Ren had discovered a new rhythm to his afternoons. The city, with its subtle chaos, had become his quiet laboratory. But now, he wasn't just experimenting alone—Nejire had started to join him.
It had started casually. Observing. Asking questions. But now, she wanted to train too.
"You've gotten really good at controlling those blades," she said one afternoon, leaning over the railing of a low rooftop. "But what if… you tried more than one at a time?"
Ren glanced at her, tilting his head. "Multiple? Like… two, three?"
"Why stop there?" Nejire asked, bright-eyed. "I mean, you've already got the hang of distance and curves. I want to see if you can handle complexity."
Ren smirked faintly. "Complexity, huh? Alright. Let's try."
He focused, letting the energy in his reservoir flow outward. First one blade, then two, then three, each moving in arcs around crates, lampposts, and trash bins. It was messy at first. Blades overlapped, dissipated, struck wrong angles. But he adjusted with subtle flicks of his wrist, imagining trajectories in his mind like invisible strings guiding them.
"Look," he muttered, nodding to himself, "arcs need to be slightly steeper to avoid collisions… small angles on the flips…"
He experimented for hours, throwing blades in spirals, curves, and subtle overlapping patterns. By the end of the day, he could control three simultaneously, arcs spinning like delicate threads, slicing small objects without error.
Nejire watched, leaning over the railing with fascination. "It's… incredible! You actually calculate the angles without even thinking about it."
Ren shrugged. "Practice. Observation. Instinct. And a lot of trial and error."
She grinned. "I like that. You're… patient. Methodical. I… wish I could think like that."
"You can," Ren said quietly. "You just don't realize it yet."
For the next few weeks, they trained together regularly. Nejire, with her curiosity and blunt questions, challenged him in unexpected ways. She didn't just watch; she asked him to explain the why behind each motion, each flick, each subtle adjustment. They discussed energy flow, control, and potential applications, comparing their abilities.
"What's your Quirk exactly?" Nejire asked one day, eyes bright with curiosity.
"I… absorb energy from emotions," Ren said, careful not to give away the darker specifics. "Then I can use it to… manipulate blades, enhance my body, that sort of thing."
Her head tilted. "Wow… that's… really versatile. Do you… like, choose whose energy to use?"
"Not really," he said. "It accumulates naturally. I've learned to direct it safely, control it… but it's still limited."
Nejire nodded thoughtfully. "That's… smart. You're not reckless. You could… easily hurt someone if you wanted."
"Exactly," Ren replied. "So I don't."
Then it was her turn. "My Quirk… I can generate waves of energy that push or pull. I can fly with them if I use enough. But it drains me fast. I'm… still learning."
They trained side by side, testing blades against her controlled energy waves. The contrast fascinated both of them: her explosive, broad-range power versus his precise, directed control.
By the end of the school year, Ren had refined multiple blade control to the point where he could orchestrate arcs and spins almost seamlessly. Nejire, too, had improved her control and endurance, becoming more confident in her Quirk.
One evening, as they walked back from the city, she nudged him playfully. "You know… UA High is next. Are you thinking about it?"
Ren's expression didn't change. "Eventually. I'll have to. Why?"
"You'll see," she said, grinning. "I'm taking the test soon. Can't wait to see if I can get in."
Ren didn't argue. Kyoto was far from UA, nearly three hundred kilometers away. He wouldn't be able to see her go or observe anything. But he trusted that she'd do her best.
"You'll do fine," he said quietly. "Just… focus, and don't overthink it."
She smiled, her excitement barely contained. "I will! And when I get in… we'll train even harder!"
Ren felt a small smile tug at his lips. Middle school had been strange and chaotic, but it had given him something more than practice: someone who understood curiosity, someone he could share his experiments with, even across the distance of cities.
He flexed his fingers subtly, testing the hum of energy at his fingertips. The blades were ready. The reservoir was ready.
And somewhere deep inside, Ren quietly calculated the coming months: his training, his growth, the lessons to come, and the ways he would use this energy once he had mastered it fully.
The future was still far away, but it was coming.