The next morning, the sun had barely crested the horizon, golden light bleeding into the Outcasts' hidden base, casting long shadows across the cracked concrete of the open training yard. The air still held the bite of dawn, cool and sharp, perfect for the kind of brutal morning Kokoro preferred.
Yuseke stood at the center of the yard, his hands tightly gripping the handle of a worn wooden sword. Dressed in loose training clothes and bare feet, he stared at Kokoro, who stood across from him in all black-hooded, gloved, still radiating that casual yet suffocating goth presence.
Kokoro stretched his neck, cracking it once to the side.
"Didn't think you'll show up this early." he said, not bothering to hide the smirk in his voice. "Now remember one thing, I don't teach like Yumi. If I hit you, you'll feel it."
Yuseke's eyes narrowed, a flash of red Essence pulsing faintly from the veins in his arms. "That's fine." he said, lifting his wooden blade into a basic stance. "I don't plan on holding back either."
Kokoro's smile disappeared. "Good."
Without another word, Kokoro took one step forward and vanished. Yuseke barely registered the movement before Kokoro was already in front of him, fist drawn back, wrapped in a shimmering coating of glowing blue Essence.
Boom!
Yuseke raised the wooden sword just in time, blocking the strike. The impact sent a shockwave through the air and knocked him back several feet, skidding across the dusty floor. His arms ached and the wooden sword trembled in his grip.
"What the hell…" he muttered.
"Told you..." Kokoro replied, walking forward. His fists glowed steadily now, small streaks of blue Essence curling around his fingers like flames. "I'm teaching you how to really fight."
Yuseke exhaled and rushed in, his red Essence flaring as he swept his sword horizontally. Kokoro ducked, the blade cutting through the air just above his head. Yuseke pivoted, bringing the sword down like a hammer... Kokoro caught it with his palm, Essence pulsing against Essence, red clashing with blue.
"You're too slow."
Before Yuseke could react, Kokoro's foot connected with his gut. He doubled over, breath flying out of his lungs as he staggered back, coughing.
"Still want to hold that cocky attitude?" Kokoro asked, folding his arms. "You've got raw power, Yuseke. I'll give you that but technique and control? You don't have those yet."
Yuseke grit his teeth and charged again, this time more calculated. A series of quick swings... one low, one diagonal, a fake overhead and a feint into a rising slash. Kokoro blocked every one with his forearms, Essence shielding his skin from splinters and force. Then, just as Yuseke stepped in for the final thrust...
Crack!
Kokoro ducked, stepped in and planted a brutal punch into Yuseke's guts, sending him sprawling to the dirt. Dust kicked up around him as he gasped, his sword slipping from his hand.
Lying there, eyes toward the sky, Yuseke chuckled through the pain.
"Damn." he muttered. "You really don't hold back."
Kokoro exhaled through his nose and held out a hand. "Pick it up again."
Yuseke forced himself to his feet, grabbed the wooden sword and nodded. His red Essence swirled around him now, more vivid than before, more directed. There was something raw inside him, something burning... rage, determination, the will to stand tall even while every muscle screamed.
They clashed again. Red met blue in flashes of controlled chaos, Kokoro weaving through Yuseke's swings with calm precision, landing body shots, sweep and counters without hesitation. Yuseke didn't land a clean hit but he started surviving longer, adapting and breathing slower.
Then Kokoro's phone buzzed in his pocket.
He ignored it.
Yuseke lunged, blade leveled for Kokoro's shoulder. This time Kokoro caught it not with Essence but bare skin. His grip tightened, wooden blade cracking under his fingers.
Yuseke's breath hitched as Kokoro raised his free hand for a knockout punch.
Buzz. Buzz.
He stepped back, letting go of Yuseke's sword. "Hold on." he said quietly, pulling out the device.
Caller ID: Aya.
His brows furrowed. Aya never called, she never contacted him unless it was serious. They hadn't spoken in… years.
He answered with caution. "What is it?"
Her voice on the other end wasn't playful or sarcastic like he remembered it was clipped and urgent.
"We need to meet now." she said. "At our old spot."
The line went dead. Kokoro stood frozen for a second, fingers clenched tight around the phone.
Yuseke watched him carefully. "You good?"
