The morning fog hung low across the academy grounds, a gray blanket that dulled the city's neon hum. Eiden walked alongside Kento and Renji, the half-brothers already bickering over who had eaten the last of the bakery buns near the gate. Their small quarrel, inconsequential to anyone else, was comforting in its normalcy — a reminder that life outside the fire and blood still existed.
Sena followed quietly, his sketchbook tucked under his arm, head down as if the world's energy were a language only he could read. Eiden's own thoughts wandered, but not too far. There was a familiar hum beneath his skin — the same low vibration he'd felt when he first blocked Renji's strike yesterday. He ignored it, telling himself it was nothing.
The morning drill was announced: Obstacle and Combat Coordination, designed to test teamwork and situational awareness. Students were split into groups of four; the weakest would be dismissed immediately. The pressure was suffocating, but expected.
Eiden's group consisted of himself, Kento, Renji, and a quiet girl named Fumiko — a first-year he'd seen briefly during Soul Theory. She moved with a subtle grace, her posture straight, eyes sharp, yet she had the sort of calm that unnerved even seasoned Reapers.
"Alright," the instructor barked, "this is about coordination. You may use quirks, but only for defense. Survival is the priority. First to fall, first out."
The group moved into the sprawling chamber, a maze of elevated platforms, suspended beams, and patches of raw soul-energy that shimmered underfoot.
Eiden stayed behind for a moment, surveying the space. His gaze fell on the faintly glowing lines crisscrossing the floor — residual energy from previous years' exercises. Something inside him stirred, a warmth that wasn't exactly flame, a pull he couldn't name.
Kento nudged him. "Hey, what's the plan? You just staring at the floor gonna keep us alive?"
Eiden shook his head. "We move carefully, watch each other."
Renji cracked his knuckles, sparks flicking faintly into the mist. "I like danger. Let's go."
Fumiko simply nodded and fell into formation, her movements precise, like a shadow folding onto itself.
The drill began. Kento ran ahead, flames trailing lightly from his fists. Renji mirrored him, sparks dancing across the air like knives. Fumiko remained behind them, analyzing the terrain, her eyes scanning each corner. Eiden stayed at the rear, instincts sharp, senses attuned.
Then — it happened.
A platform collapse, sudden and violent, sent shards of energy and splintered wood flying. Kento yelped as his foot slipped. Renji lunged, grabbing his brother's arm, but the momentum was too great.
Eiden moved instinctively.
He didn't think about hand signs. He didn't shout an incantation. He barely even moved his body — yet a pulse of invisible energy radiated from him. The platform stabilized, the shards vibrating violently, then settling. Kento and Renji's eyes went wide. Fumiko's head tilted slightly.
"What the —" Kento started.
Eiden ignored them. His heart raced, but his breathing stayed measured. That strange hum beneath his skin was louder now, a resonance he couldn't name, pulling him toward the center of the chaos.
The instructors' voices were distant. The world seemed to narrow to the field of energy — alive, watching, waiting.
Later, when they regrouped, Kento and Renji were buzzing with adrenaline. "Did you see that?!" Kento exclaimed. "You fixed the platform without even touching it!"
Renji's eyes were darker, less excited. "Do it again and we'll all die. Whatever that was, don't push it."
Fumiko remained silent, her gaze sharp. She approached Eiden slowly. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
Eiden looked at her. "Felt what?"
"That pull. The… life around you. You didn't move, but it moved anyway. Most Reapers can't sense it — they react, they fight, but you…" She trailed off, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "You changed it."
Eiden didn't answer. He wasn't sure how to. He had only experienced instinct — a reaction, not control. Yet a part of him thrilled at the recognition. This was power. This was him.
That night, back at the apartment-dojo, Noboru awaited him. The smell of incense mixed with sweat and iron as the master's hands rested on the counter.
"You've awakened a fragment," Noboru said simply. "Not a quirk, not yet, but the spark. It will demand attention. It will demand growth. Ignore it, and it will consume you."
Eiden felt the words like a weight pressing into his chest. "How… how do I control it?"
"You don't," Noboru replied, walking around him, eyes sharp as knives. "Not yet. First, you learn to listen. Every quirk, every Reaper technique, begins with a question: do you command it, or does it command you?"
He gestured to the training mats. "Show me what you felt in the drill."
Eiden nodded, stepping forward cautiously. He focused, listening to that strange hum again, feeling it twist and curl in response to his will. A small pulse flickered, shaping a barely-visible distortion in the air, like heat over summer pavement. Noboru's eyes gleamed.
"Good," he said quietly. "But that is only the beginning. One day, you will need to awaken fully — to fight not for drills, but for your life, for your family, for revenge. And then…" His voice dropped, almost a whisper, "…then you will learn what it means to be a Level 0."
Eiden swallowed, heart hammering. A memory surfaced — the night of fire, his father and mother falling before him, the explosion, the masked figure. He clenched his fists.
One day, he promised himself, he would be strong enough. Strong enough to face that man. Strong enough to never feel powerless again.
For now, he had friends, training, and a fragment of power he didn't fully understand. But that fragment was a beginning. And beginnings could ignite worlds.
The hum beneath his skin settled into a steady pulse, one that whispered secrets in a language only he could understand.
He closed his eyes, letting the night wrap around him. Somewhere in the city, a light flickered — distant, alive, waiting.
And for the first time in a long time, Eiden felt… ready.