Long ago A giant glowing blue tree dropped in the middle of the planet creating these orbs of light we now called spirits; they lived in peace for a short time; but with the emergence of spirits, scientist became interested in studying this phenomenon and one man convinced the scientist to start experimenting on the spirits to gain power for themselves. This event would eventually start a war with the humans and spirits, but the spirits being so weak. Men started to overtake them easily but one day The tree chose 7 people with strong souls to help protect the spirits from further harm. thus started the spirit war. It lasted over 6 months. This is the story.
97 Years later....
Anjero stood at the gates of Seishin South High School, his shoulders hunched beneath the weight of his backpack and his reluctance. The autumn breeze tousled his dark hair as he squinted at the school map clutched in his hands. His expression cycled between confusion and annoyance as he traced the route to the so-called "Spirit Club."
"Huh... Seishin South High School," he muttered, his voice carrying a tone of disbelief. "It says go meet with this Hajime Aado person. The owner of this spirit club..."
He folded the map with unnecessary force, shoving it into his pocket. A deep furrow formed between his brows as he considered his situation.
"Honestly, I'm not really sure if I'm suited for this club," he said to no one in particular, kicking at a pebble on the path. "I was forced to come to this school because of this Aado guy."
"You haven't heard of Hajime Aado?" a voice called from behind him.
Anjero whirled around, startled. A boy about his age leaned against the school gate, arms crossed over his chest. There was something odd about him—a faint sulfurous scent that seemed to follow him, and the slightest shimmer of yellow light that occasionally sparked around his fingertips.
"He runs this notorious club," the boy continued, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Everyone who's been in it has become famous heroes... in a way."
Anjero's eyebrow raised skeptically. "'In a way?' Who're you?"
The boy straightened up and performed an exaggerated bow. His uniform was slightly singed at the edges, Anjero noticed, as if he'd been playing with matches.
"Oh, my bad! I'm Yokudan Baka, but call me Yuko, please." The yellow sparks around his fingers intensified momentarily as he extended his hand.
Anjero hesitated before shaking it, surprised to find it warm but not hot. "OK then, Yuko. What is this so-called club about?"
Before Yuko could answer, another voice cut through their conversation.
"I'll tell you about the Rin'nuddo Club."
A girl with fierce eyes and crimson highlights in her hair appeared from behind a nearby tree. Something about her made the air feel charged, as if a thunderstorm were approaching. Her uniform was immaculate, but her tie hung loose around her neck, and she wore fingerless gloves that seemed out of place with the school dress code.
"We specialize in handling spirit energy issues around the world," she said, voice tinged with pride. "The Spirit Guardians."
Anjero rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt. "Wow!! That sounds kinda interesting..." He paused for dramatic effect. "Not."
The girl's eyes flashed—literally flashed, with a momentary crimson glow—and her lips pressed into a thin line. Her nostrils flared slightly as she took a controlled breath. The air around her seemed to ripple with heat.
"Huh..." she said, her voice deceptively calm. She stepped closer to Anjero, close enough that he could see the flecks of amber in her crimson-tinged eyes. "Just join us on one mission and see how fun it really is."
There was something in her tone—a challenge and a threat combined—that made Anjero swallow hard.
"Fine, fine," he conceded, taking a step back. "I'll just watch, though."
The sudden crackling of the school's intercom system interrupted them. A deep, authoritative voice filled the courtyard.
"All club members, please report to the mission room."
The girl smirked. "I'm Kamira Yusei, by the way. That's our cue."
Anjero found himself swept along as Yuko and Kamira moved with practiced urgency through the school's hallways. They turned down corridors that weren't on his map, went through doors that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and finally arrived at what looked like an ordinary classroom door—except for the strange symbols etched into its frame.
As they entered what Kamira called "the spirit assignment room," Anjero's eyes widened. The room defied the laws of physics—it was far larger inside than it should have been, with high ceilings and walls lined with strange artifacts and glowing crystals. At the center stood a holographic map of the world with various points pulsing with different-colored lights.
A tall boy with a perpetual scowl leaned against one of the walls. Unlike the others, there was no subtle aura around him—instead, there seemed to be two distinct energies at war, one golden and one dark crimson, occasionally manifesting as fleeting shadows behind him.
He straightened up when they entered, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Anjero.
"Who the hell is this?" he demanded, his voice harsh.
Anjero felt a flash of irritation. "Wow, rude much?"
"Chill out, Mashù," Kamira said, placing herself between them. "This is Anjero."
Recognition dawned in Mashù's eyes, though it did nothing to soften his expression. "Oh yeah, Mr. Aado's new recruit." He looked Anjero up and down with obvious disapproval. "Who's your spirit lackey?"
