The morning light spread like liquid gold across the Nova grounds, illuminating the dew-heavy grass and the ancient wooden floors of the compound.

  Kanae’s footsteps echoed softly as she walked back to her room. Each rhythmic tap against the polished wood felt foreign to her—too clean, too orderly, and too quiet. She reached her door and slid it open, revealing a neatly arranged school uniform waiting for her.

  The white shirt was crisp and unwrinkled. A black sweater lay folded with precise edges. Beside it, a pencil skirt was pressed flat, with a tie resting perfectly atop the stack.

  Kanae crouched, inspecting each piece with the wariness of someone examining an unknown trap. Her fingertips grazed the fabric, finding it startlingly soft. In the mirror, her reflection caught her off guard—her eyes were wide, and her body was stiff with unfamiliarity.

  This looks so clean, she thought, her breath hitching. So structured. It feels like it belongs to someone else.

  She began to dress, her movements deliberate and tentative. She tucked the shirt, smoothed the sweater, and adjusted the tie around her neck with fumbling fingers. Her hands lingered over the skirt—the way it fell, the way it moved—before she let it settle. Finally, she smoothed her hair over her forehead, her single long ponytail swaying gently as she exhaled a long, shaky breath.

  A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Kiyomi appeared in the doorway, a small backpack in hand. Her presence was, as always, a pillar of calm, measured authority.

  “Here. This has everything you will need for the day—pencils, books, and supplies.”

  Kiyomi stepped closer. With practiced, motherly precision, she reached out to adjust Kanae’s tie and smooth the lapels of her sweater. Kanae stiffened, unused to such intimate care, but she didn’t pull away.

  “Good. Move,” Kiyomi commanded. “You leave with the others.”

  Kanae managed a nod, her voice barely a whisper. “Y-yes, Sensei.”

  Outside, the green fields of the estate stretched toward the horizon. The girls were already walking in a neat formation, chatting softly as they went. Amanai trailed at a distance, a silent, brooding shadow. Kanae hurried to catch up, matching their pace as best she could.

  Hanemi glanced back, her smile calm and reassuring. “Hey, Kanae. Ready for your first day?”

  “…I think so,” Kanae replied, her eyes fixed on the path. “I’ve never… I’ve never gone to a proper school before.”

  Osaka giggled softly, skipping a step. “Don’t worry! You’ll be fine. Just follow us and pay attention. It’s a lot like training, just with more sitting.”

  They walked down a forested path where the leaves rustled in the morning breeze and sunlight flickered through the canopy, casting playful shadows on the dirt. Birds chirped above, and small animals scurried at the edges of the trail. Kanae noticed everything—every twitch of a branch, every shift in color. Her instincts remained alert, even in the safety of the morning.

  As the train station came into view, Kanae slowed to a crawl. She stopped, staring at the sleek metal carriages, the tall poles, and the glowing signals. The tracks stretched like silver ribbons toward the horizon.

  “I… I’ve never seen a train like this,” she whispered.

  “The city is far,” Reina explained. “We have to take the rail to reach the school. Walking would take hours.”

  Kanae hesitated at the edge of the platform, her eyes fixed on the incoming train. Its hum vibrated in her chest—smooth, powerful, and utterly intimidating. It was a beast of metal and glass, mesmerizing in its speed.

  “It’s okay,” Osaka said, sensing her fear. “Just step in when it stops. Watch the doors—no rush.”

  Kanae swallowed the knot in her stomach. Step by step, she approached as the train slowed, screeching gently to a halt. The doors hissed open like a sigh.

  “…Here goes,” she whispered to herself.

  Inside, the carriage was quiet and orderly. Rows of seats were filled with passengers reading or chatting softly. Lights reflected off the polished surfaces, feeling warm and welcoming. Kanae gripped the straps of her backpack until her knuckles turned pale.

  After handing her ticket to the conductor with a nervous nod, she moved down the aisle and slid into a seat between Hanemi and Osaka, while Sayori sat directly across from them next to Reina. The bench felt firm yet yielding—another strange, unfamiliar comfort.

  Sayori clutched her own bag in her lap, her eyes fixed on Kanae with a gentle, observant gaze. As the train gained speed, she noticed Kanae’s knuckles turning white against the straps of her backpack.

