Hanasakigawa Girls High School
May 26, 2021 – Wednesday – 7:30 A.M.
Riku's POV
A full day had passed since CiRCLE's successful live event. The excitement still lingered in the air, but for me, that energy had already been eclipsed by something heavier. Grandfather's words still rang in my head—I was engaged. Just like that. No warning. No discussion.
And now I couldn't stop thinking about what this meant for Rinko and me.
My forehead rested against my desk as I tried to steal a few minutes of rest. I hadn't slept at all last night. My mind kept running in circles, replaying every word of that conversation, breaking down every possibility until dawn crept in through the window.
A few classmates came by asking if I was okay. I brushed them off, the same answer every time.
"It's nothing much."
Chisato, however, wasn't as easy to deflect.
"Riku. Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, lowering her voice slightly.
"I just need a quick shut-eye, Chisato."
Her brow lifted, skeptical. "Did you stay up playing NFO all night again?"
"It's not that," I muttered, half-buried in my arm. "Just... a personal matter. I overthought things and didn't get much sleep."
Chisato sighed—the kind that carried both concern and familiarity. "Then I won't ask anything else. Just make sure you take care of yourself, alright? We can't have you collapsing again. You know how Yuyuko-san gets when something happens to you."
I groaned lightly. "You don't need to remind me..." I tilted my head, checking the clock. "How long until homeroom?"
"We've got about twenty minutes."
"Good. Can you and Kanon keep an eye on my body for a while?"
That earned me two confused looks.
"What?" Chisato blinked.
"Fueeeeh?" Kanon squeaked, already nervous.
I lowered my voice, keeping it between the three of us. "I'm going to my mindscape to recover. My energy's shot. Just... watch over me for fifteen minutes, alright?"
Chisato's eyes softened with understanding. She knew me well enough not to question the impossible. "Got it. What should I say to Sayo and Rinko-chan if they ask?"
"Tell them exactly what I told you. I'll wake up soon."
"Understood," she said, while Kanon straightened up with an earnest little salute.
"Leave it to us, Riku-kun!"
"Thanks," I murmured—and let my eyes close as the classroom faded away.
Chisato's POV
From the outside, Riku looked like he'd simply fallen asleep. But I knew better. He was gone, in his own mind, doing whatever strange recovery thing he always talked about.
Kanon and I kept our promise, sitting close by as the room slowly filled with the chatter of students arriving. A few curious glances came our way, but no one pressed.
Then, right on cue, the door slid open—and in walked Sayo and Rinko-chan.
The moment Rinko-chan saw Riku resting on his desk, her expression shifted from calm to alarm. She hurried over.
"Is Riku alright, Chisato-san?"
"He's fine," I assured her. "He said he was dealing with a personal matter that kept him up all night. Just resting now."
Sayo frowned slightly. "Then maybe we should wake him. Class is about to start."
Kanon shook her head nervously. "Ah! Um—Riku-kun told us he'll wake up on his own in about fifteen minutes, so..."
Rinko-chan blinked. "He asked you two to watch over him?"
We nodded in unison. Understanding flickered across her face. She didn't question it further—just gave a quiet nod and returned to her seat with Sayo. Still, her eyes never left him.
True to his word, fifteen minutes later, Riku stirred. It was subtle at first—a slow breath, a faint twitch of his fingers—then his eyes opened, calm again, like the storm inside him had passed.
Riku's POV
My vision cleared, and the first thing I saw was Rinko watching me, concern written all over her face.
"You're finally up, Riku," she said softly. "What happened?"
"Something personal," I replied, stretching slightly. "But don't worry about it."
Her gaze lingered on me, hesitant, but she didn't push. "If you say so..."
"By the way," I said, straightening up, "did you or any of the Roselia members get a message on your phones?"
That caught both Rinko and Sayo off guard. They exchanged a look, and Sayo reached into her pocket. "You mean this?"
She handed me her phone. The message was entirely in English—formal, polished, and straight to the point. Lucky for them, I could read it just fine.
Rinko leaned closer as I scanned through the text.
Sayo frowned slightly. "I understand some English, but this one's... complicated. Whoever sent it sounds like they want to meet Roselia."
"They do," I said, returning the phone to her. "This is a sponsorship proposal."
Both of them froze.
"WHAT?!"
Their simultaneous outburst drew a few curious looks from our classmates, who turned around wondering what the commotion was. I raised a hand quickly. "Band business," I said lightly. That seemed to do the trick; the room buzzed back to normal.
Rinko blinked rapidly. "A sponsorship? But... we're still just starting out."
I leaned back, lips curling into a faint grin. "Well, you're not exactly starting from scratch anymore. And take a look at the sender—Red Bull."
That silenced the table for a moment.
Chisato, who'd overheard, blinked in surprise. "Wait—Red Bull? As in the main sponsor of OG?"
"Exactly," I confirmed. "So yeah, you girls got lucky."
Rinko's mouth opened slightly in disbelief. "T-They're offering us a deal?"
"Seems like it. It's not finalized, but they're interested."
Even Kanon, who wasn't in Roselia, let out a quiet gasp. The idea of a global brand reaching out to a local high school band wasn't something you saw every day.
I tapped my fingers on the desk, mind already moving ahead. "We'll discuss it properly later at CiRCLE. Let Yukina and the rest of the band know. The message says their representative will meet you girls at four this afternoon."
"That early?" Sayo muttered, scrolling through the message again. "Very well. I'll inform Minato-san and the others after classes."
"Good. The sooner you plan, the smoother it'll go." I leaned back and exhaled. The heaviness in my chest hadn't vanished, but at least for now, I had something else to focus on.
A sponsorship deal with Red Bull. For Roselia.
Even with everything happening in my personal life, it was hard not to feel a spark of pride. They'd earned this chance. Every late-night rehearsal, every argument over tempo or tone—it had built to this.
As the bell rang, signaling the start of homeroom, I glanced once more toward Rinko. She was still watching me, though her eyes carried a quieter worry now—less panic, more longing to understand.
I offered a faint smile. "We'll talk later, okay?"
She nodded, a little hesitant but comforted.
Homeroom began. The chatter faded. I sat up straight, resting my chin in my hand, eyes half on the teacher, half on the window outside.
The sunlight glinted through the glass, hitting the edge of my desk. A small, fleeting moment of calm.
For now, that was enough.
----------
Live House CiRCLE – Lobby
May 26, 2021 – Wednesday – 3:50 P.M.
Classes finally wrapped up, and as planned, Rinko and Sayo headed to Haneoka to gather the rest of Roselia. Youmu had already texted earlier that she'd been called by Yuyuko-san to conduct the monthly inspection of the Saigyouji Garden. Mafuyu also mentioned meeting her friends at a local family restaurant. Everyone had their own thing today.
