Chapter Seven – Kanami Kyoto and the Thief Ability
(Kanami Kyoto's Perspective)
Kanami was watching the students who were leaving the hall.
He stood by one of the towering bookshelves lining the back wall of the auditorium, a shadow among shadows. The exodus was a chaotic, noisy river of navy blue, flowing towards the exits in clusters of laughter, nervous chatter, and boisterous boasts. He watched them with the detached, analytical gaze of a biologist observing a colony of particularly aggressive ants.
And then he looked at the place where the hero (Genos) was, who had left the hall after finishing his speech.
The stage was now empty, a barren platform under the harsh, unforgiving lights. The oppressive aura that had filled the space had dissipated with the man's departure, leaving behind only the stale scent of teenage sweat and anxiety.
At that moment, he couldn't help but remember some memories from his own past.
A flash: a younger self, smaller, in a different uniform, hands trembling not from cold but from a different kind of fear. The memory was sharp, painful, and he immediately shoved it back into the locked box where he kept such things.
But he did not continue diving into those memories.
He had learned long ago that nostalgia was a luxury, and sentimentality was a weakness that got you killed or, worse, exploited.
Instead, he decided to leave the hall.
He waited, a patient statue, as the last of the stragglers filtered out, their footsteps echoing in the vast, emptying space.
Clomp. Shuffle. Murmur… silence.
After ten minutes, he had arrived at the academy library.
His movements were silent, a habit born of necessity. The library was housed in a separate, older building, its architecture more ornate, with high, vaulted ceilings lined with dark wood and tall windows that let in slanted beams of dusty sunlight. The air here was different—thick with the smell of old paper, binding glue, and profound silence, a stark contrast to the adrenalized buzz of the main hall.
He arrived there and, without many words, entered inside.
The heavy oak door swung shut behind him with a soft, final thud.
Thump.
---
Kanami was a young man with sky-blue hair and bright green eyes.
The blue was an unnatural, cerulean shade, like a summer sky distilled into strands. His eyes were a vibrant, almost luminous green, like chips of polished jade. They were eyes that missed very little.
His skin was white.
Not the sickly pallor of (Tokito), but a clear, pale complexion that spoke of meticulous care and a deliberate avoidance of sunlight.
In addition, his height was average and his appearance, which was pleasant to the eye, made him seem kind and calm to many.
He had the kind of face that inspired instant, unthinking trust. Soft features, a gentle slope to his nose, a mouth that naturally seemed to be on the verge of a harmless, reassuring smile. It was a mask, and he wore it expertly.
And that matter might have made another young man sad—to be perceived as harmless, soft.
But for (Kanami Kyoto), that was a great help.
Because many people were quickly able to trust him, so he could obtain from them the information he wanted.
He was a spider, and his innocent appearance was the perfectly woven web. People confided in him. They showed him their cards. They revealed their fears and ambitions, thinking they were talking to a sympathetic listener.
That was one of the means he used, which is benefiting from his innocent appearance to be able to manipulate others.
It was his primary weapon, far more reliable than any physical power.
In the same way, he was able to obtain information about this place.
He had spent the week before orientation not panicking, but gathering data. Chatting with maintenance staff, smiling at administrative aides, listening to the gossip of early arrivals. He had a mental map of the academy's social and physical layout that was already more detailed than any official guide.
Kanami was not a trained person.
The hero system does not teach weak people who possess abilities exceptional to the ordinary person.
He knew this truth viscerally. The system was a filter. It provided resources only to those who proved they didn't strictly need them.
To exert all he has to become stronger so that people from above acknowledge him and give him the resources and sufficient training to be able to improve his ability.
It was the brutal bootstrap paradox of this world: you needed training to get strong, but you needed to already be strong to merit training.
Of course, Kanami had worked hard to master his abilities.
"Hard work" meant solitary, secretive hours in empty rooms, practicing in the dark, figuring out the limits and nuances of his power through trial and error, with error often resulting in minor, self-inflicted wounds or broken objects.
And now, the reason driving him to go to the library was to obtain some books that pertain to different abilities.
Knowledge was the other side of his currency. If he couldn't overpower someone, he would outthink them. And to outthink them, he needed to know what they could do.
So he could understand the different abilities that other students his age might possess.
The library's catalog was vast. He navigated the silent aisles, his fingers trailing over leather-bound spines and glossy new manuals.
Swish. Tap.
In addition to enhancing his knowledge and combat experience.
He wasn't looking for philosophy or history. He was looking for applied science. Taxonomy of Telekinetic Subtypes. Weaknesses of Pyrokinetics. Principles of Enhanced Durability.
He searched for books talking about different abilities and their effects.
