Kaito smacks the ground, all elbows and knees, groaning like he just lost a wrestling match with gravity. The dude he tackled? Just brushes imaginary dirt off his suit, totally unbothered. Must be nice.
"You can see that?" the guy asks. Super flat, not even a twitch in his voice. His eyes are locked up at the monster, that hulking nightmare thing still drooling at the window.
Kaito blinks, deadpan. "Nah, man, I just swan-dive out of windows for my morning cardio. Builds character."
The beast lets out a sound that's somewhere between a blender full of rocks and a whale in misery. Its whole body's melting and bulging, eyes popping open all over like some twisted potato sprouting in fast-forward. Then—no warning—it launches itself straight out the window.
Kaito grabs suit-guy's sleeve again, tugging like, "Bro, time to GO!"
But nope. The guy just flicks his wrist, and bam—a slice of black mist spins into shape in his hand. He whips it through the air, and a gust of wind slams the creature right back into the wall. The thing oozes down, twitching, already pulling itself back together like Play-Doh with a grudge.
Kaito's mouth is practically on the floor. "Bro, you got Bankai or what?"
"Something like that," Mystery Man mutters, all business. "Stay behind me."
The monster shrieks, barrels in like a rhino on Bed Rull. Kaito does a not-so-graceful backflip (he totally almost eats it), and suit-guy just slides under a flailing arm, then drives that mist blade right into its neck.
What comes out? Not blood. Like, ink. Just splatters everywhere, gross as hell. The monster screeches, tries to slice the guy with claws that look like they could cut a car in half.
Kaito, thinking he should probably do something, grabs a brick and chucks it. It bounces off the thing with all the impact of a spitball. "Nailed it!" he yells, pure sarcasm.
Suit-guy's in his own world, slicing and dodging like he's done this a thousand times. One last swing, clean and sharp, slices the monster right down the middle. It twitches, then just… evaporates. Poof. Gone.
Everything goes quiet.
Kaito's chest is heaving. "Okay, fine. That was kinda hot. Not gonna lie."
Suit-guy turns, stone-faced. "You finished?"
"I guess? Who even are you?"
"Ren," he says. "And you?"
"Kaito. And, uh, I'd like to go home now, please."
Ren squints at him. "That scroll in your hand. It reacted, didn't it?"
Kaito looks down. Somehow, he's still holding this stupid old scroll. "This thing? Didn't even notice."
Ren's voice goes all serious. "That's not just some trinket. Only chosen blood can open it."
Kaito shrugs, tosses it at Ren. "Then congrats, it's yours. I'm not looking to be the chosen one today."
Ren tries, but the scroll just sits there, stubborn as ever. He tosses it back. "It picked you."
Kaito groans. "I didn't pick it. I want a nap and, like, a donut. Not some anime legacy."
Ren rubs his forehead like he's got a migraine brewing. "Fine. Look. Come with me, I'll give you 100,000 yen."
Kaito blinks. "You think I'm that easy?"
Ren arches an eyebrow.
Kaito snatches the card. "Joke's on you—I totally am. Where we headed?"
Ren cracks a little smirk. "Akamichi Society. Sound familiar?"
Kaito shakes his head. "Nah. But if we can hit a convenience store on the way, I'm game."
On the walk to Ren's car, Kaito borrows his phone and dials fast. "Hey, sis. Got a job. Not sketchy—I'll survive. Don't call."
His sister's voice is just, "Okay."
Ren stares. "That's it?"
Kaito shrugs. "We've seen worse."
They slide into a slick black car, city lights splashing neon across the windshield. Kaito slouches, half-dead already.
"So, what's your deal anyway?" he mumbles.
Ren doesn't even blink. "Third-gen Murakami Bloodline. My powers are secret."
Kaito nods, already fading. "Sick. So I'm, what, the shonen protagonist now?"
Ren glances over. "Pretty much."
Kaito sighs, real hard. "Should've seen this coming."
City lights start to blur out the window. Ren's eyes are straight ahead. "All that's left is to figure out your bloodline."
And, honestly, Kaito's just hoping his bloodline comes with free snacks.
Man, that drive was brutal and your explanation of prologue is the worst. The kind where your brain's half-melted and your body feels like it's been through a meat grinder. Sun's barely peeking out, barely even morning, and Kaito's head is pounding like he's starring in his own migraine commercial. He's still got bruises everywhere from the fight and that absolutely idiotic window stunt. Honestly, at this point, he's just held together by stubbornness and caffeine fumes.
He spills out of the car, legs wobbling like he's made of spaghetti. Ren barely glances over, just gives him that look—half pity, half "wow you're a mess."
"Couple more minutes. I'll fix you up," Ren mumbles, voice soft like he's afraid of waking ghosts.
They're in front of this massive temple—or, well, something bigger, like a temple and a spaceship had a baby. Huge gates, stone dragons glaring down, ancient wood patched up with shiny metal. It's got that weird vibe, spiritual but also like a Bond villain's lair.
Kaito just gawks. "How is this even in Japan? Did I just walk into a Studio Ghlbii fever dream or something?"
Ren doesn't even bother with eye contact. "Regular folks can't see it. Come on. Someone's waiting."
So they shuffle through these winding paths—training grounds, shrines, the whole mystical package—till they reach this building smack in the middle. Ren shoves open this heavy door, and bam—instant whiff of incense and cold steel. Like a dojo and a blacksmith's shop hooked up.
Inside? Some guy who looks like he belongs on a mythic trading card. Tall, quiet, hair like storm clouds, eyes that say "I've seen things you wouldn't believe." Dude's got ancient energy oozing off him.
Ren stands there for a beat, then: "Seiryuu."
The guy turns, sizing them up. "Ren, being social? Did hell freeze over?"
Ren just shrugs. "Got someone here. He might matter."
Seiryuu arches an eyebrow. "Yeah? Go on."
Ren drops it, casual as you please. "Found the fifth scroll. It picked him."
Seiryuu's eyes light up, just a flicker. "So what's this got to do with me?"
"I need you to guide him. Quietly. No one else gets wind of this. Also… help find his bloodline."
Seiryuu leans against the wall, arms folded. "Not happening. But I'll keep my mouth shut. Don't push it."
Ren nods like that's exactly what he wanted. "Good enough."
Back outside, Kaito stretches, wincing. "Damn, he just iced you. Not even a maybe."
Ren's totally chill. "That's what I needed. He just had to know you're real."
Kaito squints. "Why?"
Ren gives him a side-eye, voice dropping. "Because he's the only one who can keep you breathing… when he comes."
"Who's he?"
Ren waves it off. "Later. Right now, I gotta get you signed up for the Academy."
Kaito groans, dramatic. "An academy? Bro, this is straight out of an anime. Gonna give me a rival and a tragic backstory too?"
Ren sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hate it, okay? But yeah, it's basically that. Plot originality is dead."
Kaito just shakes his head. "Figures."
Ren grins, a little evil. "But here, it's different. You're solo. One-on-one training."
Kaito raises an eyebrow. "So… just me and you? No edgy rival, no squad, no filler arcs?"
"Only cool sensei vibes. Otherwise? You're on your own."
They roll up to this old-ass building—the Academy's registration spot. Inside, some ancient priest is drowning in paperwork.
Ren steps up, all formal. "Want this disaster as my student."
The priest pauses, then cracks a sly smile. " Well… it's not every day Ren Murakami makes a personal request. "
He slaps a stamp on a scroll.
"Welcome to Akamichi Academy, Kaito. Try not to die as fast as the last one."
Kaito's eyes go wide. "The last what, exactly?"