Chapter 12. (Ryota)
I stride with a steady pace towards the grand council hall, feeling my footsteps echo in the silence. The room is vast, with towering ceilings and windows that let the sunlight pass through in golden beams. The walls are covered with panels of polished dark wood that reflect the light and give the place a solemn air.
Before me, seated on their “thrones” and arranged in a circle, are the elders of the council. Their stern faces scrutinize me as I approach the center of the circle, where a shaft of light falls precisely on the small podium awaiting me.
Seen from just the right distance to not smell the camphor and decay, they might still command respect. But I have them up close, and each of these clans, with their arrogant crests and their rings that tighten arthritic fingers, do not impress me in the slightest.
I recognize some of them.
There’s Takeda, with his pronounced nose, a beak more suited to a vulture than a man. His eyes, barely open, hide the machinations of a mind that never rests in its insatiable search for faults, errors, weaknesses. He watches, always watches, and I make an effort to keep my face indifferent, even as my mind delights in imagining him tripping over his own malice.
The old woman Fujiwara leans on her cane, a symbol and illusion of frailty, a mask for a mind that remains as sharp and lethal as the blade of a newly forged sword. Her body may be bent, but her spirit soars, merciless and calculating.
And we must not forget the “charming” Saito, whose friendly face is a carefully crafted disguise to hide a heart that beats to the rhythm of the darkest conspiracies and machinations. Saito, who would sell his soul to the devil if it meant amassing one more drop of power in his hands already covered with the shadows of countless betrayals.
All the major clans are represented here. Ancient and powerful families, jealous of their privileges. Characters who in another time were great warriors and strategists, but who are now nothing more than a bunch of old men clinging to the past, determined to maintain their influence at all costs.
I feel a boiling anger towards them, a repulsion that forces me to chew my disdain placidly. I hate every wrinkle of their overly formal kimonos and their meticulously calculated gestures that mimic dignity. They are like mannequins in a grotesque display of authority, embodying everything I abhor: the false solemnity that hides a voracious appetite for control, a greed for power that is never satiated.
None of these elders truly care about the blood and soil of our people; no, their vision does not transcend the walls of this room. Their concern for the collective well-being is just a worn mask they use to conceal their power games. All of this is a political circus.
I make a “respectful” bow before standing behind the podium, ready for the interrogation.
The elderly Takeda, the nominal leader of the council, is the one who speaks. His hoarse voice resonates in the hall:
“Ryota-san,” his tone tries to be imperious, but to me it sounds like the veiled desperation of a man who knows he is close to death and oblivion, “I suppose you do not need us to remind you of the reason for this... rather unexpected meeting.”
Ah, they and their euphemisms. I run a hand through my hair, tousling it carelessly, and place my index finger on my lips, feigning innocence I do not possess, ignorance that does not exist.
“I have no idea!” I say, letting my voice take on a playful tone, a challenge to their authority as apparent as a slap in the face. “I hope you will explain it to me, you know I’m not too clever...”
Some of the elders frown at my irreverence. Takeda clears his throat in annoyance and continues speaking:
“We are referring, of course, to the unfortunate incident at the academy involving your former colleague, Kazuki Yata. We need your full report on what happened.”
I grimace. Of course, I am well aware of what he is referring to. How could I forget that encounter with Kazuki... the idiot. We grew up and trained together, we were like brothers. Or at least I thought so. How could I have been so blind? How did I not see the shadows slowly taking possession of his soul?
Kazuki was always more impulsive, more prone to question the rules. I should have guided him, kept him on the right path. Instead, I let him drift into darkness. It still hurts to think I couldn’t save him.
I sigh to ward off those dark thoughts. It’s inappropriate to show weakness before this council of vultures. Then I nod slowly, as if pondering.
“Ah, yes, the... incident with Kazuki. A rather unpleasant business, certainly...” I scratch my neck, searching for the right words. “... at least fifteen students dead, most of them first-years... and of course, none from the great clans,” I spit out bitterly. “The other teachers followed protocol and first secured the children of lineage. The rest, well... were collateral damage, I suppose.”
I clench my fists in anger. I know that the elders also know those secret protocols, dictated by themselves. They first secure the children of their clans; the rest are expendable. Cannon fodder to protect their precious offspring. I am disgusted by so much hypocrisy, pretending to be interested in what happened when deep down they care very little about the fate of those young people without surname or lineage.
Takeda nods with false condescension.
“Undoubtedly, a very unfortunate loss of young and innocent lives. But what really interests us, Ryota-san, is how Kazuki acquired so much power over the years... and above all, how he managed to escape without a trace.”
