"Alright, kiddos, let's get to work," Sasaki said, dropping the instruction book onto the long wooden table beside him with a dull thud. His tone carried both determination and weariness, the kind of voice that belonged to someone who had seen far too much in battlefields and now found himself in a bakery.
The three of them—Sasaki, Alfie, and Jackson—stepped into the center of the vast working area. Workers were stationed from one end to the other, moving in practiced rhythm between each step of bread-making. But the instant the trio entered, everything came to a sudden stop. All eyes turned toward them. One by one, the workers left their stations, stepping back and standing in silence outside the working space, watching.
(So that's it, huh…? I see now. We really have to finish this entire two-day workload by ourselves. That's why that manager didn't even hesitate when he hired us.) Sasaki narrowed his gaze, his lips curving into a faint smirk. (Now I understand your little scheme, you sly old fox.)
He walked forward, the floorboards creaking under his boots, until he stood before the first work area—where dozens of large flour bags were stacked neatly in uneven towers. The smell of wheat and dust filled the air.
"It's now or never, Alfie, Jackson," he said firmly, turning back toward his companions. "Let's get this over with."
Alfie gave a calm, confident smile, while Jackson nodded with quiet resolve.
"Alright, here's what both of you will do…" Sasaki began to explain the procedures with sharp precision. His finger pointed at each section as he laid out the process.
"Hm. Hm-hm. Okay. Yes. Hm… alright. Okay…" The two boys kept nodding as he spoke, their eyes locked on every motion and every instruction, absorbing everything.
Without wasting another second, they began.
Alfie gripped a heavy sack of flour, muscles tightening beneath his sleeves, and lifted it with ease. He dropped it into the iron hand mixer and sliced it open with a knife from the table, letting the white powder pour out like a waterfall.
Jackson stepped forward, pulling the mixer tray toward himself. Without pause, he began adding the other ingredients arranged neatly in front of him—water, yeast, sugar, milk—all while keeping his focus steady. Then, gripping the iron handle, he began mixing at a speed that made the other workers blink in disbelief.
"What the… how's that kid mixing an entire bag of flour by himself?!" one of the workers gasped. "I can barely do that two or three times at my best…"
(What are these people trying to do?) the manager thought as he observed from a distance, folding his arms. (Do they really plan to finish two days' work in just three hours? That's ridiculous. They've only got two hours and some minutes left… it's impossible.)
He had already signaled the guard earlier to spread word about their "test." But unknown to the trio, the entire factory had misunderstood their intentions from the very beginning.
Ten minutes passed in silence—except for the rhythmic sound of metal scraping and dough mixing. Jackson had already finished five full bags of flour, each perfectly blended with the ingredients.
Now it was Sasaki's turn.
He stepped forward, sleeves rolled up, his expression calm yet focused. Grabbing the dough mixture, he began shaping it into portions, cutting and pressing each piece into pans with surgical precision. His hands moved so fast that the other workers couldn't even keep up with his rhythm. The air filled with the sharp scent of raw dough and steel.
He slid one pan after another into the large industrial oven.
(Even if you're fast, you can't speed up the flames… unless… no, it can't be! Are they planning to use two days' worth of resources in just three hours?!) another worker blurted out, disbelief flashing across his face.
(This is getting interesting…) the manager thought, eyes narrowing. (In two full days, we make about fifty bags of bread. They're already done with five in less than fifteen minutes. If they keep up this pace—and increase it even slightly—they might actually finish it… But who are they really? Their movements… their aura… I can sense it—these aren't normal people. They're RENSHI users. Their Force energy—it's in a completely different league…)
"Don't slack behind now, Alfie! Every second counts!" Sasaki shouted, his voice cutting through the noise of machinery.
"You don't need to tell me that, Mister Reaper! I'm not backing down!" Alfie replied, wiping sweat from his brow, switching positions with Jackson at the mixer.
Jackson adjusted the pans in the oven, the heat radiating against his face. He moved with precision, turning the trays to bake faster under the roaring flames.
"They… they're actually doing it…" one of the workers whispered, his voice trembling.
"It's unbelievable! That's our job for two days! And this guy—he just walked in here with two kids and took it from us!" another worker shouted in frustration. The mood in the factory shifted, tension thickening in the air.
"Don't think too much about it, my dear friends," the old instructor said softly from behind. "Everything happens for a reason."
"Shut up, old man! You've got nothing to worry about since you lost your wife! Don't act like you've got any reason to care about the pay!" the angry worker snapped, his voice echoing through the hall. "We've got families to feed! That two-day payment was ours, and now this stranger's taking it! You think I don't see what's going on? He's a Shinra—disguised as some normal citizen just to earn extra money! I won't let them have their way!"
Sasaki's eyes flicked toward the commotion, but he didn't slow his hands.
"This is getting interesting," another worker muttered. "What makes you think he's a Shinra, huh? And the kids—what about them?"
"It's obvious, you idiot! What part don't you understand? Those kids are probably from the Shinra Academy—it's the holidays!" the angry worker shouted.
The murmurs spread like wildfire.
"Well… I guess I'll just mind my own business," another worker sighed, stepping back as the others continued watching.
All eyes turned toward Sasaki, Alfie, and Jackson—three figures standing in the glowing light of the ovens, their movements sharp and synchronized. The air was thick with heat and tension, and the scent of baking bread filled the hall as the trio continued their silent rhythm—working like a force far beyond what any ordinary human could manage.