The city hummed quietly under the mid-morning sun, but for Ren, it was alive with opportunity. Every passing pedestrian, every minor argument, every accident that left a ripple of frustration or fear in its wake was a pulse of energy waiting to be absorbed. He moved like a shadow through narrow alleys and over low rooftops, blades flicking subtly, slicing empty air, and curving around obstacles to test precision.
Today, he pushed himself further than before. Multiple blades spun in complex arcs, sometimes three, sometimes five, occasionally weaving over and under each other. He experimented with angles, spins, and trajectories, making them intersect and separate without touching unintended objects. The hum of energy in his chest grew louder with each successful attempt, a deep, steady vibration that made him feel alive.
Between experiments, he would pause and glance at his small, battered tablet, scanning news feeds for anything unusual. Something caught his eye: reports of a villain incident in the Shibuya district. Sludge-themed villain. Minor panic. Chaos at the scene, though contained quickly by the heroes.
Ren's pulse quickened. The energy from that kind of panic—fear, confusion, irritation—was a rare gift. Not enough to put himself in direct danger, of course, but enough to let him refine passive absorption techniques. He made a note to wander the outskirts of Shibuya over the coming days, timing his roaming to coincide with reported incidents.
He leaned against a lamppost, flexing his fingers slowly, letting his accumulated energy settle evenly through his body. That was when his thoughts drifted—inevitably—to Nejire.
He already knew she had passed the UA entrance exam. The news had reached him through her mother's contact with some mutual acquaintances, but Kyoto was too far. Three hundred kilometers. He couldn't have traveled to see her, and she couldn't have come to him. Yet, somehow, knowing she had succeeded filled him with a quiet satisfaction.
I knew she would get in, he thought, letting a small smile touch his lips. Still… it's nice to know she's officially at UA. She'll learn, grow, and… probably annoy everyone with her questions.
The thought made him chuckle softly. But the smile faded as another, more practical concern surfaced: he had no money. Not a single coin to his name, no account, nothing saved from the orphanage stipend, nothing to buy basic items, and certainly nothing for training supplies or potential school fees.
He paused, letting the energy hum fade into the background as he contemplated.
I need money. I need a proper way to store it, spend it, and save it… a bank account makes sense.
He considered his options. A bank account would require identification, of course, but as long as he had official documentation from the orphanage, that could be managed. He could set up a small account, transfer stipends, maybe even open a minor savings account to grow slowly.
And then, there was the question of UA High. He knew Nejire had gotten in, but he hadn't seen any details on fees. Tuition? Enrollment costs? Did UA even take fees?
He frowned, mentally reviewing everything he knew. UA was a public institution for heroes in training, primarily government-funded. Fees might be minimal, but living expenses, uniforms, supplies, and training gear were probably extra. He couldn't rely on an orphanage stipend for that kind of thing.
I need to start planning, he thought, scanning the streets again for any energy fluctuations. Money first. Then training. Everything else can follow.
His hands twitched, and he flexed them experimentally. Multiple blades spun lazily in the air, curving around each other as he tried to empty his mind and focus on calculations—how much energy he could realistically absorb from minor incidents, how much his body could store without fatigue, and now, how he could integrate small errands or jobs into his routine to earn coins.
The idea didn't excite him like energy experiments did. Money was mundane. But practical. Necessary.
He considered potential options: small delivery work, helping merchants with supplies, minor errands, maybe even tutoring other children in the orphanage. None of it would interfere with his city roaming or blade practice. It could even create subtle opportunities for negative energy absorption—stress, impatience, and frustration were natural byproducts of these tasks.
Ren scribbled notes in the margin of his small notebook:
Open bank account at local branch.
Ask Ms. Sato for necessary identification/support.
Determine UA High fees and extra costs for supplies.
Plan small jobs that don't conflict with training.
Integrate energy absorption into errands wherever possible.
Satisfied with the outline, he returned to his blades. The sun had started to dip lower, long shadows stretching across the alley. He flicked three blades in rapid succession, then five, then seven, each spinning in precise arcs, cutting imaginary targets with silent precision. His reservoir hummed, warm and steady, a reminder that while money was necessary, his true wealth lay in this—skill, energy, and control.
He paused after several minutes, letting the blades dissipate. He leaned against the wall, shoulders relaxed, and exhaled.
Nejire's at UA, far away, training, learning.
I've got the city, my energy, and my blades.
And now… I've got money to worry about.
He smirked faintly. Adult problems, in a way. Not exciting like new blade tricks, not thrilling like villain chaos, but necessary. He could handle it.
As the evening grew darker, Ren allowed himself one final thought: the combination of skills, control, energy, and practical resources like money would let him grow steadily. Not recklessly, not carelessly, but with careful planning interspersed with freedom.
And with that, he rose, sliding his blades back into his mental reservoir, and stepped out into the dimming city streets. One hand flicked lightly, cutting through the air with invisible arcs, testing distance and trajectory reflexively.
The day had been productive. The reservoir was full. Nejire had achieved her dream, and he had begun the slow work of preparing his own practical foundation.
Tomorrow, he would continue to refine blade control. Tomorrow, he would continue to observe city energy. And tomorrow… he would start thinking seriously about how to turn practical planning—like bank accounts and small jobs—into actual freedom.