The warehouse air hums with anticipation as Sachi steps forward, rolling her shoulders like she's loosening up for a casual stroll—not a fight. Ryo shifts his stance, grip tightening on his Kizugami blade (he knows better than to underestimate her just because she's unarmed).
Tenjo leans back against a rusted beam, grinning (this is his idea of entertainment). Kurobe watches with folded arms—appraising. Haru and Sora hover nearby (equally nervous and excited).
Sachi doesn't waste time. "Try not to embarrass yourself," she says flatly before vanishing in a blur of motion—(so fast even the dust swirls belatedly where she stood).
Ryo barely dodges the first strike, her gloved fist grazing his ribs like a warning shot (she wasn't even trying yet). His eyes widen—No way was that human speed.
Haru whistles lowly from the sidelines while Sora mutters:
"Yeah… good luck with that, newbie."
After sweeping Ryo's legs out from under him (for the third time in five minutes) and casually sidestepping every desperate swing he takes (like he's moving underwater compared to her) —Sachi finally decides he's suffered enough for now. She crouches down beside him as he gasps for breath on the concrete floor (dignity thoroughly bruised).
Her hand lifts slightly —palm upturned as faint light dances along her fingertips before coalescing into intricate markings that spiral up her wrist like living ink: Her Signet.
Ryo pushes himself up on shaky arms, his gaze fixed on her Signet markings. His eyes widen with a mix of shock and grudging respect. "Is that…?" he manages to gasp.
Sachi smirks (a rare hint of amusement at his surprise). "Yes, Signets." Her voice is nonchalant as if she's discussing the weather. "Mine's based on speed, as you might've noticed."
Sachi flexes her fingers, the markings on her wrist pulsing with a faint glow. "『StormStep Signet』," she murmurs—almost reverently.
Then—she moves. One second she's crouched beside him, the next she's behind Kurobe in a blink (without even stirring dust in her wake). Tenjo claps lazily from his perch (like this is all just part of the show), while Ryo can only gape (too stunned to be properly annoyed yet).
Haru whistles lowly under her breath.
"...Damn."
Sachi tilts her head, studying Ryo's expression—his shock, his frustration, the faint spark of stubborn determination underneath. She exhales through her nose (almost approvingly).
"Speed isn't just about movement," she says, stepping back toward him. "It's about control."
She flicks two fingers up—barely a gesture—but the markings along her arm flare brightly as she dashes forward again. This time, though… it's different. Her steps are deliberate now, slowed just enough for Ryo to track them (like she's teaching instead of toying with him). Each footfall is precise—no wasted motion at all.
Tenjo raises an eyebrow (intrigued). Even Kurobe shifts slightly in interest (she never slows down for anyone).
Ryo grits his teeth and readies himself again (this time without flinching when she blurs past him)—because if a rogue hunter who doesn't even use a Kizugami blade could move like this, then what else was he missing?
Ryo's mind races almost as fast as Sachi's movement. He knows he can't win like this, trapped in a cycle of getting slammed into the ground every few seconds. But there's no escape from her speed—no time even to think. He needs a way to match hers.
But his Seishu energy isn't good enough, not yet. He has to access the levels he had against Kairos.
Ryo focuses, willing his Seishu energy to rise. It does, but the cost is high. The ratio is all wrong now—far too much in the physical, not enough in the mental or spiritual. He can feel the power building, surging under his skin, but it's unstable—a wildfire with no direction.
Ryo surges towards Sachi in a burst of raw energy. For once, he's just fast enough to keep up (just barely). But his form is all wrong—he can't control the wild surges of power, can't turn properly.
Sachi side steps his first swing, then spins away from the second (making it look effortless). Her eyes widen slightly—something she never does—as she finally takes him seriously.
Sachi exhales—sharp and controlled—as the markings along her arm suddenly shift, glowing a deeper, fiercer red.
"『StormStep Signet: Rampage Flow』."
