Mr. Hosho strode through the parted doors, entering the command center of G.M.A. HQ. It was an amphitheater of steel and glass, projected feeds plastered on nearly every wall he could see. Most of them described analytics such as the number of attendees expected and those present.
Uniformed G.M.A. workers were stationed at a console, filling the command center in rows. Their voices overlapped. Hosho's footsteps echoed softly against the floor. No one turned to greet him, but some gave brief nods of acknowledgement. Respect here was… Efficient. Anything more would be indulgent.
Atop a console to his right was a slick-bodied toad spirit, its bulbous eyes seemingly tracking several screens at once. Another one clung to a support beam overhead and a third rested near the central projection. They were kind, helpful spirits and so were allowed to roam freely in the HQ.
But, of course, one thing was loud in his mind: Toma. Of all the names assigned to this examination, that boy refused to sit still in his mind. He let out a small exhale through his nostrils.
He chose this, Renkai.
That poor excuse should've been enough and yet, he couldn't come to terms with it for an odd reason.
Had the years really made me grow soft?No… I have no right to worry about a single candidate among dozens… hundreds.
But then, a calm voice addressed him directly.
"Senior Hosho."
He turned to see the imposing man standing near the central platform, his hands folding behind his back while observing the overlapping feeds.
Headman Ren, one of the six members of G.M.A.'s Hydra Command. He was a tall, lean but immovable man draped in deep charcoal robes which were wrapped over a high-collared inner layer of ivory. A long sash was bound at his waist, its knot resting centered with a strip of cloth hanging like a stroke of ink.
His skin was dark and unblemished. But his hair was what truly drew his eyes. It was as white as snow and was gathered into a high crown atop his head, bound with a simple black clasp. Long strands flowed backwards from it, smooth like silk while two thinner locks framed the sides of his face. Not a single strand was out of place.
Hosho inclined his head out of respect.
"Headman…"
Ren's gaze didn't leave the screens, but he spoke anyway.
"The candidates are performing within projected variance."
"They wouldn't be here otherwise, Headman."
Ren grinned at that before looking down at him.
"I hope to see which ones justify that assumption, Senior."
Hosho didn't say a word as there was no argument to make. At least, not one worth the breath. The moment passed like a withdrawn shadow and Hosho continued forward as Ren returned to his duties.
Near the far end of the command floor was a man leaning back in his chair like he was waiting for a sporting event to kick off. He had one leg crossed over the other and a hand was resting near a console. Hosho stopped just short of him.
"Still pretending you're not on duty?"
The man grinned before even looking at him.
"Only when I know someone reliable will walk in to ruin my peace."
He then turned fully. He had tanned skin warmed by years under harsher suns than the forgiving ones of Karasuma, and a burn scar that paved its way across his face diagonally. He wore it loud and proud like a medal of honor.
He was none other than Okinpaku Hayabu. A captain, a Maestro, and to Hosho's dismay, still himself.
"You were invited here to assist with the Exam. Not to lounge," Hosho said with a disappointed sigh, like scolding a child.
"That's what I'm doing," Hayabu replied with that annoying calm, tapping a few keys without looking. "See? It's effortless."
"You have always mistaken minimal effort… For mastery," Hosho said with a low grunt as he dragged a chair beside him to sit. A moment of silence fell upon them, to which both of them smirked. "I never believed you'd accept."
"Figured you'd buried all your old contacts under your paperwork and pride," Hayabu shot back. "So consider me shocked."
"You are a more than capable man, Captain Okinpaku," Hosho replied, emphasizing the prefix sarcastically.
"Ah… so this all wasn't because you missed me," Hayabu said with a solemn nod. He then grinned and Hosho could see a faint flicker of orange sparking near his hand.
"Don't."
"Don't what?" Hayabu asked with feigned innocence, bringing the cigarette to his lips.
"You are in a sealed command center," he said quietly. "Surrounded by barrier-sensitive instrumentation, spirits, and–"
But Hayabu leaned away, shielding the motion as he coaxed the flame to light between his fingers. The cigarette caught and the ember glowed brighter before settling into a more steadier burn. He took one slow drag before exhaling quietly.
"Stubborn to the end…" Hosho remarked, though his tone wasn't unkind.
Hayabu let out a soft chuckle.
"Then, at the least, distinguish it before Headman Ren sees you."
"Relax, Senior. If he hasn't noticed yet, it's because he's choosing not to," Hayabu said with a dismissive wave. His gaze kept on the screens for a second longer before looking at Hosho.
"So," he began, tapping into a small, improvised tray created from a discarded metal cap. "Who did you manage this year?"
Hosho was silent for a moment, his focus shifting into memory rather than the exam itself.
"Don't tell me you didn't bring one in this year," Hayabu said with utter disbelief. "That's unlike you."
Then, a small smile broke Hosho's face.
"A dock's boy," he said simply.
Hayabu froze for a second before letting out a quiet laugh which was obnoxious enough to earn glances from operators and toad spirits alike.
"A dock's boy?!" He repeated between stifled chuckles. "That's the best you could muster, Senior? Surely you didn't tell the kid what we do here? The G.M.A. isn't for scrubbing barnacles."
Hosho gave a small chuckle before nodding.
"I made sure to make the nature of the work clear."
"Ah, so you did ruin his life properly. And here I was worried you were getting soft," Hayabu said with an amused grin.
"He's… desperate," he said quietly, his eyes dropping to the floor. "But… he has promise. As I once saw in you."
Hayabu huffed another chuckle, rubbing the back of his head as he leaned forward again.
"Don't get too sentimental on me, Senior," he said before taking another drag. "Once saw in me? What, you doubting me now?"
Hosho's expression softened and he gave a head shake.
"I'm saying that you are no longer a child. Soon you'll be made a Captain. And when that happens, you won't have time for nicotine."
"Is that so?" Hayabu questioned, leaning back again as he snubbed out his cigarette. "We'll see about that…"
He then tapped the console in front of him, his tone less… serious. "You've got a number yet?"
"What for?"
"This year's batch."
Hosho leaned back in his chair with a small sigh, his eyes moving across the data streams, looking for those both accounted and unaccounted for. The observation window beyond the command floor remained shut, its reinforced barrier opaque.
"At this rate… I would estimate somewhere within the five hundred range," Hosho said.
Hayabu gave a whistle before chuckling some more.
"Five hundred desperate bastards. All thinking they'll be made into something. I wonder how many'll make it past the first cut."
Hosho didn't answer. Instead, his gaze drifted towards the screens, with the hope that dock's boy would live up to his own set-up expectations.
Hoping he would exceed them.