  "The train is loud at first," Sayori said, her soft voice cutting through the mechanical hum. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, dried flower pressed into a charm. "But if you listen to the rhythm of the tracks, it sounds like a heartbeat. Try to match your breathing to it.”

  Kanae looked at the charm, then back at the girl. She took a slow, deliberate breath, and for the first time, her racing pulse began to slow.

  "Thank you, Sayori," Kanae murmured.

  Sayori simply nodded, a small, peaceful smile touching her lips as she turned to watch the forest blur into the city skyline.

  Kanae pressed her hand lightly against the glass window. Outside, the forest blurred into streaks of vibrant green as the train gained speed. The rhythmic clack-clack of the wheels against the tracks synced with the frantic pounding of her pulse.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said, her voice filled with awe.

  Hanemi leaned toward her, noticing her wide-eyed expression. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. It takes time, but you’ll learn how the city works.”

  Kanae nodded faintly, mesmerized by the landscape sliding past. Trees, hills, rooftops, and streams folded into one another as they sped toward the unknown.

  The city… it’s waiting, she thought. Everything I know is about to change. And I have to be the one to step forward.

  She gripped the edge of her seat tighter, her heartbeat quickening. The train hummed beneath her, carrying her toward school, toward people, and toward a life that was terrifyingly structured.

  Today, the world opens before me, Kanae realized. Every sight, every sound… is a lesson. And I will be ready.

  The train accelerated, the horizon stretching wide as the world waited. For the first time, Kanae felt a quiet, trembling pulse of anticipation for what came next.

  The train hummed steadily, gliding along the tracks like a quiet predator through the dense forest. Golden lines of sunlight slanted across the carriage, highlighting the tension in Kanae’s jaw and the slight tremor in her hands as they rested on her backpack.

  For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the rhythmic, metallic clatter of wheels against rails. Finally, Kanae’s voice broke the quiet—hesitant, almost fragile.

  “Um… how did these demons first appear? What happened to the world?”

  Hanemi’s eyes sharpened. She leaned slightly closer, her expression calm but observant. Beside her, Osaka tilted her head, letting the morning light dance across her white hair. Her expression was soft, but her voice carried a sudden, serious weight.

  “Kika-shu,” Osaka said, testing the word. “You’ve heard the name, haven't you?”

  Kanae shook her head slowly, a cloud of uncertainty crossing her features. “Kika-shu?”

  Hanemi exhaled lightly, like a wind bracing for a storm, as she began to unfold the history. “They are the Marechi demons. But they didn't start as monsters. They were people—infected by the Aka-Kaze, the Red Wind virus.”

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  Kanae’s brows furrowed. “A virus?”

  “It isn't like a normal illness,” Hanemi explained, her voice lowering. “It stays dormant until the mind or body is pushed past its absolute limits.

  Extreme trauma, agony, or despair—that’s when the Red Wind awakens. It rewrites a person’s instincts, heightens their aggression, and eventually… it transforms them. They keep their human forms, and sometimes even their human memories, but the blood, the hunger, and the predatory drive… those are no longer theirs.”

  “So… they’re monsters,” Kanae whispered.

  Osaka nodded gently. “Monsters, yes. But they were still human once. That is why the kunoichi exist—to protect, to contain, and sometimes to save those who can be brought back before the darkness takes them completely.”

  Reina added, her tone protective and warm, “It isn't just about the fight, Kanae. It’s about guarding people. Preventing chaos. Making sure ordinary lives aren’t destroyed by a horror they can’t even understand.”

  Kanae’s fingers tightened on her lap. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her jaw trembling. Her thoughts drifted uncontrollably to the past—to the screaming, the blood, and the sudden, violent loss.

  Hanemi noticed the shift and reached out, her voice patient. “Kanae? What’s wrong?”

  “That…” Kanae’s voice was a mere ghost of a whisper. “That must have been what killed my sister.”

  The words hung in the sunlit carriage like a sudden, freezing shadow. Osaka and Hanemi exchanged a glance, a heavy silence passing between them.

  “Kanae… I’m so sorry,” Osaka said softly.

