The Measure of Power

The moment I step into the lab, I see rows of man-sized tubes. So this is where we go for the injection. We keep down the corridor and stop at one. A man in a white coat waits in front.

Rodney: “Kiyoshi, this is the inventor of the injection—Professor Hugh Robert.”
Hugh: “Pleasure to meet you, soldier.”
Kiyoshi: “Likewise, Professor.”

Hugh: “First we’ll run a blood test. For now, step into the tube—the nurses will set your IV.”
Kiyoshi: “Understood, Professor.”

Hugh cocks an eyebrow with a teasing smile.
Hugh: “Relax a little, Kiyoshi; I’m not your commander.”
Kiyoshi: “My apologies.”
Hugh: “No problem. Go on—let’s give you your power.”

I step inside. They hook the cables; sensors to my fingertips and chest, a line up my arm… and an oxygen mask. The lid seals.

About twenty minutes later, the professor returns.
Hugh: “We’ll grant your power momentarily. Stay as calm as you can.”

Kiyoshi: “Got it.”

Hugh taps a few settings on the console. A purple fluid crawls along the line into my arm. I can see it moving in my veins. The instant it enters, a needle of pain stabs the center of my head. Images overlap.

Sunset. That ship. That light. Mom—

Kiyoshi: “AHHH—!”

The rest of my voice just fogs the mask; outside it’s a muffled hum.
Hugh (shouting): “Try to relax! They’re memories, not real. Breathe—find the rhythm!”

I count my breaths. Four in, four out. The heat wave recedes. I grab the pain by its edge and focus. Pain is here; I’m here.

Hugh: “Good. Keep that up.”

A few doctors gather behind the glass. Monitors spike. Rodney leans in at the screens, stunned.

Hugh: “Kiyoshi… your color is BLACK.”
He pauses; his eyes shine. “It’s extremely rare. There aren’t more than a handful in the world. We haven’t seen a candidate at this level in a very long time.”

…Black? Something inside me expands. The lid opens; hands unhook the cables. They sit me down in a chair. My hands shake; my legs are jelly. For fifteen minutes I do nothing but breathe.

Then I notice: the weight is gone. My muscles feel light, like I’m gliding in air. Power moves quiet in my veins, but it’s there—when I close my fingers, it echoes in my palms. Like I could break anything… like no one could stop me.

I strip off the mask. I meet Rodney’s eyes; he gives a small nod.
I only whisper: “I’m ready.”

Rodney turns to me, steady voice:
Rodney: “Normally I’d take you into my class, but you came out Black. Another Black will take over your training—he’ll teach you everything you need.”

I don’t get hung up on it. There’s a stone-like confidence in me.

Kiyoshi: “Can you get me a training room?”
Rodney: “No need to rush. I’ll set it up, but don’t overdo it.”
Kiyoshi: “Understood.”

He brings me to the hall. The same dummies are waiting.

Kiyoshi: “I can use this, right?”
Rodney: “Of course. I’d like to watch, if you don’t mind.”
Kiyoshi: “Go ahead.”

I close the distance in a blink. I load my fist and drop it at full power.
BOOM! The dummy staples into the wall behind it; concrete caves in. Dust blooms.

I catch Rodney’s look; his eyes hang in space for a heartbeat. He couldn’t track it. He only watches, astonished.

I breathe deeper. I start spreading the power through my body; it’s like a restless current threading between muscle fibers.
My steps crack the floor—hairline veins skitter out. Every move is lighter, faster.

This feeling… absurd.

One more step. The floor gives a sharp tick. My fist tingles warm.

I hold at the edge of the power and smooth my breathing. Then I surge again—controlled.

Rodney finally speaks:
Rodney: “Kiyoshi… that’s enough for today. Black comes with a price. Don’t burn yourself before your instructor arrives.”

I relax my fist. Dust floats in the air.
Kiyoshi: “Understood. That was just a warm-up.”

The energy inside me still trembles like a dozing engine. As I head for the door, a single line turns in my head: If I can control this… nothing can stop me.

Rodney: “Alright, you can go home for now. Your instructor will see you tomorrow.”
Kiyoshi: “Understood, sir.”

I gather my things and head out. In the corridor I run into Ayame—she’s just come from the lab too.

Kiyoshi: “Ayame, how’d it go—what’s your color?”
Ayame: “Green, slightly light. A bit low compared to Part Three’s sim, but they said I can raise it up to dark green. By the way… what about you? Red suited you.”
Kiyoshi: “Black.”
Her eyes widen.
Ayame: “Black?! Seriously? That’s incredible!”
Kiyoshi: “Yeah. They’re assigning me a separate instructor—he’s Black too.”
Ayame: “Wow… you really are special.”
Kiyoshi: “I don’t think I’m special. It’s just the result of work.”
Ayame: “Anyway, have a good day. I hope we run into each other again.”
Kiyoshi: “Me too.”

I head home. I make myself dinner: Italian pasta as a little reward. After eating I drop onto the bed; my eyes close.

Morning. I set out for the base again. As I approach the gate, I spot a silhouette—a man. Shoulder-length hair, face in shadow. The moment he sees me, he’s beside me in less than a second.

