Author's Note: Two teams clash in this chapter. But only ONE team is actually trying to win the fight. The other has a completely different goal. Figure out which is which before the reveal.
POV: Ayumi Sakamoto
Word Count: ~1,950
The 6 AM meeting happened in a Family Mart three blocks from school.
Not the rooftop—too exposed after last night. Not anyone's home—too many questions from family. A convenience store at dawn where the only other customer was a salaryman buying coffee and regret, where the tired clerk didn't care about four teenagers huddled in the corner booth looking like they'd collectively seen a ghost.
Ayumi wrapped her hands around a hot chocolate she wasn't drinking, letting the warmth seep into fingers that hadn't stopped trembling since the stranger's energy disruption had forced her transformation to collapse.
Three seconds. She'd lasted three seconds against a real opponent.
All those hours of training, all that progress holding transformations for two minutes, all that careful practice—worthless the moment actual violence arrived.
"Stop spiraling," Takeshi said quietly, not looking at her but somehow knowing anyway. "I can feel you overthinking from here."
"I'm not—"
"You are." He took a sip of his own coffee, winced like it was too hot. "We all got demolished. It's not a you problem. It's an us problem."
"He went through us like we were nothing," Akira said from his spot by the window, watching the street with that perpetual wariness. "Energy disruption, combat experience, tactical awareness. He knew exactly how to counter each of us."
"Which means he'd been watching," Kaito said. The substance manipulator looked worse than any of them—dark circles under his eyes, hands still showing faint tremors. "Studying our patterns. Learning our limitations. We were intelligence-gathering for him."
"So what do we do?" Ayumi asked. "We can't just hide for thirty-two days hoping nobody else comes hunting."
"No," Takeshi agreed. "We do what he said. We claim territory." He pulled out his phone, opened a map application. "There are three essence-rich zones in our area. Places where manifestations come easier, where training is more effective. Right now, they're neutral ground. Multiple teams use them on rotation."
He zoomed in on one location. "The old shrine. Abandoned, isolated, perfect for training. If we claim it—make it clear that's our space—we establish presence. Show we're not easy targets."
"And when other teams challenge that claim?" Kaito asked.
"Then we fight." Takeshi's voice was calm but his eyes were hard. "Not to kill. Not even to seriously injure. But to prove we can defend what's ours. Territory isn't about space—it's about respect. We need other teams to see us as dangerous, not as easy practice."
Ayumi's stomach tightened. "I can't fight like he did. I got knocked down in three seconds. What use am I in a territorial dispute?"
"You copied a fighter's build," Takeshi said. "Wrong application, but right instinct. You don't need to be a natural combatant. You need to become one." He looked at her directly. "Who's the best fighter you've ever seen? In person, I mean. Someone you could copy."
Ayumi thought about it. "There's a girl in my year who does MMA. Competitive level. I've watched her matches. She's brutal."
"Can you copy her?"
"I've never tried copying someone I'm not actively looking at."
"Then we train that. Today. Right now." Takeshi stood. "We have two hours before school. Let's see if you can transform from memory instead of direct observation."
They ended up in the park—early enough that only joggers and elderly people doing tai chi occupied the space, distant enough that the essentials could practice without drawing attention.
Ayumi closed her eyes and tried to remember the MMA fighter. Tanaka Rei. Third-year. Muscular but lean, all practical strength with no aesthetic bulk. Moved like violence was a language she spoke fluently.
The golden glow spread across Ayumi's skin.
She focused on the memory—Rei's stance, the way she held her weight, the confidence that came from knowing exactly how her body worked. Features blurred, reformed, and when Ayumi opened her eyes her hands were broader, more calloused.
Takeshi circled her slowly. "Good. You got the build. Now move. Show me how she fights."
Ayumi tried to remember Rei's matches. Threw a punch—
"Stop." Takeshi's voice was sharp. "That's you throwing a punch in Rei's body. It's wrong. You're thinking about the mechanics instead of embodying them. Try again, but this time don't think. Just move the way she would move."
Easier said than done.
Ayumi tried again. The punch felt slightly better, more natural, but still wrong in ways she couldn't articulate.
"Your problem," Akira observed from where he sat cross-legged on a bench, "is that you're trying to copy fighting skill. But skill is muscle memory. Neural pathways. You can't copy those, only appearance."
"So it's useless?" Ayumi let the transformation drop, frustration making the golden glow flicker.
"Not useless. Limited." Akira stood, moving into the practice space. "You can't copy their skill, but you can copy their physical advantages. Reach, strength, speed. The body itself gives you tools. You just need to learn how to use them."
He demonstrated by throwing a punch in slow motion, breaking down the mechanics. "Rei's body has more muscle mass than yours. That means more power generation. But power without technique is just flailing. You need to train basic combat while wearing her face. Build your own muscle memory in her body."
It made sense in a way that made Ayumi's head hurt.
"So I need to learn to fight," she said.
"We all do," Takeshi said. "Real combat, not just ability spam. Because the moment someone gets inside your power's range, you need to know how to throw a punch that actually lands."
They spent the next ninety minutes on basics. Ayumi transformed into Rei and practiced strikes under Takeshi's guidance. Kaito created solid training dummies for them to hit. Akira demonstrated how to use phasing defensively in close combat—going intangible for a fraction of a second to avoid hits, then resolid to counter.
