The gym’s air was thick with tension. Shoes squeaked softly against the floor as the crowd shuffled back, leaving a wide circle between the two.

Raito rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck with a smirk. “Don’t regret saying that, bluehead.”

“Regret?” Aoi tilted her head slightly, her bangs casting a shadow over her lavender eyes. “You’ll be the one on the floor.”

That made him snap. He lunged forward, fast and precise, his right fist slicing through the air.

Aoi slipped to the side effortlessly— her movements sharp, clean, and quiet. The sound of wind brushing past her ear was the only thing that followed.

Raito spun around, aiming a kick to her midsection. She blocked it with her forearm, the force pushing her back a few steps. The impact thudded through the floor, echoing across the gym.

Mitsuru whistled low. “Man… I can feel that hit from here.”

Ayane clasped her hands together, half-hiding behind Mei. “This is so bad— they’re going to destroy each other!”

“They’re already halfway there,” Rikuya replied calmly, though his eyes betrayed his interest.

Aoi steadied herself, exhaling slowly. She darted in next— quick and unpredictable— feinting left before sweeping his leg. Raito barely jumped in time, his shoe scraping the floor as Aoi’s kick missed by inches.

“Not bad,” he muttered, regaining his stance. “But not good enough!”

He dashed in again, faster this time— his form tighter, sharper. Their fists clashed midair with a loud smack, the vibration crawling up their arms.

The spectators gasped. Aoi’s expression stayed unreadable, while Raito’s grin widened.

“This is what you call a fight,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Then learn how to win one.” Aoi countered, pivoting— before her knee shot up, stopping just before it could hit his chin.
Raito froze, his pupils dilating slightly. The entire class held its breath.

Aoi feinted left, spinning twice with blinding speed. Her heel slammed into Raito’s midsection, knocking the breath from his lungs. He skidded backward across the floor, coughing as she charged forward without pause.

Before he could recover, she was already on him. Her fist drew back, cutting through the air toward his face—until it stopped, trembling inches away.

Raito flinched, eyes squeezing shut. But no impact came. Slowly, he opened one eye, then the other, staring in disbelief at her halted punch. Both of them panted, faces flushed from the fight, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Arata’s voice cut through like a blade, even though Aoi had paused. “That’s enough.”

Both turned their heads at once. Arata stood amongst their classmates, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “You two done showing off, or do I need to make you run laps until sundown?”

A bead of sweat slid down Mitsuru’s temple. “Ouch. He’s using that tone.”

“Never heard him use it before though,” Hikaru muttered in surprise, with Kazuki, standing next to him, nodding in agreement.

Raito froze with wide eyes, blinking up to her as he realized the situation. “G-Get off me!” he stammered, his face burning red.

Aoi rolled her eyes, a faint scoff slipping out before she pushed herself up and stepped back. Her expression quickly returned to its usual cool indifference. Raito stood up, jaw tightening with clenched fists as he turned away with a scowl.

Before either could speak, another presence entered— Misora, her sharp gaze sweeping over the room. “Wow. So, you two finally decided to turn the gym into a warzone?”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Aoi said flatly.

Raito huffed. “She started it.”

“Both of you started it,” Misora said dryly, crossing her arms. “And you’re both lucky this floor isn’t cracked yet.”

The class chuckled nervously, tension slowly breaking.

Arata sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re both talented, but you’ll never get anywhere if you waste it fighting each other.” His eyes drifted between them. “Next time, settle your differences the right way— through control and focus, not ego.”

Raito looked away, jaw tight. “Tch…”

Aoi just nodded silently, slipping her hands into her pockets.

Misora smirked faintly. “Good. Because your next group assignment’s in ten minutes— and guess who’s working together again?”

Both heads turned sharply toward her. “What?!” they said in unison.

“Relax. Both of your groups are coming with me.” Misora grinned slightly.

“Either way, those two are still going to kill each other,” Rikuya chuckled nervously with Mitsuru, beside him, mirroring his expression.

The gym burst into light chatter as Ayane whispered to Mei, “This… is going to be very entertaining.”

“I’ll say,” Mei chuckled softly.

……….

The first-years walked down the quiet street, Misora leading the group with her usual calm expression. Behind her, however, Ayane and the others weren’t nearly as composed. Beads of sweat trickled down their faces as they watched Aoi and Raito trudging side by side—both glaring in opposite directions, irritation practically radiating between them.

“What a pain…” Mitsuru sighed under his breath.

“They seriously can’t stand each other,” Rikuya muttered, adjusting his glasses.