He exchanges a look with the other elders. I can feel the implicit threat in his words. They want a scapegoat, someone to blame for their own incompetence.
“Kazuki was always very skilled, even when we were young...” I begin. “Also, we all know his blessing, the manipulation of negative energy and blood. He can create curses like a toy maker creates dolls. His control over dark forces is truly amazing.”
I pause, observing each elder.
“And about his escape, what can I say?” I continue, shrugging my shoulders. “He created a nasty monster that swallowed him and burrowed underground. A truly disgusting creature if you ask me.”
“And you just let him escape,” says the elderly Fujiwara, her voice like the hiss of a snake, poisoned by distrust.
“Well, I can’t burrow underground...” I reply with a small ironic smile. “Unless you possess some hidden talent for turning into moles, I doubt any of us could have followed that creature into its subterranean burrow.”
My attempt to lighten the atmosphere falls like a dead weight, and I can feel how the silence condenses into something tangible, so thick it could be cut with a knife, so tense it seems about to burst like a clenched fist.
Old Fujiwara looks at me with narrowed eyes, then one of the elders, whose name escapes me because honestly, who could keep track of all these fossils?, speaks up in a tone that is anything but friendly:
“Perhaps we should have sent someone more capable of capturing him then? A member more loyal to our teachings.”
The barb barely grazes me, but the blatant insinuation of incompetence and disloyalty makes my blood boil. Sure, I may be somewhat unorthodox, but if these old folks had the least bit of lucidity, they would recognize that anyone else would have crumbled as fast as a house of cards at the mere shadow of Kazuki. I’m the best they have, the alpha among a bunch of useless sheep, and that’s a plain fact.
I let out a dry laugh that echoes.
“Someone more capable than me? Please. Have you forgotten who is the only First-Class Hunter in the entire academy?” I remind them with a defiant smile. “Everyone knows I’m the most powerful here. Or maybe you’re thinking of sending Taichi as a replacement. Or perhaps Yumiko? That pretty girl you like to have around so much.”
The insinuation leaves a poisonous trail in the air, I can see the anger reddening some faces and a wave of indignant murmurs runs through the room. Takeda raises his hand asking for silence.
“Control your tongue, Ryota-san,” his tone is a failed attempt to impose discipline. “This is no place for insolence.”
“Of course, my apologies,” I respond in a tone that isn’t sincere at all. “I suppose the truth hurts your sensitivities.”
Old Fujiwara turns red with rage.
“This attitude is unacceptable! How dare you...?”
“How dare I what?” I cut her off sharply. “To tell it like it is? You brought me here to give you a “full report,” didn’t you?”
The room erupts into a chaos of furious shouts. Some elders demand my immediate expulsion, others call for my head. Fujiwara screams like a harpy, so hysterical that I wonder if she’ll have a heart attack right then and there.
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“You can criticize my style all you like, but at least I had the balls to face him head-on. Would any of you have done the same?”
Takeda frowns in disgust at my vulgar language, but I don’t give a shit about his opinion.
“These attitudes only reinforce our impression that you are taking this matter lightly, Ryota. Do you not care about the lives that were lost? The damages caused to the academy?”
I shrug, feigning indifference.
“Certainly, what happened is a pity. But as I already said, it’s ironic that you’re now so interested in the loss of lives of students without lineage. Or have the protocols suddenly changed?”
I notice discomfort creeping into their expressions. They know I have them against the wall. They can’t deny that their priorities are damn distorted. They hide behind their twisted traditions and norms to justify treating some children like guinea pigs. They would easily sacrifice a dozen students from common families to protect a single student from the great clans. They’re a bunch of hypocrites.
One of the elders squirms uncomfortably in his seat. Another clears his throat and looks away. Takeda clenches his jaw, shooting me a look that has always been condescending.
I can almost taste their indignation, their helplessness. They believe themselves superior because of the surnames they bear. If it weren’t for the skills I inherited from my father, they would also treat me like trash. Like a disposable lab rat.
“Enough insolence, boy,” finally snaps another of the elders, a scrawny and stooped man. “We are not here to discuss the validity of our protocols. What did Kazuki want? You must know it, after all, you were close friends for years.”
I close my eyes and take several breaths until I feel more centered. I cannot let anger cloud my judgment.
“Well… About his motivations and intentions, I believe the attack was more a show of power than an actual assault. He just wanted to demonstrate his superiority and disrupt our balance. To sow chaos and fear.”
