PART ONE, CHAPTER SIXTEEN: "GRIND"

-THE GOLDEN BOY & THE INNER CITY-

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  The moon, smashed to bits with only a ring of rubble to show for its trouble, peered out from behind the afternoon clouds. Its massive form hung high in the sky, as it was wont to do on relatively clear days. The air had started to cool, no doubt Niflheim's return to form. And yet, none of it mattered.

  I don't know how long I lingered on the roof, but eventually the bells began to ring. Perhaps An hour after the fourth, I came to the realization that it had been the last bell. Classes had finished. All throughout, I had given in to the one question that consumed my focus: had I gotten weaker? Thus, it stood to reason that the question lingered even as I left the roof, as I continued down the stairs, and even as I exited the school building. So lost in thought I was that I almost missed the call of a classmate as I approached the front gates.

  There stood a familiar shark-toothed girl, hunched in her usual gremlin posture, and waving her long, gangly fingers in my direction, perhaps hoping to get my attention. It didn't warrant much thought, so I walked past. Or rather, I had intended to do so, yet she hastily stepped in front of me, ensuring that I could not miss her. Her dark, dead, fish-like gaze looked me up and down, no doubt admiring my form. I had no patience for her, not today, though this assuredly did not matter to the fish. She turned her eyes up to meet mine, and despite a small wince, she began to speak.

  "Earlier I, uh, said I wanted to talk to you," said Rurisaki. She gave a thoughtful pause. "But if you're busy, or not in the mood, I can... ask you later, or something."

  It was true, she had mentioned something along those lines during our exercise. I hadn't given a particularly definitive answer, though I had to admit the answer I had given leaned closer to a maybe than it did to a no. If I had been in a clearer state of mind, I'd have no doubt given a clear denial. But I had not been, and that meant I had chosen a regrettable selection of words. I clicked my tongue.

  "I am busy, and I most certainly am not in the mood. But if you're insistent on wasting my time and energy, then by all means, talk away." I checked the time on my phone. A bit late, but I could catch the next train if I hurried. "You have five minutes," I warned.

  "Five? Well..."

  "Four minutes, fifty-seven seconds."

  I heard Rurisaki gulp. "F-five is enough. I had a few questions, since you mentioned going to I.K. Middle School. You don't mind, do you?"

  "Depending on what you ask, I might not answer. It's natural to seek divine insight into my past, but do not think for a second that it's any of your business. Four minutes, thirty-four seconds."

  "Even though you talk so much?"

  "Of course. My divulging my past isn't making it your business, it's merely the act of shedding light upon an age of legend. The closest approximation, I believe, would be the act of unearthing artifacts from ages past. I doubt pondscum such as yourself would appreciate the splendor." I paused for a moment to peek at the time. "Three minutes, forty-nine seconds."

  "Fine, I'll get to the point. Just stop counting, it's... really irritating. Besides, it's not like I wanted to bother you or anything, it's just—" She stopped mid-sentence, perhaps seeing that I had begun to tap my foot, and gave a small sigh. "You said you went to I.K. Middle School? In the Gekko District?"

  "As we've established."

  "What's school like over there? Um, in the outer circle, I mean. Is it anything like the schools here?" Rurisaki scratched her mop of long, seaweed-coloured hair. "Most teachers tell us it's... really bad over there, so I was just wondering."

  "I can't speak for other schools, but it would not be false to state that Irving Kweisenveil Middle School was frustrating. The building was of a slightly smaller size compared to this one, but there were far too many fools. Day in and day out, meandering through hallways like a child lost in the market," I shivered at the thought. "What an atrocious experience," I spat.

  As bitter as I was, there was nothing hyperbolic about this assessment. The nature of schooling in the inner circle meant less students, and by extension, higher quality tutelage for each pupil. It was a system designed for an entirely different purpose, to teach superhumans in a highly monitored environment. This being the case, there were bound to be differences in learning quality.