When I arrived at CiRCLE, the place was calm—the kind of quiet that only came after a long event day. I told Aya and Hatate to take the rest of the day off, and both looked like I'd just handed them free concert tickets. They'd earned it.
Now, I sat behind the front desk, tapping through the PC while waiting for two arrivals: Roselia and the Red Bull representatives.
To kill time, I checked my messages. Johan had just sent over the finalized schedule for OG's Summer Tour in the PBC.
Week 1: vs Team Secret – June 7 (Monday)
Week 2: vs Tundra – June 14 (Monday)
Week 2: vs Entity – June 18 (Friday)
Week 3: vs Gaimin Gladiators – June 22 (Tuesday)
Week 4: vs Goonsquad – July 2 (Friday)
Week 6: vs Alliance – July 5 (Monday)
Week 7: vs Team Liquid – July 13 (Tuesday)
Skimming through it, I couldn't help but smirk. The lineup looked decent—solid early matches, tougher ones later. The first four? OG could bulldoze through those without much trouble. The rest would depend on momentum and, honestly, a bit of luck. Especially Liquid. That one was going to be a bloodbath.
Still, what really caught my eye was the Week 2 matchup: OG vs Entity. Ammar and Bozhidar going head-to-head against their former teammates? That alone would light up the tournament.
The Summer Tour for Western Europe was set in Madrid this time. The PBC rotated its venues each season—Spring Tour in Vienna, Winter in Frankfurt—so Spain was due for its turn. I leaned back, arms crossed, picturing the roaring crowd and the stage lights reflecting off OG's instruments. Yeah, that would be something.
I was midway through watching last year's match highlights when the front door opened.
And there they were—Roselia, walking in with their usual poise. Yukina led the group, her presence sharp as ever, while Ako-chan bounced along behind her, full of restless energy.
"Glad you all made it," I said, pushing off from the counter.
"We got the gist from Sayo," Yukina replied. Her tone carried its usual composed authority, but there was a faint edge of curiosity beneath it. "What she told us—was it true? That the message sent to us was a sponsorship proposal?"
"Yes," I confirmed. "A legitimate one. I know you're not fond of handling the business side of things, but at least hear them out first."
She stared at me for a few seconds—long enough for me to feel the weight of her scrutiny—then sighed and nodded. "Very well."
Ako-chan raised her hand slightly. "Riku-nii, is it true that Red Bull sponsors your band?"
I smiled faintly. "Not just OG, Ako-chan. They also sponsor G2, the DJ group, and T1, the idol group. Both top-tier organizations in their own fields. But OG's the flagship."
Sayo frowned, thoughtful. "But how did they even find us?"
I rubbed the back of my neck, looking slightly away. "...Well... I may have streamed your entire live performance last night without telling you."
Rinko's eyes widened. "Wait—so that means..."
"Yup," I said, chuckling softly. "Your performance is online—for the whole world to see. And it's blowing up. Check it yourselves."
Lisa didn't hesitate; she pulled out her phone and opened Twitter. Within seconds, her jaw nearly hit the floor. "We're number two trending worldwide!" she exclaimed. "And—what the—ten million views? In one day?!"
Sayo leaned over to check, blinking in disbelief. "Ten million already?!"
"Yep," I replied, amused. "And if you look at the comments, everyone's begging for Gabe to add Japan to the PBC circuit."
Yukina's expression softened slightly, a small spark of pride flickering behind her calm eyes. "If all goes well..."
"...then your goal is within reach," I finished for her.
The timing couldn't have been better. On cue, the door opened again. Two figures stepped in—a man and a woman, both dressed in crisp business suits.
The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, with neatly combed dark brown hair and the composed air of someone who'd sat through hundreds of meetings. The woman beside him, roughly Rinko's height, had auburn hair tied into a sleek ponytail and a warm, easy smile that immediately lightened the atmosphere.
I stood and greeted them. "You must be the representatives."
The man gave a polite nod. "Yes. We've come on behalf of the Main Branch. I'm Takahashi Yosuke, representative of Red Bull Japan. And this is my partner."
"Hanabi Kinoshita," the woman added cheerfully, bowing slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you all."
"Likewise," I replied. "Let's take a seat and get this started."
We settled into the lounge area. The two representatives took the couch across from Roselia, while I sat in the middle, serving as the bridge between the two sides. The air carried that faint mix of professionalism and tension—the kind that always comes with big opportunities.
"Alright," I said, folding my hands. "Let's get to it. What exactly can Red Bull offer Roselia?"
Yosuke-san nodded, opening his briefcase with a practiced motion. Inside was a neatly organized stack of folders. He pulled out a set and handed them to Yukina.
"These documents outline the proposed sponsorship terms," he explained. "They include financial support, promotional campaigns, and event collaborations, all tailored for Roselia's current growth stage."
The papers were in Japanese—a considerate touch, given that the original proposal had come from the main international branch. Yukina took them, skimming the first few pages before sliding copies to the others.
The group fell silent as they read. The only sounds were the quiet rustle of paper and the faint hum of CiRCLE's air conditioning.
Sayo's expression gradually shifted from suspicion to cautious intrigue. Lisa looked impressed. Ako-chan was trying her best to look serious, though her eyes occasionally flicked up in excitement. Rinko, as always, stayed quiet but attentive, tracing the text line by line.
Finally, Yukina closed the folder, set it neatly on the table, and looked up.
Her gaze carried that firm, commanding air that every fan of Roselia knew by heart. Whatever she was about to say would set the tone for the band's next step.
Yukina set the folder down and folded her hands, her gaze steady as ever. "Before we go any deeper into this," she said calmly, "I'd like to ask you a question. And I want you both to be completely honest."
Yosuke-san nodded without hesitation. "Of course. We'll answer to the best of our ability."
Yukina's tone hardened slightly. "What's the catch?"
Lisa blinked, caught off guard. "Yukina..."
But Yukina didn't turn to her. Her focus stayed locked on the two representatives. "I've seen enough sponsorships to know there's always something between the lines. What is it? Because this one—" she tapped the folder "—feels almost too generous."
Yosuke-san exchanged a brief look with Hanabi-san before answering. "There's no hidden clause, Minato-san. You'll still have full creative freedom—what songs to play, how to perform, where to go. Red Bull's role is to provide the support you'll need to reach your next stage. The only condition," he paused, "is that we'd like Roselia's help with something."
Sayo frowned. "Our help?"
Hanabi-san nodded. "Yes. Nagae-sama, may I borrow your PC for a moment?"
"Sure," I said, sliding the chair aside to give her room.
