He handed me a katana. This was no longer gunpowder training; it was a test of physique and mobility. The weight of the blade was unlike anything I had ever held; it wasn't just the weight of the metal, but the balance it demanded. The instructor stepped back, stopping five meters away with his oak staff in hand.
— Firming your feet is the basics, Arata. But if your hands are too tense, you'll just be a log waiting to be cut. Relax your shoulders. Feel your center of gravity.
Our eyes met. He gave a slight nod. The real baptism was beginning now.
I lunged forward. It was an instinctive move, trying to use the speed the System provided. But before I could even raise the blade for a lateral strike, his staff cracked against my ribs. The air fled my lungs, and I rolled through the dust. I was too linear, I thought. He read the tension in my right foot before I even took the first step.
This time, I waited. I let him come to me. When the staff descended in a vertical arc, I tried to block with the side of the katana. The impact vibrated all the way to the marrow of my mechanical arm. With terrifying fluidity, he spun his body, and the other end of the staff struck my ankle. Grounded again. Blocking a heavy staff with a thin blade is suicide, I concluded. I needed to deflect the force, not meet it head-on.
I tried to use my physical build. As he advanced, I projected a sudden burst for a lateral thrust. It worked; I moved out of the line of attack, but the instructor simply extended his arm and tripped me with the tip of his staff. I slammed onto the concrete, spitting blood.
— You rely too much on your tricks, kid. Use your head.
I stood up, feeling the "Void" pulsing in my chest. The pain was growing numb, replaced by a cold clarity. I couldn't beat him with strength, and he was faster in technique. I needed an opening. Or rather... I needed to create one.
I took a deep breath, feeling sweat sting my eyes. I advanced again, but this time, I purposely left my guard open on the left. He didn't hesitate. The staff came like lightning toward my unprotected shoulder. At the very last millisecond, I didn't try to dodge.
I used my mechanical arm to take the blow. The sound of metal against wood echoed through the courtyard—the impact was so strong I felt the prosthetic's joint snap. But I didn't let go. With my metal hand, I pinned the staff against my own body, locking his weapon in place.
The instructor's eyes widened. He tried to pull back, but the hydraulic strength of my arm was greater.
— Now! — I shouted internally.
With my right hand, I swung the katana in an upward arc. I didn't aim for him; I aimed for his base. I used the tip of the blade to hook the back of his knee while pulling the staff in the opposite direction, completely unbalancing him.
For a second, time seemed to stop. The instructor lost his footing. He fell flat on his back with a dull thud, and before he could recover, the tip of my katana was inches from his throat.
I was breathless. Smoke rose from my mechanical arm, and my chest heaved violently. The silence in the courtyard was absolute. The instructor looked at the blade, then at me. A slow, genuine smile appeared on his weathered face. He used his hand to gently push the sword aside.
— You used your own body as bait... and turned a gap into a trap. Risky. Dirty. Efficient.
He stood up, brushing the dust off his trousers.
— The baptism is over, Arata. You are no longer a civilian. Welcome to the Infiltration Unit.
I felt my knees buckle, but I didn't fall. I had won.
— Right, Arata. Go speak with the She-Wolf; she should be waiting for you in the office.
I thanked the instructor for the session, feeling every muscle in my body pulse in protest, and walked toward the main office. When I opened the door, however, the room was empty. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic sound of a brush scrubbing the floor. A janitor, an old man with white hair and a mustache, was cleaning the rug with enviable concentration.
— Excuse me... why isn't the Boss here? — I asked, stepping closer.
He pulled off his headphones with a grouchy gesture, revealing a tired gaze.
— Kid, can't you see I'm cleaning? — he grumbled impatiently. — The Boss should be having lunch right now. In the cafeteria, downstairs.
He put his headphones back on before I could even say thanks. What a cranky old man, I thought, but I didn't waste time. I headed down the stairs, following the flow of people heading in the same direction. The cafeteria was a cavernous, noisy space, smelling strongly of spices and metal.
I walked to the counter, grabbed a metal tray, and joined the line. There was a surprising variety: rice, beans, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, and eggs. I piled my plate generously—fighting a veteran instructor certainly worked up an appetite—and turned toward the hall.
That was when reality hit.
The place was massive, but the tables seemed like marked territories. I started walking, feeling the weight of stares upon me. I tried to approach a table near a pillar where there was a vacant spot, but the soldiers there glared at me with such direct hostility that my feet stopped on their own. They didn't want me there. I was the "System boy," the intruder no one knew.
I kept walking toward the back of the cafeteria where the lighting was dimmer. I found an isolated, empty table. I sat down, finally relaxing my shoulders, and began to eat while watching the movement.
A group of three guys passed near me, talking loudly and ignoring my presence as if I were a piece of furniture. One of them laughed at something another said:
— What's the point, man? The guy goes to a gay club to try and pick up women? — Their laughter echoed, fading as they moved toward a more central table.