For a moment I think about Kazuki’s attack, but not focusing on the danger he poses, but from a more narcissistic perspective. I can’t help but feel flattered to some extent. He sent a direct message to me, challenging me. He showed the extent of the power he has reached so that I would pay attention to him, so that I would fear him. It’s as if he was shouting, “Look at me, Ryota! I can finally face you!”
I shake my head to clear those vain and conceited thoughts. This is not the time to feed my ego.
“His real target is the scroll of our old master, Yu Haeda,” I say, regaining my tone of seriousness. “No one knows what it contains, but I’m sure Kazuki knows its importance, even more than I do. After all, he was always the master’s favorite.”
Takeda twists his lips in a gesture of contempt. He never liked my master. He considered him a naïve idealist, a dangerous dreamer whose ideas could corrupt the youth and destabilize the venerable traditions that held the fragile peace of our society.
I remember when I was a young apprentice and used to eavesdrop on the heated discussions between Takeda and Master Yu. Takeda accused him of filling the young people’s heads with fantasies of equality and social justice. He reproached him for accepting students from humble families who could never aspire to anything according to the natural order of things.
Master Yu responded calmly that the day would come when a person’s origin would not determine their destiny. That all human beings deserved a chance to grow and develop their potential, regardless of the caste in which they were born. That true peace could only be achieved when every member of society felt valued and had a purpose to fulfill.
I remember Takeda’s stern look as Master Yu spoke. I saw how he clenched his fists, struggling to contain the rage that those words, so convincing yet so dangerous, provoked in him.
Yes, for Takeda, the growing influence of Master Yu among the youth was extremely worrying. So he seized every opportunity to discredit him before the council of elders. He highlighted his radical ideas, his lack of respect, his weakness for accepting low-born students who deserved nothing.
With arguments like that, he subtly undermined Master Yu’s reputation among the conservatives on the council. And when the master died suddenly, that removed the last and main obstacle to preserving the social structures in the academy, just as Takeda wanted.
Of course, he never showed open joy at his death, that would have been unseemly. But in private, he must have celebrated the end of my master’s “corrupting influence.” Drank sake in his honor, perhaps even danced around a bonfire, finally freed from the threat to everything he valued.
“Forget that nonsense about the scroll, Ryota,” Takeda says now with annoyance, bringing me back to the present. “Our concern is that Kazuki’s monster stops lurking in the shadows and comes out into the light with a much more devastating attack. Do you have any plan to try to contain or eliminate it if that happens?”
I let out a disdainful snicker.
“Of course, dear elders,” I say now in a much more relaxed tone. “Despite Kazuki’s bluster, I can affirm that I can still beat him without any problem in a one-on-one battle.”
I turn around, giving them my back, ready to leave. This meeting has lasted too long for my liking.
“Now, if that’s all...”
I hear a sharp thud and turn around again. Takeda has struck his cane against the floor.
“Before you go, we would like to ask you a more specific question. It’s about your student, Makoto Fujiwara. The one who directly confronted Kazuki.”
I tense up but try to keep my face impassive. I wasn’t expecting them to bring up that topic right now.
“Of course, Takeda-sama. What would you like to know about young Makoto?”
The elder interlaces his fingers, staring at me intently. His eyes seem to drill into mine. I feel like he’s scrutinizing my soul for any sign of doubt or deceit.
“We were struck by the fact that, according to preliminary reports, he did not flee at any time, despite the unleashed chaos. That he remained impassive in the face of violence that would have terrified anyone else. Doesn’t that seem... unusual to you?”
The other elders nod, looking at me inquisitively. I understand that it is a veiled insinuation. Makoto has caught their attention and they want to know if he represents a potential threat. If within him hides another seed of darkness like Kazuki’s.
The truth is that I myself don’t know what to think of that boy. He’s always had a vibe that makes my skin crawl. It’s not darkness, not exactly, it’s more like an absence... a void. When I look into his eyes, I see nothing. No emotion, no hint that there’s anything behind that expressionless gaze.
I’ve watched him in training and his movements are mechanical, precise, lifeless. He follows instructions to the letter, but he doesn’t show passion or enthusiasm. The other students praise him, something I don’t understand. Does no one else see him the way I do? That kid is not normal.
However, sharing that information with the elders would only give me headaches and no useful help.
“I admit that the young man’s attitude was not what one would expect,” I finally say. “Most students would have fled in terror at being exposed to such a terrifying display of power.”
I pause, gauging the effect of my words. The elders wait in silence for me to continue.
“However, I don’t think we should jump to conclusions about Makoto,” I continue. “After all, he’s just a teenager. It’s natural that at that age some believe they are invincible and immortal. We have all been young once. Besides, from what I could observe, the young man did not show pleasure or fascination with the unleashed violence. He simply stood firm in an extreme situation, something commendable for someone his age. I saw no sign of cruelty or malice in him.”
