Renji's legs wobbled as he collapsed onto the soft grass of Kuoh's athletic field, gasping for breath.
"Again."
Sona's voice was calm, firm, and merciless. She stood a few meters away, arms folded, glasses catching the morning light. Her wings unfurled slightly, radiating quiet authority.
Renji groaned. "President…! I'm dying… again! And this time it's from push-ups, not demon claws!"
"You're already dead," she replied evenly. "Devils do not tire as easily as humans. The fact that you are gasping shows how untrained your body is. If you collapse here, how do you expect to face stray devils?"
Renji rolled onto his back, staring up at the clear sky. I should've asked for reincarnation as a housecat. They sleep eighteen hours a day and get fed for free.
"Stop daydreaming."
He jolted upright, grumbling. "Do you read minds or something?"
"No. You're just that transparent."
Laughter rang out from the sidelines. The other peerage members watched like an audience at a comedy show. Tsubasa leaned on the fence, smirking. "Come on, Pawn, show us some guts. Or at least don't faint like a maiden."
Renji shot her a glare. "Easy for you to say, Miss Muscles! I'm new at this!"
Another girl giggled behind her hand. "He's cute when he struggles."
Renji's face turned red. "I-I'm not cute, I'm dying!"
Sona clapped her hands once, silencing the chatter. "Enough. It's time we moved to the real purpose of today's session: controlling your Sacred Gear."
Renji's stomach flipped. "…Can't we go back to push-ups?"
"No."
A magic circle flared beneath them, expanding into glowing runes that shimmered across the field. The air grew heavy, pressing against Renji's skin.
"This circle will react to your energy," Sona explained. "I want you to focus, recall the moments it activated before, and summon it consciously."
Renji swallowed hard. Memories of glowing symbols, of cutting energy blades, of panic and fear flooded back.
He raised his hand uncertainly. "Okay… Sacred Gear, or whatever you are… do your thing?"
Nothing happened.
The peerage snickered.
Renji's face burned. "Don't laugh! It worked fine when I was about to die!"
"Perhaps I should summon something to attack you," Sona suggested coolly.
Renji's eyes bulged. "Wait, you're serious?!"
"I'm always serious."
She flicked her wrist. A training dummy formed from magic—a humanoid figure with glowing red eyes—lurched toward him.
Renji screamed, stumbling backward. "W-wait! I'm not ready—!"
The dummy swung. Renji flailed his arms in panic. Symbols blazed across his skin, and a shockwave erupted, hurling the dummy away.
The laughter stopped.
Renji stared at his arm, glowing crimson and black. His breath caught. "…It… it worked again…"
Sona's eyes narrowed, gleaming with calculation. "Good. Now again. Without the panic."
Renji groaned. "Lady, if you wanted a panic attack machine, congrats, you got one!"
Hours passed. Renji's energy flickered on and off like a faulty lightbulb. Sometimes a spark, sometimes a blade of energy, sometimes nothing at all. Each time, Sona corrected him patiently, her voice steady, her gaze sharp.
"Focus. Don't beg for it. Command it."
"Your emotions fuel it—panic is strong, but so is resolve."
"Remember: your Sacred Gear is yours, not the other way around."
Renji collapsed again, drenched in sweat. "…I think my Sacred Gear hates me."
Sona knelt beside him, adjusting her glasses. Her expression softened—just slightly. "No. It's waiting for you to grow into it. Power is meaningless without control."
Renji blinked at her. For a moment, her strict façade melted into something almost gentle. Then she stood, wings folding back.
"Training is over for today."
That night, Renji dragged himself back to the dorm, body aching. He opened the bathroom door to wash up—
—and found the voluptuous girl again, this time in just a bra, brushing her hair.
Their eyes met.
Renji's soul left his body for the second time that day. "WHY IS THIS ALWAYS HAPPENING TO ME?!"
Her mischievous smile widened. "Because fate likes to tease you, little Pawn."
POV Shift: Sona Sitri
Sona stood by the window of the student council room, the moonlight glinting off her glasses. She reviewed her notes from Renji's training, frowning in thought.
His Sacred Gear was volatile, unpredictable. Its form was unclear—sometimes energy, sometimes shockwave. But its raw power… rivaled even the Longinus.
Yet the boy himself was fragile, unrefined, constantly stumbling between fear and humor. A contradiction. A weakness.
And yet…
She remembered the look in his eyes when he first succeeded. That spark of wonder, of determination beneath the fear.
Sona's lips curved faintly.
"He'll be trouble," she murmured. "But perhaps… the kind of trouble worth keeping close."