She began typing quickly, the rhythmic clatter of the keyboard echoing lightly through the lobby. A few clicks later, a promotional page popped up on the monitor—clean, sleek, and unmistakably branded.
The screen displayed a simple tagline:
'Coming Soon – Red Bull Energy Drink: Youth Edition.'
Rinko tilted her head, reading the small print. "Red Bull Energy Drink... for teens?"
Yosuke-san smiled faintly. "Precisely. For the longest time, our products were made exclusively for adults—formulated with caffeine levels meant for older consumers. But we've been researching how to make it safer for all ages without sacrificing that signature kick. About three years ago, the idea for a youth-friendly formula was approved."
Hanabi-san took over, her tone brightening slightly. "After two years of testing and reformulation, we've finally perfected it. The drink will roll out globally next year, starting with Japan. But before that, we need a face—something, or someone, that captures what it means to have youthful energy, artistry, and ambition."
Lisa crossed her arms. "And you want Roselia to be that face?"
Yosuke-san nodded. "Exactly. But it's not just about advertising. By representing this new drink, you'll also be promoting your band—and the Japanese music scene—to a global audience. We were at your live event yesterday. You five stood out immediately. You fit the vision we want to project: bold, elegant, and determined."
Yukina exhaled slowly, studying them. "So, you're killing two birds with one stone. We gain exposure, and you gain your brand identity."
Hanabi-san chuckled softly. "Something like that."
Yukina wasn't done. "One more question. Why us? You could've gone to RaS that has a very great debut, or Peaky P-key who's established, experienced, and already have wide followings. Why take a chance on us? ...Unless Riku-san put in a word."
I raised an eyebrow at that, half amused. "You think I slipped you a free pass?"
Before I could speak further, Yosuke-san waved a hand. "Not at all. While Nagae-sama's reputation helped us notice the event, the choice was made by our higher-ups. They saw your performance and immediately drew comparisons." He smiled slightly. "They said Roselia reminded them of OG back in 2018—rough around the edges, but filled with potential that could reshape an entire scene. They believe you can reach those same heights. Red Bull simply wants to be there when you do."
That struck a chord with me. I leaned forward slightly. "He's not exaggerating. Red Bull backed OG when no one else would. When Fly and s4 left the band in 2018, we were a mess—two core members gone, and the team was hanging by a thread. Red Bull could've pulled the plug, but they didn't. They stayed, because they believed we'd rise again. And we did. Three times over."
I looked at Yukina. "That's the kind of faith they're offering you now. They see something real in Roselia. And honestly, so do I. I'd be proud to see you girls wearing that logo, standing alongside OG and the rest of the Red Bull family."
For a moment, silence. The kind that hums with weight, not emptiness. Yukina glanced around the group—at Sayo's quietly determined eyes, Rinko's hopeful expression, Lisa's mix of excitement and disbelief, and Ako-chan's barely contained grin.
Then, she turned back to Yosuke-san and Hanabi-san.
"Riku-san..." she murmured, her tone softening just slightly. "Very well. We accept your offer."
The faintest smile curved her lips as she extended her hand.
Yosuke-san's relief was almost visible. He reached forward, shaking it firmly. "I'm glad you've made your decision, Minato-san. I promise you—this partnership will be worth it."
As they released hands, Hanabi beamed. "Now that we've got that settled, let's move on to the formal details. This," she slid another document across the table, "outlines what Red Bull can offer you immediately upon signing."
Yukina began scanning the new pages. Her brows slowly lifted. "...Takahashi-san. Kinoshita-san... are you sure this is the correct amount?"
Sayo looked concerned. "Something wrong?"
"See for yourself." Yukina passed the paper across.
Sayo took it—and nearly dropped it. "Wait. Sixty million dollars for three years?!"
My head snapped toward her. "Come again?"
She showed me the paper, and I almost whistled out loud. Sixty million. For three years. OG's first contract hadn't even touched that figure—we started with fifty million spread over four years. Red Bull was not holding back.
I leaned back, half stunned. "You've got to be kidding me..."
Yosuke-san smiled knowingly. "It's accurate. The board approved that figure this morning."
My mind drifted, connecting dots. OG's renewed deal had been worth 250 million for five years. G2's first signing back in 2015 was forty million over five years, then jumped to 170 million in their 2019 renewal. T1's initial deal in 2014 was fifty million for four years; by 2018, they'd signed for 220 million over six.
Those numbers were the kind of commitments reserved for organizations that made history. For Red Bull to hand Roselia sixty million out of the gate—before they'd even gone professional—was insane. And yet, somehow, it made sense.
Because Roselia wasn't just another up-and-coming band anymore. Their performance had captured attention worldwide overnight. Even if they didn't realize it yet, they were standing on the edge of something massive.
(A/N: I know the amount of money that I put out is nearly the same salary as an NBA or MLB player, but you know what, fuck it.)
The room went still when Yosuke-san handed me another paper, his tone calm but carrying weight. I wasn't expecting much—maybe a notice or a follow-up clause. But the second my eyes skimmed through the first few lines, my chair nearly tipped backward.
Rinko immediately panicked. "Riku! Are you okay?!"
I steadied myself with a deep breath. "I'm fine, Rinko... it's just—this paper says that even though I'm retired, Red Bull decided to give me... a lifetime contract. Twenty million dollars a year."
The silence shattered.
"EXCUSE ME?!" Roselia's collective voice nearly echoed through the entire building.
Lisa leaned forward, disbelief painted across her face. "Wait, wait—aren't you retired? Why are you still getting paid that kind of money?"
"And twenty million a year?" Sayo added, blinking rapidly. "That's not just generous—that's absurd!"
While their voices blended into each other, I continued reading through the paper—scanning for the hidden condition I was certain would be buried somewhere in fine print. And, of course, there it was.
"It has some conditions," I said, tapping the paragraph at the bottom. "For this contract to take effect, I have to either serve as a manager or coach for a Red Bull–sponsored organization for three to five years... or join one of those organizations for three years... or become one of Red Bull's ambassadors here in Japan."
Yukina crossed her arms thoughtfully. "So, you either become part of the support staff, take an active role again, or represent them publicly."
Ako smiled. "That actually sounds fair."
I sighed. "If only it were that easy. OG, I understand. But G2's a DJ group, and T1's an idol organization. I wouldn't fit in either world."
Then Rinko—quiet as ever—spoke softly. "You could become our coach."
Her words landed like a spark in dry grass. Every eye in the room turned toward her.
I gave a short laugh. "Rinko, that's a thoughtful offer... but think it through. The media would eat that alive. They'd twist it into some story about favoritism—me picking Roselia because of our history. It would look like bias, and that's the last thing you need right now."
Hanabi-san nodded with a faint sigh. "And we all know how relentless the media can be. So, Nagae-sama, what's your decision?"