The air cracks as she moves—not just fast now, but untraceable. One second she's in front of Ryo, the next she's behind him (her afterimage lingering like a ghost before dissipating entirely). Even Tenjo straightens up slightly (now that's rare), while Haru outright gasps.
Ryo barely has time to register the movement before Sachi taps him on the back of his neck with two fingers—a mock 'killing blow' (so casual it almost stings more than losing properly would have). Her voice is dry when she murmurs:
"...You're dead."
Ryo hits the ground hard, breath knocked out of him. It's not just the fact that he lost, though. It's knowing that he's too weak to protect the people who matter to him. All the doubts—the fears—bubble to the surface as he gasps for air on the concrete floor.
Sachi stares down at Ryo, her earlier amusement fading into something closer to irritation.
"What's wrong with you?" she snaps, arms crossed. "You just went up against a former Captain and lived—that alone means you're not useless."
Haru and Sora glance at each other (is this… encouragement? From her?). Kurobe sighs like he knew this was coming (he did). Tenjo smirks—because of course he finds this entertaining.
But Ryo doesn't answer, his knuckles whitening against the concrete floor (like if he grips it hard enough, maybe the ache in his chest will stop).
After a moment, Sachi breaks the silence. She speaks more slowly this time.
"You said you want to be a Hunter because you want to protect others, right?"
Ryo nods, his grip easing a little as he pushes himself up on his elbows.
"So tell me then." She steps closer, eyes boring down into his. "What does being a Hunter mean to you?"
Ryo hesitates, the question hitting harder than any punch. He thinks back—to Yua's unwavering faith in him, to Kyou's reluctant mentorship, even to Kairos' brutal test in the city streets.
Finally, he exhales sharply and meets Sachi's gaze headon. "It means… not letting anyone else get hurt because I was too weak." His voice is rough but steadier now. "That's all."
Sachi stares at him for a long moment (like she's deciding whether that answer is stupid or not) before huffing out something that almost sounds like approval. "Good enough." She turns away with a flick of her wrist—(dismissal and acceptance all at once)—before adding over her shoulder:
"Now get up so I can knock you down again."
Tenjo finally interjects, his voice dry and sardonic as usual. "Enough," he says, waving a hand carelessly. "The kid's been humiliated quite enough for one day."
Haru and Sora have the decency to look chagrined (but they're also hiding smiles). Even Kurobe looks relieved (he really is a bleeding heart beneath that stoic exterior).
Ryo's body aches in places he didn't even know he had; the result of a thorough beating at the hands of their instructor.
He sits down—gingerly—and grabs a bottle of water, downing it in large, desperate gulps. The relief of the cool liquid helps some. But the silence between him and Tenjo is deafening, heavy with something unspoken.
Ryo stiffens, his gaze immediately darkening as Tenjo's words hit a nerve.
"...What do you mean, 'grudge'?" he manages after a moment, tone deliberately nonchalant.
Tenjo gives him a flat look, wholly unintimidated by the sudden switch to defensiveness. "Don't play dumb," he says dryly. "You look like you're ready to gut someone every time his name gets brought up."
Tenjo leans back, stretching his arms behind his head with an air of indifference—but the question lingers like a blade pressed against skin. "You think I don't notice?" His voice is light, but there's no mistaking the sharpness underneath. "The way you tense up whenever Kyou's involved. The way you glare when he and Yua interact."
Ryo clenches his jaw so hard it aches (because yeah—maybe it is obvious, but that doesn't mean he wants to talk about it). He stares straight ahead, refusing to rise to the bait.
But Tenjo isn't done yet. He tilts his head slightly—eyes glinting with something dangerously close to amusement. "So? Spit it out already."
For a long moment, Ryo just grips his water bottle tighter—the plastic crinkling under the pressure. Then, finally, he mutters:
"...It's not Kyou I have a problem with." (A halftruth.)
