also grown out a bit in a slight mane. She'd only met him a few days ago, but she believed the overgrown nature of his hair was a stylistic choice, along with the flower-pattered haori he seemed to wear as his uniform.
Hisako herself was finding her uniform rather plain. When she'd received it, she'd been wary of doing exercise or fighting in what was essentially business-casual attire, but the material was surprisingly athletic and flexible.
Hence, why she was doing sword katas with it on.
"And, one more set of vertical slashes on your own," Fujioka said, breaking away from his own kata to observe and correct hers.
Between the two doors she'd been through and Fujioka's swordsmanship crash course before the F-Grade Exam, she had gotten used to how the blade flowed and how to guide it.
Fujioka's first lesson had been just that: you cannot control the blade; you guide it. The blade was an extension of the arms–something to be treated with grace and bodily precision, not swung like a bully with a bat.
Fujioka had been surprised by her large blade, as she had been surprised by his odd blade. He held it astride as she did kata, raising it only to correct her form with the blunt side of the blade.
His blade, Wisteria, was a katana that looked simple to the eye, but in action, it broke the laws of physics. Hisako hadn't seen what was so special about it until Fujioka had demonstrated his ability with it.
Like Amajiki had his different weapons with various forms and elements, Fujioka's sword took on the characteristics of various flowering plants. He'd been purposefully careful with his information, likely for the secrecy of his techniques, but he'd shown her the technique he was known for: a repeated blow modeled after his family's namesake: the Japanese wisteria.
He had to perform the attack several times for her to understand and see, demolishing a poor practice target in a quiet training yard at the edge of the headquarters' training grounds.
If Hisako could describe the attack simply, it was an onslaught of downward slashes with each strike.
Fujioka brought the blade down, and suddenly it was up again for another strike, and so forth until he decided he was done swinging. On the fourth showing of the attack, Hisako saw it.
Wisteria was physically changing mid-attack, going from a simple katana to something that really did look like a long wisteria bloom. The metal cascaded in petal-like fractals and flowed like a fabric with his swings. When Fujioka pulled up to strike again, the flowering blade shivered and swam through the air for the next strike.
When Fujioka let Hisako examine the dummy, she saw that the blade had changed–it wasn't just a trick of the eye. The blade had left a thousand shallow cuts, writhing and circling about the fabric of the target like a shower of razor petals had savaged it.
It had changed Hisako's perception of what an Awakened ability could be, and she'd been more eager to learn since, practicing to gain ease in activating her own ability.
Fujioka's blade, guiding her arms lower, brought her out of her thoughts.
"Not too high. Remember, any movement that's uncomfortable without the blade is too much with it. You need to be able to snap down to protect your torso at any moment and step back and forth with perfect balance."
Hisako nodded and went again, cycling through the movements in a trancelike concentration.
"Once you get into F-Grade, we can go over more intermediate techniques, but, for now, you just need to understand the basics of how to use your weapon. With the basics down, you'll begin to create your own moves for your ability and fighting style."
Hisako flowed through the kata once more, then finished. She'd built up a thin sheen of sweat, and her muscles burned pleasantly. She'd fully recovered from her door, but the fine movements of swordsmanship were novel and required a lot of effort on her part.
"Is it really okay for me to go into the exam with so little training?" Hisako asked.
Fujioka nodded, finally sheathing his blade and letting it fade out of existence in a fading shower of petals. Hisako did the same, letting her sword sink into a dark burst of writhing smoke.
"Ungraded Doorkeepers aren't able to go on missions, so usually their only experience in a door is in their own. However, they usually enter their door with a Doorkeeper and receive coaching on how to navigate one. You had a bit more of an uncanny approach to that coaching, I'll admit, but you're honestly on the more experienced side."
"What about combat? Won't we have to fight in the door?"
"All Ungraded receive basic combat training. Amajiki assured me that you have excelled beyond what that curriculum would cover, so he opted not to sign you up for any. I contacted Sasaki-san, and she confirmed."
Hisako blushed. "Nanae did?"
"She spoke highly of your combat ability and potential."
"Really?" Now, Hisako didn't believe it.
"In her own way."
Hisako chuckled. "Are we expected to do anything particular in the door, or do we just 'complete' it like we did our own doors?"
Fujioka thought silently for a moment, then spoke all too carefully. "To become a Graded Doorkeeper, one must be capable of working in a team in an unknown door effectively, efficiently, and carefully.
"You all already understand what this demands of Doorkeepers, but this will test that definitively. You also haven't worked with a group of people on your level before, so it's also a challenge of your adaptability and your ability to work in a team."
"You wouldn't be able to tell me if there was a secret objective, is there?"
Fujioka offered a humored glance. "If it were secret, I wouldn't be able to tell you, would I?"
Hisako smiled. "Now I'm sure there's one."
Fujioka rolled his eyes playfully. "I wouldn't be able to convince you otherwise if I tried."
"How do you know that?"
"You're Amajiki's mentee."
"Touche, I suppose."
Fujioka lifted his wrist, revealing a thin watch underneath his billowing sleeve. "We ought to head over to the test site soon. Your teammates will be gathering shortly. It's good to meet them and speak with them before the exam begins."
They walked through the training grounds, navigating around different plots for various combat scenarios and terrains, to a simple dirt plot where a small group was already gathering.
Amajiki, along with four other Doorkeepers, stood off to the side, talking. The mentors, Hisako assumed. Amajiki waved when he saw her, but continued in what looked like a boastful debate he was happily taking over.
Standing on the plot were four greener-looking Doorkeepers. Hisako took them in carefully, knowing them to be her teammates for the test.
A lithe woman was showing the others a sleek crossbow, dressed in uniform with a pair of leather bracers on her arms over her lower sleeves. She had a long black battle braid, and she seemed quite proud of the weapon, seemingly explaining it to another. She looked comfortable and ready for the exam.
The poor man listening to her explanation looked like a salaryman who had been squeezed into the role of a Doorkeeper. He looked tired and worried, with a recent haircut almost buzzing all his hair off. Hisako got the impression he'd only recently learned about the Doorkeepers, like her. Coiled up on his belt was a kunai rope dart on a chain.
A stockier man, who looked like a career athlete of some sort, was showing the crossbow woman his weapons in return, with the same confident enthusiasm. He had one katar on his hip and bore the other to show off the long, waved blade. It looked ceremonial from a distance, but as Hisako approached their circle, she saw that the blade was serrated. He had a more southern Asian touch to his Japanese features, with darker skin and dark brown hair. He stood out as the only mixed-race member of the team, but also the most heavily muscled.
The last person was a delicate woman with long, blond-dyed hair. She wore a knee-length skirt and leggings instead of the standard-issue dress pants. Hisako couldn't tell what her weapon was, but her hands were covered in ornate rings covered in gems and strange symbols.
The blond woman was the one to greet her first, speaking in a smooth, honeyed voice. "Good morning. You're the last member of the team?" Her painted eyes tracked Fujioka. "And you brought the proctor."
"I'm Hisako."
She glanced at Fujioka, who'd moved to stand by the last stranger–a broad, tall man with Japanese and something European in his features. He wore a long white coat, similar to Doctor Moon's, but it looked thicker and more protective.
"Lieutenant Fujioka is my weapon training mentor," she replied.
"And your weapon?" the crossbow woman asked.
Hisako turned a bit to the side, ready to summon her weapon, when the Doorkeeper next to Fujioka clapped his rough hands loudly, gathering their attention.
It was time to start.