Takumi was still processing the heavy dose of reality Lexa had just dropped on him—Ghouls, resonance, Binders. It was enough to make his head spin. This was the girl who had literally pulled him back from the edge, and she clearly knew far more about the things haunting Aoshima's nights than he ever had.
"I'm gonna need some time to wrap my head around all of this," he admitted with a quiet sigh, rubbing a finger beneath his jaw as he tried to sort through the mental clutter.
"You will," Lexa replied, her voice steady as they walked side-by-side through the Aoshima streets. "Everyone does. You're still a rookie when it comes to understanding how Ghouls actually work."
As they moved, Takumi's eyes drifted to a pin on her T-shirt. A badge caught the light—an emerald crystal sat at its crown, with white wings curling out from a silver shield marked with a bold 9. The green crest beneath it looked crisp and untouched, like it hadn't seen a day of real wear yet.
"What's the deal with the badge?" he asked, studying it.
Lexa raised a hand and tapped the crystal lightly, letting her fingers rest there as the emerald glinted in the sun. "Trainee. Grade Nine," she said matter-of-factly. "It means the Institute considers you more than just a bystander who saw something—it means you've stepped into duty." She tilted it slightly so the silver 9 faced him. "You're still under supervision, but you're cleared for guided field work, basic response protocols, and live drills for when the city starts acting up."
Her eyes narrowed slightly—half a warning, half a challenge. "In short, you're trusted enough to stand on the line," she said, "but not trusted enough to decide where it moves."
Takumi clearly wasn't following. The confusion stayed etched on his face long after she finished explaining. "Institute?" he asked. The single word made Lexa stop in her tracks.
"I'm Vanguard," she said plainly. "You've really never heard of the Vanguard Institute?"
When he stayed silent, she let out a soft exhale. "Figures. The Academy isn't exactly common knowledge." She started walking again, speaking as if she were reciting a routine briefing. "It's a specialized school for people like me—people who can perceive, respond to, and handle Ghouls. It's tucked away in a separate sector of Aoshima, far enough that you wouldn't just stumble across it. On foot, it's a hike. Most people need a train or a shuttle just to get close."
She glanced at him. "The Institute is kept isolated from central Aoshima on purpose. Officially, it doesn't exist. Unofficially, it operates way beyond the city limits. Aoshima deploys its people worldwide—students, instructors, and agents. That's why our databases are public. Transparency isn't about trust; it's about speed and coordination."
Takumi listened, still struggling to process it all. The idea of an entire hidden institution operating in plain sight left him stunned.
"And in case you were wondering," Lexa added, her tone sharpening, "that recent train incident wasn't ignored. The operator tried to contact the Institute the second things went south." She shook her head. "But the frequency interference was too much. The resonance shredded the signal before anything could get through. By the time we could react, it was already over."
The weight of that hung in the air. Help had been right there. It just hadn't been fast enough.
"So, you're a student there?" Takumi asked as they climbed the stairs back toward the city center.
Lexa gave a small shake of her head. "Not exactly. Some people call me that, but it's not really accurate." She climbed a few more steps before continuing. "I train there, I operate under their authority, and I follow their rules—but I'm not 'enrolled' like the others. Students are still in the discovery phase. They're learning what resonance is, how to stabilize it, how to survive. I'm past that."
Takumi looked at her, puzzled. "Then why do they treat you like one?"
"Because it's easier," Lexa replied. "Classifying me as a student keeps expectations low. Fewer questions, less attention. Officially, I'm still 'in formation.' In reality, I'm already active."
The realization settled in.
"So you're working," Takumi said.
"Yes," she answered simply. "I just happen to be working from inside an academy."
"If you were to enroll," Lexa continued, "whether by skill or sheer luck, you'd start like anyone else. Normal student. You'd take the entrance exam and, if you passed, you'd be in the first-year class." Her tone was practical. "From there, it's the usual grind—studying, exams, certifications, even getting a driver's license. On paper, it looks like any other school."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Once you pass, though, your status changes. Your personal data is pulled from public access. No more worldwide visibility. Your profile becomes restricted to the Academy's internal system, locked behind layers of authorization. You still have access to everyone else's public data, though. That stays the same."
