CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
BANG! The two figures entangled at center court broke apart. A boy's wooden sword flew from his grip, and his opponent's blade kissed his throat. The match was over.
"The winner: Shion. The loser: Chiba Gō." From the sidelines, the colonel glanced once at the outcome and announced it in a flat voice.
A ring of recruits answered with a hot gust of jeers.
"As expected—dead-last Gō lost again."
"Was there ever any suspense? Shion's one of the top fighters this year. The caboose can't compare."
"Looks like his genes glitched. Gō clearly didn't inherit his family's famed gifts. It's been a year and he's made no progress."
"Haha, not no progress. He used to get one-shot. Now he can at least last a few dozen seconds."
"Ha ha ha…"
The sneers and schadenfreude washed over the handsome, black-haired boy, yet for the first time he didn't wear defeat or self-pity. His face was wind-still—neither joy nor sorrow.
"I was a king among special forces back home, and I still can't measure up to the recruits in this world? What a monstrous place." The boy named Chiba Gō turned away, the mockery still buzzing in his ears.
He walked to the very end of the line, the odd piece from another world standing out like a loose stitch.
"Smoker, Shion's improving fast. He's nearly caught up to you. Your title of strongest rookie this year might be in danger. Hina can't wait to see the moment you get overtaken." A twelve-year-old, pink-haired beauty teased the silver-haired boy beside her.
"Competition breeds drive." Fourteen-year-old Smoker smiled.
"Next match: Smoker versus Shion!"
At that, the barbs aimed at Gō cut off. Every gaze swung to Smoker as he stepped onto the field, heat and worship burning bright.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Watching the speed and power behind each strike, Gō frowned slightly from the back of the crowd. He already knew it, but it was still hard to swallow: he'd trained nonstop and still couldn't match recruits in this world with barely a year—or less—under their belts. Petty resentment prickled his chest.
Then he exhaled. This was a sea infested with monsters. What was there to resent?
He watched in earnest. For now, he was a recruit too.
Cheers swelled as the bout crested.
"What a lovely sound. But there's no screaming. Sadi doesn't like that." The golden-haired girl nearby earned a forest of black lines. Even recognizing that she'd grow up a stunner, the boys prudently edged away.
BOOM!
The fight ended.
It had been fierce, but Smoker still took the victory—by barely half a move. He didn't look unscathed, either.
"They're both incredible. Smoker's as strong as ever, but Shion is no slouch."
"Right? No wonder they're our seeded picks."
Praise rolled freely for the two—nothing Chiba Gō would be tasting today.
"Not bad, Smoker. Your strength's climbing fast. Shion, you did well too." The colonel's chill eased into a smile as he pointed out their flaws and gave full credit to their growth.
"Next up, Sadi versus—"
"Heehee, Sadi wants to hear your pain."
…
Gō watched every match without blinking, refusing to miss a single detail.
"I don't know why I'm twelve again while my strength didn't drop, yet I'm still stuck at the bottom of the rookie heap. But these battles beyond Earth's limits are exactly what I need."
Only at dusk did the recruits' sparring end.
"Today's matches showed me how you're growing—but also who's standing still. Smoker, Shion, and the rest—good work. Your strength has—" The colonel, the officer in charge of their regular training, offered praise and criticism in turn.
There was no criticism for Gō. He was the only one not mentioned at all.
"Bottom of the ladder, sure—but the Earth-style techniques I showed shouldn't be invisible." Gō kept his rigid calm and let out a dry laugh. "Seems the me of this world comes with… complications."
"All right, dismissed! Go home, keep training, and get ready. In three days we hold the marksmanship assessment. Admiral Zephyr will personally observe. Your scores go on your graduation record. I don't need to spell out how important that is."
"Yes, sir!" The recruits shook with excitement.
"Admiral Zephyr's coming? Perfect! If we shine, maybe he'll notice us—maybe he'll take us on for special training. Then—"
Too many eyes lit with longing.
Plenty also slanted toward Gō with glee. "Last time, the caboose missed eight out of ten shots. Think he can break his own record this time—nine out of ten?"
A boom of laughter followed.
"Smoker, Admiral Zephyr already has his eye on you. After the test, he might—"
"Here's hoping." Fire flashed in Smoker's gaze. Any rookie Zephyr trained tended to become a pillar of the Marines. It was a launchpad to the stratosphere.
"Zephyr, huh?" Gō drifted away with the crowd, the taunts trailing behind. "The admiral who trained half the Marines' elites. Not just later—now most of the corps' pillars were his students. Maybe this really is a chance."
When it came to pure accuracy, Gō feared no one.
He left the recruit base. Home wasn't far.
The base sat in the middle of the Marines' headquarters island. The headquarters loomed ahead, off-limits without orders. Behind the island stretched a bustling town where Marines' families lived.
Gō's home lay among them.
A two-story house with a small private yard. Quiet—so quiet it felt eerie.
He flicked on the light. It chased back a sliver of gloom, but the rooms still felt cold and empty. The villa had only one master: Chiba Gō.
He locked the doors and headed straight for the basement. The underground room was all steel, maybe a hundred square meters, cluttered with training gear. But Gō's eyes went to a single item: a book on the bench.
His "father" had left him that martial arts manual.