The snow and blood of that day were long behind him. Eight years had carved a man from the boy who had cried in the field, and now Akio Kazama moved with the quiet precision of someone who had learned to survive.
He bent over the earth, the sun casting long shadows across the fields as he tended to the crops. His muscles flexed with practiced strength, and yet his mind remained alert, never wandering too far from the edge of caution.
A sudden shadow crossed his path. A black crow, larger than any ordinary bird, perched on a nearby fence post. Its eyes glinted unnaturally intelligent, and it tilted its head, regarding him with an unsettling calm.
"Akio Kazama," it cawed in a sharp, articulate voice. "Principal Henry Douglas of the Black Sun Academy requests your presence. He wishes for you to excel within their territory."
Akio paused, wiping dirt from his hands. His lips curved into a small, serious smile—eyes sharp, burning with the quiet fire of determination.
"Hmm… it's about time," he murmured, voice low and steady, almost reverent.
The crow flapped forward, dropping a black leather suitcase at his feet. Opening it revealed neatly folded school uniforms, textbooks, and an identity card emblazoned with the Black Sun Academy crest.
Akio's fingers brushed over the materials, lingering on the card. It felt like destiny finally catching up to him.
Without another word, he nodded to the crow. "I'll go," he said. There was no hesitation, only resolve.
Later that evening, he bathed, the warm water washing away the grime of the fields and the remnants of the past. He dressed meticulously, ensuring his uniform was perfect, and packed his bag for the journey ahead. The train to Sallensberg, the city where the academy awaited, would carry him into a world of power, competition, and the first steps toward vengeance.
Akio Kazama was ready.