Takumi shoved his hands into his pockets, thinking back to the badge.
"But," Lexa added, "getting into Vanguard isn't just about passing a test." She tapped her badge again. "You need confirmed signs of resonance—and proof of a Binder." She caught his eye, her gaze sharp but almost amused. "Which you happen to have. It's not awakened or refined yet, but it's undeniably there. Lucky you."
Takumi slowed his pace, one thought still nagging at him. "But why make my profile private? It's just info. Everyone else is public."
Lexa didn't stop walking, but her voice shifted. "Because once resonance is confirmed, information isn't neutral anymore. For ordinary people, data is just a record. For someone like you, it's a target."
She looked at him briefly. "Names, locations, history—those things create a trail. They define where you belong. When resonance is involved, that trail becomes unstable."
Takumi frowned. "Unstable how?"
"Because you aren't playing by the same rules anymore," she replied. "Your presence starts intersecting with environments and systems in ways that aren't predictable. Keeping your profile public creates too much 'noise'—too many variables trying to define someone who no longer fits the standard mold."
She continued, her voice more thoughtful. "The Institute restricts that info to reduce the interference. Fewer external influences shaping who you are. Inside the system, you're accounted for. Outside of it, you don't need to be."
Takumi absorbed that in silence.
"Privacy," Lexa finished, "isn't about keeping secrets. It's about letting you exist without the world constantly trying to label what you're becoming."
Takumi scratched the back of his head, trying to simplify it. "So... if I'm getting this right, once you have resonance, you aren't exactly 'normal' anymore. Keeping me public would mean the world keeps trying to treat me like I am, and that just causes problems. So, making it private isn't about hiding—it's just taking me out of a system that doesn't fit me anymore."
Lexa gave a small shrug, her shoulders shifting under her shirt. "Yeah. That's close enough." She glanced at him with a hint of approval. "You don't need the technical manual. If you get that, you'll be fine."
Takumi went quiet, staring ahead. After a moment, his voice got softer, more personal. "Hey, Lexa... let me ask you something." He looked at her. "If I actually did this—if I enrolled—would I get real answers? About the Ghouls, and all the weird stuff in Aoshima?" He hesitated. "And... would I find out what happened to my dad?"
He let out a slow breath. "My mom always said it was a train accident. Same as the one the other day." A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. "But I don't think she ever told me the whole story. I'm probably right about that, aren't I?"
Lexa stopped and turned to face him, crossing her arms. "Maybe," she said honestly. "But joining the Institute isn't just a research project. It's field work. It's real danger. You'd be balancing that with classes and exams—your whole life would be flipped upside down." She studied him closely. "Is that really what you want? What about your family?"
Takumi met her gaze. "'Want' is the wrong word." He slipped his hands back into his pockets. "I don't see it as a choice as much as... something I have to do. I've been seeing Ghouls for years and pretending it was just bad luck or my imagination. If there's a way to actually understand it—and maybe find out the truth about my dad—I'm in."
He gave a small, calm smile. "If my life turns into hell because of it, I'll deal. Feels like I've already got one foot there anyway."
"You'd definitely learn more," Lexa said. "About the chaos, the Ghouls, and everything in between. But I can't promise you'll find every answer about your father."
Takumi stopped and turned toward the beach, watching the water stretch out around Aoshima. "I don't really care," he said after a quiet moment. "I'm sure I'll find something." He let out a breath. "For all I know, he could still be alive. If that's even a remote possibility, I'm not stopping. It could take years, I don't care."
His tone stayed light, but the conviction was there. "If the truth means standing up to Ghouls or whatever else is out there, then yeah—no hesitation. I'm in."
He smiled briefly, then his expression turned serious again as he looked back at her.
Lexa's smile widened. She stretched her arms over her head, rolling her shoulders to loosen up. "Well, when you put it like that," she said, her voice sparking with a bit of excitement, "I'd be happy to help. We could probably start the process right away. You'll just need a check-up so the Academy can decide if you're actually fit to be a Vanguard."
She looked at him with renewed interest. "And trust me—they don't take just anyone."
To be continued...