  “We didn't know,” Hanemi added, her voice gentle and unprying. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  Kanae’s eyes flicked to the window, catching a flash of the blurred forest. The sunlight danced across the leaves, but it couldn't touch the memory lurking inside her. Osaka swallowed hard and shook her head. “…No. Don’t… never mind.”

  A heavy silence followed, broken only by the steady pulse of the train. Hanemi shifted slightly, giving her space, while Osaka watched her quietly, sensing the wall that had just been built.

  After a few moments, Osaka tried to pull the conversation back toward the light. “Okay… let’s start over. Tell me—what grade are you in? What was your school like before?”

  Kanae blinked, shaking off the shadows. Her voice was small and careful. “I… I never went to a proper school. I know a little about reading and math, but it isn't much.”

  Hanemi offered a faint, encouraging smile—a soft anchor in the conversation. “That’s okay. You’ll catch up. We’ll help you.”

  Kanae nodded quietly, returning her gaze to the window as the forest rushed past. The trees blurred into a sea of green, their leaves tossing like waves across an unseen ocean. Her mind was split—half in the carriage, and half in the memory of her sister’s face.

  If this is what my sister fought that day, Kanae thought, her jaw tightening, then I’ll have to face it too. If I want to survive… if I want to protect people like she protected me… I have to be stronger.

  The train began to slow as the city approached like a distant promise and a warning. Kanae adjusted the straps of her backpack, her hands gripping the fabric just enough to feel grounded.

  As the city skyline rose to meet them, she felt a strange realization: she wouldn't have to face this world alone.

  The train slowed to a soft halt, the metallic screech of the brakes blending with the distant, low-frequency hum of the city. The doors slid open with a hiss, inviting in the chaotic buzz of morning traffic—the blare of horns, the frantic rhythm of hurried footsteps, and the mechanical whirr of streetlights as they flickered out against the rising sun.

  Osaka stepped onto the platform first. She brushed her white hair back with a quick flick and glanced at Kanae with an encouraging smile. "We made it. Come on, Kanae."

  Kanae froze for a heartbeat, her eyes wide as she drank in the sprawling concrete jungle. Towering skyscrapers gleamed with mirrored windows that seemed to pierce the sky. The streets were a living tide of people, and somewhere above, a neon sign buzzed faintly, struggling to stay visible against the morning glare. Her chest felt tight, her pulse quickening with the sheer scale of it all.

  Reina, already walking ahead with the others, glanced back over her shoulder. "Keep up! We don’t want you to be late on your first day."

  Kanae hurried her pace, careful not to stumble in her new shoes. Her voice was small and thick with uncertainty. "Is it always this busy? Do the streets always… smell like this?"

  Osaka chuckled, the sound light and genuinely amused. "Yes. And yes. You’ll get used to it, eventually."

  The six of them navigated the crowded sidewalks, weaving through a blur of salarymen and bicycles until the school finally came into view. It was a tall, modern building of glass and steel that reflected shards of the blue sky.

  Students flowed through the gates like water, their laughter and chatter spilling into the courtyard.

  Kanae’s stomach fluttered—a cold mix of anticipation and nerves.

  "Follow us," Hanemi said. "And whatever you do, don't get lost."

  Kanae managed a stiff nod. She tried to match their confident strides but found herself lagging, distracted by the alien sights: the flashing advertisements, the smell of fresh bakeries mingling with exhaust, and a city that felt more "alive" than the disciplined hush of the Nova grounds.

  Once inside the gates, the atmosphere shifted. The hallways smelled of chalk, polished wood, and a faint tang of disinfectant. Students brushed past, casting curious, lingering glances at the new arrival. Kanae’s eyes darted from the colorful lockers to the posters on the walls, absorbing everything with a cautious, bird-like fascination.

  They reached the classroom. The door slid open to reveal a room bathed in sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. Rows of desks stood in perfect alignment, dust motes drifting lazily in the golden beams. As the girls moved to their regular seats, Kanae lingered at the threshold. She eventually chose a desk slightly apart from the others, shrinking into it as if she could disappear.

  Two students walking past whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

  "Who’s that?"

  "A transfer… She looks different. A bit intense, right?"

  Kanae’s ears turned a bright red. She slumped in her seat, unaccustomed to the weight of so many eyes that didn't belong to her "sisters."

