"So," Mina said, sitting cross-legged on my Academy dorm bed while I stared at the ceiling, "you're really going to join a guild where the captain conscripts people and the members cry about their life choices."
"When you put it like that, it sounds even worse," I replied, still processing the day's events. The memory of Hazama's casual declaration and Jane's tear-streaked face felt like something from a fever dream.
"Maybe that's a sign you should reconsider?"
I sat up, looking at my little sister who'd watched me struggle for years to become something more than a village failure. "Mina, three days ago I thought my biggest achievement would be not embarrassing myself during Academy trials. Now I'm apparently part of an organization that other guild leaders treat with either fear or confusion."
"Those aren't necessarily good things."
"But they're interesting things," I said, grinning despite myself. "Besides, someone with power like Captain Hazama's doesn't waste time on people unless there's a reason. Even if that reason is just needing warm bodies for his understaffed guild."
Mina shook her head with the long-suffering expression of someone who'd spent years watching her brother make questionable decisions. "Promise me you won't let them turn you into Jane."
"I promise I won't spend my twenties crying about workload and trying to quit," I said solemnly. "Though I make no guarantees about the crying part if things get really bad."
A knock interrupted our conversation. Kenji, Rina, Daichi, and Satoru crowded into the doorway, their expressions carrying the weight of everything that had changed in a single afternoon.
"Emergency friend meeting," Kenji announced. "We need to properly process what just happened before we all scatter to different guilds."
"Plus, Rina bought way too much food from the market," Satoru added, hefting a bag that definitely contained enough provisions for a small army.
"I miscalculated portion sizes," Rina admitted with embarrassment. "Apparently my strategic thinking doesn't extend to snack procurement."
As my friends settled into the small dorm room, I felt the weight of impending separation settling over us. In a few days, we'd be starting completely different lives with different guilds, different responsibilities, different futures.
"So," Daichi said once we'd distributed Rina's excessive food purchases, "how are we all feeling about the fact that our Academy graduation turned into a political incident involving forbidden techniques and reality-warping standoffs?"
"Terrified," Rina said immediately. "I mean, I knew guild leaders were powerful, but what we witnessed today was beyond anything I imagined possible."
"It puts everything in perspective," Satoru agreed thoughtfully. "All our Academy training, all our preparation—we're still just beginners compared to what's actually out there."
"Which makes it even more incredible that we're being trusted with guild membership," Kenji added. "Crimson Fang expects me to eventually handle missions that might involve that level of power."
"Or require that level of power to resolve," I said, thinking about flame techniques that had tried to kill my classmate and mysteries involving betrayal I couldn't understand.
"Are you worried?" Mina asked, studying our group with the perceptive attention she'd always brought to problems she couldn't directly solve.
"Yes," we all said simultaneously, then looked at each other and started laughing.
"But that's good, right?" I continued once we'd caught our breath. "Being worried means we understand how serious this is. We're not walking into guild life thinking we know everything."
"Speak for yourself," Rina said with mock offense. "I've been worried about everything since I learned to read. This is just another Tuesday for me."
"You've been worried about guild leaders reshaping reality since you learned to read?" Daichi asked skeptically.
"I've been worried about forces beyond my control determining my future since I learned to read," she corrected. "The reality-warping part is just a new variable in an already concerning equation."
"That's... actually a very mature perspective," Satoru observed.
"Thank you. I've had years of practice being anxious about hypothetical scenarios."
As the conversation continued, I found myself studying my friends' faces and trying to memorize this moment. Tomorrow we'd start preparing for guild life in earnest. In a few days, we'd be scattered across Shinrin Region, handling missions and responsibilities we could barely imagine.
But tonight, we were still Academy graduates sharing snacks and processing shared trauma.
"We should go to Mori Central tomorrow," Kenji suggested suddenly. "One last group outing before everything changes."
"That sounds perfect," I agreed. "Mina's been wanting to see what a real city looks like, and we could all use supplies before reporting to our guilds."
"Plus," Rina added with the kind of strategic thinking that had earned her Silver Moon's attention, "it'll give us a chance to hear current news and regional updates. Guild members probably need to stay informed about larger events."
