Time Skip – Middle School, 3rd Year
The seasons never waited for them.
Cherry blossoms brushed their small shoulders once—
then fell, replaced by summer's heat, autumn's winds, winter's silence.
Years blurred into a single breath.
The playground laughter faded,
the temple steps grew distant,
and the word "Minami" grew heavier than teasing.
Now, in middle school's third year,
Souta stood taller, his voice deeper, his fists sharper.
Airi still followed behind—
but her footsteps felt closer than ever.
Childhood innocence had not vanished.
It had only changed its shape—
what once was chasing and teasing
was now a quiet bond neither could name.
Lunch break.
In the corner of the classroom, Souta and Airi sat side by side.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling across Souta's shoulder.
Airi clutched her lunch box awkwardly on her lap, stealing glances at him.
Souta noticed.
"What's wrong, Airi? You look nervous."
She puffed her cheeks, then lifted her box with a small pout.
"Look, Minami… Mom packed mine with chili again."
Souta chuckled lightly.
"Then let's trade."
Airi blinked. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"W-Wait… seriously?"
"Yeah. Why not?" Souta handed over his neatly packed meal, smirking.
Airi's face lit up instantly, her blush spreading as she shyly accepted.
---
From across the room, a pair of classmates whispered.
"Don't they look like a couple?"
"Yeah… maybe they are."
The words reached Airi's ears. Her cheeks turned even as she lowered her gaze.
Souta, on the other hand, kept his eyes on the window—pretending not to hear.
Still… his lips tugged slightly, as if holding back a smile.
After School
Evening light stretched long shadows across the school gate.
Souta stepped outside, bag slung casually over his shoulder.
As always, Airi followed a few steps behind.
By now, it had become a natural habit. Souta glanced back once, then looked forward again—accepting her presence without a word.
Nearby, a couple of students noticed.
"That girl's so cute…" one whispered.
"Souta's lucky… he already has her."
Airi caught their stares. Her heart skipped, but instead of shrinking back—she quickened her pace.
Then, without hesitation, she placed her hand gently on Souta's shoulder.
The world seemed to freeze for a second.
Every pair of eyes around them widened. Shock. Whispers.
Airi smiled, her tone soft but firm.
"See? Everyone..."
Souta sighed, expression deadpan.
"Yeah… pretty sure the whole world saw."
Her blush deepened, but her smile grew brighter.
"Good. Then it's fine."
That Night souta walk in street.
Street lamps cast long, pale shadows across the road.
Souta walked slowly, a grocery bag in one hand. The quiet hum of the city filled the air.
At the corner of the street, he froze.
A group of bullies had surrounded two boys—punches flying, kicks slamming. Their laughter was cruel, echoing in the empty night.souta quietly passed away he never glance in who are they.
Among them—Toma.
"Stop! Please!" Toma's weak voice cracked before another blow silenced him, sending him crashing to the ground souta hear his voice he little bit know his voice souta glance at the boy souta recognise this guy was toma.
Souta's eyes widened. He dropped the grocery bag and sprinted forward, dropping to his knees beside Toma.
"Hey! Toma! Wake up!" He shook his friend's shoulders, panic flashing in his voice.
One of the bullies sneered, cracking his knuckles.
"Well, look who came running. Another one to beat up."
Souta's expression darkened. His jaw clenched, eyes burning with sharp fury.
"…I'll destroy every last one of you."
---
The first punch came flying—Souta dodged, countering with a heavy strike straight to the chest.
The bully crumpled instantly.
Gasps rippled through the group.
Another rushed in. Souta's elbow drove hard into his ribs—he collapsed, choking.
The third screamed, charging with a wild hook. Souta slipped past it, his fist smashing into the boy's knee.
Screams filled the night.
One after another, they fell—precision strikes, sharp kicks, relentless punches.
Ten against one—yet Souta never faltered.
Finally, he pinned the last bully to the ground, his fists hammering again and again until the boy's body went limp.
Breathing heavy, Souta slowly lifted his head.
---
Not far away, a tall figure leaned against a lamppost, watching silently.
Sharp eyes, composed stance—Masaki Fujimiya.
He pulled out his phone, his voice calm.
"…Found someone worthy. A fighter fit to be elite."
A voice answered on the other end.
"Who?"
Masaki's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Souta Minami. Third-year middle school student."
The voice responded with surprise.
"The youngest one yet…"
Masaki's tone never wavered.
"Yes."
After the Fight
The park was quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves.
On a worn-out bench, Souta sat with Toma and Kaito.
Their clothes were torn, bruises marked their faces, yet relief lingered in their eyes.
Souta leaned back, still catching his breath.
