Akira carried himself with an almost careless freedom.
Nothing about him seemed serious.
At least—
not outwardly.
He moved with the ease of someone completely unbothered, dressed like a man dragged away from a peaceful afternoon rather than one of the strongest Executioners alive.
Yet the contradiction was impossible to ignore.
Because despite the relaxed demeanor, his presence was overwhelming.
Heavy.
Not oppressive in the way the Seraphim had been—
No.
This felt controlled.
Like standing beside an ocean that had simply decided not to drown you.
Power without effort.
Danger without intent.
Even the air around him felt strangely settled, as if his existence alone forced chaos to behave.
Then Tsumugi walked past us.
Her pace was steady, expression unreadable as always.
Akira casually continued speaking, hands in his pockets now as he explained what the next few days would look like.
Training.
Evaluation.
Basic KA control.
Why things were structured the way they were.
Why failure wasn't tolerated.
Why survival mattered more than talent.
But honestly—
I wasn't listening.
Not fully.
Something else bothered me.
People kept looking at me.
At Raimei too.
Not casually.
Not curious glances.
They stared.
Some quietly.
Others openly.
Like something was wrong.
Or unusual.
I couldn't tell what it was.
Was it because of Akira?
Because we were his students?
Or—
Was it us?
What came next—
was not training.
At least, not the kind I expected.
Not the kind from anime.
Not the kind from novels where the main character gets thrown into some forest full of monsters and somehow survives through determination and plot armor.
No endless lectures.
No classrooms.
No thick manuals explaining every Yokai species and how to survive them.
Nothing like that.
"Akira is… super practical," Raimei said, scratching the back of his head as if trying to soften what was coming next. "If you learn from books, things don't really stick."
Akira nodded casually.
"Experience beats theory," he said. "You remember pain. Fear too."
Then he stopped walking.
Turned slightly toward me.
"Which is why," he continued, almost too calmly, "if you try something yourself, you actually learn it."
He paused.
For some reason—
that pause felt dangerous.
"Problem is," he added with a lazy shrug, "that method usually comes with a very high mortality rate."
Raimei looked away immediately.
Not nervous.
Just… resigned.
Like he had already accepted whatever madness was about to happen.
"The Council banned it," Akira continued. "Too many deaths."
Another pause.
Then he smiled.
Way too casually.
"…So," he said, "we'll do it the way the Seraphim wanted."
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
Even Raimei's expression shifted slightly.
Not fear—
Recognition.
Like he knew exactly what those words meant.
And some-how that made it worse.
"KA isn't emotional energy," Akira said suddenly.
He slowed his pace slightly, giving me enough time to actually absorb the words.
"It's a concept."
A brief pause.
"More accurately…"
His pale eyes shifted toward me.
"…a concept tied to death."
That alone was enough to make me stop paying attention to everything else.
Akira noticed.
Which was probably why he paused again, as if letting the idea sink in before continuing.
We were nearing one of HANZU TECH's exits now, the long traditional hallways slowly giving way to colder air drifting in from outside.
"When something dies," Akira continued calmly, "KA is released."
"Not just people."
"Anything living."
Plants. Animals. Humans."
His voice remained unusually patient.
Like he had explained this hundreds of times before.
"Death releases a reasonably large amount of KA," he explained. "Enough to separate the soul from the body."
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Executioners are exceptions."
"Why?"
"Modern science would probably call it a mutation," he said casually. "Or evolution."
"Something humanity developed to survive."
"Executioners can see KA. Feel it. Use it."
"Naturally."
Raimei nodded beside me.
Clearly already familiar with all this.
"But," Akira added, raising a finger slightly, "there's a restriction."
"Normally, Executioners are limited to their own KA."
"The KA their body naturally generates."
He paused.
"Though," he added carefully, "its true source might be something entirely different."
That part felt important.
Like something he intentionally wasn't explaining yet.
"Normal humans," Akira continued, "or non-Executioners…"
"…can't really see KA."
"Can't feel it."
"Most can't even comprehend it."
"But they still produce it."
He opened the wooden gate ahead.
Cold air rushed inward.
"Near-death experiences generate KA."
"Fear too."
Then he glanced back at me.
"And when humans sleep…"
"…three quarters of them are basically dead."
