Two weeks.
That's how long Yuuki had been inside the KIBOU base, and already he understood why they called rookie training "hell."
Each day began at 5 a.m. sharp, with sirens blaring through the dorm.
Then came two hours of combat drills, followed by tactical lectures on Hollowborn behavior — movement patterns, corruption stages, core destabilization.
Then came resistance exercises, simulations against dummies laced with magnetic pulses, and for the lucky few?
One-on-one training against veterans who didn't hold back.
Yuuki had bruises in places he didn't know could bruise.
And yet… he didn't complain.
Because for the first time in what felt like a dream, he was working for something.
No past. No name before this.
But he was building a future.
And every time he fell during combat practice or got barked at by an instructor, Rei's words echoed in his head:
"Don't rely on that power. Not yet. Learn to stand on your own first."
So he trained.
With just his fists, his instincts, and sheer effort.
That evening, Yuuki sat alone on his bed in the rookie quarters.
He stared at his hand — the same one that once summoned a blade out of air.
It had remained dormant since his arrival.
Part by choice… part by fear.
"You're here to prove you're human," Rei had told him. "Using that power? It's cheating. Earn your place with effort. Or you'll never be anything more than a question mark."
Yuuki sighed and leaned back.
His muscles ached. His eyes were heavy.
Sleep began to creep in—
SLAM!
His door burst open.
"Yuukiiiiiii!" came a familiar voice.
He blinked, startled, as Yui Amamiya marched into the room, holding a tray of instant noodles in one hand and a bag of rice crackers in the other.
"You forgot to eat again! You trying to die before the Hollowborn get you?"
"I was just… resting," Yuuki muttered.
She tossed the noodles onto his lap. "Too bad. You're eating. With me. Now. Let's go."
Without waiting for his reply, she grabbed his wrist and dragged him down the hallway.
Rookie Mess Hall
The cafeteria was less a place of rest and more of a tactical neutral zone. Rookies bickered, bragged, and quietly formed alliances over cold rice and reheated curry.
As Yuuki and Yui made their way in, a sudden voice cut across the air.
"Hey. You think you can just ignore us?"
Yuuki looked over.
A small group of rookies stood near the vending machines. One of them, broad-shouldered and smirking, had just knocked over another recruit's tray. The others laughed.
Yuuki paused. But only for a second. Then turned to walk past.
He didn't want trouble.
He didn't want to stand out.
But…
"Hey, ghost boy," one of them said mockingly. "Too good to look at people now?"
Yuuki stopped.
Yui froze beside him, watching nervously.
The lead punk stepped forward, arms crossed. "You think just 'cause the White General gave you a name, you're special? We all worked to be here. You just showed up."
Yuuki said nothing.
He thought of Rei's advice.
"Don't stand out."
So he stepped back.
"…Tch," the punk scoffed. "That's what I thought."
But before he could turn, a new voice entered the scene.
"Picking on the weak again, Sugou?"
The entire group turned.
Kazuki Arata had entered the cafeteria.
His white combat jacket was slightly unzipped, sword at his side, arms relaxed. His eyes didn't glare — they pierced.
Sugou stiffened. "Wha… we were just talking."
Kazuki approached calmly.
"If you're that eager to swing your fists, how about you duel someone?"
Sugou hesitated. "What, you volunteering?"
Kazuki tilted his head toward Yuuki.
"Duel him."
The air shifted.
Yuuki's eyes widened. "Wait—"
"Don't worry," Kazuki said, gaze still locked on Sugou. "You can hit him. He'll take it."
Sugou smirked. "You're on."
Yui leaned in close to Yuuki as the crowd began to buzz.
"…How do you know Kazuki?" she whispered.
Yuuki answered slowly. "He was there. The day I woke up."
Yui's eyes widened. "That's crazy. You know he's one of the youngest rookies ever to earn a combat title? People say he's fought Hollowborn more times than some of the veterans."
Yuuki looked toward the center of the mess hall as an open ring formed — practice mats quickly thrown down as makeshift flooring.
Kazuki stepped beside him, calm as ever.
Yuuki glanced at him. "Why did you…?"
Kazuki didn't meet his gaze. He just adjusted his glove, eyes on Sugou.
Then, quietly:
"If you don't want to stand out… kill him quickly."
The Duel
Yuuki stood barefoot on the training mat.
Sugou cracked his knuckles across from him, bouncing slightly in place.
The moment the training bell rang—
Sugou charged.
Fists flew, sharp and fast. But Yuuki moved on reflex. His body knew what to do even before he did. Every punch he dodged felt natural, like second nature.
This is what I'm made for.
But he didn't counter yet. Not right away.
Then he caught a glimpse of Kazuki at the edge of the crowd.
Kazuki raised his hand slightly — two fingers.
Go.
Yuuki stepped forward.
One strike.
Then a second.
Then a knee to the ribs.
Sugou staggered back, gasping.
Yuuki didn't summon his blade.
But he didn't need to.
Every movement, every dodge, every strike was clean and efficient. Years of training buried deep inside him — or perhaps, gifted to him — guided his every breath.
Sugou tried to swing again—
Yuuki caught his wrist, pulled him forward—
And with a fluid sweep, brought him down to the mat with a loud thud.
The crowd went silent.
Sugou didn't get up.
Kazuki folded his arms.
"…Guess you didn't need to cheat after all."
Yuuki exhaled slowly.
He turned to walk away—
But in his chest, he felt it again.
That pull.
That strange warmth.
That buried memory of someone's voice…
"You're saved now..."
He didn't understand it.
But somehow, he knew…
This was just the beginning.