[Katsuya Akiya (MC) POV]
Down in the sparring ring, the buzzer signaled the end of the match.
I leaned against the railing of the observation bleachers, watching as the dust settled. Yang was down on one knee, panting slightly as her Aura gauge dipped into the yellow. A few feet away, Blake casually sheathed Gambol Shroud, having used a shadow clone to misdirect Yang's final explosive hook before sweeping her legs out from under her.
I raised an eyebrow. I honestly expected Yang's brute force to carry the round, but Blake's agility and evasive clones had picked her apart. A bit surprising, but whatever. Fights between different styles could go either way.
Professor Goodwitch tapped her riding crop against her tablet, adjusting her glasses. "An excellent display of misdirection and patience from Miss Belladonna. That covers the fundamentals for today's demonstrations. Now, does anyone else wish to take the stage before we conclude?"
I stretched my arms over my head and let out a long, bored yawn. Combat theory was fine, but watching people trade basic blows had me ready for a nap.
Across the room, a hand shot aggressively into the air.
"Professor!"
I blinked, glancing over. It was Cardin. He stood with an obnoxious, puffed-up posture, looking like an absolute diva who thought the entire academy revolved around his bruised ego.
"I would like a match," Cardin announced loudly, pointing a finger straight up at the bleachers. "Against him."
Every eye in the room shifted directly toward me.
Beside me, Yang practically leapt to her feet while popping her knuckles. "Oh, hell no! Let me at him! I'll take that jerk apart piece by piece!"
I was about to gladly wave my hand and tell Yang to have at it. Letting her turn him into a crater sounded like a great spectator sport. But then I caught the look on Cardin's face.
The second Yang volunteered, Cardin's eyes flickered with panic. His posture tightened, his mouth opening as if already preparing some cowardly excuse to decline fighting an aggressive girl and slink away untouched.
If Yang stepped in, he'd find a way to wriggle out of it.
I sighed, pushing myself off the railing. If this guy was going to learn to keep his mouth shut, someone had to actually drag him into the ring and make it stick.
"It's fine, Yang," I said, offering her a faint smirk. "I'll handle it."
Yang blinked, then crossed her arms with a pout. "Fine. But make it hurt."
I walked down the steps, hopped over the boundary rail, and took my place on the opposite side of the ring. Cardin hefted his heavy mace, trying to regain his haughty swagger now that he wasn't facing Yang, though his eyes darted nervously to my face.
Professor Goodwitch looked between us, her expression stern. "Standard rules apply. The match ends when a combatant's Aura drops into the red, or upon my discretion. Ready..."
She raised her crop.
"Begin!"
"I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face!" Cardin roared.
He charged forward, raising his mace high with both hands for an overhead slam. It was loud, completely telegraphed, and utterly reckless.
I didn't even bother drawing a knife.
As the mace descended, I took a casual half-step to the side. The heavy metal head smashed harmlessly into the padded floor, and before Cardin could recover his balance, my boot snapped upward in a sharp, lightning-fast high kick.
CRACK.
My heel caught him squarely under the jaw. His head snapped back with a wet crunch, his eyes crossing for a split second.
I didn't give him room to breathe.
Tapping into my semblance, a sickly, dark green energy flared around my hands and boots, writhing and hissing through the air like coiling serpents. I stepped inside his guard, launching into a rapid-fire sequence of palm strikes, elbows, and snapping kicks.
With every single hit, the green, snake-like aura bit into his defenses. It didn't just batter his kinetic shielding—it actively sank fangs into it, pulling the energy straight out of him. A faint, glowing mist of stolen Aura siphoned through my fingers and fed directly into my own reserves, making me feel lighter and sharper while his gauge on the overhead monitor cratered at an alarming speed.
Three seconds. That was all it took.
I spun on my heel and drove a final, open-palm thrust directly into his chest plate.
THUMP.
The green energy detonated outward, sending Cardin stumbling backward across the floor. He dropped his mace with a clatter, clutching his bruised ribs and chest, his legs wobbling like jelly as he barely managed to keep from collapsing.
Above us, the buzzer wailed, signaling his Aura had plummeted straight into the red zone.
I smoothed down the lapels of my jacket.
"Why did you even bother?" I asked mildly, tilting my head. "Did you already forget what happened earlier?"
Cardin stared at me, trembling from exhaustion and shock, his eyes watering with pure, humiliated rage as he clutched his swollen jaw.
"That..." Cardin wheezed out, his voice cracking desperately in front of the entire class. "That never even happened!"
