"So…" a brunette drawled, voice lazy but amused. "This is the guy, huh?"
Her dark eyes peeked over the rim of circular sunglasses, tracking the figure making his way toward the headmaster and deputy headmistress. She clicked her tongue, nodding in clear approval.
"Not bad. Hard to find someone who can rock hot pink like him." Her eyes drifted downward, and a wicked grin spread across her face. "He's got a nice ass. I can see why you like him, Velvet."
"Coco!" Velvet yelped, ears twitching as her face went bright red.
"Oh, don't worry, hun," Coco laughed, placing a playful slap to Velvet's shoulder. "I'm only window shopping."
She even threw in a little wink, which only made Velvet bury her face deeper into her hands.
"Alright, stop teasing the poor girl," a deep voice rumbled. Yatsuhashi rested a hand on Velvet's other shoulder, the gesture gentle despite his size. "It's good to finally see your savior after all this time. I didn't want to believe the gossip Coco spews out. You never know what's true when she's the source."
"Hey!" Coco whipped around with an offended glare. "I take great offense to that, Yatsuhashi!"
He didn't even blink. "You'll get over it."
Fox, who had been quiet, tilted his head slightly. "Curious… Do we know who he is?"
"Not much, honestly," Coco admitted, eyes returning to Tsutsumi. "No one knows where he graduated or even where he came from." She lifted her shades just enough to watch Goodwitch repairing the shattered arena with her Semblance. "He wasn't at the opening ceremony with the newbies either. It's like he just appeared out of thin air. Even the seniors can't stop talking about him."
Yatsuhashi hummed. "Already that well known? What made him stand out?"
"For starters, he's leading the same team Pyrrha Nikos is on. That alone puts a spotlight on him," she said, flipping a curl of hair back. "Then there's the little incident with Velvet." Coco's grin sharpened. "Biggest beatdown in Beacon's first-year history. And let's not forget, he beat the Invincible Girl herself."
Her tone was casual, but her eyes clearly gleamed with respect.
"Well," Yatsuhashi muttered, arms crossing. "I've never seen anyone wield weapons like his. Unique and more destructive power than an Atlesian tank. That's impressive, and concerning."
"So… he's a real spook, huh?" Fox summarized quietly.
"Yeah," Coco said, sliding her sunglasses fully back into place. "He's the real deal. A ghost with a Semblance and style. Makes him super mysterious, don't you think?"
On the arena floor:
"Congratulations, Mister Tsutsumi," Ozpin greeted with a calm smile. "You and your team went above and beyond in today's matches. You've certainly impressed the faculty, your fellow students, and myself. It seems your team's preparations paid off."
Ozpin extended his hand.
Tsutsumi took it with a nod. "We could've done better."
Ozpin seemed pleased by that answer. "Good. That's the proper mindset to have."
Glynda Goodwitch stepped forward, tablet already displaying mission options. "With your team scoring the highest marks today, you are now eligible to select your first mission or work-study. You will, however, choose carefully, and we reserve the right to deny any selection."
"Understood," Tsutsumi answered, posture relaxed but attentive.
"We will forward you a list later this evening," Glynda continued. "Review it with your team and submit your decision when ready. We will coordinate arrangements from there."
"Yes, ma'am."
...
Inside the Team TNPR dorm room, Tsutsumi lay on his bed, staring at the cards resting in his hands.
"Hm. To think beating them up somehow counts as building a bond," he murmured dryly, sliding the two cards into his pocket.
Apparently, the combat exam had shifted things. Ruby and Weiss were beginning to respect him. Blake and Yang, however, still saw him as a brick wall to crash into rather than a teammate worth trusting. He didn't blame them. They were the ones who had to clash with him head-on.
"I should probably note down what I need to do," he muttered, grabbing his scroll and typing a short reminder. Things to handle once he returned.
Then the Aurora Curtain slowly formed before him, and it moved, swallowing him.
In another world.
Tsutsumi blinked as he found himself seated, hands resting on controls. The air smelled different. A mix of metal, coal, and steam.
He wasn't just in a train. He was operating it.