"So more KA gets produced."
He said it so casually that it somehow sounded worse.
Like something terrifying had simply become normal to him.
"Well."
Akira stretched lightly.
"That's a pretty huge dose for your first lesson."
His tone brightened suddenly.
Way too suddenly.
"So," he said warmly, "how about we tour Tokyo for a bit?"
He smiled.
"After all…"
"…our minor problem happens to be on the way."
That wording alone didn't sound reassuring.
At all.
I stepped through the large wooden gate.
Behind us, HANZU TECH blended perfectly into traditional Japanese architecture, hidden behind a cultural gate that looked centuries old.
Inside had been warm.
Bright.
Almost peaceful.
Outside—
the world felt completely different.
Cold.
Dark.
The city lights stretched endlessly beneath the night sky.
Judging by the emptiness around us—
it had to be around 22:00.
I didn't ask questions.
I just followed behind.
At this point, asking anything felt pointless.
Akira clearly explained only what he wanted to explain.
The rest—
you learned by surviving.
Before long, we were in Tokyo.
A minor market day, according to Raimei.
The streets were still alive despite the hour.
Warm lanterns hung overhead, illuminating narrow paths crowded with small stalls selling grilled food, fresh produce, handmade crafts, and things I honestly couldn't name.
The smell hit first.
Soy sauce.
Charcoal.
Fresh seafood.
Sweet batter frying somewhere nearby.
For the first time in what felt like forever—
things almost felt normal.
And I realized something.
It had been a long time since I had eaten without rushing.
Without being on a train.
Without exhaustion forcing food down my throat between shifts.
Just…
normal eating.
Akira, meanwhile, seemed completely at home.
He stood near a food stall casually eating bonito flakes from a paper tray like none of this was strange.
Like we weren't walking toward some unknown "minor problem."
"Oh, right," he said suddenly between bites.
"KA doesn't heal."
That caught my attention immediately.
Akira shrugged.
"It enhances."
"Strengthens."
"Sometimes corrects faults."
He waved his chopsticks vaguely.
"But actual healing?"
"…Not really."
That made even less sense considering I should've been dead already.
Before I could ask—
Raimei spoke.
"Akira's heading to Osaka soon," he explained. "So this whole thing is kind of an assessment."
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"They're checking if we work well together."
"Coordination, mostly."
I looked between them.
"…What happens if we fail?"
Silence.
Akira stopped eating.
No expression crossed his face.
Not even slightly.
Raimei looked forward, trying to stay composed.
But something in his posture shifted.
Subtle.
Uncomfortable.
And suddenly—
The silence said more than words ever could.
Akira finally resumed eating like the conversation had never become uncomfortable.
"It's a small one, really," he said casually between bites. "Third-rate problem."
He shrugged.
"So…"
"…you two probably won't die."
Probably.
The way he said it somehow made me less reassured.
Not more.
But Akira didn't seem concerned at all.
If anything—
he looked relaxed.
Almost excited.
"Besides," he added, stretching lightly, "enjoy the market while it still lasts."
Then he pointed lazily toward another food stall.
"I still have to wait for your supervisor to arrive soooo…"
A grin appeared.
"…Anyone want matcha gelato?"
He looked strangely serious about the offer.
"Tokyo has the best range," he added. "Mild to intense."
For someone supposedly among the strongest Executioners alive—
he felt weirdly normal.
Too normal.
The Overseer had already mentioned I'd be supervised until they deemed me "safe."
At first, I thought that meant restrictions.
Observation.
Maybe isolation.
But now—
it mostly felt like Akira had somehow become my babysitter.
A terrifyingly powerful babysitter.
Though…
he wasn't what I expected.
Strong?
Obviously.
But also relaxed.
Friendly, even.
Like someone who simply didn't feel the need to prove anything.
Still—
I couldn't tell how other people viewed him.
Fear?
Respect?
Both?
"Oh right," Akira said suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Your supervisor."
He paused, trying to remember.
"Indian Executioner."
"Only in Japan for two days."
"Something about filing a report."
He scratched his head.
"…Aarun Biswajyoti."
Another pause.
"Yeah."
"I think I pronounced that right."
Beside me—
Raimei visibly stiffened.
