Tenshiko Public Canteen — 19:41PM
The canteen was an absolute madhouse.
Plates clanked, rice bowls slid across slick tables, someone somewhere laughed so hard they choked, and in the middle of it all, ninety-three Kageshiki trainees ate like war was tomorrow—which it basically was.
At the center table, Daigo sat cross-legged on the bench like a gremlin king, hunched over a giant tray of roasted beef, scooping it into his mouth like it owed him money.
"Yo, bro," he said, chewing half a cow, "the test's tomorrow, right?"
Ishigo didn't even look up. He dissected his food like he was trying to defuse a landmine. "I hope you live through it."
Daigo grinned. "If I die, I'm dragging your ghost with me."
Ishigo blinked, finally glancing over. "That's not how that works. At all."
"Course it is. Soulmate rules, remember?"
"Stop calling us soulmates," Ishigo said, stabbing a piece of rice like it personally offended him. "We're barely friends."
Across from them, Reika silently ate her beef with the calm precision of a trained assassin. Her chopsticks moved like surgical tools, each bite deliberate. She tuned out the usual Daigo-Ishigo sitcom happening beside her.
Tomorrow's test? Whatever. Level One was warm-up. The real heat came after that. Survival wasn't a question for her. It was a fact.
A chair scraped.
"Mind if I sit?"
All three looked up. A tall guy with bedhead and dangerous charm stood there, tray in one hand, that too-easy smirk already loaded on his face.
"I know you won't mind," he added before anyone could answer. "Katsurei Yeaga."
Daigo lit up like a kid on sugar. "Bro, sit your ass down! Hell yeah."
Ishigo side-eyed Daigo like he just invited a serial killer to dinner. "You don't even know him."
"You didn't know me either," Daigo shrugged.
"And I regret that deeply," Ishigo muttered.
Reika gave Yeaga a once-over. Something about him screamed problem. The swagger? The smirk? The confidence of a guy who's never been told "no" in his life. He didn't just expect attention—he demanded it by breathing.
Before Yeaga could sit, a hand slammed down on his shoulder—hard.
"You lost or just stupid?" a deep voice sneered.
Standing behind him was a broad-shouldered Kageshiki trainee with a neck thicker than his IQ. He cracked his knuckles, wearing the world's ugliest smirk.
Yeaga didn't move. Just blinked. "What is this? The cliché welcoming committee?"
Big guy chuckled. "Fresh meat don't talk unless we let 'em."
"Fresh meat?" Yeaga echoed. "That's adorable. You rehearse that in front of a mirror?"
"Think you're funny?"
"Think you're original?"
The guy's eye twitched. "Keep yappin'. I'll put your face through that table."
Yeaga sighed like he was being mildly inconvenienced by a long checkout line. Then—
CRACK.
He grabbed the guy's wrist and twisted it, not brutally, just enough to make it hurt and humiliate. The trainee grunted, stepping back in confusion.
"Your grip sucks," Yeaga said like he was reviewing a wine tasting. Then came the elbow—quick, clean, sharp—right into the gut.
The guy doubled over like he got punched by a truck.
The room went silent.
Gasps. Someone dropped a tray.
Reika stopped chewing.
Daigo dropped his chopsticks. "Yo... what the hell was that?"
"Softcore," Yeaga said, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder.
The trainee lurched, swinging a wild punch. Yeaga slipped around it so smoothly he might as well have teleported. A foot hooked behind the guy's ankle—bam. He crashed to the floor like a sack of bricks.
Yeaga crouched beside him, smiling. "Next time, bring a helmet. And better lines."
He patted the guy's cheek and stood up like nothing happened.
The bully scrambled to his feet and bolted, too ashamed to look back.
Laughter rippled through the canteen. Some people whispered. Others gawked. Reika's eyes narrowed.
He's not just a loudmouth. He's efficient.
Yeaga plopped down in the empty seat, kicked back, and grabbed a piece of meat like he hadn't just turned a full-grown dude into soup.
"So," he said, looking right at Reika, "do I have your attention now, Ice Queen?"
Reika stared at her tray. "Nope."
Daigo cackled. "Bro, she didn't even flinch!"
Yeaga pressed a hand to his chest. "Damn. Cold rejection? In public? I might cry."
"Do it. I'd pay money to watch that," Ishigo muttered.
Yeaga leaned closer to Reika. "C'mon, at least admit I'm charming."
Reika sipped her water, unfazed. "You talk too much."
He grinned. "That's not a 'no.'"
For the next ten minutes, Yeaga refused to let up.
"You eat like a goddess," he said when she grabbed rice."Your aura's like moonlight on wet asphalt," when she adjusted her hair."Oh no, I blinked—did I miss you smiling?" when she looked slightly less annoyed.
Reika stabbed a piece of meat hard enough to rattle the plate.
Daigo wheezed. "She's gonna kill you, man."
"Worth it," Yeaga replied, unbothered.
Ishigo leaned back with a groan. "He's not leaving, is he?"
"Not until she admits I'm the most charming man she's ever met," Yeaga declared.
Reika looked up, finally meeting his eyes.
"In that case," she said, deadly calm, "get comfortable. You're staying forever."
Yeaga leaned in, grinning like a devil.
"Bet."