Kokoro didn't answer immediately. He turned away, then paused.
"Training's over for today."
Yuseke tilted his head, surprised at the sudden shift. "You're not gonna tell me why?"
"Nope." Kokoro's tone was already distant.
And with that, Kokoro walked off the training field, leaving Yuseke standing alone with a splintered wooden sword and the dull ache of bruised ribs… and questions.
The forest was quiet, almost unnaturally so. He weaved through the trees without making a sound, dressed in his usual black, hands shoved into his coat pockets. Sunlight trickled through the leaves, dappled and golden but it didn't touch the weight in his chest. Every step toward the shack felt like a memory he didn't want back.
The place hadn't changed.
A decaying wood cabin buried deep in the forest... a forgotten remnant of a life neither of them wanted to remember. Moss crawled up the outer walls, the windows were cracked and time had eaten the roof's edges but still, it stood.
Aya was waiting for him. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, black jacket open over a dark shirt and slacks. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, a bit more serious around the eyes now but it was definitely her.
"You're late." she said coldly.
Kokoro didn't slow down, didn't bother with a greeting. "Didn't think I'd ever hear from you ever again."
Aya's lips twisted into a bitter half-smile. "I wasn't planning on seeing your traitor face either."
He stopped a few paces away, staring her down. "Traitor? You know damn well I'm no traitor. I quit and told you to do the same."
"You didn't give me a clear reason to." she snapped back without hesitation.
Kokoro raised a brow. "You needed a reason to walk away from being a pawn in the Hashirama Family's game?"
Her face twitched at that word.
"I'm not a pawn!" she said sharply.
Kokoro stepped closer. "Yeah right, then what are you, their family member?" He scoffed. "You know damn well you're not. And that makes you disposable and replaceable."
The words hung heavy between them. Aya's jaw clenched but she didn't argue.
"But..." Kokoro added, glancing around the quiet shack, "I doubt you called me all the way out here just to drag up old drama. So why am I here?"
Aya's posture stiffened, her voice dropped into something serious.
"Yesterday..." she said, "Tokito was found dead."
Kokoro blinked, expression unreadable. "...And?"
Aya's hands balled into fists, shoving him hard in the chest. "Tokito wasn't killed with a normal gun, the hole on his heard was to big for every sniper known and there's only one person I know who could've done that."
Kokoro tilted his head. "And who's that?"
Aya's eyes gleamed with fury. "My little sister."
The breeze rustled through the trees as Kokoro stared at her, expression neutral. Then slowly, almost mockingly, he furrowed his brow. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit!" Aya screamed, pushing him again. "You got her wrapped up in your little parade!"
Kokoro's voice stayed even, barely above a whisper. "You're acting like you actually care about her."
"I do care about her." Aya shot back.
"Yeah?" Kokoro laughed dryly, stepping back and turning slightly away. "Then why doesn't she even know you exist?"
That hit something. Aya flinched but tried not to show it.
"Exactly." Kokoro said. "Don't act like you've been the big sister."
"I was trying to protect her!" Aya shouted.
Kokoro gave her a cold look. "From what?"
The wind shifted. Aya looked like she wanted to scream, cry, fight or anything but instead, she just said:
"You know if Kaito finds out who killed his brother, he won't just go after her."
Kokoro's shoulders stiffened.
"He'll wipe out everyone in your little group of misfits."
Kokoro took a step forward, closer than before, voice dropping into something sharp and cruel. "He won't find out... unless you tell him."
Her face faltered.
Kokoro leaned in slightly, voice laced with quiet threat.
"And if you do... I swear. I'll come for you and your play-pretend family."
She didn't say anything. Just stared at him, frozen. Then he turned and walked away, boots crunching lightly over forest floor, hands back in his coat pockets, as if nothing had happened at all.
The hallway outside Captain Akira's office was dead silent, the usual hum of conversation and faint Essence crackle noticeably absent. Kokoro's boots echoed sharply as he approached the door and knocked once then pushed it open without waiting.
Inside, Akira sat cross-legged on the couch, sipping from a chipped black mug. Taichiro leaned against the windowsill, arms folded, head cocked lazily as always.
"Kokoro." Akira said, not surprised. "You're back early."