Anjero shrugged, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "Honestly, I don't know."
"Oh, he's a late sprouter," Yuko offered helpfully, patting Anjero on the shoulder with unnecessary force.
Mashù's lip curled in disdain. "Why bring in someone who doesn't even have a spirit?"
The question hung in the air, giving voice to Anjero's own doubts. "Why am I even here?" he muttered, half to himself.
The door swung open again, silencing further discussion. A man entered—not particularly tall, but with a presence that filled the room. His hair was prematurely silver despite his young face, and his eyes held a depth that seemed to look through rather than at people. He wore what appeared to be a teacher's attire, but the jacket had strange metallic accents that occasionally caught the light in impossible ways.
"Well, Anjero," he said, his voice matching the one from the intercom, "you're here because you're special, like everyone else." His gaze swept the room. "Where are the rest of the members?"
Kamira shifted her weight, her crimson highlights seeming to glow brighter for a moment. "They have another club they're attending at the moment."
The man—clearly Hajime Aado—sighed, his shoulders dropping a fraction before he squared them again. "Huh...well, three should be enough for this mission." He turned toward a sleek console at the edge of the room. "S.E.I.D., mission brief, please."
A holographic display flickered to life, forming into the image of a small robotic creature that hovered at eye level.
"Yes, sir," it replied in a crisp, slightly mechanical voice. "There's been news of multiple illegal spirit energy use in Elemuth. Please apprehend suspects at once."
Hajime nodded, his expression growing serious. "You heard him. Suit up for combat." He turned to Anjero, his gaze softening slightly. "Anjero, you go with them and watch."
Anjero felt his stomach clench with a mixture of anxiety and, despite himself, a spark of excitement. "Alright, I guess."
The others moved quickly, touching their wrists where strange bracelets began to glow, transforming their school uniforms into sleek battle gear that seemed to merge with their spirit energies. Yuko's outfit gained yellow accents that occasionally sparked like gunpowder. Kamira's clothes became streaked with crimson patterns that pulsed like angry veins. Mashù's gear was the most complex, with swirling patterns of gold and deep red that never quite settled.
"Standby for the spirit portal," S.E.I.D. announced. "Destination: downtown Elemuth."
A circle of light formed beneath their feet, expanding until it enveloped the four of them. Anjero felt a strange sensation, as if he were being pulled apart molecule by molecule, then reassembled. For a terrifying moment, he existed everywhere and nowhere at once.
Then reality snapped back into focus. The sterile environment of the mission room was gone, replaced by the bustling streets of Elemuth. Neon signs in various languages—but predominantly Japanese—illuminated the evening air. The scent of street food mixed with the strange, subtle aroma of spirit energy that Anjero was just beginning to recognize.
Kamira inhaled deeply, a small smile playing at her lips. "Ah, Elemuth, the Weeb capital."
Before Anjero could respond, the contents of his stomach rebelled against the interdimensional travel. He doubled over, retching violently onto the pavement.
"Bleh!!" he gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his face burning with embarrassment.
Mashù smirked, though there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes that he quickly disguised. "No worries, lackey. You'll get used to it after a while." He glanced around, his smirk fading into a focused frown. "Alright, now where is the spirit reading?"
As if in answer to his question, a deafening explosion ripped through the street. The front of a shop—its sign reading "SPIRIT STORE" in glowing blue letters—erupted in a shower of glass and debris. The force of the blast caught Anjero unprepared, sending him flying backward several feet before he crashed painfully to the ground.
Through the ringing in his ears and the cloud of dust, he saw several shadowy figures emerge from the ruined storefront. One of them clutched a small, glowing container.
"Alright, we got the wisp!" one of the figures shouted. "Let's get out of here!"
Anjero watched, dazed, as Kamira's eyes blazed fully crimson now, her hair lifting as if in a wind that affected her alone. Yuko's hands erupted in controlled yellow sand that danced between his fingers, forming complex patterns. Mashù stood with his feet planted firmly, golden light swirling in one hand, black in the other.
For the first time, Anjero saw their spirits manifest—ethereal figures that formed behind each of them. Behind Yuko stood a figure made of what looked like living gunpowder, constantly on the edge of explosion. Behind Kamira raged a crimson and blood red warrior, its face contorted in perpetual fury. And behind Mashù, two figures warred for dominance—one radiant with luck, the other dark with vengeance.
As the three Spirit Guardians prepared to engage the thieves, Anjero realized that his dismissive attitude had been misguided. This wasn't some silly school club. This was something real—something dangerous and wondrous in equal measure.
And despite himself, he wanted to be part of it.