  Rurisaki tilted her head. "So you don't miss it?"

  I gave a dismissive wave. Absolutely not. At some point I could no longer count the number of insects that dared test my patience. Every day, a gnat that figured themselves a lion. Every day, a new stone to be cast." I frowned. "Fools, the lot of them. Unable to comprehend the difference between the land and the stars..." I cleared my throat. "But unfortunately, that's none of your business. Your time is up."

  "Just one more question?" She raised a gangly index finger. Seeing my immediate scowl, she clasped both hands as if in solemn yet somehow smarmy prayer. "At least hear me out. You're one of our twin class representatives, right?"

  I winced. "That's an obnoxiously manipulative statement. Besides, most of the busywork is left to that stupid lightning dog. The mere idea of my existence more than pulls its weight."

  "Er—gross delegations of work aside, please?"

  I could not help but scoff at the selfishness on display. I had taken time out of my day—me, the illustrious and immaculate Satou S. Shibuya—to address the foolish prattle of this- this confusingly well-endowed fish, yet she dared ask for more? How crude! How absolutely outrageous! It was only logical that I set her straight! In fact, it was almost as if fate had conspired in favor of such an outcome! Surely it was only natural to be turned off by such triangular and serrated teeth, right? Surely those dark, dead, and absolutely, positively fishy eyes served as sufficient reason to disregard everything below the neck line, right?!

  "H-hmph! Very well, one more question!" I felt my face flush. It was a unique flush, the sort of flush that neccesitated asking oneself several hard and deeply troubling questions. How very sinful.

  Rurisaki, who had been holding her breath, exhaled sharply. "You had a really intense look on your face for a while there," she mumbled.

  "That is categorically incorrect."

  "Anyway, my question..."

  Rurisaki gave a moment's pause for what a cursory glance identified as careful thought. Her eyes, already dull, somehow grew even duller as she fell silent. The only motions that followed afterwards were small fidgets of the hands, clasped together at the fingers and flutting in place like a particularly daft butterfly. She remained in this stupor for perhaps ten, no, fifteen seconds before the trace amounts of life returned to her eyes.

  "It's, well, it's not a weird question or anything. I knew some old friends who were going to I.K. Middle School a while back, but we haven't been in contact lately. And I was... kind of wondering if you might know one of them in particular." She scratched her head.

  I gave a triumphant huff. "It stands to reason that I might know them. Whether I'll remember their name, or their face, who can say? But if they were present during my time at Irving Kweisenveil, then the notion of this person and I having interacted at some point is not inconceivable. Rejoice, the odds that I might know this person, and by extension, that you know a person who has interacted with me, are not zero."

  "You know, I'm—" A pause. Rurisaki violently shook her head, as if realizing she had bought into the foolish idea of talking to a pet rock. How odd. "Actually, good. Did you ever—I mean, have you ever met somebody named Kazuki Shiranui? He would be a year above us. Black hair?"

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  Kazuki Shiranui. The name did not immediately ring a bell, so I took a moment to think on it. I had transferred into Irving Kweisenveil in the middle of the second year, after that man and I parted ways with the Kusanagi estate. So it follows that, during the remaining two and a half years I spent there, there was a window of a year and a half during which we might have complained about meandering the same halls. Next, I moved to the sole descriptors I had- male, black hair. The former could be found anywhere, but the latter proved quite the rare trait on this island. Something clicked.

  I could say with absolute certainty that Satou S. Shibuya had never, at any point interacted with this individual, but I did recognize their name. Or at least, part of it. Furthermore, I had only seen a handful of individuals with black hair on this island. Narrowing this down brought to mind the sharp features of Kawagusa General Academy's Principal, the one known as Robin D. Shiranui. Amidst daring to order me around, she had mentioned something about Junko Shiranui having a brother.

  "As if I'd know a person like that," I scoffed.

  Rurisaki seemed very briefly taken aback by this declaration. "Oh."

