Aoi walked along the sidewalk, one hand casually tucked into her shorts pocket, the other clutching the white bag. Her gaze was forward, but her thoughts drifted, Kota’s words still echoing in her mind; “Don't be too surprised that when you get to Sayonaki, it won't be all the students who know how to fight. Some could just be energetic, determined students learning how to. Some could be carefree but talented rookies who surprise everyone with what they can offer.”

Could it be true...? … That not everyone who goes there knows how to fight? Then, how the hell are they supposed to protect the town? She frowned faintly, the idea still hard to wrap her head around, when the sound of hurried footsteps pulled her attention downward.

“There she is!” a voice called out. Her head snapped up, eyes meeting a small gathering—kids, teens, and a few adults. Vendors, she realized. Familiar faces from the night before.

“You’re the girl from yesterday, Aoi, right?!” a young boy chirped, his eyes bright with excitement.

“Wow! She’s so pretty!” a girl giggled beside him, practically bouncing.

“You were incredible last night,” a male vendor added warmly, his smile filled with quiet admiration.

“Oh… uh… um…” Aoi stammered, caught off guard by the praise.

“Hey, that’s the Sayonaki uniform,” a woman said, noting her outfit with a spark of hope. “You’re one of the Nightingales, aren’t you?”

A faint blush colored Aoi’s cheeks. “Oh, um… y-yeah.”

“Whoa, that’s amazing!” a teenage girl beamed.

“It really suits you! When I grow up, I wanna be just like you!” a little girl chimed, eyes wide with admiration.

“Yeah! And when I finish middle school next year, I’m totally going to Sayonaki High!” a boy announced, clenching his fists.

“Yeah, after you learn how to fight,” another boy teased, nudging him.

“Hey! I’ll get strong enough to join! Just watch! Even if I can’t fight yet, I’ll help however I can!” he said firmly, and Aoi’s eyes widened slightly at his sincerity.

“The entrance exams are today, aren’t they?” a woman reminded, glancing toward the time. “You’d better hurry or you’ll be late.”

“Right! Do your best!” a man called out.

“You’ve got this!”

“We’re rooting for you!” The voices overlapped, ringing with warmth and encouragement. As Aoi walked on, they waved at her, smiling brightly. Her heart thudded; her face flushed from their kind words—gestures she hadn’t known in what felt like forever. Other vendors and passersby waved too, some handing her small gifts or thanking her quietly for what she did the previous night. She clutched the items in her arms, blinking in disbelief.

No way... Her steps slowed. Is this what Reina meant yesterday? Why? Why were they treating me like this? They had to know my last name. Some must’ve heard the rumors… Still… they smiled. She paused, holding the gifts close to her chest. Her gaze dropped.

So this is what it feels like, huh… It’s been so long… Then her eyes flicked forward. A group of boys were quietly tailing a girl into an alley, spaced between two buildings. Her expression shifted—brows drawing together as something in her gut twisted. She exhaled, her grip tightening.

......

Just off the corner a few blocks and houses near Fukuzora Mart & Diner—her father’s store—Ayane found herself cornered in a nearly wide alley. Seven boys loomed in front of her, their mismatched jackets and cocky smirks making her grip the two white bakery bags tighter. Her back was pressed against a cold brick wall, her delivery to the old folks' home now a distant plan. Perfect. Just freaking perfect. She cursed silently.

“Hey there, little girl. Where’s Misora?” the ringleader drawled, his grin oozing lust.

Ayane’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want with my sister?”

He scoffed. “What don’t we want with her?”

“Yeah,” another chimed in with a leer. “We’ve been watching her for a while now. Today’s her delivery shift, isn’t it?”

They’ve been stalking her? These creeps are seriously unhinged. Ayane’s fingers curled tighter around the bags.

“And you think I’d just tell you where she is?” That earned a round of laughter.

“Why wouldn’t you?” the leader mocked, his gaze raking over her. “We were hoping to catch Misora, maybe spend some time with her. But instead, we get... this.”

Ayane tensed, her heart hammering. Bastards. But why? What do they want with her? she mused.

“Misora’s super cute, isn't she?” one of them snickered.

“Forget cute—she’s freaking hot.” Another chuckled.

