Hana Association

Asher's dress fluttered as the evening air swirled around him. A few individuals tried to approach them with ill intentions, but Asher simply shook off his bandages and revealed his crisply burnt arm.

No one approached them after that.

"Sophie... I'm so sorry..." Mei nearly burst into tears as she saw the girl flaunting her horrific wound to scare away the stalkers.

"Why? You did nothing wrong."

"But I-! I was the one you were trying to help! And look what happened!" She wept into her sleeve, causing a few bystanders to glance at her oddly.

Asher didn't respond.

He held her arm with his unburnt hand, leading her along the streets. She gripped onto him tightly as she patted his head. He wasn't sure whether she was trying to console him or herself.

"Asher won't come home today. He has to do something overnight." As they approached Mei's apartment, he let go of her hand.

"O-Overnight? What about the Sweepers? Will he be safe outside?"

Asher nodded lightly. He had to use his ability to heal himself, but he didn't know how much time it would take to do so.

They arrived in front of the door, and as he turned to leave, she tugged on his sleeve.

"Keep Asher safe, alright? And... I'm sorry about your arm. And-" Mei tried to add something else, but Asher gently closed the door for her before she could continue.

A sigh broke the silence.

Asher swung off the rails, landing on the road. The streetlights hadn't dimmed yet, so he planned to find a suitable location to use his ability. He kept his Synchronization on as he walked, trying to get more comfortable being inside Sophie's body.

Every time he took a breath, the bandages chafed his burnt skin, often causing him to wince.

He remembered the address that Finn's Captain gave him, where the branch of the Hana Association was located.

Following the street signs, he arrived in front of the Hana branch in only a few dozen minutes.

The massive building, nearly touching the clouds, loomed in front of his eyes.

Visible from miles away, it was a sterile white color, a clean beacon in the dirty Backstreets. There were no windows on the thing, nor any discernable signs or logos.

It was like a giant white obelisk.

The only opening leading inside was a single set of sliding doors.

Asher watched as a person in a white suit walked directly through the doorway, while the doors automatically slid aside to receive him.

'Might as well, then.' He walked through the doors, his eyes widening at the view of its pristine interior. Just like its exterior, the inside of the building was pure white. He went up to the white reception desk, where a white-haired lady in a white coat sat unblinkingly.

She looked at Asher's bandaged arm and tilted her head.

"Deepest apologies, we do not preform restorative procedures in the Hana Association. Is there anything else we can help you with?" The woman robotically bowed, but Asher shook his head.

"I'm actually here to become a Fixer, if that's possible."

The lady tapped on her computer.

"Welcome to Section 12's Hana Association. Thank you for participating in the Fixer examination. What is your name?"

"Sophie."

"Alright, wait over there. An examiner will arrive shortly." She pointed to a door beside her, labelled 'Waiting Room'.

Opening the door, he found that the room was relatively empty, with only a few other people sitting on white chairs scattered across the room. They glanced at the girl's burnt arm and looked away.

"Jaylen. Your examiner is ready." A speaker near the door prompted a man to stand up.

...

A few more names were called, and Asher saw a variety of different individuals testing to become Fixers. Some were old and sickly, while others appeared to be professional combatants. There were fewer women in the room than males, and he was the youngest of any person there. As such, nearly every examinee gave him a strange look as they walked past him.

"Sophie. Your examiner is ready." Asher stood up and exited the room.

A man with wavy dark green hair turned around at the doorway, motioning him to follow. He wore the same white labcoat as the woman at the reception desk. Asher figured it was part of their uniform.

"Will your injury affect the physical testing? Do you need painkillers?" In the manner of a true professional, the man noticed Asher's dressed arm immediately, and the blackened skin that peeked underneath.

They climbed a stairwell leading upward for a while before Asher spoke.

"No, it won't." Why did he say that? Of course it would, he couldn't use one of his hands!

But a small voice in his head told him to try the exam anyway.

"Good, now let's do some introductions." The man swung open a door simply named 'Testing 7'. A large gymnasium, of course painted all white and harshly lit, greeted them. The bright lights were so painful to look at that he nearly closed his eyes.

"I am your examiner, a Fixer of the Hana Association. If you would like, you may call me Harold." He walked toward the side of the room, where there was a rack of weapons.