He pulled several volumes from the shelves, stacking them carefully in his arms. The weight was substantial, a tangible promise of future advantage.
In the end, he did not possess high destructive power.
He acknowledged this limitation with cold clarity. He would never be the one to level a building.
But he might obtain a lot of information that allows him to defeat people stronger than him with his intelligence, if he obtains enough information.
That was his path. The path of the scalpel, not the sledgehammer. Find the pressure point, the hidden rule, the specific vulnerability, and apply precise, devastating pressure.
---
Kanami sat with many books at the library table, where the place was empty.
He had chosen a secluded table in a corner, shrouded in the deep shadow cast by a towering shelf of ancient legal texts. The only light came from a small, green-shaded desk lamp he had turned on, casting a pool of warm illumination on the polished wood and the stacked books.
Thump.
He set the books down with a soft sound.
He predicted the reason was simply that there weren't many interested in reading.
His gaze swept the vast, silent chamber. He was utterly alone. Rows of empty tables stretched into the gloom, lit only by the occasional shaft of dying sunlight from the high windows.
Especially with the mission system that had been launched.
The lure of immediate action, of earning those first precious points, was too strong for most. They were driven by impulse, by the need to do something, to prove themselves.
Perhaps most of the students were rushing to undertake the first missions.
A foolish thing, from Kanami's point of view.
Rushing into the unknown with no intel, no plan, just a desperate hope and a weak power? It was a recipe for becoming a statistic. The early missions would be a culling ground, weeding out the reckless and the unlucky.
For him, who had also read the academy's rules record, he simply understood the difficulty faced by people who want to rise to the next rank.
He had done the math immediately. The numbers were not encouraging.
Rising to a higher rank requires 10,000 points.
The figure glowed in his mind, a distant, daunting summit.
And that is impossible to obtain for many students.
He ran the calculations again. D-Rank mission: 100 points. Assuming perfect survival and spending zero points on living expenses, that was 100 missions. One hundred dangerous, potentially lethal outings. The attrition rate would be horrific.
Not many people possess exceptional abilities, techniques, and high-level training to be able to obtain points quickly or rise in level.
The system was designed for the exceptional, the born fighters, the legacy kids. For the rest, it was a slow, grinding path paved with corpses.
Rising to a higher level requires collective work among low-level people so they can obtain the sufficient amount of points.
The system's own loophole, the only lifeline it threw to the drowning. Team up. Pool your weakness.
But there are great difficulties in this matter.
Kanami thought about these difficulties, so he rejected the idea of forming teams with anyone.
His mind, cool and logical, laid out the problems.
First, it is difficult to trust another person.
Trust was a vulnerability. It was handing someone a knife and hoping they didn't test its sharpness on your back.
Especially since he might rise in level and not care about you anymore after obtaining enough points for himself to rise, which leaves a great opportunity for you to be exploited.
The incentive structure was perverse. In a team, the moment one person accumulated enough personal EXP to rank up, their allegiance to the team—to the weaker members still dragging them down—would evaporate. They'd leave, and you'd be back at square one, minus the time and risk you'd invested.
It is true that this may not necessarily happen to me, Kanami.
He was smarter than that. He would be the one exploiting, not the exploited.
But he was cautious so as not to be exploited in any way.
Caution was his default state. It was the air he breathed.
And second, he does not like working with any other person and likes to use his ability only to rise in level and ranks.
He was a solitary predator by nature and by necessity. His power worked best alone, in the shadows, with no one to witness his methods or question his morals.
---
But at the same time, while Kanami was sitting reading a book about different abilities, suddenly he heard the sound of a chair being pushed back.
Screeeech.
The sound was sharp, intrusive, violating the library's sacred silence. It came from directly in front of him, on the other side of his table.
And at the same time, he heard a low breathing sound directly in front of him.
It was a soft, steady inhale-exhale. Someone had sat down without him noticing. A profound failure of his situational awareness. A cold jolt of alarm shot through his system.
At first, he moved his hand to the pocket of his jacket to hold his knife.
The motion was smooth, practiced, disguised as a simple adjustment of his sitting position. His fingers slipped inside the inner lining of his blazer, seeking the familiar, cool handle of a compact, razor-sharp switchblade.
Rustle.
In addition, he focused his senses so he could sense the movements of the target in front of him.
His breathing slowed. His green eyes, still fixed on the page of his book, lost focus on the text and instead took in the periphery: the shape of the person's shadow on the table, the minute sounds of fabric shifting.
But at the same time, he heard the target say sarcastically:
"Oh? Are you trying to grab a knife? I advise you not to do that."
The voice was young, male, and laced with a mocking amusement that felt like a physical poke.
