Chapter 37

Chapter 37: "Please Don't Die (But Also, Welcome!)"

In which my friends get evaluated like produce, and we all commit to possible doom with a thumbs up.

You know how they say morning runs clear your head?

Yeah. That's not how it went.

There I was, happily jogging through the peaceful streets of Kuoh, dodging pigeons and grumpy old ladies with brooms (long story, don't ask), when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Now, usually I ignore calls during my jogs—fitness first, after all—but when it said "Loki: Do Not Trust This Man" on the screen, I figured I should probably pick up.

"Yo, sunshine," I answered, still keeping pace. "What's the damage?"

"Freya and Thor are down," Loki said bluntly.

I stopped mid-stride, nearly getting flattened by a bike. "Wait. What? I was going to beat them up myself!"

"Too late," he replied. "Both their gangs got stomped and absorbed. Whole thing happened last night. Single guy did it. Calls himself Odin."

I blinked. "Odin? Like... Norse mythology Odin?"

"Yup."

"And he wears a white suit?"

"White suit. Clean shoes. Pocket square. Guy looks like he walked out of a luxury mafia anime."

"…Damn," I muttered, wiping sweat off my forehead. "The guy has style. We definitely need someone in charge of wardrobe. I'm thinking crimson coats, leather belts, maybe matching earrings—"

"You're trying to sponge off my money again, aren't you?" Loki deadpanned.

"Hey, look, these powers don't come free. You gotta invest in the brand!" I grinned. "What kind of self-respecting superhuman gang leader wears basic sweatpants?"

"You're literally wearing sweatpants right now."

"That's training gear, Loki. It's different."

I kept walking now, cooling off my jog while Loki filled me in.

According to him, this new guy—Odin—didn't just take over. He humiliated Freya and Thor. Beat them down, took their symbols, and gave a speech about "evolution" and "the old gods falling to the new order." Which, yeah, dramatic much?

"So we've got a magic using or Ki-wielding fashion icon with a god complex," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Fantastic."

"Sounds like your type," Loki quipped.

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Let me just say this—parkour is way cooler when you're actually good at it. And I'm awesome at it.

I was running along the rooftops of Kuoh City like a caffeinated squirrel, hopping over antennas, dodging pigeons, and using spirit energy to boost my speed so I could zip down streets like a human blur. Some old guy on a moped almost choked on his tea when I leapt past. Worth it.

I finished my morning jog (a.k.a. Naruto's Ninja Training™) with a backflip off a two-story wall, a soft roll, and a perfectly casual strut into the Akatsuki HQ. If there had been theme music, it would've been electric guitar and dramatic wind.

Instead, there was just Shogo lifting a truck tire and muttering, "Took you long enough."

The rest of the team was already there—Kenichi stretching like a nervous noodle, Honoka sipping some terrifyingly green health smoothie, and Kisara practicing kicks that probably violated several laws of physics. Loki was lounging like a Bond villain on a beanbag with his tablet, no doubt researching suit upgrades.

They all looked up when I arrived, and judging by their expressions, they'd gotten the same memo I had.

"So, Odin, huh?" Kisara asked, her voice somewhere between amused and wary.

"Yeah," I said, grabbing a towel. "Apparently he's our new neighborhood problem."

"Are we handling it?" Ukita asked.

I shook my head. "Nope. I am."

That got a few raised eyebrows.

"If this guy wants to play god, he's gonna have to deal with me—and my spirit power that turns me into a walking supernova."

"Unless it's, like, the real Odin," Koga piped up. "Y'know, Norse immortal of death and ravens and stuff."

I paused.

"…In that case, I'll fight him respectfully," I said. "With all due reverence. And possibly an escape route."

Still, I wasn't worried. There was a calm in my chest, a confidence that came from knowing I wasn't alone. I had a team. I had Ddraig. I had cool hair.

Which brings me to the real point of this morning: field trip.

"I met with the masters at Ryozanpaku," I told them, waving off Loki's dramatic gasp. "They're the real deal. Top-tier Ki users. They might not shoot lasers from their eyes, but they can probably punch through tanks if they feel like it."

"Awesome," Shogo said, his eyes gleaming with battle hunger.

"They're also terrifying," I added. "But, like, in a friendly uncles-who-could-kill-you kind of way."

"So why are we meeting them?" Honoka asked, slurping the rest of her smoothie.

"Because I'm not going to be your teacher."

Everyone turned to look at me.

"Rude," Kenichi muttered. "After everything we've been through?"

"Hey," I said, holding up my hands, "I'm great at showing off, terrible at lesson plans. Remember when I told Koga to 'just scream fire until fire comes out'? Or when I said 'channel your inner anime protagonist'?"

"That actually helped," Koga said.

"Not the point," I replied. "The point is, I'm not structured. I'm chaotic. I'm powered by ramen and reckless optimism. What you guys need are masters who will break your bones, rebuild your souls, and make you cry in ways you didn't think were possible."

"…That sounds horrible," Honoka said.

"Exactly!" I grinned. "Which means it works."

