The blare of a whistle shattered the silence of dawn.
"Up! All of you, on your feet!"
Groggy rookies stumbled out of futons, bruises and sore muscles screaming from yesterday's physical exams. The barracks echoed with groans, curses, and hurried scrambling as instructors barked for order. By the time the sun's edge broke the horizon, the candidates were already assembled in formation on the training field—lined up shoulder to shoulder, steam from their breaths rising into the chilly morning air.
Vice-Captain Soshiro Hoshina strolled before them, hands in his pockets, expression easy but eyes razor-sharp. Behind him, aides carried clipboards stacked with data sheets. On the platform above, Captain Mina Ashiro stood with arms folded, surveying the rows of recruits like a hawk.
"Listen up," Hoshina drawled. "Some of you think yesterday was tough. Newsflash—it was only the warm-up. Today, headquarters gets its first look at you as soldiers. One by one, you'll step forward, we'll call your name, your stats, and we'll see what you're really made of. Don't disappoint."
He flicked the first sheet. "Kaguragi, Aoi. Age: eighteen. Height: one seventy-nine. Release force yesterday peaked at Thirty-four percent. Loud mouth, bigger heart."
Aoi swaggered forward, grinning ear to ear. "Don't blink, everyone. You'll miss the fastest rise in Defense Force history."
Snickers and groans rippled through the line. His partner, Iharu Furuhashi, leaned in from his spot and hissed, "Don't say dumb stuff this early!"
Next, the aide called out crisply: "Izumo, Haruichi. Age: seventeen. Height: one seventy-five. Release force Thirty six percent. Born into the Izumo family of sharpshooters."
Haruichi stepped forward, posture immaculate, face calm. His eyes didn't drift toward the others; they only lingered briefly on Akira before he returned to his spot.
One after another, names were read, voices echoing with nervous pride or false bravado. Each rookie came stamped with numbers, family ties, or boasts—some hailed from known Defense Force legacies, others were common recruits clawing their way upward.
And then—
"Kurogiri, Akira. Age: eighteen. Height: one seventy-eight. Release force…" The aide hesitated, brow furrowing at the sheet. "…ninety-eight percent."
A hush swept the field.
Akira stepped forward without hurry, shoulders relaxed, gaze calm. The tension rolled around him but never touched him.
[Ravan: Observation—host's metrics exceeding threshold. Suppression mode engaged. Projected readout for external sensors: Sixty-three percent.]
The aide blinked as his scanner adjusted, the number shifting on the display. "Correction—Sixty-three percent."
A murmur spread, disbelief laced with relief.
Reno, standing just behind, clenched his fists. He had fought tooth and nail yesterday just to keep pace, yet Akira stood there as if untouched. Still, Reno's jaw set—he would not fall behind.
Kafka Hibino's turn came soon after.
"Hibino, Kafka. Age: thirty-two. Height: one seventy-eight. Release force…" The aide cleared his throat awkwardly. "…one percent."
Laughter rippled down the line.
Kafka's face burned, but he forced a crooked smile. "H-hey, one's still more than zero, right?"
Reno bit back his own frustration, but Kikoru Shinomiya's sharp glare silenced the laughter instantly.
"Don't mock him," she said coldly. "A man's worth isn't measured by a single number." Her gaze lingered a beat longer on Kafka before she turned away, muttering to herself, "Even if he is a hopeless old man."
From above, Mina's eyes narrowed faintly.
Hoshina whistled under his breath. "You're staring holes through the lineup, Captain. Already picked your favorites?"
Mina didn't look at him. "Kurogiri and Shinomiya are obvious choices. Their potential is clear."
"And the old guy?" Hoshina teased, grinning. "Hibino. The one dragging the bottom."
Her lips pressed together, unreadable. "…Potential isn't always in the numbers. Sometimes it's in the resolve."
Hoshina chuckled, leaning back. "Huh. I'll remember you said that when he trips over his own boots."
Down below, the lineup continued, the rookies shifting with restless energy. Rivalries were already budding, egos clashing quietly in the cold morning air. Among them, Akira stood steady, Reno burned with determination, Kafka wrestled his own doubts, and Kikoru sharpened her edge against them all.
The dawn had barely begun, but already the sparks of a new generation were lighting.
[Ravan: Prognosis—team cohesion unstable. Rivalries forming. Probability of combat escalation during training: 62%.]
This story is inspired from various fanfics i have read from around the world so if you find any similarities please dont mind . Thank you
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T/N :
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