"The way to the top of the world, to bring it crashing down," I repeated my own words with a gentle smile.

"Those are some big words coming from someone who called himself a loser not too long ago," the old man said, his tone laced with amusement.

He leaned in slightly, his sharp gaze locking onto mine. "Listen, son," he said quietly, but there was an edge to his voice that made me pay attention. "Motivation? It’s a raging flame—blazing, but it burns out fast. Discipline," he continued, his tone softening, "is the ember that lasts. It may not seem as fierce, but given time, it can bring down empires." His eyes seemed to pierce right through me, weighing my resolve. "In my academy, you’ll learn what discipline truly means. It’s the difference between those who flicker and those who endure."

He straightened up, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You want to reach the top? I'll make you a god. Just follow me."

I raised my hand to my head, each movement slow and deliberate, as if the very air around me had thickened. The weight of everything—the past, the future, my own words—settled heavily on my shoulders, almost crushing. When my fingers brushed against the rough texture of the bandages, I froze. I hadn’t even noticed the old man’s handiwork, his careful stitching of my wounds. I stared at my hand, bandaged and bruised, the truth finally sinking in. This man had saved me. He had given me another chance, and with it, I owed him my life—my future. The resolve I thought I had wavered for a moment under the gravity of that realization.

I swore to myself—I would never fail him.

The old man’s eyes flicked over me, as if he could sense the shift in my resolve. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Good," he murmured, his voice softening but heavy with a promise—or perhaps a warning. "You’ll need every ounce of that determination where you’re going."

His words lingered long after they were spoken. The weight of my situation, the trust this man placed in me—it was overwhelming. "You need to leave this country," he added, his tone growing more serious. "Your enemies are closing in, and this is no joke. My academy has branches in three countries: India, Japan, and the US. It’ll be best if you head to Japan now."

Everything happened so fast that before I knew it, I was already on a plane heading towards Tokyo.The old man had covered my expenses; he knew I had nothing. But, as always, he didn’t make it easy. Just before I left, he handed me a one-way ticket and a cryptic challenge. "Find the academy and enroll yourself," he said, his eyes gleaming with that same unsettling confidence. "I’ll meet you again after you graduate."

Hours of travel blurred together—long flights, tedious immigration checks, and the constant hum of strangers speaking in unfamiliar languages. By the time I stepped out of the airport, the city’s towering skyline loomed over me, glittering with a cold, indifferent welcome. The bustling streets of Tokyo unfolded before me, alive with the energy of millions of souls yet utterly alien in every way. I stood there for a moment, absorbing the cacophony of honking cars, flashing billboards, and the endless flow of people, each with their own destination.And then there was me—I had no clue where to begin.

Standing in the middle of Tokyo, the weight of my situation hitting me like a ton of bricks.How in the world was I supposed to find it? It’s not like I could just Google "Random Old Man’s Mystery Academy" and hope for the best.

The people around me were jabbering away in Japanese—a language that might as well have been alien to me. I tried asking for directions, but my brain was so fried it felt like it had checked out and gone on vacation. I wasn’t even sure what I was saying—just stringing together sounds that vaguely resembled words. “Damn it!” I shouted, throwing my arms up in the air like a deranged inflatable tube man. “That old geezer is going to pay for this!”

My frustration echoed through the bustling streets, but with the crowd around me so thick and oblivious, I might as well have been screaming at a flock of pigeons. Which, honestly, were probably having a better day than I was.

"Excuse me! Are you from India?" A sweet but assertive voice cut through the commotion. I turned to see a girl around my age, her eyes sharp and assessing, standing in front of me.

"Y-Yeah, you too?" I replied, trying to mask my surprise with curiosity.

"Yes," she said with a knowing smile, her gaze never wavering. "You look a bit lost. Need help finding someone?"

"Actually, it's like this," I said, trying to keep my frustration in check. "I was invited here by an old geezer to attend an academy, but he didn’t give me a name or address. I don’t even know how to ask for help!" I explained my situation to her.

"Oh! That sounds familiar," she chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. There was something in her eyes—a flicker of recognition, like she knew more than she was letting on. "Are you a hacker?"

"Y-Y-Yes, how’d you—"

She interrupted with a grin that held both mischief and something else—something calculating. "Say no more. Follow me." She turned on her heel and started walking, her stride purposeful, as if she knew exactly where this was going. Every now and then, she glanced back at me, her eyes subtly appraising, as if she were assessing not just my appearance, but my worth.

"As she led me through the sea of people, I couldn't help but think back to that fateful day—the day I lost everything"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Isn’t life crazy? When I lost something close to my heart, it’s as if someone resembling it completely showed up. Long black hair, black eyes, fair skin, short stature, short-tempered, always a boss, and always caring for others—someone just like that was beheaded right in front of me. The memory flashed in my mind, clear as day. It wasn’t just a nightmare—it was real. And now, here stands someone with those exact characteristics.

"Doesn’t it drive you crazy, how fast life changes?" I began to sing in a low, almost murmured voice. The lyrics felt like they were written for this exact moment, the way they captured the fleeting, unpredictable nature of everything. It was a song from decades ago, one I’d discovered in a dark corner of the web. It was strange how something so old could still resonate so deeply, like it was speaking directly to the chaos in my life.

“Hmmm... what was that?" she peeked back, curiosity in her eyes.