  "If you'll excuse me, I don't have any more time to waste. Rest easy, fish, for at the very least, this conversation was not worthless. Of the handful of fish that I've talked to, you have certainly proved yourself the most useful." I turned to make my exit, but not in the direction of the gates. "I won't thank you," I said.

  She squinted. "I... see."

  More importantly, there's something I need to confirm for myself.

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-S0026-

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  From the front entrance, a trip to the Principal's very peculiar and all too anachronistic abode proved quite the tedious little journey. First, follow the leftmost fence-adjacent path for a short while, and at the first fork in the road, turn right, under the trees and their low-hanging branches. Not straight, lest you bumble your way into the groundskeeper's shed. Past the trees, one followed the path to the left, and continued beyond the all too luxurious fountains where students were expected to find peace during lunch. In fact, no sensible human being would sit in such a spot during lunch. None but Kaede Kotobuki, rather.

  In any case, the path continued straight ahead at this point, passing by several marvels which, in retrospect, were indicative of poor landscaping more than anything else. A bog, or pehaps a pond on better days, a small copse that faired poorly in its modest attempt to obscure the second and third-year buildings from the eyes of the public, and finally, a well-maintained stone path the curved to the left, tracing the way over a shallow pond and through a collection of bamboo stalks, which seemed to jut in any direction that suited their fancy. Following this contrived yet all too mundane path would lead to the very doorstep of one Robin D. Shiranui, the so-called Principal of Kawagusa General Academy.

  Considering the school funding that assuredly went into this office's construction, I'm half-curious as to why the main building itself is so... uninspired. What terrible design sense.

  Nevertheless, I brought my knuckle to the cream-coloured metal door and rapped on it. Once, then twice. Finally, a presence spoke directly to my mind.

  "Come in, boy."

  Though I used the term 'spoke', there was no voice attributed to the message, so to speak. It felt closer to intent given verbal form. With even an inkling of who addressed you, however, it was easy to ascribe a suitable voice to the soundless intent with which a telepathic ESPer communicated. Don't get the wrong idea though. No matter how magnificently and eloquently I described the act, nothing was more frustrating than an unwelcome guest in one's head.

  I turned the handle in spite of my misgivings and stepped into the Principal's office. This time I made sure to close the door behind me before turning to face the intrusive authority that was Robin D. Shiranui. The woman, as cool and sharp-eyed as my last visit, did not greet me. She crossed one leg over the other, gesturing only to the chair on the opposite end of the glossy mahogany desk she sat at.

  "You've returned remarkably faster than I anticipated, and yet it's clear you aren't here to complain about your punishment," said the Principal.

  My back reflexively straightened at the sound of the raven-haired woman's voice. No, maybe it was the white, crocodilian machine she commanded, which I heard slinking around behind me. A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed its placement in the corner of the room, sprawled out on its side like a tiger after a hearty meal. Surely they didn't... eat, right? They scarcely even counted as life. In fact, the sole force that animated the machination at my back was the psionic prowess of the woman I now stared down.

  "As the Alpha, I have several questions about this punishment," I said.

  "Your first question, of course, is 'Why entrust such a personal matter to a student'," said the Principal. She once more gestured for me to sit.

  I slowly nodded, but again did not sit. I had expected her to read my mind, but I still scowled at the thought of another digging through my head, plucking my lines before I had the opportunity to read them.

  "In truth, boy, I have already given up on that girl. I cannot spare the time to bring her in line, and I certainly cannot entrust the issue to the disciplinary authorities in the outer ring. That is the nature of this punishment—I have zero faith that it will be completed, so it is the ideal burden to unload upon a problem child with too much free time," she spoke in her usual frigid tone. "My expectations for your success are low. Failure itself is more than a suitable punishment for an ego as swollen as yours."

  I scowled at her. "And I suppose that if I succeed, then all went according to plan, and you would retroactively justify your words here as but an attempt to rile me up."