I stayed there, staring at my rice. In the training courtyard, I was a threat—someone who managed to take down a veteran. But here, with a plate of food in front of me and surrounded by hundreds of people, I had never felt so alone.
After a few seconds of silence, someone sat in the chair across from me. I looked up and saw a guy with glasses, black hair, and a gaze that seemed to analyze everything around him in milliseconds. He pushed his glasses up as they slid down his nose.
— Hi... Can I sit here? The other tables are full of people who think they're too important for a rookie and a... well, a "weirdo" like me.
— Sure — I replied, turning my attention back to my plate. — What's your name?
— Officially? Osvaldo. But to my few friends, Oscar. — He extended a pale but firm hand.
— Arata. — I shook his hand. I felt an unusual strength in that grip, something that didn't match his fragile appearance. The System in my chest gave a slight click of recognition. This guy isn't normal.
The peace didn't last long. A girl arrived like a whirlwind, sitting next to Oscar and throwing her feet up on the table. Her name was Rika.
— Damn it, Oscar! Where were you? I looked for you all over the ammo sector! — She didn't even look at me, focusing only on him. — I'm thirsty. Hand me that brat's juice.
I looked at her with profound boredom. What an insufferable girl. Before I could react, she reached out to grab my cup. Instinctively, my mechanical arm locked her wrist in mid-air. The sound of metal against skin was sharp.
— Try that again — I said, my voice icy —, and I'll show you how metal behaves against someone's teeth.
Her eyes widened, and she looked at Oscar, expecting him to explode in her defense.
— Oscar! He threatened me! Take him out!
Oscar sighed, but instead of attacking me, he placed his hand gently over my mechanical arm. It was a light touch, but I felt an absurd pressure, as if he could crush the steel if he wanted to.
— Relax, Arata. She's just loud. — He turned to her with a look of almost pathetic adoration. — Rika, take my juice. I didn't even want to drink it anyway. Take it; everything mine is yours.
I released her wrist, feeling a mix of pity and admiration for the guy.
— Hey, Oscar... you're quite the warrior, but you're a first-class simp, aren't you? Control your friend, or dinner is going to end in a fight.
Oscar stood up slowly, slamming his hands on the table. For a second, his aura fluctuated, heavy and dense, vaguely reminiscent of Kagatsa's.
— Look, Arata... — he said with a smirk, but a deadly gaze. — I apologize for her manners. But I don't allow anyone to speak ill of Rika. She is my world. If you want to be my friend, you'll have to accept her craziness. Otherwise... the cafeteria is going to need a renovation after we leave here.
I stared into those eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. There was a flame there. A madness I recognized. I gave a sideways grin and went back to eating.
— You're crazy, Oscar.
He sat back down, the aura vanishing instantly as he served food to the girl, who was smiling victoriously. Those two were a bizarre combination, but for the first time since I arrived underground, I felt I had found someone who spoke my language: the language of those who are a few screws short.
I left the table of that peculiar duo and placed my tray on the cleaning counter. I walked back to the administrative sector, feeling the weight of exhaustion finally take its toll. When I opened the office door, Kagatsa was there.
This time, she was wearing reading glasses, which gave her a strangely intellectual air that didn't match the scars on her shoulders. She looked up from her papers and noticed my presence.
— Arata. I was informed you finished the baptism. That's good, but not as good as my final report. — She gave a corner smile, closing a folder. — Anyway, let's talk about the operation. We'll start as soon as we're ready. The group will consist of me, your uncle, you, and four of our best soldiers. I'll let you know when it's time.
— But... how? — I asked, confused. — Will you send me a message? Will I get a radio?
— No. You'll just know. — She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. — For now, if I were you, I'd take this chance to say goodbye to those you know. Prepare yourself mentally and physically. Classe City doesn't forgive mistakes.
— You got it, Boss. I'm heading out.
I turned to the door, ready to disappear and process everything I learned in training, but her voice stopped me in my tracks.
— Arata? Actually... how about we go out together?
The words hit my thoughts like a punch. "What?! Like... is she asking me out on a date?" I felt my face flush instantly.
— I-I guess so... — I stammered, trying to keep my composure. — But what time? And... where are we going?
— Meet me right here in the office tonight. See you then.
I stood paralyzed, staring into space for a few seconds before I could manage a somewhat decent response.
— Okay, Boss!
I left the office, nearly tripping over my own feet. As soon as the door closed, my brain collapsed.
"I'm going on a date? With my Boss?!" Questions started machine-gunning through my mind. "What does she want? What are we going to do? I don't even have clothes for this! She's much older, much stronger, and... my God, I'm freaking out!"
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the heart hammering against my ribs. I needed to go home. I needed a shower, clean clothes, and above all, a plan not to embarrass myself in front of the most dangerous woman I've ever met.