First person
Six days later,
The silence of my life had become deafening. After Tifa and the archangels departed, the sprawling house felt cavernous, empty of the chaotic energy that had become my norm.
I spent hours in the training centre, my fists striking the air, my mind a whirlwind of fractured memories and a singular, burning purpose: the truth. Who was I? What was the purpose of this power that felt both innate and cheating?
I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that the answers wouldn't be found in solitude.
Strength wasn't just about power levels or refined bloodlines; it was a currency in a world built on connections, alliances, and influence. I needed friends, allies, resources, and rivals.
I needed to be thrown into the crucible where the supernatural world's elite were forged. A life in the shadows, a life of conflict and growth, required a stage. Staying home would only make me a big fish in a small, lonely pond.
So, I made a choice.
I filled out an admission form for the one place every being of consequence passed through at some point: the SuperNatural Royal Academy.
It was less a college and more a gladiatorial ground for the next generation of monsters, gods, and sorcerers. And now, I was sitting in the office of its vice-president.
The room was vast, a sterile expanse of polished obsidian and chrome that seemed designed to intimidate. And it was working. The woman behind the desk was the source of that intimidation.
She was a slime ultimate class, her form a shimmering, translucent blue that caught and distorted the light.
Her outfit was a deliberate provocation: a slitted skirt that barely contained her lower body and a blouse that consisted of two narrow straps of fabric climbing from her ample breasts to a high collar. It was less clothing and more a suggestion of it.
"So, Mr. Fujiwara," she began, her voice a smooth, professional contralto that did little to mask the predatory undertone. "What brings you to our humble academy?"
I decided there was no point in playing games. "I'll skip the pleasantries, Ms. Erubetie," I said, leaning forward slightly. "I'm a Jujutsu Sorcerer. My fluctuation between Grade 2 and Grade 3. And I can use magic at the same time."
The professional mask slipped for a fraction of a second. Her liquid form stilled, and her gaze sharpened reading me. "You're not lying," she stated, her voice losing its syrupy sweetness. "A dual-affinity user. The chances of that are one in a billion. By directorial mandate, that alone entitles you to a seat."
"Good," I pressed on. "But I have other conditions. I'll also be taking supplementary courses at Jujutsu High in Tokyo, so I'll require a flexible schedule on certain days. Furthermore, I want to be placed in the Supernature Class, A-1 batch."
A faint, amused smile touched her lips. "You know the A-1 batch is a nest of vipers, Mr. Fujiwara. Every student there is backed by immense power, be it a clan, a faction, or a god. They don't take kindly to outsiders. And as for special treatment, only the director can grant that."
"I'm aware of the danger," I said, my tone flat ready for negotiations. "Can you make an appointment for me to speak with the director?"
"Of course," she said with a slight nod. "She should be here in a few minutes." As she pressed a button under her table
Her eyes, dark and knowing, held mine. A new kind of tension filled the air. "Are you interested in a relationship with me?" She asked, her voice dropping to a more intimate level which was nothing new. "I don't mind if I'm your fourth or fifth."
My eyebrow arched by her sudden change in character. "You are seducing me? The vice-president of this academy and a teacher here? Do you think that's appropriate?" I inquired, trying to make sense of the situation.
"I don't give a fuck about people, society, or what my clan or father might think," She replied, parroting the cold, detached philosophy she was building for herself. "I see what I want, and I acquire it. It's that simple."
A long silence stretched between us. She seemed to be testing my resolve, searching for any flicker of hesitation in my eyes. She found none.
"...Not at this time," I finally said, my voice a low murmur. "Perhaps later."
'Perhaps me being an anomaly is really a bigger thing than the angel fraction warned me about.' I thought.
"So you are interested. Good," She said, a small, triumphant smirk playing on her lips. She pulled out a slip of paper and slid it across the obsidian desk. "Here's my number."
I stared at the paper, then back at her, my expression unreadable. Before she could respond, the heavy door to the office swung open.
Then a woman appeared, her long, crimson coat hanging open, a slash of violent color that frames her body without ever truly concealing it. The fabric drapes just so, hinting at the narrowness of her waist and the subtle swell of her hips before falling away to reveal her legs.
She wears a simple white collared shirt and a black tie, but the effect is anything but modest. The shirt is tailored to perfection, snug against her torso, outlining the gentle, unmistakable curve of her breasts.
The crisp white fabric seems to emphasize the flawless skin beneath it, making one acutely aware of what lies just beneath that thin barrier of cloth.
Her lower half is encased in a pair of black, form-fitting pants that cling to her thighs and rear with an almost liquid grip. They leave nothing to the imagination, showcasing the firm, toned musculature of her legs and the perfect, heart-shaped swell of her buttocks with every subtle shift of her weight. The outfit is professional, severe even, yet on her, it becomes the most provocative of garments.
This was the director.
"Mr. Fujiwara," She said, her voice a deep rumble. "It is an honor to be in the presence of an [Anomaly] such as yourself." She produced her own card. "My personal contact number. Call me for anything you require. Anything at all~"
"Thank you, Ms. Makima ," I said, taking and reading the card. "I appreciate it. As you can see from the papers Ms. Ebrutie has, my unique status requires some special conditions for my admission."
"Hm," he grunted, scanning the documents. "This simplifies matters. However, as Director, I must also gain something from this arrangement. What can you offer me?"
"A contract," I proposed without missing a beat.
The director's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Interesting," she mused, stroking his chin. "You know of my powers, then? Of the nature of contracts?"
"Indeed," I confirmed. "And I've made up my mind. I will do whatever it takes to grow stronger."
A slow, genuine smile spread across the director's face. "I must say, your resolve and conviction are... heartwarming, for a supernatural boy just beginning his journey. Very well. I will personally handle the paperwork. Welcome to the academy."
As she turned to leave, I felt Makima's gaze on me.
"If you are thinking about the contract," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "we will negotiate its terms after your admission is finalized. Go home. I will send you a notification."
The dismissal was clear. I stood, gave a final nod to the director, and walked out of the office, the weight of their gazes on my back. The game had begun.