  Her violet eyes narrowed. "As if I would need to spin such an elaborate tale."

  As much as I wanted to snap back, it was abundantly clear that nothing I said would faze the Principal. After all, if she knew my first question, then surely she knew all the questions that would follow. This was what it meant to banter with an ESPer, all tricks and little discussion of actual merit. I clicked my tongue as I took my place in the seat across from her. "There are other ways to get under my skin."

  The Principal considered these words a little longer than usual before responding. "If your assessment of my decision suggests that my singular intent is to put a damper your mood, then I suppose you still have much to learn. You've surely realized this—it is, after all, the reason that you've come here on your own terms."

  "Don't twist my intentions." I said this with a snort.

  I needed to confirm my strength once more. There, in the Gekko District, I had reigned undefeated until my and sister dearest's voluntary relocation to the inner circle of Niflheim. Many battles had taken place there. Even amongst the few I'd faced in the inner circle, none had matched up to the greatest foes I had faced out there. Not in power, but in tenacity. The sheer force of will with which the common man sought to rise up against the strongest superhuman, the Golden King, could not be construed as anything less than the height of idiocy. That was why I had to go.

  If it were there, I would be able to determine whether I had truly gotten weaker. Even in my weakest state—no, because I was in my weakest state—I would prove once and for all that the land, the sea, and the sky had but one master. It was only natural to challenge Keiko Kusanagi's words in this condition. If I did this, then the truth would be revealed, that I had never once stepped down into the realm of mortality, even with a thousand disadvantages to my name. If that were the case—

  Then Keiko Kusanagi would surely recognize me as the Alpha.

  Yes, it was obvious that I was the strongest. There was only a single fool who I had to prove it to, even if it meant shattering that empty pride of her's to bits.

  "I just want to see that stupid Kusanagi heir in tears," I said.

  At this declaration, the Principal seemed stumped. Surely she could see the thought process, but as expected, she could not grasp the full scope on which my brain operated. She simply raised a hand to her temple and gave a small, exasperated sigh, no doubt having given up in the face of my superior intellect.

  "You seem to have done quite the series of mental gymnastics to justify lusting after the tears of a young and beautiful girl. As suspected, you are a Schneider to your very core."

  I puffed out my chest. "Of course."

  "And so?" The Principal once more trained her eyes on me. "If you intend to embroil yourself in worthless conflicts once more, you must recognize that I have all the reason in the world to find a more suitable punishment for you to occupy yourself with."

  "That's true. Very well, what about this?"

  I climbed out of my seat. From the small shift in the Principal's expression, I knew that she had already determined the nature of my gambit. That was fine, it meant she knew that I wasn't lying. Granted, I never lied. I straightened my back and pressed the side of my hand to my heart—the Ironblood Salute, one of but a handful of things my mother taught me about my Schneider heritage. I had only made a promise such as this once before, and this would assuredly be the last time for a while.

  "I will go to the Gekko District, and I will do more than find your daughter. I will bring her home, kicking and screaming if I must. And in two months time, if I have failed to do so, then I will take the enlistment examination and do as you please." My hands closed into fists. "This, I am prepared to promise."

  She quirked a brow. "That's quite the wager, boy. For you to so readily throw away the agency that you've been fighting for, surely you seek something in exchange?"

  I nodded. "Correct. You'll mind your own business while I'm over there. No matter how many complaints you receive, you'll simply cover your ears and close your eyes."

  This, the Principal seemed to consider quite thoroughly. Just this once, I could imagine the thought process: "What could he possibly intend to do? That Satou Schneider surely intends to cause a ruckus, then he'll strut back in once everything is said and done as if nothing had happened!" From the small twitch of her brow that I caught, I determined this assessment to be correct. The slight sneer that tugged at the corners of my mouth gave way to mild interest when she slammed a palm down on her desk.

  "Then it's only fair that I add one more condition," she said.