The next morning found us walking the hour-long path to Mori Central under a sky that promised good weather and new adventures. The capital city of Shinrin Region sprawled before us like something from Mina's storybooks—buildings that rose higher than our village's tallest trees, streets that buzzed with more activity than our settlement saw during harvest festivals.
"It's incredible," Mina breathed, wide-eyed as we navigated crowded thoroughfares lined with shops displaying goods from across the region. "How do people keep track of where they're going?"
"Practice and very good maps," Rina replied, already consulting a detailed city guide she'd acquired from somewhere. "The district organization follows logical patterns once you understand the underlying systems."
"Or you just follow the crowds until you find something interesting," I suggested, which earned me a disapproving look from our designated navigator.
"That's how people get lost and end up in dangerous neighborhoods," she informed me with the patience of someone explaining basic safety to a child.
"This entire region is supposedly safe," Satoru pointed out. "Guild protection ensures that even the capital maintains security standards."
"Recent reports suggest that security standards are being tested," came a voice from nearby.
We turned to see a merchant arranging travel packs outside his shop, his weathered face carrying the kind of wariness that spoke of long experience with dangerous roads.
"Excuse me?" Kenji asked politely.
"Akuma activity," the merchant explained, securing straps with practiced efficiency. "Increased frequency, better coordination, intelligence levels that shouldn't be possible. Trade routes that were safe for decades are requiring escort missions now."
My stomach clenched. "How bad is it getting?"
"Bad enough that village councils are dusting off evacuation protocols they haven't needed in generations," he replied grimly. "Used to be corruption was predictable—mindless hunger, random attacks, isolated incidents. Now they're working together, planning ambushes, targeting specific vulnerabilities."
"Are the guilds handling the increased threat?" Rina asked, though her expression suggested she was already calculating resource allocation problems.
"Spread thin," the merchant admitted. "Six guilds protecting an entire region was adequate when threats were manageable. But when intelligent corruption starts requiring specialized responses..." He shrugged expressively.
Intelligent corruption. The phrase brought back memories of an Akuma that had spoken clearly, chosen targets deliberately, and called me something I still didn't understand.
"Any word from the forest territories?" I asked casually. "Smaller villages near the Academy region?"
"Some reports of unusual activity, but nothing specific." The merchant's eyes sharpened as he studied my face. "You got people back home you're worried about?"
"Village librarian and elder who helped me prepare for Academy trials," I said honestly. "They're good people. I'd hate for something to happen while I'm learning guild procedures."
"Guild training usually includes communication protocols," Daichi offered reassuringly. "You'll probably be able to send messages once you're officially assigned."
"Assuming Broken Chain has communication protocols," Kenji added with gentle humor. "From what you described, they might communicate through interpretive dance or hope."
"Jane probably handles communications along with everything else," I said, thinking of the overworked guild member's desperate expression. "Poor guy seems to be a one-man administrative department."
"Speaking of which," Rina interrupted, "we should focus on enjoying today instead of worrying about problems we can't currently solve. Guild life will provide plenty of opportunities for professional anxiety."
She was right, of course. But as we continued exploring Mori Central's bustling streets, I couldn't shake the growing awareness that the world was becoming more dangerous while we were still figuring out how to be useful.
The morning passed in a blur of market stalls, supply shopping, and steadily growing crowds. Kenji found a weapons maintenance kit that met his exacting standards. Daichi selected outdoor gear with the methodical precision of someone who'd grown up in environments that punished poor equipment choices. Satoru discovered books on advanced tactical theory that he studied with obvious fascination.
I mostly just followed along, absorbing the energy of a city that felt fully alive in ways our quiet village never could.
"Let's get lunch," Rina suggested as the afternoon sun reached its peak. "I saw a restaurant that advertised regional specialties and reasonable prices."
The place was packed with travelers, merchants, off-duty Academy staff, and what looked like guild members in civilian clothes. We managed to secure a table near the window and ordered enough food to satisfy six people who'd spent the morning walking and exploring.
"This is perfect," Daichi said as our meal arrived. "First time I've felt properly relaxed since arriving at the Academy."