By the time they had to leave for school, Ayumi's transformation lasted three minutes and she could throw a proper jab without looking like a complete amateur.
Progress. Painful, exhausting progress.
School was surreal.
Ayumi sat through morning classes trying to pay attention to calculus and modern literature while her mind replayed getting knocked down in three seconds. Around her, normal students stressed about normal things—upcoming tests, club activities, who was dating whom.
None of them knew.
None of them felt the faint essence signatures that Ayumi was learning to sense. Three other essentials in this building, she thought. Maybe four. Close enough to feel but too far to identify.
Were they on teams? Were they hunting? Were they looking at her the same way she was suddenly looking at everyone—calculating threat levels, wondering who would survive the trials?
At lunch, she found Kaito on the roof. Not their training roof—the normal school roof where students were technically allowed during lunch, where a dozen other people sat in groups eating and talking.
Kaito was alone, staring at his hands. The mist wisped faintly before he dismissed it.
"You okay?" Ayumi asked, sitting down beside him without invitation.
"Fine."
"Liar." She opened her bento—perfectly organized as always, each item in its designated space. Comfortable routine in an increasingly chaotic world. "You look like you haven't slept."
"I haven't." Kaito's voice was flat. "Every time I close my eyes, I see red lightning punching through my barrier like it's made of air. I keep running the numbers, trying to figure out what I could have done differently."
"We all got destroyed. Takeshi said—"
"Takeshi's trying to keep morale up." Kaito finally looked at her. "But the truth is we're not ready. That stranger was right. We're training, but we're not dangerous. And dangerous is the only thing that matters when trials start."
Ayumi wanted to argue. Wanted to say they'd get stronger, they had time, they'd figure it out.
But she'd been the one knocked down first. Transformation copying a fighter's build without fighter's skill. Clever idea, terrible execution.
"So we get dangerous," she said instead. "We train harder. We claim the shrine tonight and prove we can defend it."
"And if someone like Red Lightning shows up to challenge that claim?"
"Then we fight better than we did last night." Ayumi surprised herself with the conviction in her voice. "Or we lose and learn from it. But we don't just hide for thirty-two days hoping to survive by staying invisible."
Kaito studied her for a long moment. "You've changed. Three weeks ago you didn't even want to join the team. Now you're talking about fighting for territory."
"Three weeks ago I thought I could keep living a normal life." Ayumi looked at her hands, imagining the golden glow beneath the surface. "Then I turned rice into my own face and reality got weird. Now I'm choosing between being a victim or being dangerous. I'd rather be dangerous."
"Even if it means fighting? Possibly hurting people?"
"The trials are going to force us to fight anyway. Might as well practice now when the stakes are lower." She paused. "And honestly? After getting knocked down in three seconds, I want to know I can fight back. That I'm not just dead weight on the team."
Kaito's expression softened slightly. "You're not dead weight. Your transformation saved me during training yesterday when you copied Takeshi's reversal timing. Bought me three seconds to reposition."
"Three seconds isn't much."
"Three seconds is the difference between getting hit and not getting hit. Between blocking and taking a punch to the face. Three seconds matters in real combat."
The lunch bell rang—ten minutes until fifth period.
They packed up in comfortable silence, and Ayumi realized she'd just had the most normal conversation she'd had with Kaito Endo since he'd humiliated her with his stupid air pressure device.
Progress. Weird, uncomfortable progress.
But progress.
The shrine was exactly as Takeshi had described—old Shinto structure reclaimed by nature, hidden behind overgrown trees, far enough from the main road that normal people never stumbled across it. The perfect place for essentials to train without witnesses.
When Creativity Club arrived at 7 PM, it was already occupied.
Not by Red Lightning.
By Hayato's team.
The sword-obsessed loudmouth was in the center of the courtyard, blade wreathed in flames, practicing techniques that looked more theatrical than practical. His teammates—the Bruce Lee wannabe Daichi and the barrier girl Shiori—worked on coordination drills nearby.
Hayato noticed them immediately.
"CREATIVITY CLUB!" he bellowed, loud enough to wake whatever kami still haunted this place. "Have you come to witness TRUE SWORDSMANSHIP?"
"We're here to claim this space," Takeshi said, cutting off what was probably a five-minute dramatic speech. "As of tonight, this shrine is our training ground. You're welcome to leave peacefully."
The courtyard went silent.
Hayato's grin was absolutely feral. "Claim? CLAIM? My friend, this shrine belongs to whoever is STRONG enough to hold it!" He spun his flaming sword, leaving afterimages. "Care to test your strength against mine?"
Ayumi felt her hands start to glow.
Time to see if she'd learned anything.
Time to prove she was more than someone who got knocked down in three seconds.
Time to fight.
[To be continued in Chapter 10...]
Author's closing note: Hayato's challenge seems straightforward. But look at his teammates' reactions. Daichi isn't preparing to fight. Shiori is watching Creativity Club with analytical focus, not hostile intent. What's really happening here?
Who wins: Creativity Club or Sword Team? And more importantly—what's being won that isn't the shrine? Drop predictions 👇
If this hooked you, add to library! The real fights are just starting 🔥