Tuesday evening, Rei sat on the edge of his empty apartment, staring at the plain walls that surrounded him. The barren space reflected his minimalist approach to life—no photographs, no decorations, just the essentials. A mattress lay in one corner, a small table with two chairs occupied another, and a single lamp provided dim illumination. The kitchen area contained only the basics, and a half-empty pizza box sat on the counter, evidence of his dinner.

  Also inside were Josuke and Hinata, who had arrived earlier and made themselves comfortable despite the sparse accommodations. Their presence added life to the otherwise austere space, Josuke's animated gestures and Hinata's quiet laughter filling the room with energy that was normally absent.

  Rei wasn't much for decor or excess, and his living space reflected that—yet somehow, with his friends here, it didn't feel quite as empty.

  Knock. Knock.

  He got up and opened the door. Sama and Fumiko stood outside, both dressed casually, yet still carrying themselves with the composed demeanor that seemed inherent to their personalities. Sama wore a simple dark sweater and jeans, while Fumiko had opted for a traditional-inspired outfit that managed to look both comfortable and elegant.

  Sama took a glance around the apartment and smirked. "Simplistic. Empty. I like it, Rei."

  Rei, expressionless as ever, simply replied, "Thanks." He stepped aside to let them enter, closing the door behind them.

  Josuke, leaning back on the lone couch Rei had acquired second-hand, looked up with interest. "So who's in your team? And who's your teacher?"

  It had been days since the team assignments, but they'd all been too busy with their initial missions and training to properly catch up. Now, finally, they had a moment to share experiences.

  Sama stretched before answering, settling into one of the chairs at the small table. "Gojima is our third member. And our teacher is Master Rengo."

  "Master who?" Josuke asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly unfamiliar with the name.

  Hinata leaned forward, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "Master Rengo is one of the most skilled veteran sorcerers under the Academy's mentorship program. He's known for training high-level heroes and refining their combat potential." Her tone carried admiration—she had clearly researched the Academy's notable figures thoroughly.

  Fumiko added with a small smile, "He's a bit... eccentric. But he's one of the deadliest fighters alive. His combat style revolves around 'Phantom Cooking,' where he uses his Concept to prepare devastating techniques as if they were gourmet dishes." Her hands moved gracefully as she explained, mimicking the preparation of ingredients. "Each move he executes is perfectly timed, almost as if it's been prepped beforehand."

  Josuke blinked, trying to process this unusual fighting style. "Wait... so this guy fights with food?"

  Sama chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite. Think of it as crafting a dish. Every movement, every strike, every defense—it's all prepped beforehand, as if he's seasoning the battle to perfection." He made a chef's kiss gesture. "The timing of his attacks is impeccable. When Master Rengo fights, it's less like combat and more like watching a master chef at work."

  "That sounds... terrifying." Josuke muttered, suddenly glad Master Rengo wasn't his mentor. The idea of someone approaching battle with the methodical precision of cooking seemed somehow more frightening than raw power.

  Rei, still listening to the conversation, glanced over at Hinata and noticed something off—a bruise on her hand, partially visible beneath the sleeve of her sweater. His brows furrowed slightly, concern briefly breaking through his typically impassive expression.

  "Hinata. What happened to your hand?"

  The question was direct, lacking his usual indifference. His dark eyes fixed on the purplish mark that she'd been unconsciously hiding throughout their conversation.

  Hinata's body tensed for a second before she forced a smile, tucking her bruised hand behind her back in a motion that seemed practiced, automatic. "Nothing. I must've slept on it wrong."

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  The explanation was flimsy, and they both knew it. A bruise like that didn't come from awkward sleeping positions.

  Rei didn't buy it. But with guests in the room, he didn't press further. Instead, he simply stored the information away for later, making a mental note to follow up when they were alone. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, communicating without words that the subject wasn't closed.

  Hinata quickly changed the subject, turning to Fumiko with renewed enthusiasm. "Actually, Fumiko, I've been meaning to ask you something."

  Fumiko tilted her head curiously. "What is it?"

  Hinata took a deep breath, as if gathering courage for a request she'd been considering for some time. "Would you be willing to train with me? Maybe even with your father?"

  Rei's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by her request. It was unlike Hinata to actively seek out additional training—especially from someone so accomplished. There was a new determination in her voice that he hadn't heard before.

