The artificial sunlight poured through the high-arching windows of the mess hall, casting soft golden beams across the sleek obsidian floors. Seated around the long, polished table, five teenagers from five different worlds leaned back in their chairs, groggy but strangely at ease.
"I'm not even kidding..." Naruto muttered around a mouthful of toast. "That bed? Might be the best sleep I've had in my life."
Tanjiro nodded with a soft smile. "I could barely believe how soft it was. It almost felt like I was floating."
"Yeah, but did yours have that warming setting?" Midoriya asked, eyes wide. "Mine adjusted to my back automatically. That technology must be decades ahead..."
Asta stretched his arms above his head, yawning. "Not even gonna lie—I forgot I didn't have my grimoire for a second when I woke up. That bed was just too good."
Eren didn't say much, just gave a small, contemplative nod. He had slept deeply, the way only someone perpetually on edge could after months of fear. For once, he hadn't dreamed of Titans or that day.
"Honestly..." he said at last, his voice low, "it felt...safe."
The group fell silent for a moment, the clinking of forks and soft humming of the mess hall's automated cleaning drones the only sounds that remained.A few minutes later, a voice echoed from overhead, startling them at first until they remembered that they lived in a talking house.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Albert chimed in smoothly. "Apologies if I startled you, but Ryan is waiting for you in the gym when you're ready."The boys exchanged glances and stood one by one, making their way down the glass-panelled hallway that curved through the mansion like a ribcage. When the sliding doors to the gym opened, they were greeted by the sight of Ryan standing barefoot on a mat, dressed in black workout gear, rolling his shoulders as he warmed up.
"Morning," he called, a small grin playing on his lips. "Sleep well?"
They all nodded with varying levels of enthusiasm.
"Good," Ryan said, clapping his hands. "We'll start light. Warm-ups first."
For the next twenty minutes, he led them through stretches, joint mobility drills, and dynamic movements—tailored to test flexibility, balance, and coordination. While Tanjiro moved fluidly, and Asta kept pace with pure energy, Naruto lagged a little, still struggling to understand the exercises involving inner focus. Eren mirrored the drills with the robotic precision of someone trained militarily, and Midoriya took careful mental notes, analyzing the movements even as he executed them.
Once everyone was warmed up, Ryan gestured for them to follow him.They exited through a side corridor and stepped out into a massive yard. It stretched beyond the mansion's edge in a seamless curve—flat green grass underfoot, surrounded by a low transparent barrier that shimmered faintly under the morning sun. The curvature of the orbital habitat was just noticeable, giving the horizon a subtle bend.
"Alright," Ryan said, turning to face them, hands behind his back. "You're probably wondering why I brought you here."
The group nodded.
"I want to see what you can do," he continued. "I need to know where each of you stands. Your strengths, your weaknesses—what comes naturally, and what needs refinement. Only then can I figure out the best way to train you."
They looked at one another, a little hesitant.
Naruto stepped forward first, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh... well, I can use chakra. I mean, I think I understand it. Pervy sage taught me something about a jutsu he made but i still don't know how it works, just how it looks all before... before all this happened. I can summon toads now, and I've got this thing called the Shadow Clone Jutsu—but the whole chakra control thing? Kinda tricky..."
Ryan jotted something down in a slim, light orange leather notebook with black kand blue streaks.
"Alright. So, raw power but control is lacking. Midoriya, if you will."
Midoriya hesitated, then stepped up. "I'm... I'm not sure how much I should say. I was told to keep my Quirk secret..."
The others looked at him curiously, but Ryan just gave him a nod."You don't have to explain everything," Ryan said calmly. "Just enough for me to help you improve."
Midoriya paused. "Alright then. I inherited my power from someone else. It's a strength-enhancing Quirk, but I can't use it fully yet. If I do, I get hurt. Bad."
Ryan nodded again and scribbled notes in a green-covered book marked with the letter M.
" So control is present but power is restricted by physical shackles. That easy to go through. Alright Tanjiro, you're next."
Tanjiro followed. "I use a Katana...
"It's his country's name for a sword, Eren, " Interupted Ryan, answering the brunette's question before he could voice it.
