The echo of Mashù's roar still hung in the classroom air, textbooks scattered where they'd fallen from desks shaken by the force of his rage. His dual spirits—golden Qoyntauz and Silver Retaliare—swirled around him like twin tornadoes, responding to emotions he could barely contain.
Hajime stepped forward calmly, though his eyes never left Mashù's face. "Mashù, I know how much you hate him, but you need to calm down."
"I am calm," Mashù replied through gritted teeth, though the way his spirits flared suggested otherwise.
Hajime studied him for a moment longer, then turned back to the holographic display. "S.E.I.D., continue."
"Yes, sir. We will be conducting a capture mission with three people to get in and get out."
Anjero felt his stomach clench with anticipation and dread. "Who's all going?"
Hajime's gaze swept the room before landing on him. "We've selected the best stealth-wise people we have for this mission. Anjero!"
"Wait, me?" Anjero's voice cracked slightly. "I haven't even perfected my powers yet."
"Yokudan," Hajime continued, ignoring the protest, "and Jeremi Naeme from Spirit East High School."
"Who?" Anjero had never heard the name before.
"He has the spirit of shadow. You'll need him." Hajime's tone carried the weight of absolute authority. "You three will be trained for the next three days by the spirit ops. Grab all you need and meet me by the docks."
Mashù shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Mr. Aado, why can't I go on this mission!? I know that bastard!"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Hajime turned the full force of his attention on Mashù. When he spoke, his voice carried a steel edge that none of them had heard before.
"No! You'll let your emotions get the best of you and mess up the entire mission—maybe even get someone killed. Do you want that on your conscience?"
The words hit Mashù like a physical blow. His spirits flickered and dimmed as the fight went out of him. "But... no."
Hajime's expression softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. "Anjero, Yoku, meet me at the docks in two hours. Be ready."
"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.
As Hajime left the classroom, an uncomfortable silence settled over the remaining students. Anjero looked at Mashù, who had slumped back into his chair, his earlier rage replaced by something that looked dangerously close to despair.
"Sorry, Mashù," Anjero said quietly. "I know how much you wanted to get revenge on him. I'll punch him for you."
Mashù managed a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes. "That's OK. Mr. Aado is right. I'll only get someone killed."
---
Two hours later, Anjero and Yoku stood on the school's private dock, each carrying a duffle bag packed with everything they thought they might need for a three-day stealth mission. The harbor stretched out before them, but what caught their attention was the sleek vessel moored at the end of the pier.
"Behold the Wisp Water Jet," Hajime announced, his voice carrying a note of pride. "It'll get you to your destination in an hour. You'll meet Jeremi at the base of operations there." He paused, his expression growing serious. "Good luck, and come back alive."
Anjero felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze. "Well, that's reassuring, but I'll do my best."
Yoku shouldered his bag with characteristic confidence. "No worries, Chief. I'll take care of this guy."
The Wisp Water Jet was unlike anything Anjero had ever seen. Sleek and white, it seemed to hover just above the water's surface on cushions of compressed spirit energy. As they boarded, he could feel the vessel's power thrumming through the deck plates—not mechanical, but something far more elemental.
They hadn't been underway for more than ten minutes when Yoku's confidence evaporated along with his lunch.
"Bleh..." Yuko leaned over the rail, his face a distinctly unhealthy shade of green. "Not really a fan of boats."
"Haha, I can tell," Anjero replied, though he kept his amusement gentle. Despite Yoku's usual bravado, this vulnerability made him seem more human.
An hour later, exactly as Hajime had predicted, they arrived at what appeared to be a floating platform in the middle of the ocean. From the surface, it looked like nothing more than a small research station, but as they descended via elevator, Anjero realized the true facility extended deep beneath the waves.
"Welcome," said the agent who met them at the lower deck. His uniform was unlike anything from their school—military in cut but marked with symbols that seemed to shift and blur when looked at directly. "Has your district commander briefed you on the mission?"
"Uh... yes, he has," Anjero replied, though he was beginning to suspect there was more to this operation than they'd been told.
"Well, your living quarters will be here for the next three days until mission time."
The agent led them through corridors that curved in ways that shouldn't have been possible given the platform's apparent size. When they reached their assigned room, Anjero noticed three beds.
"There's three beds though..."
"The other one will be here soon."
As if summoned by their conversation, an ominous presence seemed to fill the hallway behind them. Both Anjero and Yoku felt it simultaneously—a coldness that went beyond temperature, like walking through a shadow that had somehow become tangible.
"This way. This will be your living quarters for now," the agent continued, apparently unaffected by the sensation.
The door opened to reveal their third teammate.
Jeremi Naeme stood in the center of the room, though Anjero couldn't remember seeing him enter. He was roughly their age but seemed older somehow, with grey hair that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it and eyes that held depths Anjero didn't want to explore. Most unsettling was the way shadows seemed to cluster around him, not cast by any visible light source but existing independently.
"Hi, you must be Jeremi Naeme," Anjero said, extending his hand in greeting.
Jeremi looked at the offered hand for a long moment, then simply walked past him to claim the bed in the corner—the one furthest from the room's single window. He set his bag down with movements that made no sound whatsoever.