I looked back down at the paper. There was something familiar about this gesture—like déjà vu from years ago. A quiet understanding passed through me: this wasn't just about payment. It was about legacy. The chairman knew what he was doing.
"I don't know why Red Bull offered me this," I admitted, pen resting between my fingers. "But if this came from the chairman himself, then... yeah, I have a pretty good idea what he's thinking."
I didn't overthink it. I signed my name across the dotted line in firm, confident strokes. The moment my pen left the page, Hanabi-san smiled knowingly.
"Welcome back, Iku."
I let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah... but tell the chairman this—I'll be back in a year or two. I still have some things to take care of here in Japan."
Yukina's expression softened. Just a small, fleeting smile—but enough to notice. She didn't say a word, but I could tell she was glad to hear it.
"By the way," I asked, "did Johan and the others get offers like this too?"
Hanabi-san nodded. "Yes. Johan-sama and Sebastien-sama both accepted theirs. Their role is to attract and develop new talent for the scene—they called it, quote, 'a cakewalk.'" She chuckled. "Topias-sama accepted as well, but he's taking a year off before rejoining. His terms mirror yours exactly. Only Jesse-sama declined—he's content with retirement."
"Figures," I muttered. "That sounds like Jesse."
The conversation shifted as Yosuke turned his attention toward Yukina. "And what about you, Minato-san?"
No hesitation this time. Yukina silently picked up her pen and signed the contract. She then passed it to Sayo, who quickly added her name. One by one, Ako-chan, Rinko, and Lisa followed.
When Yosuke-san collected the signed papers, his composed demeanor finally broke into a proud smile. "That makes it official. Welcome to Red Bull. Your partnership begins in January—coinciding with the start of the new PBC season."
Yukina gave a graceful nod. "Thank you for the notice."
"Now that's done," I said, leaning back slightly, "remember what I told you before? About bringing your costumes?"
Lisa blinked. "We did... but why exactly did we need them?"
I grinned. "Because you're doing a photoshoot."
The room went completely silent again.
Sayo's voice cracked. "I'm sorry—what?"
"The moment you signed those papers," I explained, "this became official. Today's photoshoot will be used for Red Bull's social media announcement. They'll edit and post them later, introducing Roselia as their newest partner."
Yukina exhaled slowly, the faintest smirk on her face. "I see. That explains everything. Very well, let's get this over with."
"Good," I said, standing up. "Head to the changing room. We'll prepare everything else. Meet us at the multipurpose room—it's the door left of my office."
The girls nodded in unison and disappeared down the hall, carrying their costumes. Once they were gone, I turned toward Yosuke and Hanabi. Both simply nodded, ready to begin setting up.
The air felt lighter now. That tension that had filled the room earlier—Yukina's guarded tone, Roselia's uncertainty—it all melted into something steadier. Pride, maybe. Or the quiet hum of new beginnings.
As the others worked, I lingered by the window, watching faint streaks of sunlight filter through CiRCLE's glass façade. It reminded me of OG's first shoot years ago—same kind of nerves, same awkward smiles. But the outcome had shaped a legacy that lasted a decade.
Now it was Roselia's turn.
When the girls stepped out later, dressed in their stage outfits, I couldn't help but smile. The five of them looked every bit the part—refined, confident, and radiant. Yukina's posture commanded the room, while Rinko's calm grace balanced the intensity. Lisa and Ako added that burst of energy that made them unmistakably Roselia.
Hanabi-san tilted her camera and whispered to Yosuke, "No wonder the chairman wanted them."
The lights flickered on, the camera clicked, and time slowed. Every shot caught more than their appearance—it captured potential. You could feel it in the air.
Roselia wasn't just signing with a brand. They were stepping onto the same road OG once walked—one that demanded everything and gave back just as much.
As I watched from behind the lens, I found myself thinking—not as a producer or musician—but as someone who'd seen greatness rise, fall, and rise again. And now, watching Yukina meet the camera's gaze head-on, I knew this was the beginning of something that would echo far beyond this room.
I smiled faintly. "Let's see how far you'll go."
----------
Nagae Estate – 6:00 P.M.
Riku's POV
The photoshoot had wrapped up without a hitch. Nerves turned into smiles, and even Yukina, who started the day with that usual icy composure, allowed herself a small laugh by the end of it. The camera loved them—every frame captured not just beauty, but conviction. Roselia was officially stepping into a bigger world now, and I knew it was only the beginning.
Afterward, Yosuke-san gathered us for a brief meeting. The announcement came like a quiet bombshell: Hanabi-san would serve as Roselia's official manager. The girls were understandably taken aback, Yukina most of all. She questioned Hanabi-san's experience outright—direct, firm, and cautious, as always. Yosuke-san handled it with his usual calm, assuring them that Hanabi wasn't just qualified, she was overqualified. In the end, Yukina nodded her acceptance, though she mentioned they still needed to find a coach.
Before leaving, another surprise came through: Yamaha and Roland had both reached out with sponsorship offers. It seemed the performance and sudden Red Bull deal had drawn attention fast. The discussions would take place later this month, and for now, everyone agreed to rest.
By the time I returned to the estate, the sun was slipping behind the mountains, painting the garden in gold. The house was quiet, save for the faint rustle of Ayabe moving about. Near the entrance to the living room stood Mafuyu, stiff and hesitant, like a cat caught in the wrong room.
I raised an eyebrow. "Why are you just standing there, Mafuyu?"
She turned toward me, expression composed but voice soft. "Nii-san, welcome back. It's just that... Grandfather is talking to someone and..."
Her words trailed off. That alone told me it wasn't just anyone.
I took a few steps forward and peeked past the doorframe. Two men sat across from Grandfather. One was unmistakably elderly, his presence heavy and commanding. Long, spiky gray hair framed a weathered face marked by a scar over his right eye. The olive yukata he wore was tied neatly with a white obi, and even while seated, he radiated the kind of quiet authority that made the air feel smaller.
The second man looked much younger—late thirties, maybe early forties—with long brown hair tied back and the easy poise of someone used to kitchens more than boardrooms. He wore a black fitted shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and brown slacks that spoke of simple practicality.
Recognition clicked instantly.
I stepped into the room, bowing slightly. "I've returned, Grandfather."
Kyoya looked up with a faint smile. "Ah, Riku. Welcome home. I'm sure you remember these two."
"I do," I replied, smiling faintly as I turned to them. "It's been a while, Sanzaemon-dono. Joichiro-san."
Nakiri Sanzaemon—the Head of the Nakiri Family, the legendary "Demon King of the Gourmet World," and headmaster of Tōtsuki Culinary Academy. I'd met him several times before leaving Japan. He and Grandfather went back decades—old friends bound by both rivalry and respect.