Kanami, who was pretending to be reading now, stopped his hand that was extending and about to reach his knife halfway.
His fingers froze, an inch from the weapon. The command in the voice was casual, but carried an unsettling certainty.
And raised his head for the first time and looked at the person in front of him, his face surprised as if wondering how that person knew I was holding that knife.
His carefully crafted mask of calm curiosity slipped for a millisecond, revealing genuine shock. No one had ever seen through that move. His "innocent scholar" act had never failed to lower guards completely.
The stranger was that young man with white hair and red eyes.
The appearance was jarring, almost theatrical in the dim library light. The white hair was a stark flag of otherness. The red eyes glowed with an eerie, knowing light, fixed on him with an intensity that felt invasive.
And as if reading my thoughts, he smiled a more sarcastic smile and said:
"You're wondering how I knew you were going to grab the knife."
He paused, as if waiting to see the curiosity I had truly displayed.
It was the first time Kanami had been surprised that someone knew something about him, even if it was something strange like knowing I would pull out a knife.
His mind raced. Coincidence? A bluff? A lucky guess based on his tense posture?
In the end, I always used my innocent appearance to deceive people.
That was his bedrock, his fundamental strategy.
So certainly, it is difficult for any person to link my personality with displaying a knife or possessing a sharp weapon.
The disconnect was absolute. The sweet-faced, bookish boy and the hidden blade were two personas that should never meet in another person's perception.
This natural habit made Kanami feel threatened by the person in front of him.
The threat wasn't physical—not yet. It was the threat of exposure, of having his core tactic neutralized before the game even began.
Who, after a short silence, said:
"I know a lot about you, (Kanami Kyoto). I also know a lot about Specter."
At that moment, Kanami ignored everything he had felt.
The shock, the calculation, the rising alarm—all of it was swept away by a tidal wave of pure, icy dread at the sound of that word.
Specter.
His eyes widened.
Widened was an understatement. They dilated, the bright green swallowed by sudden, black pools of panic.
His mouth opened slightly but he did not make a sound.
A soft, voiceless ah of shock escaped his lips, unheard.
After that, his hand that had stopped returned to work and almost grabbed the knife.
Instinct overrode caution. The name was a trigger, a secret so deeply buried he had almost convinced himself it wasn't real. His fingers twitched, diving for the weapon, for any means to silence this walking, talking breach of security.
But he heard the sound of a simple tap on the table.
Tap.
It was a single, deliberate sound. The white-haired, red-eyed young man had done that very slowly, as if bored.
After that, he moved his head back and did not look at Kanami, looking at the ceiling for a second.
The gesture was one of supreme disinterest, of someone who had already won and was now just going through the motions.
Creak. (The sound of his head tilting back.)
"I will make you an offer."
He said, as if saying it to the void.
But Kanami was sure he was saying it to him personally.
The words hung in the dusty, book-scented air.
"Follow me, and I will give you a lot of information pertaining to the phantom organization—Specter. That is, if you agree to my terms, (Kanami Kyoto)."
---
(Tokito Kaito's Perspective)
I left, pretending with great calm that I was in control.
The act was the most difficult performance of my life. Every muscle in my back was rigid with tension, screaming at me to run, to hide, to do anything but walk calmly away with a human landmine following three steps behind.
While Kanami followed behind me.
I could feel his presence like a cold spot on my neck. He was silent, his footsteps a near-perfect mimicry of my own, soft and measured. He was assessing, calculating, his bright green eyes probably boring holes into my spine.
Cold sweat was dripping from behind my back without stopping as I walked through the corridors.
It was a clammy, insistent trickle, tracing a path down the knobs of my spine, soaking into the stiff fabric of my uniform. I prayed it wasn't visible through the navy-blue material.
With coldness and naturalness, as if I were an arrogant young master.
I tried to embody the walk of a cocky, self-assured noble from one of the countless light novels I'd devoured. Shoulders back. Chin up. A slight, contemptuous swing to the arms. It felt absurd.
I was trying to impersonate the walking style of famous characters from most of the literary works I read in my previous life.
My mind scrambled for references. Characters like… Thános? No, too slow. Aizen Sōsuke? Too smooth, too calculated. Uchiha Madara? Theatrical, but maybe too much.
I tried to imagine these people and their way of moving so I could copy it.
I pictured Madara's arrogant, unhurried stride as he faced down an army. I tried to channel that sense of owning the very ground he walked on.
Even though I wasn't an actor in my previous life, I felt that might not be enough.
My heart was a frantic bird trying to escape its cage. Thump-thump-thump-thump.
But at this moment, I was doing my best.
Because the person behind me is the person I chose to include in my team.
