The morning sun rose softly over Mizuhara Academy, painting the school's tall white buildings in hues of gold and orange. The sound of chattering students echoed through the courtyard, footsteps rushed across the marble floors, and the faint ring of the first bell filled the air.
But inside Class 1-D, there was an odd emptiness.
One particular seat — the one at the very back corner near the window — remained unoccupied.It belonged to Arata Kurosawa.
Ms. Saeko Shizuru, their homeroom teacher, looked toward the empty chair and sighed quietly. She adjusted her glasses before addressing the class."Has anyone seen Arata this morning?" she asked in her usual calm yet strict tone.
Haruto Minami, who sat near the center, turned his head and scratched the back of his neck."Eh? I didn't see him, Sensei. Maybe he overslept in his dorm again?" he said, half-joking.
Ms. Saeko's brow furrowed slightly."Overslept? At this hour? I suppose Mr. Kurosawa will be receiving some extra duties when he shows up."
A few students chuckled quietly at her remark, but one girl wasn't laughing.
Naomi Takahashi sat by the window, staring at Arata's empty desk. Her expression was unreadable, but her fingers fidgeted slightly against the edge of her notebook."Arata doesn't strike me as the type to oversleep… So why isn't he here?" she wondered silently.
Ms. Saeko began her lecture, turning her attention back to the board."Today's lesson will cover the Academy Evaluation System," she said while writing neatly on the board."Your points are determined by three factors — grades, discipline, and contribution to your class. Failure in any of these areas will affect not only your score but also your class's reputation."
The class's chatter died down as her words echoed. Most of them listened half-heartedly, but Naomi's mind was elsewhere. Her eyes occasionally flickered toward the empty seat behind her, as though expecting Arata to appear at any moment.
Far from the classroom's noise, in the quiet training garden behind the gym, Arata Kurosawa stood beneath the shade of an old cherry blossom tree. His white T-shirt clung to his body, drenched in sweat, revealing lean muscles and the faint definition of a six-pack.
The morning breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the sharp rhythm of his movements.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!His fists struck the air in perfect rhythm — each movement sharp, focused, and precise.
A pair of security guards who happened to patrol the area stopped to watch."Damn… that kid's amazing," one of them whispered."He moves like a trained fighter — not just some high schooler."
Arata didn't seem to notice their presence. His breathing was steady, his eyes sharp. Every motion was practiced, efficient — the result of countless hours of discipline.
After a few more punches, one of the guards finally approached him."Hey, kid," the man said with a faint smile, "school already started. Why are you still here?"
Arata stopped mid-motion, turning his head slightly. His expression was calm — too calm."I don't feel like going to class today," he replied simply.
The guard blinked. "You don't feel like it? That's not something I hear often. Is something bothering you?"
Arata took a sip from his water bottle before answering."There's… something that's been on my mind. I just need some time alone."
The guard studied him quietly, then nodded. There was something about Arata's voice — steady, heavy, yet sincere."Well, alright," he said finally. "I'll pretend I didn't see you here. But don't make this a habit, got it?"
Arata gave a small nod. "Understood. And… thank you."
The guard chuckled softly. "You're polite for someone skipping class."Then he turned and walked away, leaving Arata alone once more.
When silence returned, Arata inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and assumed his stance again. His mind cleared. His breathing slowed. Every fiber of his body was focused.
He began with Taekwondo, launching a series of rapid kicks into the air — powerful yet graceful. Each movement was clean, the sound of his foot cutting through the wind echoing faintly."Balance. Speed. No wasted motion," he thought to himself.
Then he transitioned smoothly into Jeet Kune Do, Bruce Lee's philosophy of adaptability and flow.His punches became shorter, faster, unpredictable — a dance of freedom and precision."Be like water," he murmured softly under his breath.
Next came Judo. He practiced rolling across the ground, grappling with invisible opponents, perfecting throws and locks that relied on momentum instead of brute strength. Dust clung to his shirt, but he didn't stop.
Finally, Karate — his most familiar discipline.He straightened his posture, pressed his palms together, and exhaled sharply."Osu," he whispered.Then came a flurry of strikes — elbows, knees, and open-hand chops — each executed with deadly precision.
His breath grew heavier, sweat dripping from his jaw, but his focus never wavered.
For a long while, there was no sound except the rhythmic thud of his training and the faint chirp of birds nearby.
When he finally stopped, Arata wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked down at his hands.Old scars traced across his knuckles — faint reminders of a past he never spoke about.
"Four martial arts," he muttered quietly. "That should be enough… to protect myself."He looked toward the distant school building, his reflection shimmering faintly in the nearby pond.
But his eyes darkened."No matter how strong I get… I still can't escape it, can I?"