Tenjo raises an eyebrow (clearly unconvinced). "Yeah? Then why do you look like you want to set him on fire every time he breathes too close to Yua?"
Ryo exhales sharply through his nose. "Maybe because she trusts him more than she trusts me now." The admission slips out before he can stop it—bitter and raw. (And damn, does that sting to say aloud.)
Ryo freezes. The water bottle slips from his fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud. His expression is pure shock—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. "...What?"
Tenjo studies him for a long moment before sighing (like he hadn't meant to drop that bomb). "You didn't know?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Yeah, she saw it happen—back when Kyou was still just some reckless kid trying to survive."
Ryo's stomach twists violently. (Of course she never told him. Why would she? It wasn't like they were close anymore.) But now… pieces click into place—the way Yua looked at Kyou sometimes (like she owed him something), the protectiveness that went beyond just duty or camaraderie…
He swallows hard before forcing out:
"...How bad was it?"
Tenjo's voice is quiet, the words tumbling out almost like a confession. He tells the brutal truth—the image of Kyou's parents being cut down in front of him. He doesn't go into too much detail, but he leaves enough (Ryo's mind filling in the blanks with a horrible clarity) that he knows the full extent of the trauma.
Ryo's face goes pale. His breathing shakes. "...Oh my god."
Ryo goes silent, the weight of what Tenjo just told him pressing down like a physical force. He knows loss—too well. His mother's absence is a hollow ache that never fully dulls.
But this? Watching your parents die right in front of you? (And Yua was there—helpless, haunted by it.) Suddenly, Kyou's aloof demeanor makes sense (as much as he still dislikes him). The way Yua clings to him like she owes him something… Ryo gets it now.
His hands curl into fists against his knees (anger and guilt twisting together in his chest). He doesn't say anything else—just stares at the ground until Tenjo nudges him with an elbow.
Ryo digests the story in brooding silence (a million unspoken thoughts going through his brain), but it all boils down to one undeniable conclusion:
He's weak.
Not just now—after the beating Sachi gave him, though he has to admit that didn't do much for his confidence (he won't be walking right for the next day at least). But overall. His Seishu energy pales compared to the other Hunters' abilities.
Ryo lifts his head, jaw set—expression so raw with determination that even Tenjo pauses midsmirk to actually take him seriously for once.
"What's the fastest way?" Ryo asks again, voice steel now. "No shortcuts. No tricks." (He doesn't want to hear about potential—he wants results.) "Tell me how to wield my Kizugami blade now."
Tenjo studies him for a long moment before exhaling through his nose (almost amused, almost impressed). He leans back slightly—considering. Then:
"...There is one method." A pause. A sharp grin. "But you're not gonna like it."
Ryo stares at Tenjo with an intensity that surprises even him. The idea of getting stronger, of protecting the people he cares about… it's a siren call he can't ignore. Even if he'll hate himself for it later.
"…Fine," he grits out. "I don't care. Tell me. What is it?"
Tenjo's smirk deepens. "It's not a pleasant option," he warns. "It will push you to your absolute limits. And even then, it won't be a guarantee you'll pull through."
Ryo scoffs. "And let me guess—it's dangerous, right? It could kill me?" He's half joking—a sarcastic edge still in his tone.
Tenjo's smirk fades. He gives Ryo a level, unblinking look. "I am not joking. It will push you to your limits—both physically and mentally. There's a high chance it will backfire. And yes, it may very well kill you."
Ryo swallows—hard. There's a note of seriousness in Tenjo's voice that tells him he is speaking the truth. And suddenly, this 'fast track' method doesn't seem so fast.
The silence stretches. Then—
Ryo stands, brushing off his knees with a grimace (even though it hurts). His eyes burn with something unshakable as he meets Tenjo's gaze headon.
"Then I guess it's a good thing I don't plan on dying."
And just like that—Tenjo grins (wide and sharp, like he's finally seeing what he was waiting for all along). "…Good answer."
🌀 End Of Chapter Thirty Five