“The Sixth Squad”

The walk to Squad 6's compound felt longer than it should've.

Not because of the distance but because of the silence.

No one spoke to Akira as he was escorted through the towering obsidian gates of the Combat Division. Squad 6 was built into the cliffside stone walls reinforced with mana anchored steel, combat dummies floating in gravity fields, and open yards scarred with the aftermath of daily duels.

Everyone here looked like a fighter.

Most of them felt like killers.

Akira kept his hood up, trying to ignore the glances. Whispers followed him.

"That's him? The one who got invited?"

"He didn't even pass the entrance trials…"

"They're letting anyone in now, huh?"

He gritted his teeth.

Shikoku was quiet on his back, as usual. The blade hadn't spoken since the incident with Zabi. Maybe it didn't need to. Maybe it was just watching.

At the inner gate, he was met by a women

Sharp face. Gravity ripple in the air around her.

Captain Tomoe Hoshizora.

"So," she said without much expression. "You're the stray blade."

Akira swallowed. "...Yes, ma'am."

"I don't care how you got in," she said bluntly. "I care what you do now that you're here."

She gestured for him to follow. "Come. The new recruits are being introduced at the Division Gathering. Try not to embarrass yourself."

They entered a wide stone hall where nearly thirty Squad 6 members were gathered. Most stood at attention. Some leaned against walls, armored and bored. A few polished weapons absently while talking in hushed tones.

Up front stood two others Akira hadn't seen before.

The girl had short silver hair and carried a thin glaive strapped across her back. Her posture was rigid. Confident. Eyes like sharpened glass.

The boy beside her looked older maybe eighteen with dark eyes and spiky brown hair. 

He glanced at Akira once.

No reaction.

Tomoe stepped forward. Her voice rang out across the chamber.

"Squad 6. We have three new initiates."

She pointed to the girl. "Kaori Mutsuki. Ranked second overall in the entrance trials. Specializes in use the glaive and long-range martial arts, and has very good eye sight. You'll want her at your back."

Kaori gave a tight nod to the room, eyes calm and unreadable.

Then Tomoe gestured to the boy.

"Juno Igarashi. Ranked fourth. Born in the Fringe Cities. Has strong adaptive mana. Passed with highest marks in survival and individual combat."

Murmurs went through the crowd.

"Fringe kid? No way."

"He was the one who soloed the trial beast, right?"

Juno just folded his arms. "I'm not here to impress anyone," he muttered.

Then Tomoe turned to Akira.

Her gaze didn't soften.

"And this is Akira. He didn't pass the written trials. Or the mana test. Or even secure a sigil."

A few members laughed.

Tomoe ignored them.

"But I chose him."

That shut the room up.

Then she stepped back.

"Three new recruits. Three chances. Try not to waste them."

The room dispersed slowly, vets eyeing the new blood like hawks.

Later that day, Akira found himself sitting on the edge of the division training yard, watching Kaori and Juno go through warm-ups.

Juno was absurdly strong training his body intensely 

Kaori, on the other hand, moved with deadly grace.

Her strikes were fast. Fluid. Brutal.

"You gonna sit there all day?" Juno called over.

Akira blinked. "...Maybe."

Kaori smirked slightly. "They said you're the 'sword guy,' right?"

Akira sighed. "Apparently."

Juno approached, "Look people here don't care about how strong you might be. They care about what you prove."

Akira met his eyes. "What about you?"

Juno shrugged. "I'm here for a reason. Same as you. I just don't need a weapon too remind me why."

Akira tensed slightly. "You—"

"Relax." Juno nodded. "Not mocking you. Just saying... whatever that thing is on your back? You better make it count. Because the next time something like that black-eyed freak shows up?"

He looked out at the arena wall, still cracked from Zabi's attack.

"You won't have time to ask for its help."

That night, Akira sat alone in the barracks window, Shikoku resting against the sill.

For a moment, he stared at the blade's reflection in the moonlight.

Then whispered: "Why me?"

No answer.

But the wind shifted.

And just faintly—so faintly it felt like a memory—

He heard the sword's voice again.

"Because you are what they're afraid of."