"A train driver, huh?" he murmured, mildly curious as he noticed the brakes engaged. The entire locomotive had come to a full stop.
Climbing down from the driver's seat, he stepped out into a spacious maintenance shed. Workers moved around, some shouting directions, others tightening bolts or carrying tools.
When he looked back, he caught sight of the nameplate across the front of the engine.
"Mugen…" he read aloud.
A black steam locomotive. Heavy iron. Rivets. A far cry from sleek modern rails, a JGR Class 8620.
"Interesting…" Tsutsumi raised his scroll and snapped a photo, the shutter sound oddly futuristic against the clank of metal around him.
He scanned the shed, piecing things together. Location Japan, it is unmistakable in architecture and signage. But not present-day. A few decades back, at least. When steam still ruled the rails.
Suddenly, a loud commotion shattered the quiet.
Turning toward the noise, Tsutsumi spotted a humanoid female figure, her skin a dark purple sheen, her nails and teeth sharp and black as obsidian. Two small horns jutted from her forehead. Her yukata hung in tatters, stained with blood and dirt.
She held a young train worker by the throat. Her black nails dug deep into his skin, drawing thin rivulets of red.
Tsutsumi didn't understand what was happening, but he wasn't about to stand by and watch someone die. He pulled a card out, ready to use it.
A strange vibrating sound filled the air. Purple flames ignited, spreading like wildfire across the shadows. From within the blaze, a figure stepped forward, its body engulfed head to toe in violet fire.
The flames burst outward, scattering embers that floated like dying stars. When they faded, a tall figure stood revealed: dark blue skin gleaming beneath metal plating, hands crimson as blood, and a demonic mask with two metal horns.
Tsutsumi immediately recognized the figure charging toward the demoness.
"Hibiki!?"
The demoness's eyes widened in alarm. She jerked the train worker closer, clutching him like a shield. The onlookers, already panicked, screamed at the sight of the oni. Some ran, trampling each other in their haste to escape.
Hibiki moved fast, but every strike risked the boy's life. The demoness knew it too and hid behind her hostage.
Attack Ride: Slash!
While everyone's attention was locked on the clash, Tsutsumi was already in motion. In a flash of steel, his blade cut through the air, then through the demoness's arm.
She shrieked as her severed limb hit the ground, the train worker tumbling free.
The boy stared, stunned, at his savior. "S-Sir!?"
"Run." Tsutsumi's voice was calm, his blade dripping blood that steamed in the night air. His purple eyes locked on the demoness's.
The boy hesitated only long enough to nod. "Thank you!" he cried, before bolting toward safety.
The demoness lunged after him, but Tsutsumi and Hibiki struck in unison, Tsutsumi's blade and Hibiki's drumstick smashing into her face, sending her sprawling.
Hibiki glanced sideways at Tsutsumi. The man didn't flinch, didn't show fear or disgust.
Hibiki said nothing, turning back to the fight.
Together, they pressed the attack. Hibiki struck from the front while Tsutsumi circled behind. The demoness focused on the oni, unwilling to expose her back to him.
Hibiki leapt high, his leg blazing. She raised her arm to counter.
The rider kick landed. Bone cracked, her remaining arm shattered. Hibiki was thrown back, three deep claw marks carved into his leg.
The demoness, realizing she was losing, turned to flee.
Final Attack Ride: De-De-De-Decade!
Massive cards spun into the air, forming a straight line. Tsutsumi dashed forward, his foot slamming into her back. The impact exploded in violet flame.
When the smoke cleared, she was gone, her body fading into motes of light.
The station was silent again. The workers had fled; only the bloodstains and the smell of ash remained.
Hibiki struggled to stand, his leg slowly healing. He looked up at Tsutsumi.
Then came shouting from the entrance: reinforcements.
"Damn it..." Hibiki grunted, pushing himself upright.
Tsutsumi didn't hesitate. He crouched, slung the oni's arm over his shoulder, and helped him away.
"Thanks..." Hibiki muttered, voice rough with exhaustion and surprise.