How…? My heart slams once, hard.

He sets a hand on my shoulder.
??? “Hello. I’m your new instructor. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Blond hair, a cape over odd attire; military armor beneath. Taller than me. But how he got that close that fast—I can’t process. He lifts his hand. I glare, wary.

Kiyoshi: “How did you get to me?”
New instructor: “Everyone’s color comes with a magic power—you know that, right?”
Kiyoshi: “Yes, but you and I are Black. We have our own set.”
New instructor: “Mine lets me reach you this fast.”
Kiyoshi: “What, you teleported?”
New instructor: “Partly… but I wouldn’t call it that.”
Kiyoshi: “Then what?”
New instructor: “I’d say I cut the distance between us.”

Cutting empty space…? With a power like that, who could run from him?

New instructor: “Anyway, never mind for now. Let me introduce myself. I’m Matteo Angelo. Nice to meet you, Kiyoshi.”
Kiyoshi: “The pleasure’s not mine.”

What a freak…

He grabs my arm and drags me inside. Through the base halls into a gear room.

Matteo: “Before we start training, let’s build the armor you’ll use in battle and on missions.”
Kiyoshi: “Let me go. Fine—let’s start.”

A console opens in front of me; Matteo fires questions: “Cape? Color? Pattern? Protection zones?” I pick them one by one.

Let me describe the armor: The mask leaves the eyes and hair exposed; there’s a cape—black. I paint the patterns in purple. Protectors: knees, elbows, hips, and chest plate. The rest is flexible and free-moving.

Matteo: “Good choices.”
Kiyoshi: “You’re the last person I want compliments from.”

Production begins. Matteo yanks my arm again and hauls me to the training hall.

Kiyoshi: “Why bring me here?”
Matteo: “We’re going to spar. But there’s one more thing.”
Kiyoshi: “What?”
Matteo: “Use your power. I’ll use mine. Don’t worry—I won’t use my magic technique, just the physical boost. I’ll show you how to control it.”

Training already?

Matteo: “I know what you’re thinking—you expect it to be rough. I did at first, too.”
Kiyoshi: “No, that’s not what I’m thinking.”

……

Matteo: “Anyway—get ready. I’m coming.”

He snaps his fingers. Hexagonal lines glow on the floor.
Matteo: “This room is lined with power limiters. You’ll still punch through a wall if you slip once. Short strikes, controlled discharge.”

Got it. If I go full force, the building’s gone.

In an instant the air bends like a line—he cuts distance—and he’s in my face between blinks. I shove in with my right shoulder and step inside—half-step hook. As it leaves my hand I pop a micro-burst in my palm.
THUUUM! The shock ripples the hex grid; Matteo slips his chin by a hair and pins my wrist down with two fingers. My momentum bleeds out.

Matteo: “Good speed. But you’re hitting without trimming the energy. Again!”

He shaves distance again; he’s behind me. I fold at the waist—low-kick feint → pivoting short cross on the turn.
TAK—PATT! Air compresses; a spiderweb crack creeps across the wall surface. A warning light flickers.

A line on the display catches my eye: [BLACK: Output 12% | Threshold: 15% | Heat +1]
At just twelve percent and the room’s already straining…

Matteo bumps my shoulder—then he’s gone—then sliced back in front of me like a single missing frame. His elbow is about to kiss my chest; I lock my arms, catch-release, short knee and a chin-tap burst.
TOK—PATT! Matteo slides half a step back. His eyes narrow; he smiles.
Matteo: “You timed the short burst perfectly. Now split the same power into three—run it as a series.”

Left—right—left. Three needle-tip bursts, three shock rings; dust lifts in circles from the floor.
PATT—PATT—PATT! Matteo rides them on his wrists, parrying with small throws; on the last one he cuts distance again and appears in my blind spot.
His elbow grazes my cheek like a whisper; a bell rings in my head. Breathe—back to rhythm.

I speed up too. My lead foot traces a crescent; shoulder feint → a single-line body shove punch. At impact I shut the energy like a closing door.
BOOM! Matteo skids two meters and stops in front of the wall. A low groan comes from inside it; the field shivers.

Matteo: “Enough.” His hand makes a cutting sign. The room lights normalize.
New line on the display: [Training cap exceeded. System cooldown: 30 s]

My breath settles; my palms tingle.
Matteo: “Summary: you’ve got speed, and too much power. Your problem is closure. If you don’t learn to open and shut a strike, you’ll collapse the field in a real fight—yourself included.”

I nod. He’s right.

Matteo: “Tomorrow: eight-percent ceiling, five-hit short series, counter vs. distance-cut. That’s it for today.”
He winks—the image slices—and in a blink he’s at the door.
I unclench my fist. The floor still ticks faintly. The engine inside me dozes but strong—and for the first time, I want to control it.

Matteo: “You can head home. Don’t forget to pick up your armor on the way out. Tomorrow you come in wearing it.”
Kiyoshi: “Understood, sir.”

I claim my armor and step outside. As I walk, the power in me feels calmer, more obedient. One step closer to control.

That night I hang the armor by my bed and take a long breath.
Tomorrow—stronger.