Only for a second.
Then he controlled his expression so quickly I almost thought I imagined it.
Almost.
Akira noticed too.
Of course he did.
"Anyway," he continued calmly, though there was a seriousness underneath his voice now, "introduce yourselves."
"And your Arts."
He looked between us.
"Try to score at least eighty-three percent on the compatibility assessment."
His tone stayed casual.
But something about the way he said it—
made it sound less like advice.
And more like a requirement.
Akira stopped near the edge of the market, casually finishing the last of his food like none of this carried any weight.
Then he pointed at me with the empty stick.
"Kurosaki."
His tone shifted slightly.
Less playful.
Still calm.
But sharper.
"You can already use KA."
"Badly," he added immediately. "But you can use it."
Raimei looked away like he agreed too much with that statement.
"Right now," Akira continued, "you mainly use it for enhancement."
"Your body's already handling the maintenance side by itself, so don't force it."
He gestured lazily.
"Focus on close combat."
"Keep pressure."
"And cover whatever gaps Raimei leaves."
He turned toward Raimei next.
"Raimei's Art is Thunder and Lightning."
"Which," Akira shrugged, "does exactly what it sounds like."
Raimei scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"Basically fast attacks, movement, range control…" he explained. "I hit hard, but I leave openings."
Akira nodded once.
"Which is where you come in."
A sharp beep interrupted him.
Akira glanced at his phone.
"…Ah."
He slipped it back into his pocket.
"Well."
"Bye."
The way he said it felt absurdly casual.
"He's waiting for you."
"Ten minutes."
He waved lazily.
"Cya."
And somehow—
the gesture felt less like a Special Grade Executioner sending two recruits toward danger…
and more like a father sending his sons off to school.
A very irresponsible father.
Who somehow knew they'd survive anyway.
Then he turned—
and disappeared into the crowd of the market without another word.
Raimei exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah," he muttered quietly.
"That's very Akira."
...…
Outskirts of Tokyo
The city lights had long faded behind us.
Now—
only unfinished concrete and cold wind remained.
The half-finished building stood alone in the dark like something abandoned halfway through existence itself.
And standing in front of it—
was him.
Aarun Biswajyoti.
An Indian man—
or at least partly Pakistani too, judging by the features Raimei had quietly mentioned earlier.
He stood facing the structure with his hands casually in his pockets.
Tall.
Almost Akira's height.
Calm black hair sat neatly over sharp but relaxed features, and despite the cold, he wore a clean grey suit that made him look more like a businessman than an Executioner.
Too calm.
Too relaxed.
Oddly dressed for someone supposedly dealing with Yokai.
When he noticed us approaching, he turned slightly.
A welcoming expression crossed his face.
Like this was somehow normal.
"You're Kurosaki."
He pointed casually toward Raimei.
"He's Raimei."
"And you know why you're here."
His tone suggested confidence.
The problem was—
I absolutely did not.
"I'll put up a containment field," Aarun continued. "No need to drag in an entire Phantom Pocket."
He motioned toward the unfinished building.
"You two just have to exterminate the school of Yokai fish inside."
"Simple enough."
The silence that followed said everything.
Because judging by my expression—
I clearly had no idea what he was talking about.
Aarun blinked once.
Then sighed.
Slowly.
"…Akira is a damn idiot."
Raimei quietly looked away.
Like this wasn't the first time hearing that.
"How," Aarun continued, rubbing his forehead lightly, "does he consistently fail to brief hatchlings?"
"Seriously."
Then he exhaled.
"Well."
"Easy mission."
He pointed toward Raimei.
"Raimei has done this before."
"He'll show you."
Before I could ask anything—
KA spread outward.
Thin.
Almost invisible.
A veil rose around the building like transparent glass sealing the entire structure from the rest of the world.
The air changed instantly.
Heavier.
Quieter.
Contained.
Aarun glanced at me once more.
"One more thing."
He raised a finger.
"Cover your fists in KA when you punch."
His tone was casual.
Like he was reminding me to tie my shoes.
"Otherwise," he added calmly, "you'll probably just break your hands."
Then—
we entered.
The building smelled wrong.
Wet concrete.
Rot.
Salt.
Like something had dragged the ocean into an unfinished structure and left it to decay.