As he packed his bag, a faint rustle caught his attention.
Rustle… rustle…
Arata froze. The sound came from behind the trees — deliberate, slow. Someone was watching him.
He turned sharply, his eyes narrowing, his stance instinctively shifting into defense."Who's there?" he said, his tone low and cold.
No response. Only silence and the faint whistle of wind through the branches.
He could feel it though — that lingering gaze, sharp and calculating. Whoever it was, they weren't just passing by. They had been watching him for a while.
After a few tense seconds, Arata exhaled and relaxed his fists."Tch… not worth the trouble," he muttered.
He slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his jacket, and began walking toward the back exit of the garden. As he left, the shadow behind the trees shifted slightly — a faint silhouette, barely visible — before disappearing completely.
Meanwhile, back in Class 1-D, the first lesson had ended.Ms. Saeko was gathering her notes when Haruto suddenly stood up."Sensei, I'll go check on Arata," he said. "He might really be sleeping in the dorm."
Ms. Saeko raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Go ahead, Haruto. But don't take too long."
As Haruto exited the room, Naomi kept staring toward the door, lost in thought.Her pen had stopped moving for quite some time.
"Something about him… it's like he's fighting something no one else can see."
For a brief moment, she remembered the look in Arata's eyes the day Hiroshi was expelled — those cold, piercing eyes that seemed to hold a storm behind them.
She clenched her hands slightly."I want to understand him. But how…?"
Far from all the noise, Arata had reached the small river running behind the academy. The sunlight shimmered against the water's surface, creating a mirror that reflected his weary face.
He crouched down, scooping a handful of cool water and splashing it onto his face. The cold sting grounded him for a moment.
"I said I didn't want to go to school," he murmured, watching the ripples distort his reflection. "But maybe… that's not the real reason."
For a few seconds, memories flickered through his mind — blurred faces, harsh voices, and a pair of eyes filled with disappointment.He clenched his jaw, pushing the thoughts away.
"No," he whispered to himself. "I've already left that behind."
Standing up, he zipped his jacket and glanced once more toward the school building in the distance."Even if I stay away from everyone… it's better that way," he muttered.
Then he turned and walked down the empty path, leaving behind the faint echo of footsteps — and the mysterious shadow that had been following him since morning.
The quiet rustle of leaves filled the air. The soft wind carried the scent of fresh grass, and the faint chirping of distant birds echoed through the trees.
Arata Kurosawa stood beneath the tall cherry blossom tree, his breath slow and even after a long session of training. Sweat still trickled down his neck, catching the morning light like shards of glass.He had thought the garden was empty again.
But it wasn't.
That faint sound from earlier — the rustling behind the trees — returned. Louder now. Deliberate.
He didn't move right away. His instincts told him to wait, to observe.Then, from the shadows, a figure stepped out.
He was tall — slightly taller than Arata — with sharp, obsidian-black hair and crimson eyes that glowed faintly under the sunlight. His school uniform was the same as Arata's, but he wore it differently: collar unbuttoned, black gloves on his hands, and an aura that was neither studentlike nor ordinary.
The stranger stopped a few meters away, his posture calm yet confident.
"So you noticed me," he said. His voice was smooth, but carried a cold edge.
Arata straightened slightly, his gaze unwavering."You weren't exactly subtle," he replied quietly. "How long were you planning to hide?"
The man chuckled faintly. "Not long. I was waiting for you to finish your routine. Watching you fight is… interesting."
Arata narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
The man's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Kurogane Yagami."
The moment that name left his mouth, Arata froze.
"…Kurogane… Yagami?" he repeated under his breath, the name stirring something distant in his memory. It was faint — like an echo — but the weight of that name wasn't unfamiliar. He had heard it before, perhaps in whispers among upperclassmen or in reports he had come across by accident.
Yagami tilted his head. "You've heard of me, haven't you?"
Arata didn't answer immediately. He glanced down, then back at Yagami. "A name like yours isn't easily forgotten."
The other boy smiled faintly, almost amused. "That's good to hear."
A Dangerous Invitation
Yagami took a few steps closer, his gaze sharp and assessing."I came to see you for a reason, Kurosawa Arata," he said calmly. "Your movement earlier — Taekwondo, Jeet Kune Do, Judo, Karate. You mastered them all with frightening precision. That's not something a regular student can do."
Arata's expression didn't change. "So what?"
Yagami's smirk deepened. "I want to recruit you."
Arata blinked once, his tone flat. "Recruit me?"
"That's right," Yagami continued, folding his arms. "I lead a special unit — an unofficial team within this academy. We deal with problems others can't handle. Disciplinary missions, student conflict management, sometimes… external threats."