  The door slid open again, and a teacher entered. Her presence was calm but unmistakably commanding. "Good morning, class. Everyone, stand."

  The room erupted into the sound of scraping chairs. Kanae froze, her muscles locking up. The teacher’s sharp, expectant gaze fell directly on the girl still sitting.

  "Is there a reason you are still seated?

  Kanae’s cheeks burned as she scrambled upright, nearly knocking her chair over.

  "Ah, you must be the new student," the teacher said, her expression softening slightly. "What is your name?"

  Osaka leaned in from the next row, speaking softly to bridge the gap. "This is Kanae. She’s new, and... well, she's still learning the rules."

  The teacher nodded kindly. "Welcome, Kanae. Tell us, where did you study before coming to our city?"

  Kanae hesitated, her voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner. "I… I haven’t been to a proper school before. I know some things, but… I’m still learning."

  A low murmur rippled through the students, but the teacher silenced it with a look. "Thank you, Kanae. Everyone, please be seated. We shall begin."

  The room settled as students shuffled back into their chairs. "Today, we start with Japanese Literature. Please take out your textbooks."

  Kanae carefully opened her backpack, fumbling with the unfamiliar zippers. She pulled out a crisp, heavy book. The pages were pristine, but the columns of kanji and complex explanations felt like a secret code she couldn't break.

  Osaka leaned over, her finger tracing the page. "Here, Kanae. Open to chapter one. Just follow along with me."

  Kanae nodded, tracing the lines of text with her fingers. She scanned the page slowly, trying to absorb the shapes of the words.

  "Kanae," the teacher called out, "eyes on the board. Why are you staring so intently at your book?"

  "I… I’m sorry," Kanae stammered, her heart racing. "I’m just… trying to learn.”

  Osaka nudged her softly, a hidden gesture of support. "It’s okay," she whispered. "Watch the board and listen to her voice. You’ll catch the rhythm."

  Kanae took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing her attention forward. The chalk-streaked board filled with sentences, each stroke of the teacher's hand mesmerizing in its precision. Around her, the classroom buzzed—the rustle of paper, the scratching of pencils. It was a rhythm entirely different from the clamor of the streets or the combat drills of the dojo.

  She straightened her back. Her hands were still trembling, but a spark of stubborn determination flickered in her eyes. She followed Osaka’s lead, tracing every word and absorbing every explanation. Each small piece of understanding felt like a foothold in this new, alien world—a single step toward belonging in a life she was finally starting to believe was hers.

  Morning settled gently over the classroom, sunlight pouring through the tall, narrow windows like liquid gold. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air, catching the light as they hovered above the neat rows of desks. The faint scent of chalk and paper lingered—a smell that was unfamiliar to Kanae, yet oddly comforting.

  At the front of the room, the teacher’s heels clicked softly against the wooden floor as she turned toward the blackboard. Chalk met slate with a sharp screech, and clean white lines began to form diagrams with practiced ease.

  “Listen carefully,” the teacher said, her voice calm but firm. “When analyzing this chapter, you must go beyond the surface. Stories are never just a series of events. They are built on choices, motives, and consequences.”

  She underlined a sentence with a heavy stroke. “Ask yourselves—what drives each character? How do those choices ripple outward, affecting everyone they touch?”

  Kanae sat near the window, her back straight and her shoulders tense. Her pencil hovered above the page, unmoving, as if she were afraid to miss a single syllable. Her eyes followed the teacher’s hand, every motion etched into her mind with survivalist intensity.

  So this is how they teach here, she thought.

  The rhythm of the lesson pulled her in. The pauses. The emphasis. The way certain words were repeated—not by accident, but by design. Something stirred in her chest—a quiet realization forming. Before she could stop herself, her hand rose. Slowly. Carefully.

  The room seemed to notice at once. The whispers died down.

  “Yes?” the teacher prompted, turning toward her.

  Kanae swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Teacher…” Her voice was soft but steady. “Could the author’s repeated imagery be… a way to show the protagonist’s inner conflict? Rather than just describing the environment?”

  For half a second, there was total silence. Then, it came—a few snickers, a stifled laugh. Whispered voices slid between the desks like needles.

  “Who even thinks like that?”

  “She’s overthinking it.”

  “Trying too hard, isn't she?”