And beside him sat Yukihira Joichiro. Former Tōtsuki prodigy, now the owner of a humble diner. Despite that, his culinary reputation stretched far beyond Japan. My father once called him "the Asura," though to this day, I still didn't know how he earned that name. Nor did I want to. Especially after I'd been unfortunate enough to try one of his infamous "experimental dishes."
Two weeks in the hospital. Two long weeks.
I still remembered the way Eirin-san reacted when she heard what he'd done. She'd turned him into her personal test subject for seven straight days. He'd walked out of the hospital at the end of it—alive, somehow—but moving like a ghost. I'd never seen a grown man look that traumatized by medicine.
"Been a while, Riku," Joichiro-san greeted, his grin every bit as mischievous as I remembered. "Look at you—grown into a fine young man. Bet plenty of girls are chasing after you now."
I felt my expression twitch, but before I could reply, Sanzaemon-dono cleared his throat with an audible ahem.
Joichiro-san's grin faded into a chuckle. "Right, right. My bad."
Sanzaemon-dono inclined his head politely. "Good to see you again, Riku. I heard you've retired from music."
"I have," I said simply. "Announced it right after TI10."
Joichiro-san leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee. "Retiring at eighteen, huh? Bit early, don't you think?"
"I just needed a change of pace," I replied. "The schedule for live events was... relentless."
He nodded. "Reasonable. Everyone hits their limit sometime. You've been running since you were a kid—you deserve to breathe."
Then his gaze shifted past me, narrowing slightly. "Anyway... who's the girl hiding back there in the corner?"
Mafuyu froze mid-step, half-hidden behind the wall. Grandfather's chuckle rolled out softly.
"Mafuyu," he called gently, "you can come out now. They can be trusted."
She hesitated, then stepped into the living room, posture straight and formal. She bowed politely. "I'm Nagae Mafuyu."
Sanzaemon-dono's eyes flicked toward Grandfather, one brow arching. "Kyoya... is she?"
Kyoya nodded slowly. "Yes."
A pause. Then Sanzaemon-dono exhaled through his nose, satisfied. "Hm. Very well. I won't pry."
"Same here," Joichiro-san said easily. "But I can tell there's something special about her."
Mafuyu gave a small bow again, uncertain but polite. I could see the tension in her shoulders. She wasn't used to guests like these—people whose presence carried entire industries on their backs.
"Mafuyu," I said softly, "why don't you go to your room for now? I need to discuss something with them privately."
She looked at me, eyes flickering with that faint, quiet warmth she rarely showed. "Very well. But after your talk... can we have another piano session?"
I smiled. "Sure, why not. I won't take long."
"Okay." She gave one last bow and slipped out of the room.
When the door clicked shut behind her, the air settled again. Both men were watching me now, their earlier casual expressions replaced by something heavier—measured, deliberate. I could tell this wasn't just a friendly visit.
The room fell into a heavy silence after I spoke. Only the faint crackle from the incense burner beside my grandfather's desk filled the air.
Joichiro-san leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "Judging from your tone, you've got somethin' serious to say, huh?"
I met his gaze and nodded. "Yes... Azami is on the move."
The moment that name left my mouth, both men's expressions hardened like stone. The playful warmth that usually surrounded Joichiro-san vanished, and Sanzaemon-dono's hands folded together, his voice dropping to a grave tone.
"Where did you find him?"
"The last time I saw him was in Stockholm. He didn't notice me, but I'm certain it was him. From what I gathered, he's been building a foundation in both North and South America."
Joichiro-san muttered a curse under his breath. "Damn it. If Azami manages to secure influence in Europe, he'll have global reach before we know it. That kind of power behind his ideals..."
I crossed my arms, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. "That's not all. My intel also reports a chef who's been defeating world-class talents in secret matches across the globe. The name he's using... is 'Saiba.'"
Joichiro-san shot to his feet, eyes wide. For a man as composed as him, the reaction was telling.
"Riku... is that true?"
"The Nagae network doesn't deal in rumors," I replied quietly. "You do know that we dont cut corners, right?"
Sanzaemon-dono exhaled slowly, his face shadowed by thought. "That explains the recent turbulence in the culinary world. If Azami and this 'Saiba' are aligned, the consequences could be catastrophic."
"Then it's settled," Joichiro-san said, pacing across the tatami. "We'll have to act before his ideology spreads again. Jiji, the first-year students' training camp—it's already started, right?"
"Yes, a week ago," Sanzaemon-dono answered. "Why?"
Joichiro-san's lips curved into a faint, grim smile. "Nothing much. Just means I'll need to speed things up. Those kids need a wake-up call before the world gets worse."
He turned toward me, clapped a hand on my shoulder, and said, "You've done well bringing this to light, Riku. Stay sharp."
Then, without another word, he left—his usual laid-back gait replaced by a purposeful stride. The door closed behind him with a solid thud, leaving the air thick with unspoken concern.
Sanzaemon-dono watched the doorway for a moment before speaking. "Whatever you told him clearly struck deep."
My grandfather nodded. "He's right to worry. Azami's reach doesn't stop at politics or food. He has a way of infecting minds—especially young ones."
Sanzaemon-dono's shoulders slumped slightly. "I freed Erina from his control, but the scars still linger. She's opening up little by little... yet if Azami resurfaces, everything she's rebuilt could crumble."
"Then reach out to the Komeiji," Grandfather suggested, his tone pragmatic. "Satori owes the Nagae a favor. She'll lend you her aid. I'll alert the other family heads so they won't interfere with your moves."
Sanzaemon-dono inclined his head. "You have my gratitude, Kyoya. Truly."
Grandfather gestured toward me with a faint smile. "If you wish to thank anyone, it should be this boy. He's the one who discovered the trail."
Sanzaemon-dono chuckled softly. "Indeed. And someone this capable deserves something in return."
He thought for a moment, then his expression brightened. "Riku, are you free this weekend?"
I blinked. "Grandfather gave me the week off, so... yes."
Without another word, he handed me a folded paper.
"Uh... what is this?"
"A voucher," he said, smiling. "For the Tōtsuki Resort. You've been working nonstop lately—consider it a well-earned break."
I raised an eyebrow. "Does this voucher cover just me?"
"You may bring five others. It's valid for six people, one week's stay, all expenses covered. But it expires at the end of May, so don't let it gather dust."
"Understood," I said, examining the seal. "Though... this feels a bit too generous. There's a catch, isn't there?"
Sanzaemon-dono laughed, a deep, hearty sound. "You Nagae truly live up to your reputation for intuition. Yes, there's a small favor I'd like in return. You still bake, don't you?"