"Nothing, just a song," I replied, pushing down the emotions that the melody stirred up. There were too many ghosts in that tune to deal with right now.

As we walked through the city, Tokyo greeted me with a surge of sensory overload. The city was a living, breathing entity, buzzing with a relentless energy that felt almost palpable. Skyscrapers loomed like glass giants, their facades reflecting the city's neon heartbeat. Massive LED billboards flashed with vibrant advertisements, bathing the streets below in a kaleidoscope of colors that danced on the faces of hurried pedestrians.

The air was a mix of crisp coolness and the faint scent of street food—savory and sweet, mingling with the more sterile aroma of steel and concrete. Every corner was alive with sound: the rhythmic beeping of pedestrian crossings, the hum of electric cars gliding by, and the soft chatter of people, all spoken in a language that felt foreign and musical at once.

Tokyo's streets were a labyrinth of contrasts—ancient shrines nestled amidst modern high-rises, their traditional roofs a stubborn defiance against the tide of modernity. Digital signboards streamed in every direction, feeding the city’s unending thirst for information. I found myself moving with the tide of people, each with their own rhythm, their own invisible destination, as if I had been swept into a current I couldn’t quite navigate.

There was a chill in the air that brushed against my skin, a reminder of how far from home I was. But more than the unfamiliarity, it was the sense of possibility that struck me. Tokyo wasn't just a city; it was a sprawling, untamed network of stories and secrets. Beneath the sleek surface of technology and progress, I could feel the pulsing undercurrent of something else—something raw, something that thrived in the alleyways and in the shadow of the towering spires.

As I took it all in, a part of me was overwhelmed, and another part—perhaps the one that had agreed to come here on a whim and a promise—thrilled at the unknown. This was Tokyo, a city that didn't just live—it thrived, consumed, and grew, an ever-changing machine that left no room for the unprepared.

My jaw dropped at the sheer spectacle around me, until she snapped me out of it.

'I was just as stunned when I first got here,' she said, amused.

'Yeah, yeah, whatever,' I muttered, hoping she wouldn’t hear.

She did. Of course, she did. "What did you say?" Her eyebrow shot up like she was about to call me out.

'N-Nothing!' I stammered. 'Just thanking the almighty for such a wonderful guide.'

She squinted at me, but then shrugged. 'Uh-huh. Sure.'

And just like that, I was back to being a fish out of water, trying not to look like a complete idiot as I took in this tech wonderland.

"And this is our academy," she said, pointing toward the building. It was massive, with pristine white walls, a rounded roof, and golden gates that looked like they belonged in some royal palace. A sprawling garden stretched out in front, perfectly manicured, the kind of place you'd expect to see in a brochure. But as my eyes trailed up to the top of the rounded roof, I saw the name and logo of the academy... which, to be honest, was pretty lame. Like, did they run out of creativity halfway through designing it?

"It says 'Academy of Shadows' with that pure black emblem," I noted, squinting at the roof. "You guys must be proud to study under such a lame name."

She chuckled. "The name might be lame, but the quality here? Nowhere near it," she shot back confidently. "By the way, what's your name, mystery complainer?"

I had already started walking, half-tuning her out as she spoke. I didn’t even realize when I began ignoring her, but I could still hear the frustration in her voice. It reminded me of... well, better not dwell on that now. I headed straight into the academy, searching for the reception desk to inquire about some real information.

As I walked through the dimly lit corridors, the only light trickling in was from the vents above. Seriously, did they forget to pay the electricity bills or something? The floor was covered with red carpets bordered by black lines, and the white walls mirrored the pristine exterior. The hallways twisted and turned like a maze inside the circular dome, leaving me feeling slightly disoriented.

Finally, I found the reception and asked about all my doubts, gathering details about my stay and study schedule. Turns out, I have to wake up at 4 a.m. every single day, with no restrictions on when I go to bed—like that’s supposed to be a silver lining. On the bright side, the dorms are integrated into the academy for foreign students, and they don't charge anything. I got my room key from reception—number 506. Apparently, they put two people in one room. Great, just great. Looks like I'm in for some serious pain. I sighed.

And this maze... seriously, what were they trying to build here? Damn it—lame name, lame logo, lame schedule, unpaid electricity bill, and this damn maze. How the hell am I even going to find my room?

I wandered around for what felt like a solid hour, struggling to find even a single classroom—or any students for that matter. What is this place? I must've asked myself that a hundred times by now. How am I supposed to survive here? After what seemed like endless wandering, I finally stumbled upon the student dorms. A small victory, but there it was—clearly labeled.

Each floor had 100 rooms, so my room had to be on the fourth floor, since I was still on the ground level. With no lifts in sight, I was forced to climb the stairs. After what felt like ages, I finally stood in front of room 506. You have no idea how relieved I was to find it."

"As I reached the door, it was already open—great, that meant they were already inside. Now what? How do you even greet someone when you meet them for the first time? What kind of expression should I wear? What am I supposed to say? My mind was racing, spiraling into panic. I hadn’t interacted with anyone other than those two before—how was I going to handle this?

Who was in there? And why did I feel like crossing that threshold might change everything? My mind raced with questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answers to. How do you greet someone when you’re not sure if they’re friend or foe?

I started sweating, nerves getting the best of me. 'Well, we'll see what happens,' I muttered to myself, trying to calm down. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes nearly popped out of my head from the shock."