The deeper we walked, the quieter things became.
No wind.
No city noise.
Only dripping water echoing through hollow floors.
Raimei stopped suddenly.
"Hear that?"
At first—
nothing.
Then—
splashing.
Too much splashing.
Like dozens of things moving at once.
The darkness ahead shifted.
And suddenly—
they burst forward.
Fish.
No—
Yokai.
Schools of them.
Their bodies looked half-rotten, stretched unnaturally long with jagged teeth protruding through torn flesh. Some dragged themselves using malformed fins while others swam through the air itself like water existed where it shouldn't.
Too many.
At least fifty.
"Move!"
Raimei clapped his hands.
CRACK.
Yellow lightning exploded outward.
Not natural lightning—
Controlled.
Focused.
Bolts shot through the hallway, branching violently as they tore through the school.
Bodies burst apart.
Burned flesh hit the floor.
The smell of cooked rot filled the air.
"Left side!" Raimei shouted.
Three fish lunged toward me.
Instinct moved first.
I stepped in.
Punched.
My fist slammed into one—
CRACK.
Its skull shattered against the concrete.
Pain shot through my hand instantly.
Shit.
Aarun's words.
KA.
Cover your fists.
The next fish lunged.
I focused—
or tried to.
Something warm spread around my knuckles.
Thin.
Uneven.
Like invisible gloves.
I swung again.
BOOM.
The impact felt different.
Cleaner.
The Yokai folded in half and slammed into a wall hard enough to crack concrete.
No pain in my hand.
Enhancement.
That had to be it.
"Good!" Raimei yelled while another clap sent lightning tearing through the room. "Keep doing that!"
More fish flooded in.
Too many for fists.
Then I spotted it.
A rusted crowbar near fallen construction tools.
I grabbed it.
Heavy.
Familiar.
Practical.
Like butcher tools.
The next fish came—
I swung.
CRACK.
Bone exploded.
Another.
Swing.
Its jaw caved inward.
The KA coating my body spread unknowingly into the crowbar.
Each strike grew heavier.
Faster.
More natural.
I wasn't fighting clean.
I was fighting like someone used to breaking apart carcasses.
Efficient.
Messy.
Close.
Then—
something strange happened.
The crowbar vibrated.
White KA gathered around it.
And beside the real one—
another appeared.
An exact copy.
Floating for less than a second.
I stared.
Raimei stared too.
Then—
it disintegrated instantly into white particles.
Gone.
"…What the hell was that?" Raimei muttered.
I had no answer.
Before either of us could think—
everything stopped.
The remaining fish froze.
All at once.
Like puppets.
Then slowly—
they moved aside.
Making space.
For something behind them.
A figure stepped from the darkness.
Tall.
Thin.
Its skin looked waterlogged, stretched tightly over something too skeletal to be human.
Its mouth split unnaturally wide.
And around its fingers—
thin strings of KA connected to every fish.
Controlling them.
Raimei's expression dropped immediately.
"…That wasn't in the briefing."
The Yokai smiled.
And every fish turned toward us again.
At once.
Hundreds of eyes.
Watching.
Waiting.
Suddenly—
this stopped feeling like a third-rate problem.
The thing moved first.
Fast.
Too fast for something that looked half-rotten.
The deer-like Yokai burst from the shadows, its elongated body bending unnaturally as antlers scraped violently against the ceiling.
Its legs—
Wrong.
Too long.
Too many joints.
Its face split open where a mouth should've been.
Not vertically.
Horizontally.
Rows of fish-like teeth twisting endlessly inward.
And behind it—
the remaining fish Yokai flooded forward like a tidal wave.
"MOVE!" Raimei shouted.
CLAP.
Yellow lightning exploded outward.
This time—
stronger.
Sharper.
The bolts sliced through the hallway, vaporizing clusters of fish mid-air.
Bodies burst apart.
Concrete shattered.
The building trembled.
But the deer Yokai—
didn't stop.
It barreled straight through the lightning.
Smoke rose from burned flesh.
Still—
it came.
I stepped forward instinctively.
Crowbar raised.
KA surged into my arms.
Too much.
The moment it lunged—
I swung.
BOOM.
The impact shook my entire body.
