Takumi was still reeling everything Lexa had told him—the Ghouls, resonance, binders—information heavy enough to make his head spin. This was the girl who had pulled him back from the brink, who knew far more about the creatures haunting Aoshima's nights than he ever had. "I'm gonna need more time to wrap my head around all of this," he said with a quiet sigh, resting a finger beneath his jaw as he tried to sort his thoughts.
"You will," Lexa replied calmly as they walked side by side through the streets of Aoshima. "Everyone does. You're still a rookie when it comes to understanding how Ghouls really work."
As they moved, Takumi's attention drifted to something pinned to her T-shirt. A badge caught the light—an emerald crystal set at its crown, white wings curling outward from a silver shield marked with a bold 9. The green crest beneath it looked sharp and untouched, like it hadn't seen real use yet.
"What's up with the badge?" He asked, studying it as Lexa raised his finger and tapped it lightly.
She let her fingers rest against it, the emerald glinting in the sunlight. "Trainee. Grade Nine." Her tone was a matter of fact. "It means the Institute considers you more than just a student who happened to see something—you've stepped into duty." She turned it slightly so silver 9 faced him. "You're still under supervision, but you're cleared for guided field work, basic response protocols, and live drills when the city starts acting up."
Her eyes narrowed just a little, half warning, half a challenge. "In short—you're trusted enough to stand on the line," she said, "but not trusted enough to decide where it moves."
Takumi clearly hadn't caught up with what she meant. Confusion lingered on his face long after her explanation had settled. "Institute?" He asked, the single word enough to make Lexa stop and turn toward him.
"I'm Vanguard," she said plainly. "You've never heard of the Vanguard Institute?"
At his silence, she exhaled softly. "Figures. The Academy isn't exactly common knowledge." She began walking again, speaking as if laying out something routine. "It's a specialized school meant for people like me—people who can perceive, respond to, and deal with Ghouls. It's located in a separate sector of Aoshima, far enough that you wouldn't just stumble across it. On foot, it's impractical. Most people would need a train or some other transport to even get close."
She glanced at him briefly. "The Institute is deliberately kept isolated from central Aoshima. Officially, it doesn't exist. Unofficially, it operates far beyond the city. Aoshima deploys its personnel worldwide—students, instructors, and field agents. That's why our databases are publicly accessible. Transparency isn't about trust—it's about speed and coordination."
Takumi listened, still struggling to fully process what she was telling him. The idea that an entire institution like that existed—hidden in plain sight—left him stunned.
"And in case you were wondering," Lexa added, her tone tightening slightly, "the recent train incident wasn't ignored. The operator tried to contact the Institute the moment things started going wrong." She shook her head. "But the frequency interference was too severe. The soundwaves shredded the signal before anything could get through. By the time we could respond, it was already over."
The implication hung heavy.
The help had been close. Just not close enough.
"And you're a student there?" Takumi asked as they climbed the stairs leading back toward Aoshima's center, his thoughts finally beginning to line up the longer they talked.
Lexa gave a small shake of her head. "Not exactly," she said. "Some people call me a student, but that's not really accurate."
She continued up a few steps before explaining. "I train there, operate under their authority, and follow their structure—but I'm not enrolled the way others are. Students are still in the phase of discovery. They learn what resonance is, how to stabilize it, how to survive it." Her gaze stayed forward. "I'm past that."
Takumi glanced at her. "Then why do they treat you like one?"
"Because it's easier," Lexa replied. "Keeping me classified as a student limits what others expect from me. A few questions. Less attention." She paused briefly. "Officially, I'm still 'in formation.' I'm already active."
The meaning settled in.
"So you're working," Takumi said. "Yes," she answered simply. "I just happen to be working from inside an academy."
"If you were to enroll in the Academy," Lexa continued, "whether by skill or sheer luck, you'd start out like anyone else. Normal student. You'd be thrown into the enrollment exam and, if you passed, placed into the first-year class." Her tone was a matter of fact. "From there, it's the usual requirements—studying, exams, certifications, even things like a driving license. On paper, it looks no different from an ordinary school."
She glanced at him briefly. "Once if you pass the exam, though, your status changes. Your personal database is pulled from public access. No more worldwide visibility. Your profile becomes restricted to the Academy's internal system, locked behind multiple layers of authorization." She paused. "You still retain access to everyone else's public data outside the Institute. That part doesn't change."
Takumi slipped his hands into his pockets as they walked, eyes forward, the earlier glimpse of her badge resurfacing in his mind.