"I do," I admitted, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "About twice a month, mostly for Yuyuko-san. Why?"
"The first-year students are currently at the resort for their training camp," he explained. "I'd like you to give them... a reality check."
Grandfather raised an eyebrow. "Reality check?"
Sanzaemon-dono leaned back with a faint smirk. "Most of these students are prodigies—or so they think. Arrogant, prideful, dismissive of anyone beneath them. I'd like them to face someone who embodies the humility and mastery they lack."
I sighed quietly. "Prideful, egoistic, convinced they're untouchable, underestimating others, and giving up the moment they fail?"
His laughter rumbled through the room. "You hit every point. Yes, that's the picture. I want you to humble them—at the camp's finale. I'll notify Gin and the alumni supervising. They'll clear the stage for you."
"Alright," I said after a pause, "but I have one condition."
Sanzaemon-dono's eyes gleamed. "Name it."
"I'll hold on to that favor for later. When the time comes, I'll let you know what I need."
He nodded in understanding. "Fair enough."
I hesitated a moment before asking, "How's Erina?"
Sanzaemon-dono's expression softened. "She took your advice to heart. She and Alice are close now—like true sisters. Her 'God Tongue' remains sharp, but her heart has softened. She's grown into her own person... though she still complains about your retirement. She misses your performances."
I chuckled. "Figures. But I made my choice. Music will always be in me, even if I'm no longer on stage."
He smiled faintly. "You've matured well, Riku. I'm proud of you."
I bowed slightly. "Thank you, Sanzaemon-dono. But I should go—Mafuyu's waiting."
Grandfather waved me off. "We've kept you long enough. Go."
Leaving the room, I exhaled quietly. The weight of everything—Azami, the resort, the undercurrent of global tension—settled in the back of my mind like storm clouds on the horizon. But for now, I had something simpler waiting: family.
When I entered Mafuyu's room, I found her sitting cross-legged in front of the TV with Tina, both holding controllers. Nazuna stood off to the side, amused, as the two girls were locked in a fierce battle.
The moment they noticed me, they froze—like deer caught in headlights.
Mafuyu fumbled for words. "Uh... I can explain—"
I held up a hand, half-smiling. "No need. It's normal to unwind with games. Just remember—balance it with your studies and training, alright?"
She relaxed instantly. "Hai. So... you finished talking with grandfather and his friends?"
"I did," I said, settling beside her. "They're old acquaintances—one of them was actually Father's friend."
Mafuyu tilted her head. "They looked... important."
"They are," I admitted. "But don't worry about that. You ready for your piano session?"
Mafuyu nodded with a small smile. "Hm. I want to show you the progress I've made.."
"Alright," I said with a chuckle. "Let's see it. Tina, you staying?"
"If it's fine by you, I'd like to watch," she said politely.
"Sure. Nazuna, could you bring us something light to eat?"
"Understood, Riku-sama," the maid replied, gliding out of the room.
When she was gone, Mafuyu straightened her back and stared over the keys. The moment her hands touched the piano, the atmosphere shifted. Her usual blank expression melted into quiet focus.
The first notes rang out—hesitant at first, then fluid, confident. Each phrase carried a spark of something deeper: the warmth she'd begun to find for herself.
Tina watched, entranced. "She's improved a lot since last time," she whispered.
I nodded. "Yeah. She's finding her rhythm."
When Mafuyu reached the final note, it hung in the air like a sigh of relief. She turned toward me, with a blank expression.
"How was that, Nii-san?"
I smiled faintly. "You've come far. Keep that up, and you'll outplay me soon enough."
"That's a bit of a stretch...but I'll take it." Mafuyu said as she looked over the keys again.
Nazuna returned with tea and pastries, placing them neatly on the table. For a brief moment, the world outside—the threats, the politics, the burdens of legacy—faded away.
In their place was something simple. The quiet hum of the piano. The warmth of home. The rare, fleeting peace before the next storm.
----------
Hanasakigawa Girls High School — Student Council Office
May 27, 2021 – Thursday – 12:30 P.M.
Third Person POV
The next day passed quietly after Riku and Mafuyu's evening practice. Dinner had been lighthearted—Tina teasing Mafuyu over her gaming losses, Mafuyu quickly adapting and begnning to get some wins of her own, and Riku simply watching the chaos unfold like someone who'd long learned that peace, in that household, was a rare visitor. After that, they called it a night.
Now, lunchtime found Riku sitting inside the Student Council office, surrounded by Rinko, Sayo, and Arisa. The room was filled with the familiar scent of tea and the soft rustle of papers. Riku hadn't planned on joining them—he was supposed to have lunch with Mafuyu—but Rinko and Sayo had insisted. "You've been working too hard," they'd said. He didn't argue; some things weren't worth resisting.
They'd finished eating, and Sayo and Arisa were bent over yesterday's unfinished student council work. Rinko offered to help, but they waved her off with smiles, saying it wasn't much. That left her watching Riku, who seemed to be somewhere else entirely. His eyes were on the view outside the window, unfocused, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest of his chair.
After a minute of hesitation, Rinko reached forward and tugged at his sleeve, gentle but enough to pull him back.
Riku blinked. "Did you need something, Rinko?"
She shook her head, her voice soft. "No, but... you've been in a daze since this morning."
Sayo looked up from her stack of papers, brow raised. "Shirokane-san's right. Even during class, the teacher had to call you twice before you noticed. What's on your mind?"
Riku exhaled, the corner of his lip twitching faintly. "Well... I need to ask—are you three free this weekend?"
The question hung in the air like a dropped pin. The three girls exchanged confused looks. Arisa, ever the one to ask first, tilted her head. "Why do you ask?"
Instead of answering, Riku reached into his bag and set a cream-colored envelope on the table. He slid it toward them.
Sayo was the first to open it, her eyes widening as she read the bold gold letters printed across the top. "This is—"
Riku nodded. "An all-expense-paid stay for a week at the Tōtsuki Resort."
The office erupted.
"EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!"
Even Sayo, normally composed, nearly dropped her pen. Rinko's hands flew to her mouth, eyes sparkling with disbelief.
Rinko stammered, "W-w-wait! Where did you get this? You can't even book that place without a three-month waiting list!"
Riku leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea. "Sanzaemon-dono gave it to me."
Three heads swiveled toward him slowly, as if expecting him to laugh and say he was joking. He didn't.
Arisa blinked. "You mean... Nakiri Sanzaemon? The headmaster of Tōtsuki Academy?"
"Yeah," Riku said plainly. "My grandfather and he are close friends. He gave me the voucher as thanks for a favor."
The girls fell silent for a moment. Sayo was the first to find her voice again. "That's... quite the 'thank you.' But aren't you busy? Can you really use it?"