... and my style focuses on breathing techniques. I was trained to slay demons. My senses are sharp, and I'm used to reading intent... and scents. Especially emotions."
That got a curious lift of Ryan's brow, and he made a special note in the red book bearing a stylized flame design.
Asta sighed, arms crossed. "My grimoire didn't come with me. But even without it, I'm strong. Really strong. Like, swing-a-sword-heavier-than-me-around strong. And I've trained my body and reflexes for years."
Ryan eyed him thoughtfully and marked something down in a thick black-and-silver journal.
Then it was Eren's turn. He stepped forward slowly, eyes focused."I don't know how it works," he admitted. "But I can turn into a Titan. A big one. Strong, fast... but it's a blur when I'm in that form. I don't remember everything. And I don't know what triggers it exactly."
Ryan's eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful. He opened the last of the notebooks—a pale, tan-bound book marked only with a symbol resembling twin wings—and began writing.
Eren expression showing his confusion, asked, "Why are you doing this? Why train us?"
Ryan looked up, his expression turned serious."Because I have a theory," he said. "And I hope to god I'm wrong."
They all waited.
Ryan continued, "If the five of you were killed in your original worlds... then whatever—or whoever—did it had to be stronger than your world's greatest protectors. Based pn what you guys told me about the last thing you guys remember, the that means that they were stronger than Levi, Kakashi, Kyojuro, Yami and the hero-course faculty. If not stronger then maybe smarter. If something stronger than them came after you—then it's only a matter of time before your worlds are targeted again."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air."I plan to find a way back for you all. But if—when—that happens, you'll need to be ready. Not just strong. Stronger than ever before. Stronger than your teachers. Stronger than your protectors. Stronger than your killers."
No one spoke.The wind carried faintly through the artificial trees surrounding the yard. The sky above remained serene—but in their hearts, a new fire had started to smolder. Ryan closed the last notebook and tucked it under his arm.
"Training begins tomorrow."
The next morning came swiftly.
The artificial sky outside glowed with a mellow peach hue, mimicking sunrise. Inside the gym, the air smelled faintly of steel, sweat, and fresh eucalyptus—a scent Albert claimed promoted focus. Ryan stood near the center of the room, a stopwatch in one hand and his ever-present notebooks laid open on a bench nearby.
The five boys filed in, dressed in flexible athletic gear tailored to their movements and comfort. None of it bore any insignias—Ryan was insistent on starting fresh.
"Morning," he said with a nod. "Today's the beginning of something bigger than all of us. You ready?"
They answered with silent nods or determined stares.
"Then let's begin."
Ryan watched the Black Bull member grunt as he pushed himself through a series of control drills—slow, deliberate bodyweight movements with resistance bands tightening around his limbs. Asta's strength was already formidable, but Ryan wanted precision.
"Don't just power through it," Ryan instructed, kneeling beside him. "Feel the muscles activate. Don't let them dominate the motion—command them."
Asta, sweat dripping from his forehead, nodded through grit teeth. He was used to swinging wildly. Now, he was learning to wield strength like a scalpel, not a sledgehammer.
In another corner, Naruto was seated cross-legged on a mat, eyes closed, frowning in frustration. A series of weights—light enough to shift with chakra but heavy enough to test his control—floated erratically around him.
"You're leaking chakra from your feet again," Ryan said, approaching with a firm but calm tone.
Naruto opened one eye. "How the hell are you even seeing that?"
"I'm watching how the grass bends near your ankles," Ryan said simply, then added, "You've got the power, Naruto. Now you need to become its master—not just its friend."
With a determined groan, Naruto refocused. Slowly, the trembling weights steadied.
Deku was pushing through a weight circuit—adjustable machines that shifted resistance depending on his body's stress response, monitored by a sleek black band around his wrist.
"You're pacing your output. That's good," Ryan commented, tapping something into his green notebook. "Let's see how long you can maintain ten percent without flaring pain."
Midoriya nodded through heavy breaths. "It's easier when I know I'm being watched," he admitted.