So, we made the decision: today, we go meet the muscle-bound, mustache-twirling legends of Ryozanpaku.

I'd introduce the team, bow respectfully, and try really hard not to get any of them accidentally thrown through a wall.

Just a normal day with my gang of aspiring superheroes.

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You know how sometimes you hype up something to your friends, and then the universe decides to one-up you just to rub it in your face?

Yeah, that's exactly what happened when we reached Ryozanpaku Dojo.

The place looked like a level-80 dungeon boss's mansion—massive gates, ancient wooden walls, enough aura to make even ghosts say "no thanks." Everyone in the gang just stood there, looking up at the door like it was the final challenge in a JRPG.

Koga muttered, "We're really doing this, huh?"

I cracked my knuckles. "Yup. Welcome to the place where pain is a teaching method."

Shogo stepped forward to try pushing open the door like a brave little idiot. Spoiler: nothing happened. Ukita gave it a try next. Nope. Loki just stared at it like he was trying to hack it with his mind.

I was about to show off and open it myself, when she showed up.

The door swung open like it was made of paper.

And standing there was a girl who looked like she belonged in a cherry blossom commercial: delicate features, bright eyes, long golden hair tied up neatly—and carrying two massive sacks of groceries in one hand like they weighed nothing.

"Welcome," she said, completely calm, like she hadn't just opened a door that needed a forklift. "You must be Issei's friends?"

"I—uh—I'm Kenichi," said Kenichi, sounding like someone had punched the air out of his lungs.

Ah, yes. The ancient and powerful ninja technique known as Love At First Sight had struck again.

To be fair, I didn't blame him. Miu had that calm strength and kindness combo that could make you forget your name. But it was hilarious watching Kenichi's brain short-circuit like a glitched-out vending machine.

The rest of us managed polite bows and mumbled greetings while Kenichi stood there, cheeks pink, trying to remember how to breathe.

Miu led us inside, chatting pleasantly, while we walked past the training courtyard and into the real heart of the dojo. The whole time, Kenichi stayed two steps behind her like an awkward duckling.

"She's strong," Kisara whispered, eyeing Miu's effortless grace.

"She's terrifying," Loki added, more intrigued than scared. "Imagine what the grandpa can do."

I grinned. "Oh, you'll find out."

Because if there was one thing Ryozanpaku didn't do, it was subtle. These masters? They trained heroes by turning them into shredded protein bars with feelings.

We had officially entered the realm of pain, growth, and very polite martial arts monsters.

And poor Kenichi? He'd already taken his first hit—straight to the heart.

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I always thought meeting the big boss of a dojo would be like one of those wise old senseis from anime. You know, long beard, maybe sipping tea, saying cryptic things like "The greatest battle is within" or something like that.

Instead, Hayato Furinji, Grandmaster of Ryozanpaku, looked like he could bench-press a freight train while doing a sudoku puzzle with his toes.

When we entered the main hall, he turned and smiled. It was warm, grandfatherly... and somehow still managed to radiate you will be destroyed in training and thank me for it energy. This was a man who could kill you with a hug and then heal you with a pat on the back.

"Old man," I said with the kind of confidence only a teenager with no regard for mortality could have, "these are my friends. They want in."

Hayato's eyes sparkled like he just found out Christmas came early.

He stepped forward, looking at each of them, and in under three seconds, laser-scanned their souls like a ninja Santa with a Ki detector.

First up: Kenichi.

"Too normal," the old man declared, stroking his chin like it was a crystal ball.

Kenichi looked like he'd just been told he was made of tofu.

"Hey, I'm very determined tofu," he muttered. Respect.

Honoka got a gentler assessment.

"Also normal... but young. Malleable. Like putty."

"...That's flattering," Honoka whispered.

Then came Shogo.

The old man blinked. "Oh my. This one's a monster."

Shogo smirked. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me."

Kisara got a respectful nod. "Strong. Fire in the heart. Excellent."

Kisara blushed like someone had complimented her cooking.

Ikki—injured boxer—got a quiet "promising" and a pat on the shoulder that nearly broke it.

Ukita and Koga?

"Normal. Would require inhuman grit to walk this path."

They looked at each other. Koga shrugged. Ukita gave a thumbs up like he just heard it was double homework season and he was weirdly excited.

"Some of you are suited," Hayato said, his tone suddenly serious. "Some of you are not. And I will not lie to you. This training can break your body, your spirit, or worse… turn you into someone you don't recognize. This world has monsters, not just in strength, but in mind. Some people—when faced with pain—become strong. Others become twisted."

He looked at them like he was giving them the chance to back out.

I could feel the air change. This was it. The moment where regular people either said "thanks, but no thanks"... or they stepped into legend.

Kenichi stepped forward first. His knees were shaking, but his eyes were solid.

"I'm scared," he admitted, "but I want to protect the people I care about. If I don't try, I'll regret it."

I felt a grin crawl onto my face. That's my tofu boy.

Hayato stared at them all, then burst into a deep belly laugh that echoed through the dojo like thunder.

"Well," he said, "I suppose we'll see who survives."