"I got the rest of the week off," he replied. "Figured I might as well take a proper break. I was going to invite all of you, but..." He tapped the paper with his finger. "It only covers six people, so I'll have to choose carefully."
Arisa crossed her arms, her tone half-teasing, half-practical. "Then how about your childhood friends? I mean, you hardly get to hang out with them anymore, right?"
That got the others' attention. Both Sayo and Rinko turned toward her, curious.
Arisa went on, "It makes sense. You've all been busy doing your own thing. Kaoru-san and Mitake-san are at Haneoka, Kokoro's always tied up with HaroHapi, Chisato-senpai's with PasuPare, and Rinko-senpai's—" she glanced toward Rinko "—well, you're always practicing with Roselia."
Riku's eyes softened with thought. "Hmm... not a bad idea. Kokoro will definitely say yes. As for the others..." He turned to Rinko. "What about you, Rinko?"
Rinko nearly choked on her tea. "Eh? Me? I mean... we have practice this weekend, and—"
"I'll talk to Minato-san about it," Sayo interjected calmly, already back to writing something on her clipboard.
Rinko blinked, stunned. "Hikawa-san? Why?"
"I'm sure Minato-san will understand," Sayo replied without looking up. "Besides, it might be good for you to relax a bit. If she agrees, that'll give me some time with Hina."
Arisa leaned forward, smirking. "Speaking of which, I've noticed you and Hina-senpai are getting along better lately. What happened?"
Sayo's pen paused mid-sentence. She looked up, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Riku-san helped me with that."
All eyes turned to him, and Riku looked away, pretending to study the teapot.
Sayo continued, voice quieter now. "He made me realize how wrong I'd been about Hina. I'd been treating her like she was some kind of... problem. But he pointed it out—bluntly, I might add—and it hit me hard. I wasn't being the kind of sister she could be proud of. After that talk, I started over. I'm still learning, but... she forgave me."
Flashback – One Month Ago
April. Two days after Riku publicly revealed his career in music.
The atmosphere inside the empty live house was heavy. Sayo stood in front of Riku, her arms crossed tightly, her tone defensive.
When Riku confronted her about her attitude toward Hina—her endless inferiority complex and jealousy—she didn't deny it. She spoke honestly, almost trembling, recounting every moment of resentment and guilt.
And when she muttered that Hina shouldn't have been born, Riku didn't flinch.
His answer came like a clean blade:
"Then you've already lost the right to call yourself her sister."
The words hit her harder than any blow could. Fury and shame tangled inside her chest, and before she knew it—
SLAP!
The sound echoed through the room.
Riku didn't move. He simply absorbed the hit and stood there, calm as ever. His cheek reddened, but his gaze didn't waver.
Sayo's anger broke into confusion. "You wanted me to hit you... but why?"
Riku exhaled softly. "To release your anger. Make you more amenable to reason."
Her shoulders sagged. "Now I feel like shit."
"Don't," he said simply. "And to be fair, I probably deserved that. But what I said to you is still the truth."
Silence followed, heavy but cleansing.
Sayo looked down, fists trembling."I know. I admit it. I'm a terrible sister... but... what can I even do now?"
Riku walked over, his steps deliberate, and rested a hand on her shoulder."There's one thing you can do. It's simple, but not easy."
She glanced up at him.
"Tell Hina-san how you really feel. All of it. Don't hold back the guilt or the regret. Be honest, even if you cry. That's how you start over."
Sayo's voice wavered."Riku-san... I don't think I can. What if she hates me?"
"She won't."
"How do you know that?"
Riku smiled faintly. "Because you're her older sister."
That truth hit her harder than his earlier reprimand. It stripped away every excuse she'd built.
Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees. Tears she'd buried for years finally spilled, and Riku quietly knelt beside her, his hand moving to her head in a small, comforting gesture.
"Why didn't I realize it till now... I want to fix things, but it's too late."
"It's never too late, Sayo."
Something inside her broke and healed all at once. She threw her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder while he gently rubbed her back in silence.
Hours later, she left that live house determined to make things right.
That same night, Riku received a message on his phone.
'I talked to Hina. She cried too. We're okay now. Thank you... for everything.'
Riku smiled—a rare, genuine smile that lingered even after the screen dimmed.
End of Flashback
The air inside the student council office felt calm, almost too still for the conversation that had just taken a turn toward memory. Papers were stacked neatly on the desk, half-eaten lunches pushed aside. Sayo sat with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the window as if the clouds outside might carry her words for her.
"...And that's basically what happened," she said at last.
Her tone was quiet—reflective, not heavy, but marked by the kind of honesty that leaves a faint ache in the room.
Rinko looked up from her teacup, her usual composure softening. "So... Riku helped you with your problems with Hina-chan?"
Sayo nodded slowly, the corner of her mouth turning upward in a small, rueful smile. "I owe him for that. If he hadn't called me out that time, my bond with Hina might've been gone forever." She glanced toward Riku, her expression softening even more. "So again... thank you, Riku."
Both Rinko and Arisa blinked, catching something subtle in that moment—the absence of "-san." It was rare to hear Sayo drop her formal tone. Rinko tilted her head slightly, a faint curiosity flickering across her face. Arisa, meanwhile, smirked behind her hand, clearly amused.
Riku let out a breath, pretending not to notice. "You don't need to thank me that much. I just gave you a push. You were the one who faced her in the end."
Sayo laughed quietly under her breath. "You're too humble for your own good."
The heaviness that lingered moments ago slowly dissolved, replaced by an easy warmth that filled the room.
"Alright then," Rinko spoke up, breaking the silence, "I'll join you. We just need to convince Yukina-san, and I'm good."
Riku nodded, slipping back into his calm, steady tone. "That makes three of us. All that's left are Ran, Kaoru, and Chisato."
"What about Tamade-san?" Sayo asked, curious.
Riku leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Chiyu? She's not really the resort type. She'd rather spend her weekends doing her own thing."
He reached for his phone, unlocking it with practiced ease. "Anyway, I'll message the others now. If everyone's free, I'll set up a video call tonight so we can finalize the plan."
Rinko leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "You're inviting them all at once?"
"Yeah. You, Ran, Kaoru, Chisato, and Kokoro," he replied, his thumbs tapping away. "That should fill the five slots."
There was a faint glimmer in his eyes as he typed, something between amusement and fondness—like he could already picture the inevitable chaos of that group call.
Rinko, meanwhile, had been watching something else. Her gaze drifted to the edge of the desk, where several empty teacups sat in a neat little line. She started counting them, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Um... Riku," she said hesitantly.
"Hm?"
"That's your ninth cup."
The words hung in the air.