"You'll need to learn to trust yourself," Ryan replied, walking beside him. "That instinct of yours—it's sharp. Don't be afraid to lean into it."
On the far side of the field, Eren was weaving between high poles in a fast-paced agility run. His breath was harsh, his limbs not quite coordinated.
"Again!" Ryan barked.
"I'm trying!" Eren snapped back, nearly losing his footing on a turn.
"I know you are," Ryan said, softer this time. "But your power isn't just muscle. You need flexibility. Dexterity. The Titan form won't make you untouchable—not if you're a stiff target."
Eren gritted his teeth and took off again. This time, his movements were less erratic. A little smoother.
Tanjiro and Ryan stood in a more shaded section of the yard, sparring slowly with wooden swords.
"You don't just breathe it," Ryan said, matching Tanjiro's breathing pace. "You become it. Break it down for me."
"Breath of Water was the first," Tanjiro murmured between movements. "I switched to Sun—Hinokami Kagura—later. Each has a rhythm. A feel."
Ryan nodded. "Let's turn that rhythm into a technique we can teach. You and I—we'll build the foundations."
As they moved, their forms became synchronized. Each inhale and exhale intentional, each swing a calculated flow of power and grace.
By midday, all five were dripping with sweat, chests heaving. Ryan stood under the artificial sun, watching them rest and rehydrate.
They're all rough stones, he thought. But given time... time, sweat, and just enough fire... I can make them shine like diamonds.
He glanced down at his notebooks. Each one was filling fast with diagrams, ideas, custom training paths, and questions.
How far can One For All evolve in a body truly conditioned for it?
Can Total Concentration Breathing be adapted to chakra?
How do you teach a Titan to fight like a human?
How does a human with no magic live without magic in his veins if magic gives life?
The energy used to turn into a titan delivered by that yellow lightning, could it be harnessed and used for other purposes?
Ryan closed them with a soft thud, then looked up at the five boys sprawled out on the grass—exhausted, but smiling.
"Same time tomorrow," he said, barely hiding the grin. They had made more progress than he expected.
None of them complained.
After showers and a quiet dinner that evening, the boys gathered in the lounge.
The lights were dimmed low, a soft orange glow from the fireplace painting flickers across the curved white walls. Cushions were scattered across the floor, and the massive viewing screen above the hearth remained off—just a dark mirror reflecting their tired, thoughtful faces.
No one spoke at first. There was only the gentle crackle of the fire, the occasional clink of ice in water glasses, and the slow rhythm of tired breathing.
Then:
"My arms are killing me," Asta groaned from the floor, limbs splayed out like a snow angel. "I feel like I wrestled a mountain and lost."
"You almost punched a hole in the ground during that band resistance drill," Midoriya said, chuckling weakly. "It was kind of terrifying."
"Speak for yourselves," Naruto muttered, lying on his stomach. "I was trying to move rocks with chakra and I ended up getting yelled at by a tree. Why the hell does this place have chakra-sensing trees?!"
"Artificial intelligence embedded in the bark," Eren mumbled from the couch, eyes half-lidded. "Albert told me. They report environmental shifts to the control core..."
Everyone stared at him for a beat.
"...What?" he asked, brows furrowing.
Tanjiro let out a soft laugh. "I think that's the most words you've said all day."
Eren gave a quiet "tch," but there was no venom in it. Just fatigue. And something else—peace.
For a few minutes, silence returned. But it was warmer now. Familiar. Shared.
Midoriya shifted in his seat, rubbing the towel around his damp hair. "Is it weird that I kind of... liked today?"
"Liked getting nearly murdered by training circuits?" Naruto said.
"No," Deku replied. "I mean... yeah, it was hard. Brutal, even. But... for the first time since we got here, I felt like we had direction. Like we weren't just floating. Like there's something to aim for."
Asta nodded slowly. "Yeah. Back home, I trained to be the Wizard King. Now? I don't even know what I'm training for. But... I wanna keep going. Whatever it is."
Eren stared into the fire for a long moment. "I felt something today. While I was running." He looked down at his hands. "I didn't think about Titans. Or the walls. Or what I lost. I was just... focused."