"…What were you two even doing there?"
Kaito lowered his head, guilt heavy in his voice.
"We were just passing by… Toma accidentally bumped into one of them. He even apologized, but… they wouldn't listen."
Toma gave a weak smile, his lip still bleeding.
"Thanks, Souta… for saving us."
Souta shook his head, voice steady but soft.
"Don't thank me. You're my friends."
Kaito glanced at him, worry flickering across his face.
"But you… you got hurt too, Souta."
Souta smirked faintly, brushing dust off his sleeve.
"Just a little. Nothing serious."
Toma chuckled, wincing at the pain.
"'Nothing serious'? You fought ten guys alone. Of course you're hurt."
Souta looked down at his bruised fists. His thoughts whispered quietly—
"Tonight… martial arts training finally paid off."
Next day at school Evening Encounter
The evening sun bled across the horizon, its fiery glow stretching over the road outside the school.
Souta walked with measured steps, the weight of his bag tugging at one shoulder, while his free hand casually adjusted the cuff of his shirt. His face carried faint lines of exhaustion, but his eyes were steady—like someone already used to carrying burdens heavier than most.
As he crossed the shadow of the school gate, a voice called out, smooth and relaxed.
"Hii, Souta."
Souta turned, brow furrowed slightly, trying to place the face that had appeared in front of him.
The boy's clothes was perfectly pressed, his hair neat and well-kept, every step radiating quiet confidence. There was no rush in his demeanor—like someone who always had time on his side.
"…You're Masaki, right?" Souta asked, his tone cautious.
Masaki Fujimiya's lips curved into an easy smirk.
"That's right. Masaki Fujimiya. Surprised? I didn't see your little 'girlfriend' with you today."
Heat touched Souta's cheeks immediately. His eyes flicked away, annoyed.
"Airi isn't my girlfriend."
Masaki chuckled, covering his mouth with one hand as though to hide the amusement in his eyes.
"Yeah, sure. I can see that."
Souta exhaled, irritation sparking in his tone.
"Get to the point."
Masaki raised his hands slightly, as if surrendering, though his teasing smile didn't fade.
"Alright, alright. Will you come with me for a while?"
Souta's thoughts sharpened instantly. Masaki Fujimiya… Rank 0 fighter. If he steps into a fight, the result's already decided. So why is he inviting me? What does he want?
After a short silence, Souta gave a single nod.
"…Fine."
---
The heavy gates of an estate creaked open, revealing a wide driveway leading up to a grand white bungalow. The glow of the sunset and soft golden lamps combined to bathe the walls in a warm, regal aura.
Inside, the drawing room was as refined as the exterior promised—glass shelves lined with books, a grand piano resting silently in the corner, and wide windows filtering in the last traces of daylight.
Souta's footsteps sank into the thick carpet as Masaki gestured casually toward the sofa.
"Sit."
Souta lowered himself onto the cushion, his posture stiff with suspicion. Across from him, Masaki leaned back comfortably, watching him like a scientist observing a new experiment.
Souta frowned.
"Why are you smiling like that?"
Masaki tilted his head slightly, lips curling into a mysterious curve.
"You'll know soon enough."
The side door creaked open.
Another boy stepped in—measured steps, sharp eyes that radiated calm confidence, and a faint smile that carried authority without effort.
"Hello, Souta."
Souta stood instantly, bowing his head with respect.
"I'm Souta Minami. Third year, middle school."
The boy raised a hand in greeting.
"I'm Hio Kazanami. Nice to meet you."
Masaki leaned back, his smirk deepening.
"He's the one I told you about."
Hio's gaze sharpened, genuine interest flickering in his eyes.
"So you really can fight?"
Souta met his stare without hesitation.
"…Yeah."
Hio leaned forward slightly.
"Then would you like to join the Elite Fighter group?"
Souta's brows furrowed.
"Elite Fighter…?"
Hio leaned forward, resting his elbows lightly on his knees. His eyes carried a sharp, unshakable focus, the kind that belonged only to people who had seen real battles.
"It isn't just some club, Souta. It's a network. A system created to deal with the underground world that normal authorities can't handle. Drug dealers, weapon smugglers, syndicates—you name it. When we take them down, the government rewards us. Half of the seized goods' value is shared with our organization. The other half goes into official channels."
Souta listened in silence, but his fists had already curled against his knees.
Masaki added smoothly, his smirk never fading,
"And that's only one part. Some Rankers are stationed in schools too. They aren't babysitters—but they make sure those spoiled rich kids don't crush the weaker ones just because they can. Think of it as… a shield for the powerless."
The words struck Souta deeper than he expected. Images flashed in his mind—Kaito's nervous laughter, Toma collapsing under a bully's punch, the helplessness he had seen in others a hundred times before.
