At the Coffee Shop
Behind the polished wood of the cafe counter, Hana stood in her crisp uniform. Her palms, usually steady as she poured artful lattes, began to tremble with a rhythmic, pulsing intensity. She raised her hand, staring at the shaking fingers as a cold knot of dread tightened in her stomach.
(Could this be an omen?) she thought, her breath hitching. (Oh god, I hope Zen and Ren are okay. Ren is the reckless one—he charges into danger without a second thought. I always worry for him most.) Her mind flashed back to the morning of the exam. Ren had hugged her, his eyes shining with that stubborn, infectious confidence. "I'll come back safely, Mom. I promise," he'd said. She folded her trembling hand into a tight, white-knuckled fist. (No, I have to believe. I know they're alright. They have to be.)
"Hey! Woman! I found hair in my coffee!"
The harsh voice shattered her trance. A man stood at the counter, thrusting a cup forward. Inside the foam sat a long, coarse strand of hair—bright red, perfectly matching the customer's own messy beard. Hana exhaled a slow, exhausted sigh.
"Sir, please," Hana said, forcing a weary smile. "You don't have to do this. How about this: you pay half for the coffee, and I'll cover the rest out of my tips?"
The man's face twisted into a scowl, his voice booming so loud that other customers began to turn and whisper. "Are you mad? You're trying to blame me? You're saying I put my own hair in this cup? I want a full refund, or I want your manager!"
Embarrassment burned in Hana's cheeks as she bowed deeply. "No, no! I'm so sorry. The coffee is on the house today. Here is your money back, sir." She hurriedly tapped the register and handed him 3 Zet ($6, 0.01zeths). The man snatched the coins rudely and stomped out. Hana pinched the bridge of her nose, the stress of the loan sharks and the boys' safety weighing on her like lead.
Suddenly, a trio of voices chirped in unison. "We have arrived, Queen Mother! Your Guardian Protectors!"
Takeshi stood at attention, flanked by Arata and Yumi. The "King's Guard" looked as serious as a funeral procession.
"Aren't 'Guardian' and 'Protector' the same thing?" Yumi whispered, looking confused.
Arata sighed, shaking his head. "This is why I say he's the dumb one."
Hana looked at them, her motherly instincts momentarily overriding her stress. "You kids are still here? I thought you'd gone home hours ago. I'm really busy right now, I'll play with you later."
Arata looked deeply offended, crossing his arms. "We aren't playing. This is serious business. We're all turning twelve this year, so we aren't kids. Now that our Boss Ren is gone, it is our sacred duty to protect you from scammers like that old dude."
Yumi stepped forward and placed 3 Zet on the counter—the exact same coins Hana had just given away. Hana's eyes widened in shock. "I don't understand... how did you get this back?"
Arata cleared his throat, looking mysterious. "We have our ways."
Outside, tucked away in the shadows of the restaurant's alley, the rude customer was currently stuffed head-first into a trash can, completely unconscious. Inside, Hana's voice turned firm. "What did you boys do?"
"We dropped a masonry block on his head from the fire escape," Arata explained matter-of-factly.
Hana covered her mouth in horror. "But don't worry," Yumi added helpfully, "it wasn't heavy enough to kill him. Just a nap."
Before Hana could lecture them on the dangers of vigilante justice, her phone vibrated with a sharp, aggressive buzz. It was a text from the loan sharks: [Meet me at the base. NOW. It's urgent.]
Hana's face went pale. (I don't get it,) she thought, her mind racing through her mental ledger. (I paid my installment for the hour. My next payment isn't due for twenty minutes. What could they possibly want?)
"Queen Mother, are you alright?" Takeshi asked, sensing the sudden shift in her Orvex-like tension.
Hana's "customer service" smile snapped back into place instantly. "Oh, it's nothing! Just a small errand. You guys should head home. And Arata, can you tell your sister to cover my shift when she gets here? Thanks! Bye!"
As she hurried toward the back door, the King's Guard watched her slip a canister of heavy-duty pepper spray into her bag.
"You guys saw that too, right?" Yumi asked.
Arata nodded slowly. "Yeah. That was pepper spray. Where is she going with that?"
Takeshi thought for a moment. "Maybe she's going to fight a bear?"
Arata and Yumi stared at him. "You think the Master's mom just goes out to fight bears on her lunch break?" Arata asked.
"Well, what else do you use pepper spray for?" Takeshi countered.
Arata gripped his wooden training sword. "We follow her. It's our job to keep her safe. If she's going into a den of bears—she's going to need the King's Guard."
"But we need to be fast!" Yumi said, pointing at the door.