The stakes couldn't be higher. This wasn't just recruitment; it was a high-stakes bluff against someone whose power and intelligence I had only read about.
And his character was written on my system screen which was in front of me.
I focused inwardly, and the familiar blue text materialized in the corner of my vision, scrolling as I walked.
Alert – Host has encountered a secondary character in the manga.
– (Kanami Kyoto) –
Age: 16 years –
Special Ability – The Thief –
Ability Effect – Can steal tangible objects from a distance of five meters randomly. At the same time, can choose objects he possesses and grab them directly.
– Destructive Power Level: Building-level Severely Explosive –
I was reading my personal information quietly while I was walking in front of him.
The system's assessment was clinical, but my manga memories filled in the terrifying gaps.
The character (Kanami Kyoto) and the ability (The Thief).
This ability grants the user the ability to steal from any person randomly within a range of five meters.
Imagine a fight. Your gun, your knife, your communicator, the key in your pocket—it could just vanish, appearing in Kanami's hand. The psychological disruption alone was a weapon.
And the user can also, if he knows the thing he wants to steal, choose that thing and steal it secretly.
Precision theft. Need a specific keycard from a guard's belt? A vial of antidote from a villain's coat? He could take it without anyone noticing.
At the same time, the user can take out things that are in his pocket or in hidden places inside his bag and display them in his hand.
Instant access to his own arsenal. No fumbling, no telegraphing his draw.
And even transfer things in his hand to another person within a range of five to ten meters with a single thought.
Teleportation of small objects. He could hand a grenade to an enemy. Or deliver a vital tool to an ally across the room without moving.
This ability was very distinctive.
It wasn't flashy. It wouldn't make headlines. But in the right hands, it was insidiously powerful.
It is true that it is not a destructive ability, but it is an ability that makes its user able to summon his weapons very quickly to his hand.
He was a walking armory with perfect draw speed. In a world where most fights started with a moment of activation or transformation, he could have a weapon—a gun, a blade, a flashbang—in his hand instantly.
I imagined the character Kanami taking out a gun directly in the air with a movement of his hand, where he grabs it and begins firing.
The image was clear, slick, and deadly efficient.
It is true that from a destructive power perspective, this ability seems weak.
He couldn't shoot energy beams. He couldn't punch through walls.
But from the perspective of possible uses, it unleashes great potential.
Versatility. Tactical flexibility. Information gathering (stealing documents). Sabotage (stealing critical components). It was a support power that could easily tip the scales in any encounter.
In addition, the character Kanami is known for his intelligence in the manga and his quick reactions.
He wasn't just a tool; he was a strategist. He'd use his power in clever, unexpected ways. He was the perfect complement to my own pathetic skillset—brains and precision to offset my lack of brawn and direction.
In the end, (Tokito), who was thinking of allying with another character in the manga, had no choice but to choose this character, for several reasons.
My internal monologue was a rapid-fire list, a mantra to steady my nerves.
First, I knew information Kanami wanted to know.
"Specter." The word was my golden ticket. From the manga, I knew it was the name of a shadowy, experimental program from his past, a source of deep trauma and burning curiosity. It was the hook.
Second, Kanami is a very smart person and is not impulsive and does not use direct force, especially since his ability is not of the combat type.
He wouldn't solve problems by hitting them. He'd think. He'd plan. He'd use subterfuge. That meant he was less likely to get us both killed in a stupid, straightforward fight. He was a survivor, like me.
Third, (Tokito) was sure he could convince Kanami to join him if he played his cards in a good way.
It was all about leverage. I had the one thing he desperately wanted: answers about Specter. And I had a plan—a coward's plan, but a plan—to survive and climb the ranks. I could offer him a path that didn't involve getting his hands dirty in direct, suicidal combat.
After debating with myself for a few minutes, the two of us—me and Kanami—arrived at the room belonging to (Tokito).
The walk through the sterile, echoing corridors had felt like an eternity. We reached the D-Rank dormitory block—a bleak, concrete building that looked more like a low-security prison than a residence. My room was on the third floor.
I knew its place from the smartwatch.
Beep. The watch flashed as we approached the correct door.
After opening the door and making Kanami enter, I closed the door very quietly.
Click.
The sound of the latch engaging was soft but final. We were now sealed in a small, featureless cube of a room—a bed, a desk, a closet, a window overlooking another concrete wall. The only sound was our breathing.
I turned to face him, my back against the cool metal of the door, my heart hammering so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
The first move of my desperate gambit was complete. Now came the hard part.
---
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End of Chapter.
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Author's Note:
Thank you for reading as(Tokito) makes his first, terrifying play in the game of survival. Your readership is the only reliable ally in this nest of thieves and secrets. ❤️ :)
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