"But" Lexa added, "acceptance into the Vanguard Institute isn't just about passing tests." She tapped the badge lightly. "You need confirmed signs of resonance—and proof of a binder." Her gaze shifted to him, sharp but almost amusing. "Which you happen to have. Not awakened, not refined, but undeniably present."
A faint smirk crossed her lips. "Lucky you."
Takumi slowed a little, the idea still nagging at him. "But why make my profile private?" He asked. "It's just information. Everyone's public."
Lexa didn't stop walking, but her tone shifted. "Because once resonance is confirmed, information stops being neutral," she said. "For ordinary people, data is just a record. For someone like you, it becomes a point of reference."
She glanced at him briefly. "Names, locations, affiliations—those things create continuity. They define where you belong and how you're traced within systems. When resonance is involved, that continuity becomes unstable."
Takumi frowned. "Unstable how?"
"Because you're no longer operating on the same rules," she replied. "Your presence intersects with environments, events, and systems in ways that aren't predictable. Keeping your profile public creates interference—too many points trying to define someone who no longer fits a fixed outline."
She continued, more thoughtfully now. "The Institute restricts that information to reduce noise. Fewer variables. Fewer external influences shaping how you're identified or categorized." Her eyes stayed forward. "Inside the system, you're accounted for. Outside of it, you don't need to be."
Takumi absorbed that in silence.
"Privacy," Lexa finished, "isn't about secrecy. It's about allowing you to exist without the world constantly trying to label what you're becoming."
Takumi scratched the back of his head, trying to boil it down. "So… if I get this right," he said slowly, "once someone has resonance, they're not exactly… normal anymore."
He glanced at her. "Keeping my profile public would mean the world keeps treating me like I am normal—same rules, same labels—even though that doesn't really work anymore." He paused. "And that just causes problems."
He looked back ahead. "So, making it private isn't about hiding me. It's just… taking me out of the system that doesn't fit me anymore."
Lexa gave a small shudder of her shoulders, like she was shaking off a chill. "Yeah," she said. "That's close enough."
She glanced at him again, a hint of approval in her expression. "You don't need the technical version. If you understand that you'll be fine."
Takumi went quiet, staring ahead as his thoughts caught up with him. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer, more personal. "Hey, Lexa… let me ask you something."
He glanced at her. "If I actually enrolled in the Vanguard Institute, would I get real answers? About the Ghouls. About all the weird stuff happening in Aoshima." He hesitated, then added, "And… would I finally find out what really happened to my dad?"
He let out a slow breath. "My mom always said it was a train accident. Same kind of thing as the recent one." A faint, humorless smile tugged his lips. "But yeah… I don't think she ever told me the whole story. I'm probably right about that, aren't I?"
Lexa stopped and turned to him, crossing her arms. "Maybe," she said honestly. "But joining the Institute isn't just about digging up answers. It means field work. Real danger. Balancing that with classes, exams—your life getting flipped upside down." She studied with him. "Is that really something you want? And what about your family?"
Takumi shrugged lightly, meeting her gaze. "Want's kinda the wrong word." He slipped his hands into his pockets. "I don't see it as a choice so much as… something I should do." He paused. "I've been seeing Ghouls for years and pretending it was just bad luck or imagination. If there's a way to understand all that—and maybe get the truth about my dad—I'm in."
He gave a small, calm smile. "If my life turns into hell because of it, I'll deal with it. Feels like I've already got one foot there anyway."
"You'd definitely learn more," Lexa said. "About the chaos out there, Ghouls, and everything that falls under that umbrella. But I can't promise you'll find all the answers about your dad."
Takumi stopped and turned toward the open beach, eyes drifting across the stretch of sand and water surrounding Aoshima. "I don't really care," he said after a moment. "I'm sure there's something I'll uncover." He let out a quiet breath. "For all I know, my dad could still be alive. And if that's even remotely possible, then I'll keep looking. Years, if I must."
His tone stayed light, but there was conviction behind it. "If learning the truth means standing up to Ghouls and whatever else is lurking out there, then yeah—no hesitation. I'm in."
His hands stayed in his pockets as he smiled briefly, then the expression settled into something more serious as he turned back to face her.
Lexa's smile widened in response. She stretched her arms overhead, rolling her shoulders like she was loosening up. "Well, when you put it like that," she said, "I'd be more than happy to help." She looked at him with renewed interest. "We could probably start the enrollment process right away. You'd just need to go through a check-up so the Academy can decide whether you're fit to become a Vanguard."
Her tone carried a hint of excitement.
"And trust me," she added, "they don't take just anyone."
To be continued...