Just then, Sofie burst into the cafe, panting and disheveled. "There you guys are! I've been looking everywhere! Don't ditch me—"
The three boys sprinted past her, nearly knocking her over. "Sorry, Sofie! Gotta save the Queen Mother! She wants you to fill in for her! Thanks, bye!"
Sofie stood alone in the empty cafe, looking at the dirty counter and the "Now Hiring" sign. "Save what? You know what... forget it." She let out a long, theatrical sigh and stepped behind the counter.
In the Elite Observation Chamber
High above the arena, the Elites watched the cleanup crews drag the mangled remains of Team 8's failure from the battlefield. The air in the chamber remained heavy with the memory of Zen's destructive display.
"Normally, when a candidate loses their temper and falls into a blind rage, it's a death sentence for Orvex control," Ayumu noted, his voice echoing in the silent room. "Anger usually leads to massive leakage—energy bleeding out of the body in useless waves. But Zen didn't leak. He funneled fifty percent of his total reservoir into that weapon while his heart rate was peaking. That is beyond impressive; it's an anomaly."
"Not only that," Akihito added, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. "The sheer scale of the damage suggests his base Orvex reservoir is massive. Fifty percent of a small pool is a splash; fifty percent of what Zen has is a tidal wave."
Tatsuro sighed loudly, crossing his arms. "So what? It took him fifty percent to take down a C-Rank bot. Any of us could have deleted that thing with a mere twenty percent. He's a clumsy rookie, not a prodigy."
Ayumu turned, his gaze sharpening into a cold stare that made Tatsuro stiffen. "You're missing the point, Tatsuro. We've been trained since we were children to master these fundamentals. This boy didn't even know what Orvex was an hour ago. To reach that level of efficiency by sheer instinct? That is a fundamental talent most Hunters never achieve in a lifetime."
Tatsuro swallowed hard, his bravado crumbling. He stared at the floor, a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes. "Yes... of course. My mistake."
At the Medical Recovery Center
The hospital wing was a clinical, white-tiled contrast to the dirt and fire of the arena. Zen sat on a hard metal bench, ice packs taped to his shoulders and forearms to soothe the Orvex burns. Beside him, Hoshizaki and Tsukiko sat in a daze. All three had been stripped of their blood-stained, battle-torn gear and dressed in fresh, dark blue examination tracksuits.
Through the reinforced viewing glass of the operating room, they could see the blurred shapes of surgical droids and mages hovering over Ren's broken body.
The heavy doors swung open, and the rhythmic clicking of boots announced Aiko's arrival. She was moving fast, adjusting a brand-new scarf around her neck. "Sorry I took so long to change," she panted, her voice small in the hollow hallway. "I couldn't find my old scarf in the locker, so I had to grab a replacement."
Silence. No one looked up. The weight of Ren's condition hung over them like a shroud.
Aiko bit her lip, stepping closer to Zen. "Are you... are you okay?"
Zen's head snapped up. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice like sandpaper. "I'm not the one on the table getting my organs stitched back together by a machine. Why the hell are you asking me if I'm okay?"
Aiko flinched, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "I'm sad and angry too, Zen! Ren is the last person I want to see in a sickbed. Even if you've decided you don't like me, you need to understand that I care about him just as much as you do!"
Zen didn't reply. He turned his face back to the operating room, his expression unreadable.
"Ren will be fine," Hoshizaki whispered, trying to bridge the gap. "The SHIELD has the best tech in Azura City. They can fix almost anything."
"Yeah," Tsukiko added weakly, her eyes puffy from crying. "Aiko... what's happening out there? How are the other teams doing?"
Aiko let out a long breath. "Team 8 is up now, but it's a massacre. They're being wiped out. This isn't a game anymore; people are realizing the reality of the profession. Twenty teams forfeited before even stepping onto the field once they saw what happened to us. The team that went right after us passed—their leader was talented and managed to bring the bot down with some support. Four other teams have passed since then. So, out of forty-two teams, only six are left standing."
"Six?" Zen's voice was low.
"And the third phase begins tomorrow morning," Aiko added. "They want the survivors to rest up. Or at least, what's left of us."
Without another word, Zen stood up. He walked down the hall, his shadow stretching long against the sterile white walls, looking lost in his own mind. Hoshizaki and Tsukiko shared a worried glance before following him, leaving Aiko alone in the corridor.
Aiko turned to the glass. Seeing Ren's pale, unconscious form, she finally broke. A sob escaped her throat, and she quickly scrubbed her eyes with the end of her new scarf, terrified that someone might see her weakness. She stared at the fabric for a moment—the brand-new, pristine scarf—then looked at Ren.
A look of deep, quiet fury crossed her face. She unwound the scarf, draped it neatly on the plastic chair, and walked away. She didn't need the comfort of a scarf anymore. She just needed to be a Hunter.