I walked over to where Cardin was still clutching his bruised ribs and fumbling for his mace.
"Hey," I said, offering a light, casual pat on his shoulder. "Cheer up, man. Look on the bright side: all your teeth are still intact, and you walked out with your skull in one piece."
Cardin flinched away from my hand, glaring at me with watery, humiliated eyes.
I leaned down slightly, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Though, if I were you, I'd seriously watch my back. Yang has been staring daggers at the back of your head the entire time, and she still looks ready to turn you into a crater. Keep your guard up."
Cardin looked past me toward the bleachers, catching Yang cracking her knuckles with a murderous grin, and visibly turned pale. He grabbed his weapon and practically scrambled out of the ring without another word.
"That concludes today's combat practicals," Professor Goodwitch announced, tapping her riding crop against her clipboard. "You are dismissed for the remainder of the afternoon."
With classes officially wrapped up for our first day, free time had finally arrived. I met up with my team near the exit of the training hall, stretching my arms as Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren fell into step with me.
"That was amazing!" Nora was practically vibrating on the balls of her feet, bouncing around in front of us. "You just went wham and pow, and then his Aura was gone! Hey, hey, Katsuya, since we're totally free now, can we go back to the dorm and finish that lap pil—"
A shadow suddenly fell over Nora from behind.
Before she could finish the sentence, Pyrrha materialized out of the gloom with a face carved from absolute, chilling vengeance. Her green eyes were wide, unblinking, and devoid of light. In one swift, terrifying motion, Pyrrha clamped a hand firmly over Nora's mouth, smothering her words into muffled squeaks.
Pyrrha loomed directly behind her with a haunting, stone-cold glare, dragging the petrified, wide-eyed girl backward into the shadows of the hallway to administer another silent "heart-to-heart."
Ren and I both stared straight ahead, completely synchronized in our decision to mind our own business. Neither of us said a word about it.
"So, Katsuya," Ren broke the silence as we strolled down the quieter corridor toward the courtyard. "What are your plans for the future?"
I placed my hands in my pockets, considering the question. Remnant was a chaotic mess, and between secret cabals, immortal witches, and shadow wars, everyone seemed to have grandiose destiny complexes.
"Well," I said after a moment, "I want to become a proper Huntsman to honor my mother's memory. She gave me this gear, and it feels right to carry that torch. But frankly? Beyond the fighting... I just want a peaceful life. A nice, stable family. At least two kids, minimum."
Ren glanced over, his calm expression softening into a genuine, respectful smile. "That is a very good goal. In a world as dangerous as Remnant, striving for a quiet hearth and family is perhaps the most admirable ambition of all."
"Thanks, Ren. Appreciate that."
Feeling a familiar vibration in the back of my skull, I discreetly pulled up the Multiversal Self Chat interface in my vision while Ren took in the scenery.
[Scathach: The Susano'o artifact is complete. I have stabilized the spiritual shell to prevent any madness enhancements from eroding your mind during deployment.]
My eyes widened slightly behind my eyelids.
[Katsuya: Already? Thank you, Scathach. Seriously, this is a lifesaver.]
[Item Transfer Request: Black Susano'o Armor Vessel]
[Accept? Y / N]
I tapped Y mentally. A faint chime sounded, and the heavy, terrifying presence of the divine armor settled securely into my dimensional inventory, ready to be called upon whenever a true nightmare reared its head.
"Katsuya?" Ren's voice pulled me back to reality.
I closed the chat, looking over at him. "Yeah?"
"Out of curiosity," Ren asked mildly, keeping an even pace beside me, "out of all the girls you've met so far... what is your ideal type?"
I blinked, genuinely caught off guard.
My mind went entirely blank. I started sifting through my thoughts, trying to come up with an answer, but hit a wall. In my past life, my days had consisted of skipping class, obsessing over my pompadour, playing fighting games at the arcade, hanging out with Hayata, and working late shifts at a neighborhood café. Between scraping by and living day to day, romance was something I'd only ever watched in cheesy dramas from a distance.
I'd never actually sat down and thought about what my ideal type was.
"To be honest," I began, tapping my chin thoughtfully, "I've never really had a strict type when it comes to looks. As long as she has a mature appearance—definitely not someone who looks like a child—I'm fine. Beyond that, it really comes down to personality. Having good chemistry, someone kind who I can actually talk to and build a life with. That matters way more to me."
Ren looked at me, nodding with genuine approval. "That is remarkably grounded. Seeking a partner based on character rather than fleeting superficial traits shows great wisdom, Katsuya."
"Thanks," I chuckled, keeping my eyes peacefully squinted.