"What-"

"Grade 2, though I mostly specialize in information and psychoanalysis. Even so, I can still hold myself in a fight." Harold took an unassuming pair of gloves from the rack, fitting them onto his hands in a flash.

Asher coughed.

"G-Grade 2? That's really..." Asher tentatively picked up a mace from the rack. Would the physical test be a fight with this monster who was more powerful than Yan, and maybe even Kalo?

"That is of no importance; this test is about you. Do you have anything you specialize in physically? Like close quarters combat, acrobatic excellence, etcetera?"

Asher raked his mind for the 'specialization' that he had. The overpowering force from [Fourth Match Flame] that could only realistically be used once a day...

"Assassination?"

Harold nodded his head sagely, glancing at Asher's gothic figure.

"You certainly look the part. I'll tweak the physical exam a bit to suit your style. Just hit me the hardest you can, with your most powerful technique."

The man chuckled as he saw the worry on Asher's face.

"If you kill me, that'd be great. You'd probably be promoted instantly to Grade 2 and become a local sensation. ...Not that you could do it, though."

Asher nodded and stepped forward. He felt that this was a great opportunity to improve his technique, according to what he said his specialty was. Assassination.

He practiced under Harold's watch, flicking his mace back and forth rapidly. Finally, he approached the man, his mind focusing on his remaining arm. It was most definitely going to be blown off in this test, but he could simply grow it back again with his skill.

'Might as well get the testing done with.'

Suddenly, he tapped Harold three times in a fraction of a second, each blow barely touching the man's clothes. Harold tilted his head in confusion, but he let Asher hit him.

On the fourth swing, the mace turned red hot like before and quickly burst into blue flames.

Asher thrusted it straight toward Harold's chest. The entire process took only a fraction of a second.

The man's eyes widened as the weapon struck his black gloves.

*BOOM*

The gymnasium floor vibrated from the aftershock as billowing smoke filled the room.

Through the smoke, Harold laughed as he saw Asher's mangled left hand, which complemented the wounds on his right.

"I can see where you got your other injury now!"

"Ahem... yep." Asher tried to put on a strained smile but failed miserably.

"I assume you have a way to heal yourself. Body insurance?" Harold propped Asher on his feet as he swayed sluggishly, his face contorted in pain.

Asher realized that the blow did not even phase the man; he caught it directly with his hand.

The girl gasped hungrily for air as what was left of her two arms dangled by her side.

"That was quite the powerful explosion, pretty good for an assassin. It had the strength of... maybe a standard Grade 5? Because of the amount of damage you caused to yourself, I'm afraid your physical score is only Grade 7."

Harold took a scratchpad out of his pocket, scribbling a few notes down. He looked back at Asher with a curious stare.

"Do you believe in magic, little lady?"

"Yes...?" The System even said that his Insight was a measure of his magical prowess. What kind of question was that?

"No no, I mean real magic. Not augmentations, tattoos, drugs, gene modifications or any of that. Real magic, not just fancy technology, things that even the 'Singularities' can't explain."

"Sure?" Asher was certain that magic existed. After all, he had a System that could transport him to another world to do 'missions'.

"I've heard from some of my colleagues that the Ruins, the wastelands outside the City, have monsters and magic and all that. Exciting, isn't it? I've always wanted to explore them, but something else always comes up! E-Er..." The man cleared his throat, embarrassed by his sudden outburst.

Harold calmed himself down, reverting back to his professional demeanor.

"I noticed you had no augments on your body, mechanical or biological. You surprised me when your weapon suddenly heated like that. Did you get those powers from the Ruins?"

"...Forget all of that. Where can I get a room to rest?" Asher was on the verge of blacking out from the pain in his arms, so he could hardly hear what Harold was saying.

"A-Alright. Let me finalize your physical test results at the front. Stay here, okay?"

Harold sped off after hearing the strained voice of the little girl.

Asher lay on the ground, trying his hardest to make his face impassive. The good thing about his burns was that they were so severe that they didn't bleed; his skin just flaked away like dust.

But it hurt like all hell.

Asher tried to keep his consciousness until Harold arrived, but he slowly felt himself blacking out, sinking deeper into oblivion.

'I hope I don't transform back when I faint...'

Then darkness overtook him.