Kokoro's black eyeliner looked smudged. His face was unreadable. "I need a briefing. Permission to gather the others?"
Akira raised an eyebrow. "What's it about?"
He hesitated, then said, "The Wednesday mission and something else."
Taichiro sat up straighter.
Akira gave a short nod. "Granted. Do it now and keep it tight."
Without another word, Kokoro turned on his heel and strode down the hall, heading straight for Sakura's room.
She was perched on the windowsill, staring out at the courtyard below when he knocked twice and stepped in. She didn't look at him.
"You busy?" he asked.
Sakura shook her head.
"Good. Get the others , we're having a briefing in the main room now."
She turned. "Something happen?"
"You'll hear it with the rest."
He left and Sakura followed taking an opposite turn from his. She found the others in the lounge: Yumi on the couch, arms flailing as she told one of her signature bubbly stories. Yuseke and Kenji were seated nearby, nodding along with barely-hidden grins.
"And then I told him 'If you're gonna teleport into the women's locker room, at least wear pants next time!'" Yumi finished, cackling.
"You did not say that." Kenji said, laughing.
"Bet she did." Yuseke added.
"Hey." Sakura interrupted. "Your audience is requested in the main room."
The energy in the room dropped slightly, replaced with the shared alertness they'd learned to live with.
Yuseke stretched and got to his feet.
Five minutes later, the team gathered in the main room, the air sharp with tension. Kokoro stood near the front, arms folded, that same neutral mask on his face.
Akira and Taichiro entered last and stood at the back, watching silently.
Kokoro stepped forward. "You all remember the mission for Wednesday night?"
Yuseke slumped in his chair. "Yeah, that again?"
Kokoro folded his hands. "I believe the man Sakura killed… was the dealer."
A quiet fell over the room.
Yuseke raised his hand slightly, confused. "Isn't that… good? We didn't fail my first mission, then."
Taichiro frowned. "You believe?"
Kokoro turned to him, tone firm. "Yes."
Then his gaze shifted back to Yuseke. "And that's why it's not a good thing."
He paused.
"Because that man… was Tokito Hashirama."
Kenji blinked. "Who?"
Yuseke turned, shocked. "Wait... you don't know Tokito Hashirama? Bro, he's from one of the biggest families in Greenville. They're so filthy rich they only drive a car once then burn it."
Sakura rolled her eyes. "Liar."
"I'm serious!" Yuseke protested. "You think I'd make that up? These people are weird-rich."
Kokoro's voice cut through the back-and-forth like a blade.
"Enough."
Everyone turned back to him.
"What you think you know about the Hashirama Family is just a well-crafted public image." he said coldly. "They're not just some rich family, they're an organization of criminals."
Kenji whispered, "And how's that bad?"
Kokoro unfolded his arms. "They're a syndicate made of both Wielders and regular humans. Dealers, Assassins, Arms runners and Influencers. Their reach is everywhere."
He let that settle before continuing.
"Their leader... Kaito Hashirama is a Wielder himself. The family passes down a Sinscourge to each new head. It's tradition, a sacred curse."
Kenji narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Wouldn't the Saints pick them up?"
"They would." Kokoro said. "If not for one thing."
He lifted his left wrist and revealed a familiar black watch with a silver lining.
"They mass-produce artifacts that suppress Essence signatures, entirely."
Yuseke stared. "Wait… like that watch you have?"
"Yes." Kokoro said simply.
Kenji looked alarmed. "So that means…"
"Yes." Kokoro confirmed again. "I used to work with them."
No one spoke for a long moment.
Then Kokoro continued, voice steady but sharp.
"And now Tokito is the head of the family's little brother, so they're currently investigating his death and if they're able to pin it to Sakura..."
He locked eyes with each of them.
"They'll be coming for each and everyone one of us."
The air turned cold.
Akira finally stepped forward.
"Then it's settled." she said. "We gather intel. Every file, every whisper andevery movement. If war's coming, we're not going to be caught off guard."
Taichiro nodded silently behind her.
"From now on." Akira continued, "everyone stays sharp, assume you're always being watched. A war could start at any moment."
Her voice darkened.
"And when it does… I want us to be ready to make the first move."