“Way hotter than you,” the leader added, sneering. “You’re just skin and bones. Not even worth the effort. Although you've got a face and a bit shape to it, you still aren't exactly our type.”

Ayane stared them down, fury brimming just behind her glare. “Neither are you.”

The leader’s smirk vanished. “What was that?”

“I said you're not even in her league. You think big sister would let you freaks lay a hand on her? She’d floor you before you could blink. She's not just stronger—she's smarter, too. And she doesn’t waste time on trash.”

His face twisted in anger. Without warning, he slugged her. The blow knocked Ayane to the ground, the bakery bags flying from her hands, their contents scattering. She bit back a cry, dirt scraping her palms. Still, she didn’t move. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. From the mouth of the alley, Aoi skidded to a halt, breathless. Her eyes widened at the sight—Ayane on the ground, blood at her lip, the punks laughing.

“Not so tough now, huh?” the leader spat.

“She didn’t even fight back,” another sneered.

“If your sister's the one who made you look this way,” the leader said with a dark chuckle, “then i'm sure she's pretty weak herself.” His words caused Ayane to snap her eyes open, a shaky breath escaping her lips as she stared at the ground.

“Tch! What a loser. You were just all talk... a failure, a disappointment. We shouldn't have expected a girl like her to have a decent student... or sister like you anyway.” That one landed like a knife. Ayane’s fingers twitched in the dirt. Her breath hitched. A failure? A disappointment? The words dug deep, but something inside her flared to life. Aoi stared in shock, attempting to rush over. Then, in a soft voice, low but cutting, she spoke—stopping Aoi dead in her tracks. 

“Alright, that's it.” She seethed through clenched teeth as she slowly stood up, fists curling tightly at her sides. Her head stayed low, a dark shadow veiling her eyes.

“Huh?” the boys muttered in unison.

“You can say whatever you want about me…” her voice trembled with rage, each word dripping with heat. Her shoulders shook—barely restrained fury rippling through her frame. “…But I won’t let you say anything bad—” She snapped her head up. Her eyes, glowing white with fury, pierced through them like blades. “—about my big sister!! I won’t take it!!” With a fierce snarl, she lunged straight for the leader. Her fist struck with a sharp, resounding crack, landing square against his jaw.

“GAH!!” he choked out as his body lifted off the ground, blasting backwards with such force that wind rushed out behind him. His crew staggered back, stunned, as he crashed to the concrete with a dull, echoing thud—unconscious.

“What the—?!” one of them gasped.

Another turned toward Ayane, eyes wide. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he shouted, only to be met by Ayane’s half-lidded stare—apathetic, yet simmering with restrained rage.

“You’re dead meat!” another shouted, his fist already swinging at her. Then, without warning, she arched her spine backward, palms pressing into the ground as she flipped onto her feet with uncanny fluidity—like a puppet with no strings. The boys froze.

“What the hell...?”

Her back bent in a deep bridge; spine curved like a crescent moon. Then she twisted, sliding a leg through the air and sweeping it low like a dancer turned predator. One of the boys toppled with a surprised yell, his feet swept clean from under him.

“She’s a freakin’ pretzel—!” Before he could finish, Ayane sprang forward into a twist, her body bending sideways unnaturally as she slipped between two of them. Her elbows locked around one’s neck as she used her momentum to flip him over her hip and crash him into the wall.

Another lunged at her. Ayane suddenly dropped backward, landing in a handstand, and kicked upward—her heels slamming under the guy’s chin. He staggered back, dazed.

“She’s not fighting normal—she’s squirming like a damn serpent!”

She launched off her hands and twisted mid-air, wrapping her legs around another’s neck in a tight scissor hold. With a spin of her waist and a yank of her core, she flipped him down, using his own weight against him. He hit the ground with a dull thud.

Another stepped forward, furious now. “Hold still, you wiry little—!”

But Ayane bent backward again, her body folding nearly in half until her hands touched the ground behind her. She kicked up, using her heels to drive into his sternum with a vicious snap. He stumbled, gasping. With a low crouch, she spun again, her limbs moving like liquid lightning. She moved under arms, over shoulders, between legs, avoiding grabs with perfect timing—not because she was faster, but because her movement was unpredictable, unnatural.