Riku stopped mid-sip, lowering the cup slowly. His eyes followed her gesture, tracing the small row of empty porcelain cups stacked like evidence of a crime.
Nagae Estate – Training Room – 4:30 P.M.
Third Person POV
The sun hung low over the Nagae Estate, its golden rays spilling through the tall glass panes of the training hall. The faint hum of electricity lingered in the air—residue from repeated bursts of lightning. Riku stood at the edge of the room, watching his sister kneeling on the polished wooden floor, her breathing uneven, a few faint sparks still crackling across her fingertips.
After classes ended earlier that day, he had informed the band girls that CiRCLE would be closed for maintenance. With no practice session scheduled, he and Mafuyu returned home, greeted by Youmu, who mentioned that Yuyuko had summoned her. Once the errands were settled, Riku brought Mafuyu straight to the training room. Today's lesson wasn't about form or style—it was about understanding what kind of power lightning truly was.
Riku approached, crouching beside his sister. "You're getting there," he said, voice calm but edged with authority. "You've got the control part down. Now comes the hard one—learning just how lethal your lightning really is."
Mafuyu wiped the sweat from her forehead, her chest rising and falling. "Because I might kill someone by accident... right?"
He nodded. "Exactly. Lightning's like fire—beautiful but merciless. A spark in the wrong place can end a life before you even realize it. I'm teaching you so that never happens." His tone softened, a rare flicker of warmth cutting through his usual composure. "Take a short break. We'll continue after."
Mafuyu exhaled and let herself fall backward, lying flat on the floor. The polished wood was cool against her overheated skin. Riku sat beside her, legs crossed, the faint static still clinging to his coat.
"Nii-san..." Mafuyu murmured, eyes on the ceiling. "How long did you train? You were already... well, you know—busy being a pro back then."
Riku's lips curved slightly. "Started when I was nine," he said. "Training was brutal. Every day felt like hell, but I learned to push through. And as for managing my time? I had Ayabe to handle my schedule. Nazuna's doing that for you now."
Mafuyu's expression softened. "I see... How did you survive all that?"
"Simple," Riku replied. "I adapted. That's what we Nagae do. We adjust, we evolve. Your adaptability isn't there yet, but it will be. You're still new to your power. Once you sync with it, you'll move like lightning itself."
For a while, silence filled the room. Mafuyu slowly sat up, glancing at her brother. "Why are you training me so hard?" she asked quietly. "What's the real reason?"
Riku's gaze shifted to the training floor, his tone dropping low. "Because, on your eighteenth birthday, you'll have to pass a trial."
"...A trial?" Mafuyu echoed.
He nodded. "You'll face someone from the Celestial Families—someone your age."
Her eyes widened. "Wait, what? No... you're joking, right?"
"I wish I were," Riku said, his expression unreadable. "Every member of the Celestial Families must be capable of combat. It's our tradition. You only need to defeat one of your generation to pass." He let out a quiet sigh. "When I took my trial, my opponent was Yori-nee. And I barely won."
Mafuyu's heart sank. "Two years..." she whispered. "I only have two years."
"That's plenty," Riku said with a faint smirk. "You've already made progress. Once your lightning control is refined, we'll find the fighting style that suits you best. You'll be ready."
Her tense shoulders eased at his confidence. "That's... reassuring. Thank you, nii-san."
Riku stood, offering her a hand. "No problem. Now—how's school? Kokoro giving you trouble?"
Mafuyu took his hand and got up, a small smile forming. "Not at all. She's been helping me a lot, actually. Saaya and Rimi too. I'm getting used to things. Oh, and... I joined the Archery Club."
That earned a rare chuckle from Riku. "Archery, huh? Sayo must've been thrilled."
"She was," Mafuyu admitted shyly. Then her tone grew firm. "Nii-san... let's go back to training."
"You sure? You've only rested for ten minutes," Riku said, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't want to be a burden. I want to keep going—until I find my true self."
Her words carried quiet resolve. Riku studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Very well." He turned toward the far wall. "Nazuna, call in Tina. Tell her to bring her guns."
A calm voice echoed through the intercom. "Understood."
Mafuyu blinked. "Wait, why Tina-chan?"
"The next phase is defense training," Riku explained. "You'll learn how to use your lightning to protect yourself. Tina will attack you with rubber bullets while you block them with your lightning. It's the best way to gauge how much energy you can handle—and how far you can push your output." He gave her a knowing look. "Don't worry, the bullets aren't lethal. But they will hurt like hell. Still up for it?"
Mafuyu swallowed hard, her nerves flaring—but she nodded. "I'll try."
Riku's lips twitched into a small approving smile. "That's all I needed to hear."
Moments later, the heavy door slid open. Tina stepped in, her long coat swaying with each step. A sleek rifle hung across her back, and two pistols rested at her hips. Her expression was composed, but her lazy eyes says otherwise.
"You called, onii-san?" she asked, tilted her head as she adjusted her rifle.
"Yeah," Riku replied. "Mafuyu's starting defensive drills. Give her a live simulation—but keep it within training parameters."
Tina said lazily. "Copy that."
Mafuyu inhaled deeply, sparks dancing faintly between her fingers as her lightning began to stir once more. Riku stepped back, folding his arms as he watched her take position at the center of the room.
"All right," Tina said, sliding her pistols free with a metallic click. "Onee-san, I won't be holding back."
The first shot rang out. Mafuyu's instincts kicked in, electricity flaring around her like a shield. The rubber bullet struck the barrier, crackling on impact before falling harmlessly to the floor. She flinched but stood her ground.
Riku's voice echoed through the hall—calm, steady, grounding. "Don't brace too hard. Let the lightning flow around you, not against you."
Another volley came, faster this time. Mafuyu's breathing quickened as she raised her hands, arcs of blue-white energy bursting out like living tendrils. The bullets bounced off in sparks, some grazing her arm, stinging sharply. She gritted her teeth but didn't falter.
Tina reloaded with swift precision, switching from pistols to her rifle. And without letting Mafuyu breathe, she began emptying her magazine. Riku was impressed that a ten year old can move like a real army veteran.
Mafuyu closed her eyes for half a heartbeat, centering herself. The next instant, she unleashed a pulse of energy that spread outward, forming a flickering dome of lightning. The bullets struck it in bursts of crackling light, filling the room with thunder-like echoes.
When the barrage finally ceased, smoke curled faintly through the air. Mafuyu stood trembling, small arcs dancing across her body—but she was still standing.
Riku's lips curved into a faint, proud smile. "Good. You're learning to endure it."
Mafuyu looked up, eyes determined despite the exhaustion. "I'm not done yet."
Tina smiled with her eyes half closed, chambering the next round. "Good."
The next phase began.
And with that, the hum of lightning filled the training room once more.