Two days have passed since I beat the snot out of my classmate, and it finally happened—the steel beam incident. I saw it on the news yesterday morning. Of course, to everyone else, it was just another Wednesday.
Welp, looks like the plot's finally starting, I thought to myself.
In the original story, Urie spent two years at the CCG Academy, just like everyone else. But I'm hoping if I showcase my skills enough, I'll be able to skip a year—or maybe even two.
Today during training, we had a guest instructor: Fujishige Iba. A former Special Class Investigator. Jackpot. If there was ever a time to show off a little, this was it.
During our sparring session, I got paired with another classmate. Solid guy, decent build, clearly confident in his strength. Probably thought he had a good shot. Poor bastard didn't know what he was walking into.
The instructor barked, "Begin!"
He came at me hard, trying to assert dominance from the start—a wide diagonal slash meant to throw me off balance.
But to him, I vanished.
I didn't dodge—I disappeared from his line of sight entirely.
Gasps echoed around the gym as I reappeared behind him in a blink, the wind from my movement whipping past the nearby students. I tapped his back with the tip of my shinai before he could even process what happened.
He spun around, confused and on edge, now realizing I wasn't going to play this like a normal spar.
He lunged again—faster this time—but I sidestepped with surgical precision. My shinai cracked against his ribs once, twice, before he could even begin to swing back. He was already panting, panicked. I could hear the blood pounding in his ears.
I kept moving, flowing like water, impossible to track. My body blurred with every step, every feint, every strike. To them, I wasn't just fast—I was moving like a ghoul.
Someone watching whispered under their breath, "That speed… no way…"
He roared, frustration boiling over, and charged straight in with a heavy two-handed strike. I ducked low, shifted behind him again, and this time I didn't hold back. My shinai cracked across his shoulder, then his thigh, then his ribs—three precise hits in less than a second.
He dropped to one knee, eyes wide with disbelief, breathing ragged. He tried to stand—but before he could rise, I pressed the tip of my shinai to his throat. Not hard, but firm enough to end it.
"Match over," the instructor called out, voice tight with surprise.
Silence. Every eye in the gym was on me.
Then I heard it—from the other side of the room.
"…Arima?"
I turned to see Fujishige Iba, arms crossed, staring at me like he'd seen a ghost.
He stepped forward slowly, squinting at me, that calculating look never leaving his face.
That footwork… the way he reads his opponent—like he's reading the air itself. I haven't seen movement like that since… Kisho.
But no… even Arima wasn't this refined at that age. This boy… this boy's different. It's not just talent. It's instinct, precision, restraint. He's not just swinging with force—he's dissecting his enemy. Measuring them. Controlling the pace like a predator.
Could he really be Mikito's son? Mikito was reliable, but not like this. This kind of skill… it doesn't come from training alone. It's like he's lived through a hundred battles already.
He stepped closer, voice calm but curious. "You there—what's your name?"
"Kuki Urie," I said, my breathing steady despite the whirlwind I'd just unleashed.
His eyes narrowed. "Hmm. Was your father Mikito Urie, by any chance?"
"Yes," I replied.
Mikito… so it is him. But this kid—this isn't just lineage. This is something else. A storm, waiting to happen. No… a blade. Not yet drawn, but already sharpened. I need to keep my eye on this one.
Fujishige gave a low, thoughtful chuckle.
"Interesting…"
Late Evening – CCG Dorms, Urie's Room
I sat on my bed, gripping the sheets so tight my knuckles went white. My phone sat face-down on the desk, untouched. My heart wouldn't stop racing. The images from the spar ran on repeat in my head.
Was I too fast? Did I show too much?No… no, I had to. It was the only way. But still…
"What if I pushed it too far…?" I muttered, staring up at the ceiling.
The whispers from earlier that day echoed in my mind.
"Did you see how fast he moved?""That wasn't normal, right? He moved like a…""You sure he's even human?"
Shit.
My stomach twisted into knots. V. The Garden. Arima. The undergrounds of the CCG—they'd kill people just for asking the wrong questions. If they think I'm a threat…
I shut my eyes and forced myself to breathe. Deep. Steady.You're still just a student. Just a trainee. Nobody. Nothing worth noticing…
Eventually, sleep came—uneasy and haunted.
Next Morning – 6:42 AM
Bzzz. Bzzz.
I blinked awake at the vibration of my phone. Groggy, still half-caught in the storm of yesterday's thoughts, I grabbed it.
[1 New Message – Instructor Takizawa]"Come to my office. Now. Private evaluation."
I froze.
My chest tightened.
Is this it?
Were they going to erase me?
I got dressed in silence. No music. No mirror checks. Just robotic movements. I barely noticed the cold air biting at my skin as I walked through the empty halls toward the faculty wing.
Instructor's Office – Door Slightly Ajar
I hesitated before knocking. Then I heard it—voices inside.
Familiar ones.
I knocked twice and stepped in.
And there they were.
Fujishige Iba .Kureo Mado .And sitting in the far chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unreadable—Amon Koutarou.
My blood turned cold.
"Ah, Urie," Iba said, his voice oddly warm. "Good to see you. Come, have a seat."
I did as I was told, every nerve in my body on edge.
"This is Kureo Mado," Iba gestured toward the older man with the bags under his eyes and the thin smile that somehow managed to be both polite and threatening.
Mado inclined his head. "A pleasure."
"And this young man here," Iba continued, "is Amon Koutarou."
Amon gave a simple nod. "Good to meet you, Urie."
My throat felt dry. "Likewise."
"Now," Iba said, folding his hands on the desk, "you're probably wondering why you're here."
I stayed silent.
"It's not every day a student moves like that," Mado chimed in, leaning forward slightly. "Your sparring match… was extraordinary."
"Disturbingly so," Amon added bluntly.
I clenched my fists in my lap, trying to control the spike of panic.
Iba raised a hand. "Relax. You're not in trouble. But you have drawn attention. Eyes are on you now, Urie. Important eyes."
I swallowed hard.
"This evaluation isn't a punishment. It's an opportunity."
Mado leaned back in his chair. "You showed something the other day—something beyond normal human limits. We don't know what it is yet… but we intend to find out."
"But first," Amon said, "we want to see how you handle real pressure. Not just in training. Not in theory. But here. Now."
"Your private evaluation," Iba finished, "will be a one-on-one spar. Against a professional investigator. Based on your performance, we will decide if you are to graduate and be inducted into the CCG… immediately."
My eyes widened.
Already?
"You'll be fighting Amon Koutarou," Iba said.
Oh…