"Enjoy it while it lasts," advised someone at the next table. "Guild life doesn't leave much time for leisurely dining."
The speaker was a woman in travel-worn clothes whose bearing suggested professional familiarity with dangerous situations. When she noticed our attention, she offered a rueful smile.
"Guild member?" Kenji asked respectfully.
"Former. Azure Blade, about five years active duty before I transitioned to independent contracting." She gestured toward her well-maintained but practical equipment. "Better hours, similar pay, less bureaucracy."
"What made you leave?" Satoru asked with genuine curiosity.
"Burnout," she replied honestly. "Akuma incidents tripled during my last year, and we were running constant missions without adequate recovery time. Good work, important work, but not sustainable long-term."
"Is that common?" Rina asked, though her strategic mind was obviously already calculating retention rates and resource management issues.
"More common than guild leadership likes to admit," the former guild member said. "Especially among newer recruits who haven't learned how to pace themselves. The work is meaningful, but it can consume your entire life if you're not careful."
As she returned to her meal, I found myself thinking about Jane's tear-streaked face and desperate attempts to quit Broken Chain. Maybe his situation wasn't as unusual as I'd assumed.
"Something to keep in mind," Mina said quietly, apparently following similar thoughts. "Don't let them work you to death before you've had a chance to accomplish anything meaningful."
"I'll try to maintain some semblance of work-life balance," I promised, though given Broken Chain's apparent staffing crisis, I wasn't sure how realistic that would be.
Our conversation was interrupted by commotion from the street outside. Through the restaurant window, I could see someone moving at incredible speed toward a shop across the way, arms loaded with packages and an expression of pure panic.
"That person's going way too fast for crowded streets," Rina observed with the disapproval of someone who valued proper safety protocols.
"They're going to—" Satoru started.
The runner hit the shop's entrance at exactly the moment I stepped outside after paying for my share of lunch.
The collision was legendary.
Not just a simple bump or stumble, but a full-speed impact that sent both of us flying in opposite directions with packages, purchases, and dignity scattered across the street like battlefield debris. I landed flat on my back, staring up at clouds that seemed to be spinning slightly, while someone nearby made sounds that suggested similar disorientation.
"What the absolute hell was that?!"
The voice was definitely female, approximately my age, and carrying the kind of outrage that came from having very important plans suddenly derailed by unexpected obstacles.
"That was you running into me at terminal velocity!" I protested, sitting up and immediately regretting the movement as the world tilted alarmingly. "Who sprints full-speed through crowded shopping districts?!"
"Someone with a deadline, you idiot!" The girl scrambled to her feet with impressive agility, revealing brown hair tied in a practical ponytail, clothes that suggested Academy training, and an expression of pure fury. "And you were standing there like a statue!"
"I was walking at normal human speed! You're the maniac who turned a shopping district into a racetrack!"
"Normal speed for a turtle maybe!" she shot back, frantically gathering scattered packages while glaring at me like I'd personally ruined her life. "Do you have any idea what you've just cost me?!"
"What I've cost YOU?!" I scrambled to my feet, getting more annoyed by the second. "You're the one who decided to use innocent pedestrians as bowling pins!"
"I wouldn't have hit you if you weren't blocking the entire walkway!"
"I wasn't blocking anything! You have the spatial awareness of a drunk ox!"
"DRUNK OX?!"
We were now standing toe-to-toe, both red-faced and shouting, when a small but authoritative voice cut through our argument.
"ENOUGH!"
Mina appeared between us like a tiny referee, her hands on her hips and wearing the expression she used when dealing with particularly stubborn village children.
"Both of you are being ridiculous," she declared with seven-year-old wisdom. "You," she pointed at the girl, "were running too fast for a crowded area. And you," she pointed at me, "are getting way too worked up about an accident."
The girl blinked, apparently surprised by the intervention. Then her expression shifted to something that might have been amusement as she looked between Mina and me.
"Wait," she said with a smirk that made me immediately suspicious. "This little girl is related to you?"
"She's my sister," I said warily.
"Your sister?" Yui's smirk widened into a grin that definitely spelled trouble. "Looks like your little sister has more sense than you do. At least one person in your family can think clearly."