It was a half-truth, of course I saw none of that in Makoto, but I didn’t see anything else either. Literally, there was nothing in his eyes. But there’s no need to go into those details.
“I understand,” says Takeda, touching his chin thoughtfully. “Given Kazuki’s ‘abilities,’ is it likely that he did something to him that we don’t know?”
A cunning question. Kazuki took an interest in Makoto, which is why he kept him away from me during the battle. It’s possible that he tried to use his twisted “blessing” on the boy. The mere idea turns my stomach.
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out,” I reply. “If Kazuki has touched him in any way, I will definitely find out. And I’ll find a way to reverse any damage he may have caused.”
Takeda nods, apparently satisfied with my response. Then he adds:
“Perhaps it would be prudent for you to take personal charge of young Makoto’s training from now on. To keep a close eye on him and make sure there are no... anomalies.”
I smile inwardly. That’s exactly what I wanted him to suggest.
“I agree with you, Takeda-sama,” I say, bowing my head slightly. “In fact, I was thinking of proposing something similar. Young Makoto will soon be entering his third year, as you well know, and it is in that year that they are assigned a tutor in groups of three students to begin advanced practice. It would be very useful if I were assigned as the boy’s tutor. That way I could supervise him personally.”
The elders ponder in silence for a few moments. Finally, Takeda nods slowly.
“We agree to give young Makoto the benefit of the doubt, based on your judgment. And we accept your proposal to become his personal tutor for the next cycle. We trust that you will keep a close eye on him. If you detect any anomalies in his behavior, you must inform us immediately. Is that clear?”
“Of course, Takeda-sama...”
Old Fujiwara stands up suddenly, interrupting me. Her face looks wrathful.
“Just a moment. The boy is a Fujiwara and according to all reports is an exemplary student with a very promising future. It is up to the Fujiwara clan to train him in the third year of the academy, not a mere instructor without lineage like you. We will not allow you to taint the clan.”
I look her straight in the eyes.
“Fujiwara-sama. I assure you that I do not intend to besmirch anyone’s legacy. I only seek what is best for young Makoto and for this academy. If I supervise him directly, I can detect and correct any subtle deviation in his behavior before it...”
The old woman interrupts me again.
“Nonsense! I won’t allow a nobody to meddle in the affairs of the Fujiwara clan. The boy will be trained by his own relatives, not by ambitious strangers.”
I can’t help but let out a mocking chuckle. This old woman is incredibly stubborn. But I think I know how to make her change her mind.
“Allow me to remind you, Fujiwara-sama, that young Makoto comes from a secondary and distant branch of your clan. I’m not even sure his parents are directly related to you.”
I pause dramatically, looking at her with a smug little smile.
“I wonder why you suddenly show so much interest in supervising the boy’s training when before he seemed of little relevance to you. This wouldn’t have anything to do with rumors about internal conflicts regarding the succession of your clan, would it? After all, you’re not getting any younger, Fujiwara-sama. Maybe you’ve identified potential in Makoto to turn him into your puppet... I mean, your successor.”
The old woman opens her mouth to reply, but I silence her by raising a hand.
“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. I won’t say a word about your possible hidden motives, as long as you allow me to supervise the young man’s training. Otherwise, I might feel compelled to share my... theories with other influential members of your clan. I’m sure they would be very interested.”
The woman glares at me, breathing heavily. But she has no choice but to accept my veiled blackmail.
“Fine, supervise the boy if you so much wish,” she snaps. “But you better not try to manipulate him against the interests of the Fujiwaras, or you will regret it.”
I smile and make an exaggerated bow.
“Your benevolence moves me, Fujiwara-sama. You can rest assured that young Makoto will receive the best instruction possible. Of course, I will be delighted to work closely with the Fujiwara clan during young Makoto’s training. You can send any supervisor you wish to ensure that traditions are respected. We will all benefit, don’t you think?”
The old woman grumbles something unintelligible and sits down. The other members of the council have watched our exchange in silence.
“It is decided then,” Takeda pronounces. “Ryota will personally supervise young Makoto Fujiwara during his third year. And the Fujiwara clan may send a supervisor of their choice to ensure that the proper protocols are followed.”
I smile inwardly as everyone nods. I’ve managed to get my way. Now I can watch Makoto closely and discover the secrets hidden in that empty gaze.
“Well, since everything is clear, I’ll take my leave. I’ll promptly inform you of anything else I know about Kazuki. Have an excellent evening, dear elders!”