  Fumiko's expression softened, genuine warmth replacing her usual composure. "I would love that, and I think my father would, too. He always says that strength isn't about where you start but how much you grow."

  Hinata smiled, and for the first time in a while, Rei saw something in her he hadn't noticed before—a determination growing inside her, a quiet resolve that seemed to light her from within. Whatever was pushing her forward, it was transforming her from the hesitant girl he'd known into someone with purpose.

  Meanwhile, Josuke, still speaking with Sama, leaned forward excitedly. "Bernard's been working with me on Mana Refinement. He says my temperature manipulation abilities are just the surface of what I could do!"

  Rei remained in thought, only half-listening to Josuke's enthusiasm. The concept of pushing abilities beyond their limits intrigued him, but something about it felt oddly familiar—almost as if he'd already tapped into something deeper before. The blue eyes, the red eyes, the blackouts—were those all forms of refinement he couldn't control?

  The sunset cast long shadows through the windows of Osaka General Hospital as evening settled over the city. The transition from day to night brought a different energy to the medical facility—the daytime bustle replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere, punctuated only by the soft footsteps of the night staff beginning their shifts.

  Mrs. Inosuke lay in her hospital bed, restless, her thin body barely making an impression beneath the sterile white sheets. The room was quiet save for the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the soft hiss of oxygen. Her mind, however, was anything but peaceful—haunted by visions of death and destruction that had assaulted her the moment she'd tried to read Rei's potential.

  Her gnarled fingers clutched the blanket tightly, knuckles white with tension. "Demons... monsters... death." The words escaped as barely audible whispers, fragments of the horrors she'd witnessed.

  The door to her room creaked open. Three figures entered, their silhouettes backlit by the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway.

  Kenji. Haikito. And a third—Shoto, an older, conservative high-ranking official with an open disdain for Haikito that he barely bothered to conceal.

  The air in the room immediately tensed with their arrival, particularly between Haikito and Shoto, whose mutual dislike was palpable.

  Shoto's eyes burned with anger, his voice tight with barely controlled fury. "How dare you make her read those monsters, Haikito!"

  Haikito smirked, arms folded across his chest, unperturbed by the accusation. "Mrs. Inosuke has evaluated every hero in this Academy's history. Surely no one could have seen this coming." His tone was casual, dismissive, though his eyes remained sharp, calculating.

  Kenji sighed, stepping between them like a referee in an unspoken match. "We need to focus on helping her recover. The new heroes still need evaluations. This needs to happen sooner rather than later." Always the pragmatist, Kenji tried to steer the conversation toward solutions rather than blame.

  Shoto scoffed, gesturing toward the frail woman in the bed. "If she even recovers." The implication hung in the air—that whatever had broken Mrs. Inosuke might be permanent.

  Haikito's smirk didn't fade. "Well, gentlemen, I have another meeting to attend. Kenji, I respect your position. Keep our dear friend Shoto from working too hard tonight." With a slight nod, he turned and left the room, leaving Shoto fuming in his wake.

  Kenji exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Let's go, Shoto."

  Shoto didn't move, his gaze fixed on Mrs. Inosuke's trembling form. "Give me one moment alone with Mrs. Inosuke."

  Kenji narrowed his eyes, suspicion evident in his expression, but ultimately nodded, stepping outside to give them privacy.

  The moment the door closed, Shoto approached Mrs. Inosuke's bedside, his movements careful, deliberate. He slipped a folded note under her hand before leaning down to whisper in her ear. "You know what must be done."

  He left the room without another word, his expression grim but resolute.

  A moment later, Mrs. Inosuke unfolded the note with trembling fingers. Her tired eyes scanned the contents—a phone number with a specific code sequence, followed by two words: "Assassin's Guild." Her breath grew erratic, coming in short, panicked gasps. The walls of her hospital room seemed to close in around her.

  This was it—the means to cleanse the Academy of the abomination she had seen within the boy. The devil that walked among them in human form, concealed behind those innocent-looking black eyes that had momentarily revealed something monstrous.

  Her Concept, her very gift, had cursed her with knowledge she wished she had never seen. And yet—this was a sign. A warning. A call to action.

  'We need to get rid of these demons!' she whispered, her body trembling with fear and newfound determination.

  Then—her voice erupted into a scream that echoed down the hospital corridors, a sound of pure terror and resolve.