My face went bright red. "Hey! Don't drag Mina into this!"
"I'm not dragging her into anything. I'm just observing that she seems way more mature than her big brother." Yui crouched down to Mina's eye level. "You must be very patient, dealing with someone this dense all the time."
"He's usually not this bad," Mina replied diplomatically, though I caught her trying to hide a smile. "He just gets emotional when people insult his walking technique."
"MINA!"
"It's true though," Yui continued, now clearly enjoying herself. "I've never seen someone get so offended about being called a human roadblock."
"I wasn't a roadblock! You have terrible spatial judgment!"
"Says the person who thinks standing still in a busy street is perfectly normal behavior."
We might have continued arguing indefinitely, but Rina chose that moment to appear with the rest of my friends trailing behind her.
"Kaito," she said with the patient tone of someone dealing with a child, "are you having a public argument with a stranger?"
"She started it!" I protested, which immediately made me sound like I was five years old.
"I started it?" Yui repeated incredulously. "You were the obstacle!"
"You were the projectile!"
"Both of you stop," Rina said firmly, then turned to Yui with genuine concern. "Are you hurt? That looked like a pretty serious collision."
Yui's combative expression immediately softened. "I'm fine, thank you. Just... frustrated about missing an important appointment."
"Because someone was blocking traffic," I muttered.
"Because someone decided to cosplay as a street barrier," she shot back.
"Would you like to join us for a while?" Rina offered, ignoring our continued bickering. "You mentioned an important meeting, but if you've already missed it, maybe you could use some friendly conversation?"
Yui hesitated, glancing at her timepiece. "I... the meeting was supposed to be my last chance at guild recruitment. Missing it probably just confirmed what everyone's been saying about me."
"What has everyone been saying?" Kenji asked gently.
"That I'm not qualified for guild work," Yui replied with bitter honesty. "That I should give up on dangerous careers and find something more... suitable."
The way she said 'suitable' carried enough frustration to power a small city.
"That's ridiculous," Satoru said bluntly. "Anyone with Academy training has demonstrated basic qualification for guild consideration."
"Try telling that to the people who matter," Yui muttered.
"Why don't you sit with us?" Rina suggested kindly. "We were just finishing lunch, and it sounds like you could use a break from whatever pressure you're dealing with."
Yui looked around our group—five Academy graduates and one very perceptive seven-year-old—and seemed to make a decision.
"Alright," she said. "But if he," she pointed at me, "starts complaining about my collision technique again, I'm leaving."
"If she starts blaming me for her inability to navigate basic pedestrian areas, I'm not responsible for my reactions," I replied.
"You're both terrible," Mina announced cheerfully. "Now can we please go inside before you start another fight?"
As we settled around a larger table in the restaurant, I couldn't help but notice that Yui was much more pleasant to everyone except me. She talked easily with my friends, complimented Mina's maturity, and generally seemed like a perfectly reasonable person.
When she was looking in my direction, however, her expression suggested I was something unpleasant she'd found stuck to her shoe.
"So what's your specialization?" Rina asked as our expanded group shared drinks and leftover food.
"Lightning affinity with tactical applications," Yui replied, then her expression darkened. "Though certain people seem to think that's not enough."
"Certain people?" Daichi asked curiously.
Yui was quiet for a long moment, apparently deciding how much to share with virtual strangers.
"My sister," she said finally. "She's... established in guild work. Very established. And she's convinced that I'm not cut out for the same career path."
"What kind of established?" Satoru asked.
"High-ranking," Yui replied carefully. "High enough that when she expresses concerns about my suitability for guild work, other people listen."
"That sounds like a complicated family situation," Rina observed sympathetically.
"It's more than complicated," Yui said, her voice carrying years of built-up frustration. "She's convinced I'm too weak, too reckless, too everything to handle guild missions safely. And because of her position, every time I get close to recruitment, somehow there are always concerns about my readiness."
"What's her position exactly?" Kenji asked gently.
Yui hesitated, looking around the table at faces that were offering genuine sympathy rather than judgment.
"She's the Vice Captain of Iron Crown Guild," she said quietly.
The silence that followed was deafening.