From the way the humans had reacted, Tsutsumi could tell, oni were feared just as much as the demons. No matter how many they saved, the people would never see the difference.
"Your leg's healing. Don't stay here any longer," Tsutsumi said quietly. "Go home. Rest. And… thank you for what you've done."
Hibiki froze. For a moment, he simply breathed, then turned his masked face toward Tsutsumi.
"...Thank you."
It was raw, unguarded, the kind of gratitude that felt almost new, as if no one had ever spoken it to him before. For the first time, someone saw him not as a monster but as a savior.
Something warm pulsed in Tsutsumi's pocket. He reached in and found a new set of cards glowing faintly in his hand.
When he looked up again, Hibiki was gone.
The next day, Tsutsumi continued his work as the driver of the Mugen Train.
Yet today, he noticed a few strange passengers, people who clearly didn't belong among the ordinary travelers. They are carrying a katana by their side. One man had bright orange-and-blonde hair, his eyes wide and burning with manic energy. Another was a half-naked brat wearing the head of a boar, who, for some reason, was currently headbutting the side of his train.
Tsutsumi nearly drew his gun and shot the brat.
Originally, he hadn't intended to stay in this world for long. But this was his first time actually operating a train, curious. He stayed, letting himself enjoy one normal day as a train operator before leaving.
The night was peaceful then...
"Gahhhhhhhh!"
A loud shriek ripped through the quiet from somewhere down the train.
Tsutsumi clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Which idiot screams like a little girl?"
He muttered under his breath, keeping his eyes on the track ahead. Then his vision flickered. A heavy dizziness hit him like a wave.
Sensing something was off, he pulled a card, his fingers trembling as he slotted it in. "Hen...shin…"
Kamen Ride: OOO! Ta-To-Ba! Tatoba, Ta-To-Ba!
A flash of light surged through the cabin. His uniform shifted into a different set of clothing: black and green leggings, a black-and-yellow suit, a crimson bird-shaped headpiece.
The dizziness vanished instantly.
"Tch. So much for my peaceful train driver job," he muttered, flexing his hands.
If it had been simple exhaustion, transforming wouldn't have fixed it. Which meant something was behind this.
He stepped out of the cabin. One of the train attendants lay unconscious on the wooden floor. Ahead, four passengers knelt in a trance, their eyes seemed tired, speaking to…
A severed white hand with a mouth on it.
Tsutsumi: "…"
His clothes shifted, the red of his headpiece expanding into a lion's mane, the green on his legs turning golden. His torso markings flared crimson.
Light exploded from the lion crest on his head, bright as morning sun. The passengers flinched, shielding their eyes. The hand screamed, smoke rising from its pale skin.
With a blur of movement, Tsutsumi dashed forward, his cheetah-like legs kicking up gusts of wind. He seized the hand mid-scream, fire bursting from his palm.
The severed hand writhed and screeched, its voice distorted and desperate, until it finally burned to ash.
Tsutsumi exhaled through his nose. His gaze fell on the civilians still groaning under the effect of the light. He didn't know if they were cultists or just puppets of the demon, and he didn't particularly care.
Using his speed, he yanked a nearby rope, tied them all up in one quick blur, and tossed the bundle into a corner. "Sit."
They obeyed instinctively, too dazed to protest.
The yellow gem on Tsutsumi's forehead glowed faintly. He raised his head, scanning the area, his sensors spreading outward in a ten-kilometer radius.
His eyes narrowed.
On top of the train, something was running fast.
A pale demon in a black suit sprinted along the roof, clutching his stump of a right arm. Through the lingering connection with his severed hand, he'd heard, seen, and felt it burn.
The memory of that pain sent tremors through his body.
Then he froze.
Standing ahead of him, framed by the moonlight, was the same figure who'd destroyed his hand. Gleaming red and gold clothing, eyes glowing an ominous purple glow.
The demon's steps faltered before slowly taking a step back.
"Y-you! W-Who the hell are you!?" His trembling voice rang out, filled with fear and horror.
Tsutsumi tilted his head slightly, voice calm.
"Just a passing-through Rider."