“W-What kind of freak are you?!” She didn’t answer. With one final twist, she spiraled into a cartwheel, dodging a punch, then hooked her leg behind the last attacker’s knee, yanking him to the ground as she arched backward, landing in a perfect reverse split over him.

Silence. Seven boys groaning or unconscious. Dust settling. The alley now hers. Ayane slowly stood—graceful, breath controlled. Her eyes sharp as she turned to the scattered contents on the ground. At the alley's entrance, Aoi stared in stunned silence. She had just witnessed something she couldn't quite describe. What the hell...? she mused, her eyes widening in shock as she sprang forward.

“Argh!” One of the boys scrambled up from the ground, shouting in rage. He lunged toward Ayane with his fist cocked back—aiming for her head. She froze, startled, unprepared—

WHAM! A boot slammed into his cheek mid-swing, launching him sideways into the wall with a heavy thud. Ayane flinched, eyes wide, watching as someone landed in front of her, the long sweep of blue hair and fluttering jacket unmistakable in the breeze—Aoi.

Ayane stared in disbelief. “It’s you…” she whispered.

Aoi didn’t say anything at first—just quietly walked over, gathered the scattered bakery goods with calm precision, and placed them back into the bags. She returned and held them out. “Here.”

Ayane blinked at the bags, hesitated, then took them. “Thanks…” she muttered, brushing dirt off her shoulder and skirt. “You didn’t have to. But… I appreciate it.” She turned to leave, but Aoi’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Tell me something.”

Ayane paused.

“Why did you decide to join Sayonaki?” Aoi asked, her voice curious but quiet. “What’s your reason?” Ayane stood still, her back to Aoi. Her fingers curled slightly around the bag handles. Her bangs veiled her eyes as the wind picked up. She took a slow breath.

“I've always…I’ve always been flexible,” she said, her voice soft. “Since I was a little girl. I could bend between desks, fold myself in half… I thought it was normal. But the other kids didn’t. They laughed. Called me a freak. A weirdo.”

She clenched her fists. “I hated it. I hated that part of me… until my sister stepped in. She told me my flexibility was a gift. She believed in me. Taught me how to fight—how to turn it into something strong instead of something shameful.”

Her voice trembled, and she quickly wiped her eyes. “I admired her. Still do. She’s the coolest person I know… and I wanted to be just like her. So I chose Sayonaki. Not because it’s the best or the toughest… but because she’s here. Because I want to be strong too. I want to stand beside her, not hide behind her. I want to protect her, just like she’s always protected me.”  She turned her head slightly over her shoulder. “That’s why I’m here.”

Aoi watched her quietly, Ayane’s words stirring something deep inside. She glanced down, a shadow flickering across her face as memories of her own sister surfaced—echoes of a bond not so different from Ayane’s. Guilt tugged at her chest, the weight of her earlier assumptions settling in.

………

“Seriously? I can't believe someone like her would be going to Sayonaki.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, first off, she doesn't look like someone who can fight. She seems too... frail... too bubbly and cheerful, even. Someone like her could never survive in a place like Sayonaki High.” The words faded from her memory, suddenly feeling silly for judging her.

We're... not so different after all, Aoi thought, eyes resting on the brown-haired girl in front of her.

Ayane gave a soft scoff, a hollow laugh escaping her lips. “You probably think I’m weird too, huh?” she said quietly. “A small, bendy girl like me dreaming of something so… ridiculous.” Her bangs fell over her eyes like a curtain, hiding the flicker of emotion underneath.

Aoi blinked. Then— “Seriously?” she muttered, just loud enough for Ayane to hear. Ayane glanced at her, confused.

Aoi continued. “You just wiped the floor with seven guys using skills no one's ever seen, and you're worried about looking weird? Come on. I couldn’t have pulled off those moves even if I trained for months.”

“Aoi...” Ayane whispered, eyes wide with surprise. Turning away slightly, Aoi rubbed the back of her neck, a faint blush rising on her cheeks.

“You're not weird, Ayane. Honestly... I-I think you're kind of awesome. You've got what it takes to be a Nightingale.”

Ayane’s breath hitched. Her eyes shimmered—not with shame, but with something gentler. Gratitude. With a bright laugh, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Aoi in a sudden hug.