"Just call me Jeremi," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but somehow perfectly audible.
Yoku shifted uncomfortably. "OK then. Well, Anro, I guess I'll take this bed over here."
Before anyone could get settled, the agent reappeared in the doorway. "You three get ready for training. The Commander wants to see you."
"But we just got here," Yoku protested.
Without a word, Jeremi pulled a purplish-gray training suit from his bag and began changing. The shadows around him seemed to provide natural privacy, making it difficult to look directly at him even when they tried.
"He's real quiet," Anjero observed in a low voice. "I see why he has the spirit of shadow."
They followed the agent through more impossible corridors to a training bay that defied the laws of physics even more blatantly than the rest of the facility. The ceiling stretched upward beyond what should have been possible, and the floor was marked with symbols that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
At the center of it all stood a man who could only be the Commander. Tall and broad-shouldered, with scars that spoke of battles fought in places where conventional weapons would be useless, he radiated the kind of authority that came from surviving impossible odds.
"Jeremi, my boy!" the Commander called out with genuine warmth. "I see you were chosen for another mission. Good seeing ya, kid."
"Whatever," Jeremi replied, though there was no hostility in his tone—just a complete lack of emotional investment.
The Commander turned his attention to the other two recruits. "And you greenies must be Anjero and Yokudan." He paused, studying Yoku with interest. "Kid, your last name is funny as hell. Your ancestors were cruel."
Yoku's face crumpled slightly. "I know," he said, and Anjero was surprised to see tears forming in his friend's eyes.
"Ahem... anyways," the Commander continued, his voice growing serious. "You three are tasked to infiltrate and capture Tenki and bring him back to the Base of Operations to ask some questions. No worries—we'll train you up well."
Yoku wiped his eyes and raised his hand tentatively. "Sir, don't you think this mission is a little... you know... dangerous?"
The Commander's expression grew grim. "Son, I'm not going to lie to you. It is very dangerous. Usually we would send experienced agents, but we've lost too many guardians. You three are the only quiet spirit users we know at the moment."
"How am I silent?" Yoku asked, confusion evident in his voice. "I use guns."
The Commander smiled, and it wasn't entirely reassuring. "You haven't reached your full potential yet. Get ready for hell."
**Two Days Later - The Sutanrì Household**
*Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away from the ocean training facility, a different kind of crisis was unfolding.*
The front door of the Sutanrì household opened with its familiar creak. Sharin stepped inside, her arms full of takeout bags from the local Indian restaurant—a small luxury she allowed herself after particularly difficult days at the school.
"Shinkei? Aria? I'm home! I got Indian!" she called out, but the response she received wasn't what she expected.
Instead of her children's voices, she was greeted by chaos. Furniture was overturned, papers scattered across the floor, and what looked like the remnants of a struggle marked the usually pristine living room.
"What happened here? Who made this mess?" she demanded, her voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to maintaining order even in the face of supernatural crises.
She climbed the stairs two at a time, her heart beginning to race with a mother's instinctive fear.
"Aria, did you make this mess?"
Her daughter looked up from her homework, headphones around her neck and confusion written across her features. "Hey, Mom. No, what mess? It was probably Shinkei."
"Alright, clean it up though."
Aria let out an audible sigh of frustration. "Huh... alright."
Sharin's eyes narrowed. "Bitch, did you just breathe hard at me?"
"No, Mom," Aria replied quickly, recognizing the dangerous edge in her mother's voice.
Moving down the hall to her son's room, Sharin knocked on the door with increasing urgency. "Shinkei, come downstairs and clean this mess up." No response. "Shinkei!" Still nothing. "SHINKEI!"
She tried the door handle, but it was locked. A cold dread began to settle in her stomach—the same instinct that had kept her alive during her years as an active guardian.
"Aria, where's Shinkei?"
Her daughter appeared in the hallway, concern now replacing annoyance. "I didn't know. I was doing homework with my headphones on."
"Huh... I'll check the cameras."
Sharin's home security system was far more sophisticated than what most people would expect from a suburban house. As the head of a secret organization dealing with supernatural threats, she'd taken precautions that extended far beyond normal parental paranoia.
The footage she reviewed made her blood run cold.
Three figures in dark clothing had entered through the back door—moving with the fluid precision of professionals. They'd known exactly where to go, exactly how to disable the alarms, and exactly where to find her son. Shinkei had been taken while Aria was upstairs, headphones blocking out any sound of the struggle.
But what made Sharin's hands shake as she watched wasn't just the kidnapping itself. It was the way the kidnappers moved—with the enhanced speed and coordination that could only come from spirit energy enhancement.
"No," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Why? He's been kidnapped, but why?" The terrible possibility that had haunted her nightmares suddenly became real. "No, please don't tell me he's a guardian also."
Her hands trembling, she reached for the secure phone that connected directly to the Guardian emergency network. As she dialed the emergency code, one thought echoed through her mind with horrifying clarity:
Anjero was on a mission to capture Tenki. And now Tenki—or someone working with him—had taken her other son.
The war she'd hoped to keep her family out of had just come home.