Arata tilted his head slightly, unimpressed. "Sounds like trouble."
Yagami shrugged lightly. "It is. But we're effective. I thought someone like you — someone who clearly hates wasting time — would appreciate being part of something real."
Arata sighed softly, wiping the sweat from his neck with a towel."I'm not interested," he said plainly.
The rejection came quick and cold.
Yagami chuckled, not offended in the slightest. "I expected that answer."He looked down for a moment, then up again, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly."People like you don't follow orders easily. You move on instinct, not command."
Arata met his gaze. "Then you should already know asking me to join is pointless."
The Calm Before the Clash
There was a brief silence between them — a tension that felt like a string pulled tight, ready to snap.
Finally, Yagami smirked faintly. "You're confident, Kurosawa. Tell me—" he stepped closer, "—if I insisted, would you fight me over it?"
Arata didn't flinch. He met Yagami's stare directly, the wind brushing lightly through his hair.
"…If you want a fight," he said quietly, "I won't back down."
That simple statement carried weight — not a boast, not arrogance — but calm certainty. The kind that came from experience.
Yagami's smirk faded slightly. For the first time, there was something almost like unease in his eyes.
"I see…" he murmured. "You really are something else."
He chuckled once, running a hand through his hair. "Forget it. I was just testing the waters. After seeing the way you moved earlier…"He paused, his expression hardening slightly."…I realized fighting you might actually get me killed."
Arata's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then you already know what to do."
Yagami exhaled, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. You're not the type to join anyone's side."
He turned his back, walking a few steps away."But if you ever change your mind," he said, glancing over his shoulder, "find me. I'll be waiting."
Arata looked at him coldly. "I won't."
Yagami's smirk returned, faint but sincere. "Heh. That's what everyone says… until they don't."
Then, as if carried by the wind itself, Yagami stepped backward — and vanished between the trees. It wasn't teleportation; it was simply speed. Swift, silent, practiced. In a blink, the space where he stood was empty.
The Friend Who Saw
The garden fell quiet once again. Only the wind remained, brushing against the leaves.
Arata exhaled slowly, lowering his gaze. "Kurogane Yagami…" he whispered. "What are you really planning?"
His voice faded into the air, and just as he began to pick up his bag, another voice broke the silence.
"Arata!"
He turned around to see Haruto Minami jogging toward him, slightly out of breath. His hair was messy from running, and he waved his hand like a flag."There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"
Arata blinked once. "What for?"
"Ms. Saeko sent me," Haruto said between breaths. "She said if you don't come back soon, she's gonna give you a week of cleaning duty."
Arata exhaled quietly through his nose, almost amused. "Of course she did."
Haruto leaned forward, trying to catch his breath. "Seriously, man. What are you even doing out here? Everyone thought you were still asleep or something."
Arata glanced toward the tree line, where Yagami had disappeared moments ago. His gaze lingered briefly before he turned back to Haruto."Just… clearing my head."
"Clearing your head?" Haruto repeated suspiciously. "That sounds like something people say before skipping school for real."
"I said I'll go back," Arata replied calmly. "Just… go ahead first."
Haruto frowned. "Really? You're not gonna vanish on me again, right?"
"I won't," Arata said. "I'll be there soon."
Haruto gave him a doubtful look. "You don't sound convincing at all."
Arata tilted his head slightly. "Then don't wait."
For a moment, Haruto stared at him, then sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll tell Ms. Saeko you're on your way. But if she asks, I'm not covering for you again."
Arata gave a faint nod. "Deal."
Haruto grinned. "Good. Don't keep her waiting."
He turned and began walking back toward the school building, muttering something under his breath about "crazy friends who like to worry people."
The World Beyond
When Haruto's footsteps faded, silence filled the garden once more.Arata stood there, motionless, his gaze drifting upward toward the sky.
The morning light had shifted, painting the clouds a soft shade of silver. The breeze brushed gently against his hair as he stood beneath the tree, deep in thought.
"…Kurogane Yagami," he murmured again. The name lingered in his mind — not just as a person, but as a challenge.
He closed his eyes briefly, remembering Yagami's expression — confident, intelligent, and dangerous. The kind of person who didn't move without a reason.
Recruitment? No… that wasn't the whole story.He was testing me. Measuring me.
Arata clenched his hands slightly. "The world really is vast," he said softly, watching a flock of birds take flight in the distance. "There are always stronger people… and darker motives."
He slung his bag over his shoulder and started walking toward the main building. His expression was unreadable — calm, yet his eyes carried a flicker of resolve.
Whatever Yagami wanted, whatever he represented — it was only the beginning.
And Arata Kurosawa, the boy who never sought trouble yet always found it, was about to be dragged once more into something far greater than himself.