Its skull cracked sideways—
but didn't break.
Instead—
the recoil exploded through my arm.
Pain shot through my shoulder.
The Yokai twisted violently and slammed into me.
Concrete broke beneath us.
Air vanished from my lungs.
The crowbar flew from my hand.
Its jaws snapped inches from my face.
Instinct.
I shoved KA into my arms.
More.
And more.
Too much.
The pressure built instantly.
My veins burned.
Skin splitting.
Something inside me felt unstable—
overflowing.
"KUROSAKI STOP!" Raimei yelled.
Too late.
KA burst outward violently.
A shockwave ripped through the room.
Fish Yokai exploded apart around us.
Windows shattered.
The unfinished structure groaned dangerously.
But my body—
hurt.
Everything hurt.
Like I was cooking from the inside.
The deer Yokai staggered back.
Only for Raimei to move.
CLAP.
CRACK.
A yellow bolt tore through one of its front legs.
The deer-like Yokai staggered violently.
Its left leg—
gone.
Its right arm—
reduced to scorched flesh.
Raimei stood several metres back, breathing heavily.
Steam rose faintly from his swollen hands.
His fingers trembled from strain.
Still—
he forced his palms together again.
CLAP.
A yellow lightning bolt split through the air.
The unfinished floor exploded apart.
The Yokai twisted unnaturally—
avoiding a direct hit.
Too fast.
Even crippled—
it moved wrong.
Its exposed muscles twitched violently as fish-like teeth snapped endlessly inside its split mouth.
And me—
I could barely stand.
The KA flooding my body had become unbearable.
Too much.
Way too much.
It felt like molten metal moving through my veins.
My muscles spasmed uncontrollably.
My breathing turned ragged.
I had pushed too much into enhancement.
And now—
my body was paying for it.
Raimei wasn't doing much better.
He stood barely upright.
Hands red.
Swollen.
Skin overheated after forcing too many lightning discharges too quickly.
Still—
he raised them again.
Determined.
"Move…" he muttered through gritted teeth.
The deer Yokai lunged.
At the same time—
the fish Yokai surged again.
Hundreds of them.
Flooding the unfinished floor like a living tide of teeth and rotting flesh.
And then—
everything stopped.
Mid-motion.
Frozen.
The fish hung in the air.
The deer Yokai froze mid-lunge.
Its claws—
mere inches from my face.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Then—
pressure.
Heavy.
Invisible.
The air itself distorted.
CRUNCH.
Bodies began collapsing inward.
Compressed.
The fish Yokai twisted unnaturally, bones snapping inward as though invisible walls crushed them from every direction.
One after another—
POP.
CRACK.
SPLIT.
Flesh compressed into grotesque masses before bursting apart.
Even the deer Yokai screamed.
Its body folded inward violently.
Antlers snapped.
Its remaining limbs bent backward.
Concrete fractured beneath it from sheer force.
Then—
footsteps.
Calm.
Measured.
Aarun walked through the dust.
Grey suit untouched.
Hands in his pockets.
Expression relaxed.
Like he had just arrived for a meeting—
not a battlefield.
Behind him—
the hidden controlling Yokai trembled violently.
Pinned against the air itself.
Invisible pressure crushing it.
Thin KA strings stretched from its fingers toward the fish—
only to snap apart one by one.
"Ah…"
Aarun sighed softly.
"…So this was the problem."
He glanced at me.
Then Raimei.
Then the destruction.
Long pause.
"…Akira really sent me the unstable ones."
The controlling Yokai shrieked.
Aarun barely acknowledged it.
He simply raised one hand.
Closed his fingers slightly.
And the Yokai—
compressed.
Perfectly.
Like reality itself folded inward around it.
Bone.
Flesh.
KA.
Everything collapsed into itself—
until nothing remained.
The deer Yokai gave one last desperate scream.
Raimei forced his hands together.
CLAP.
One final yellow lightning bolt flashed through the room.
Its remaining limbs separated instantly.
The body collapsed.
Still twitching.
Then silence returned.
Raimei dropped to one knee.
Hands shaking violently.
Swollen beyond normal.
I could barely stay upright.
Aarun looked between us again.
"…You two lasted longer than expected."
Pause.
"…Still almost died though."