  Kanae felt heat rush to her ears. Her grip tightened around her pencil until her fingers ached. She began to lower her gaze, bracing herself for the cold sting of embarrassment.

  But instead of dismissal, the teacher smiled.

  “That,” she said gently, “is an excellent observation, Kanae.”

  The laughter faltered.

  The teacher stepped closer to Kanae’s desk. “Repeated imagery is often used to mirror internal struggle. It allows readers to feel the character’s emotions without stating them outright.” She turned back to the board, addressing the whole class. “The imagery acts as a bridge—connecting our hearts to the character's journey.”

  A murmur spread through the room, but it was different this time. Curious. Uncertain.

  Kanae exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. I wasn't wrong, she whispered to herself.

  Time passed quietly after that, measured by the ticking clock above the door. Eventually, the teacher clapped her hands once. “Now, who can summarize what this chapter teaches us about the consequences of action?”

  Before doubt could creep back in, Kanae’s hand rose again—faster this time. The teacher blinked, then smiled knowingly. “Yes, Kanae. Please, stand.”

  Chairs shifted as she rose. Every eye in the room fixed on her. Even Amanai, seated across the classroom, looked up sharply. Kanae met the silence head-on.

  “The chapter shows that a decision never exists in isolation,” she began, her voice clearer than she expected. “The repeated imagery of the crimson wind reflects both internal conflict and the weight of human action. Small choices create large outcomes, shaping not only the protagonist’s fate, but the lives of everyone around them.”

  She paused, then added quietly, “To understand the story, you have to understand the hunger behind the choices.”

  Silence fell—thick and heavy. Amanai’s eyes widened, her lips pressing into a thin line of shock.

  “Very well spoken,” the teacher said warmly. “Please, sit.”

  Kanae returned to her seat, her heart pounding—but her spirit felt lighter. Around her, the whispers returned, but they sounded different now.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “That was actually… really deep.”

  Amanai clicked her tongue softly, looking away toward the window. “Tch… show-off.”

  Lunch arrived with the echoing chime of the bell. In the cafeteria, the atmosphere exploded into a warm chaos of laughter and clattering trays.

  Osaka slid a tray toward her. “We got your lunch for you, Kanae.”

  Kanae blinked, stunned. “You… you did?”

  “Of course,” Hanemi said brightly.

  Reina grinned, leaning back in her chair. “You’re one of us now. We look out for our own.”

  Something tight in Kanae’s chest finally loosened. “Thank you…”

  A deck of Four Sins cards was soon spread across the table. Dragons, vipers, and thunderbirds competed for space between their lunch bowls.

  “Your turn,” Sayori said, pointing to the board. “Think carefully.”

  Kanae studied the arrangement, her mind flashing back to the teacher's lesson on strategy and motives. She placed her card down with a confident snap. “Wrath… Heli.”

  Osaka laughed, eyes wide. “Bold move! You’re getting dangerous, Kanae!”

  Across the room, Amanai sat alone, her eyes flicking toward their table before returning to her meal.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Reina whispered, noticing Kanae’s gaze.

  Kanae nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. The day passed in a blur of notes and quiet encouragement. When the final bell rang, Osaka leaned over. “You were incredible today, you know.”

  Kanae flushed, packing her bag. “I just… I just tried to understand.”

  As they walked home together, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees, Kanae listened to their laughter. On the train ride back, she stared at her reflection in the window, overlapping with the rushing city lights.

  For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t feel alone. She was no longer a stray hiding in the shadows; she was a student, a friend, and—slowly but surely—a warrior in the making.

  That's the end of Chapter 4! We're finally getting a glimpse into the dark history of the Kika-shu and the terrifying truth behind the Aka-Kaze.

  Kanae is officially leaving the isolation of the Nova grounds and heading into the heart of the city. But as we just learned, the "Red Wind" awakens during trauma and despair... and a crowded city is the perfect place for a storm to start.

  The Endless Training and Three Years of Training Arc begins in Chapter 5, where we'll see the first glimpse of the Endless Technique in action! You won't want to miss how Kanae handles this new level of power.

  If you're enjoying Kanae's journey from a survivor to a student, please consider Following the story and leaving a Rating or Review! It's the best way to help us climb the Rising Stars list!