Raito grumbled under his breath, loud enough for everyone to hear, “That was just dumb luck. I could’ve taken her down easy.”

“Bro, she literally floored you. The entire class witnessed the whole thing happen,” Mitsuru said flatly, a sweat drop forming as he raised an eyebrow.

Raito turned red, snapping back, “T-That was just a warm-up! She got lucky, that’s all! I could’ve won if I wanted to!”

“Right… keep telling yourself that,” Mitsuru smirked.

Aoi tilted her head with a smug smirk. “Guess my warning didn’t stick, huh? You were the one eating dust.”

Raito’s glare darkened. “Keep talking, bluehead. Next time, you won’t stand a chance.”

“Next time?” Aoi’s tone sharpened. “You mean another loss?”

Ayane sighed, rubbing her temples. “Not again... please don’t start another argument.”

“They’ve got enough tension to power a generator,” Mei joked lightly.

“Yeah…” Mitsuru agreed quietly as Aoi clicked her tongue and turned away, shoving her hands into her shorts’ pockets.

“Ugh! You’re so annoying!” Raito snapped, jabbing a finger at her. “You think you’re better than everyone else, huh?!”

Aoi didn’t even look back. “Not everyone—just you.”

Raito froze, his scowl deepening as she continued, voice calm but cutting. “Admit it. I’m better, stronger, and I just proved it. You know it too. It’s not like you’ve got what it takes to prove me wrong.”

His jaw tightened, fists clenching at his sides as his glare followed her.

Ayane sighed, worry clouding her face. The others wore the same uneasy expression.

“They’re somehow getting along worse than before,” Mitsuru muttered, a nervous bead of sweat rolling down his cheek.

“If that’s even possible,” Mei added dryly.

“They totally hate each other’s guts,” Rikuya said, adjusting his glasses. “Misora, why aren’t you—” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening. “You’ve been standing there eating Gyoza this whole time?!”

Misora chewed leisurely, then swallowed. “What’d you expect me to say? If teamwork’s what they’re missing, they’ll just have to figure it out on their own.”

“You’re way too calm about this,” Mitsuru muttered.

“Once big sister’s got her favorite food, nothing moves her,” Ayane said with a sheepish chuckle.

Just then, a desperate voice rang out. “H-Help! Someone, please!”

Everyone turned as two vendors came sprinting toward them, panic written all over their faces.

“There’s a group of delinquents on Kuwahara Street!” one shouted. “They’re smashing up stores and stealing whatever they want!”

“Please, you’ve got to help!” the other begged.

Aoi and the others exchanged quick, determined looks. Misora popped the last piece of Gyoza into her mouth, swallowed, and faced them with fiery resolve.

“Let’s move,” she ordered calmly, eyes sharp with purpose.

The others nodded in unison. “Yeah!!”

 …………….

 Panic rippled through Kuwahara Street as passersby and vendors scattered for safety. The air was thick with shouts and shattering glass— a gang of boys and girls rampaged through the shops, smashing windows and grabbing whatever they could get their hands on.

“Man, we scored big today!” the leader of the Dagger Crows cackled, vaulting out a broken window with a bulging sack slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah, guess luck’s finally on our side,” a female member snickered, resting one hand on her hip.

“You got that right,” the leader grinned, raising his voice over the chaos. “Take everything you can find! Drinks are on me tonight!”

“Boss! We’ve got incoming!” someone yelled.

The leader’s grin faded as he turned toward the street—his eyes widening when he caught sight of seven figures sprinting toward them, their matching jackets unmistakable.

“No way…!” he hissed, tension creeping into his voice. Misora led the charge, Aoi and the others flanking her as they broke into the open. Determination burned in their eyes.

“Day or night, we rise…” Misora began, her voice calm and firm. Aoi blinked, slightly startled by the words.

“Those who sow fear,” Ayane followed, slipping on her gloves with a sharp snap.

“…who bring harm,” Mei added, her serene smile never fading.

“…who thrive in darkness!” Mitsuru and Rikuya shouted in unison.

“…will face our song of justice!!” Raito finished, his fist cutting through the air—landing squarely on a thug’s jaw.

Aoi dodged a wild swing, countering with a clean strike. Her heart thudded as Reina’s voice echoed in her mind—the night they first met. To protect Sokyoshi. That’s our duty. They are known by a name whispered in fear by the lawless… The Nightingales. Day or night, they rise. Those who sow fear, who bring harm, who thrive in darkness—will face their song of justice.

Her lips curved into a grin as the thought faded. “So that’s what it is…” she murmured, her eyes flashing with excitement. “That’s so freaking cool!”