On the outside, I was the picture of pure, modest restraint. On the inside, however, I was sweating bullets.
There was no way in hell I was admitting the truth out loud. In my old life, I had been an unapologetic, diehard ass-over-tits guy. A great pair of legs and a nice, round rear beat out an enormous chest any day of the week in my book.
Some degenerate secrets were better taken to the grave. Again.
We made it back to the first-year dormitory hallway just as Pyrrha returned from her little detour, looking completely composed and angelic. Nora shuffled beside her with a thoroughly humbled, vacant expression, her soul having clearly been re-educated on the sanctity of personal boundaries.
"Everything alright?" I asked innocently.
"Completely," Pyrrha beamed, her smile radiant. "Nora and I have reached a wonderful mutual understanding."
Nora just gave a hollow, traumatized nod.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," I said, pausing outside our room. "You guys go ahead inside. I still have a bit of energy to burn off, so I'm going to hit the training hall for a little while before dinner."
Pyrrha looked like she wanted to offer to accompany me, but with her uniform slightly rumpled from dragging Nora around, she hesitated. "Don't overexert yourself, Katsuya. Remember we have early classes tomorrow."
"Will do, Pyrrha," I smiled, offering a casual two-finger salute before turning on my heel and heading back down the corridor.
The combat training hall was mostly deserted by the time I walked back inside. The high lights hummed softly against the polished floors, the earlier crowd having dispersed to study or relax.
I kicked off my formal jacket, carefully draped it over a bench, and unbuttoned my cuffs to roll up my sleeves. After a few rounds of lunges, stretches, and light calisthenics to get my heart pumping, I stepped out onto the center mat and focused inward.
I deliberately left the Black Susano'o armor sitting untouched in my system inventory. Having a god-slaying, divine war relic tucked away was great for peace of mind, but bringing that walking cataclysm out in a school gymnasium for casual target practice was a recipe for blowing up half the kingdom. If I wanted to survive Remnant, I needed to master Hazama's baseline finesse first.
Snick. Snick.
I flicked both butterfly knives from their hidden sheaths, letting the cold steel dance across my knuckles.
My arms blurred. The knives spun in tight, lethal arcs, slicing through the empty air with practiced muscle memory. With a flick of my wrists, the Ouroboros chains erupted from my sleeves, whistling as the snake-headed anchors shot out, snapped together in mid-air, and coiled backward in fluid loops. Every step, kick, and pivot flowed seamlessly into the next—a deadly dance of evasive mockery and sudden, vicious reach.
"Katsuya!"
The sudden shout broke my concentration.
I snapped my wrists back, the chains retracting into my sleeves and the knives tucking away into reverse grips before vanishing into my forearms. I exhaled, running a hand through my damp green bangs, and turned toward the gym doors.
Team RWBY had just walked in.
Ruby was bounding ahead of the group, her red cloak fluttering behind her, while Yang, Blake, and Weiss followed at a more measured pace.
I offered a relaxed wave, my usual polite smile returning to my face. "Hey there. What brings you four back here?"
Ruby jogged up to the edge of the mat, her silver eyes sparkling with excitement. "We came to see if the gym was empty, but then I saw you practicing! That chain trick you did was so cool!" She pumped her fists in the air, grinning ear to ear. "And congratulations again on totally stomping Cardin earlier! That kick under the chin was incredible! He literally cried!"
"Yeah, you really showed that jerk," Yang chuckled, crossing her arms and winking at me. "Honestly, doing it in front of the whole class was the cherry on top."
"Thanks," I laughed, shaking my head. "Though it really wasn't that big of a deal. Cardin was reckless. He telegraphed his swing from a mile away and left his entire upper body completely exposed. Anyone with basic footwork could have punished that."
"Perhaps," a crisp, refined voice chimed in.
Weiss Schnee stepped forward, her rapier Myrtenaster resting gracefully at her hip. Her pale blue eyes scanned me with sharp, critical evaluation, lingering on the subtle mechanisms hidden within my sleeves and the effortless balance in my stance.
"Still, your precision and reaction time were far beyond standard academy entry level." Weiss said, tilting her chin up with a confident, aristocratic poise.
"Uhh... thanks?" I replied mildly.
Weiss smiled faintly, resting a gloved hand on the pommel of her rapier. "If you are not overly fatigued from your earlier demonstration, would you permit a spar between the two of us?"
I looked at the Schnee heiress, watching the eager, competitive glint in her eyes.
I let my hands rest loosely at my sides and nodded. "Sure. I'd be happy to."