Bonds of Sweat

The morning following the incident in the barracks, the three squads were gathered in the central courtyard under a sun that offered no warmth.

Standing before them was Natasha Kuroki, flanked by the other two figures of authority.

"Listen up, brats," Natasha said, her voice dripping with authority. "I want to introduce you to the local clown. This is Kyosuke Anayama, the instructor for Squad A."

Kyosuke performed a theatrical bow, the chains on his body rattling with the movement. "Call me 'Joker-sensei', darlings!" he shouted, winking an eye behind his red tinted glasses.

"And to my left," Natasha continued, ignoring Kyosuke entirely, "is Asa Sato, the instructor for Squad C."

Asa was a short but compact man, built like a tank. He wore a military gas mask that concealed the lower half of his face and carried a giant ōdachi on his back that looked like it weighed more than he did. He said nothing. He simply offered a slight nod, his dark, weary eyes looking as if they had seen too many wars.

"Don't think that just because we're close to your age, we’ll be lenient," Natasha warned. "If you die in training, you save us the paperwork. Now, move out."

The groups split up. Kyosuke took Squad A to the advanced obstacle course. Asa Sato led Squad C to the firing range. Natasha stayed behind with Squad B.

Before parting ways, Ken and Tanimoto locked eyes. It wasn't a look of farewell, nor was it the toxic rivalry of the past. It was a silent, heavy gaze.

Then, the hell began.

The first day of intensive training was brutal. Natasha didn't believe in breaks. She made them run through the mud until their legs gave out, and then forced them into hand-to-hand combat until their knuckles bled.

"Faster, Yamato!" she screamed. "If an Oni chases you and you run like that, you'll be nothing but bait!"

"Yes, ma'am!" gasped the boy with glasses, stumbling, only to be hauled up by Shinji's massive arm.

Even Ken, who was accustomed to hard labor in the Citadel, began to wonder if facing the creatures outside was less painful than enduring Natasha’s bicolor gaze.

Two days passed. Then three. The week dragged on through bruises and muscle aches. But amidst the suffering, something magical happened: a unit was born.

Every night in the barracks, the barriers fell. Ken grew closer to his core group: Shinji, the gentle giant who could lift three times his own weight yet was terrified of injections—but aside from that, he was the person you could trust the most. Yamato became the brains of the group, teaching the others about Oni weak points using drawings on the floor. And Naomi, the blue-haired girl, always found a way to make them laugh, even when their meal was a disgusting gray slop.

"They look like an invincible team," commented Hanami, the dagger user, watching them eat together in the mess hall.

Ken didn't limit himself to his circle. His natural charisma made him popular. He spoke with the rich kids from Squad A, humbling them with jokes. He helped those in Squad C clean their weapons. Even his relationship with Tanimoto shifted. Now, they greeted each other with a nod. Tanimoto remained distant, but he was no longer an enemy. They were comrades.

From the watchtower, three pairs of eyes observed.

"The kid has leadership material," Kyosuke said, toying with a coin between his fingers as he watched Ken help Yamato scale a wall. "It’s a pity his techniques are so... simple."

"At least they are effective," grunted Asa Sato, his voice muffled by the mask. "He’s the glue holding that band of misfits together."

But Natasha wasn't listening. She was reviewing security footage on her tablet.

"Natasha?" Kyosuke asked. "Are you ignoring me again, princess?"

Natasha zoomed in on Ken’s image. She was fixated on a specific moment from yesterday’s training. Ken had been about to be struck by a training log. In the video, for a single frame, Ken's shadow didn't match his body. As Ken moved to the left, his shadow seemed to remain still for a millisecond longer, taking a shape that resembled a beast before snapping back into place.

"It’s not just leadership," Natasha murmured, a clinical obsession in her voice. "There is something inside him. Though I can't quite grasp what it is."

Natasha lowered the tablet and looked down at Ken through the tower's glass. Her behavior bordered on stalking, analyzing every step, every breath the boy took.

"We need to push him harder," Natasha said, stowing the device away. "Next week, we raise the stakes. I want to see what comes out when he breaks."

Down in the courtyard, Ken felt a chill run down the back of his neck and looked up toward the tower. He saw Natasha's silhouette and smiled, thinking it was just his strict instructor keeping watch.

He didn't know she wasn't looking at the student. She was staring at the monster sleeping within his shadow.