His lips parted.
"…And if I join, what will my job be?"
Hio spread his hands slightly.
"That's the interesting part. There's no fixed role. You decide your own purpose here. Some choose to hunt dealers directly, some take school assignments, some do both. Responsibility comes with freedom. Whatever you choose—you own it."
Souta blinked.
"I can… decide for myself?"
Masaki's eyes gleamed, his tone dropping into something heavier.
"Exactly. There are no excuses in this world. Every choice you make is yours—and so are the consequences."
The air inside the room thickened. Souta looked down at his hands—scarred knuckles, bruises still fresh. Hands that had been raised in countless fights, but always without a clear purpose.
"…And my rank?" he finally asked, his voice quieter.
Hio turned his head toward Masaki, as if even he was waiting for the answer.
Masaki's smirk flattened into a thin, dangerous smile.
"There are two paths. If you want Rank Zero, you'll have to defeat me. If you refuse, you start at Rank Three."
For a heartbeat, silence swallowed the room.
Hio's eyes widened, disbelief cracking his calm demeanor.
Masaki… you're offering Rank Zero? That title's never been reached. It's above everyone else—a commander's seat. And you're putting it in front of a middle schooler…?
Souta's chest tightened. His mind raced.
"…Rank Zero? What does that even mean?"
Hio's voice lowered, every word deliberate.
"Rank Zero is the highest position… the commander level. The one sitting across from you right now—Masaki Fujimiya—is the only existing Rank Zero."
The lamp between them faintly, shadows sharpening Masaki's profile. His smirk returned, but now his eyes cut sharper than steel.
Souta exhaled slowly, weighing his answer thought.
Rank Zero… it sounds untouchable. And to get it, I'd have to defeat Masaki Fujimiya. That's beyond impossible right now.
He lifted his head, voice calm, certain.
"…I don't want Rank Zero."
Masaki's smile softened—not mocking, but approving.
"Good. Then it's decided. From this moment… you're Rank Three."
Hio pulled out a slim card from his blazer pocket, the glossy surface catching the lamplight. He placed it on the table in front of Souta.
"Here. Your ID card. We already had it prepared."
Souta picked it up, staring at the polished surface. His reflection stared back, but for the first time—it didn't feel empty.
Masaki's voice carried across the room, firm and testing.
"Now tell me, Souta. What's your decision? What will you do with this power?"
Souta closed his fingers tightly around the card. His answer came without hesitation.
"…I'll protect students. I'll stop the weak from being bullied."
Hio's stern expression finally softened into a genuine smile.
"A good decision. You'll be recommended for high school with our support."
Souta stood, bowing slightly.
"Thank you… for trusting me with Rank Three."
Masaki leaned back, smirking once more.
"Don't thank us yet. Your real tests are only beginning."
The heavy doors swung shut behind Souta as he walked down the driveway, the night breeze brushing across his face. The weight of the new ID card pressed against his palm, still warm from Masaki's hand. For him, the meeting was over. A new path had begun.
But the moment he disappeared beyond the gates—another presence filled the space.
Raiga Kanzaki stepped out from the shadows, broad-shouldered, spiky hair catching the dim light of the lamps. His footsteps were heavy, his aura sharp with irritation.
He stopped in front of Masaki, voice edged with impatience.
"Who was that?"
Masaki didn't answer immediately. He tucked his hands into his pockets, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes glimmered with that usual playfulness that always made it impossible to read his true thoughts.
Finally, he spoke, calm and unhurried.
"Souta Minami. From today, Rank Three."
Raiga's eyes widened. Then narrowed.
"…Rank Three? Don't joke with me. That was supposed to be mine."
Masaki tilted his head slightly, as if enjoying the frustration simmering in Raiga's tone.
"I considered it. But the new recruit… he impressed me more."
Raiga's fists tightened, veins straining against his skin. His voice dropped low, almost a growl.
"You gave him the position meant for me?!"
Masaki stepped closer, his smirk never fading.
"Think of it as a test, Raiga. If he doesn't deserve it, you'll crush him eventually… won't you?"
Raiga's jaw clenched. The streetlight caught the dangerous glint in his eyes.
"…I'll make sure of it."
Masaki leaned back slightly, shrugging as if the matter didn't concern him at all.
"Then prove yourself. Until then—accept the fact that Souta Minami wears the title you wanted."
For a long moment, Raiga said nothing, his rage simmering silently. The air between them felt like a storm waiting to explode.
Masaki, unfazed, turned toward the bungalow doors, his smirk curling just a little deeper.
"…All the best, Raiga."
---Chapter 10 end---