"That's the idea," Tanjiro said softly. "We've all been carrying weight. It doesn't go away, but training gives us somewhere to put it, at least that's what Urokudaki-sensei told me."
Naruto stared up at the ceiling, arms tucked behind his head. "Pervy Sage used to say that strength isn't just about jutsu or chakra. It's about what you do when you're tired, when you're hurting... when you've got every reason to give up."
He glanced at the others, his expression calm for once.
"We didn't give up."
They sat with that truth for a while. Quiet again, but this time it felt earned. Restful.
Eventually, Albert's voice echoed gently through the room. "Gentlemen, would you like me to begin the fireplace's lullaby setting?"
"Nope," Asta said, already halfway asleep. "This is perfect."
Tanjiro smiled. "Thank you, Albert."
"As you wish," the voice said, fading softly.
Outside, stars glimmered across the artificial dome like diamonds scattered across velvet. Inside, five boys rested—not as warriors from different worlds, but as something new.
A family in the making.
Meanwhile, the soft whir of a holographic projector was the only sound in Ryan's private office.
He sat behind a sleek, curved desk made of dark oak and reinforced steel, bathed in the cool blue light of a dozen suspended data screens. One hovered for each of the boys, each displaying scrolling biometric data, neural feedback charts, performance summaries, and video replays from the day's training.
But Ryan wasn't looking at the screens. Not right now.
Instead, he was hunched over his collection of notebooks—five volumes, each with unique covers and creased spines, worn already from constant flipping and frantic scribbles. He flipped through the green one first—Midoriya. Notes about muscle strain, neurological limiters, and self-restraint filled the page margins. A sketch of a kinetic harness was roughly penciled in the corner.
Then came red—Tanjiro. A breakdown of breath patterns, reaction tests, and sensory training ideas. Beneath it, Ryan had scrawled: "The most emotionally centered. Could be the bridge."
The black-and-silver book was Asta's—densely packed with diagrams of muscle fibers, questions about magical inertia, and new weight-based resistance designs. A corner was earmarked with a post-it labeled, "Grimoire absence = deliberate? Test emotional triggers."
The pale one with the twin-wing insignia was Eren's. His pages were messier, more chaotic. Titan physiology theories, subconscious activation notes, psychological strain maps. At the top of the latest entry, Ryan had written: "He carries fire and trauma in equal measure. Must not rush."
Finally, the orange-and-blue one—Naruto's. Chakra conversion ratios, seal theory revisions, meditation drills gone wrong. In the margins: "Instinctual learner. Needs to experience to understand."
He closed the last book with a quiet snap and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple.
"They're progressing," he said aloud, mostly to himself. "Not just physically. They're starting to settle. To trust."
A light hum preceded Albert's voice from the ceiling. "May I assume the first day of training met expectations, sir?"
Ryan offered a dry smile. "Blew past them. They're probably going to break my old gym's records on Day One at the gym."
There was a beat of silence before Albert asked, "Then why the frown?"
Ryan's smile faded. He looked toward the screen where five still images sat frozen—each boy caught mid-motion, exerting themselves in training.
"Because I know what's coming. Sooner or later, they'll need more than muscle and focus. They'll need perspective because strength isn't enough, Albert," he said softly. "Not here. Not with what we're up against."
He stood and paced slowly, clasping his hands behind his back. "We're not just training bodies, Albert. We're reforging identities. And that means confronting the truth. Or at least... a version of it."
Albert processed that for a moment. "You're referring to the anime series. Their fictionalized lives."
"I'm teaching them to punch harder, move faster, breathe better. But that won't save them when the enemy gets inside their heads. When doubt creeps in. When they have to face what they were before... and what they lost."
Albert's voice came, quieter this time. "You believe they're not ready?"
"I believe they will be," Ryan replied. "But not yet. They need more than training. They need... perspective. Context. A reason that matters beyond revenge or survival."
Ryan nodded. "Three months. That's when I'll start showing them. Not their own shows—not yet. That would be too much, too soon, especially for one boy in particular." He zoomed in at a certain brunette.
"But there are stories that came before theirs. Stories that shaped theirs."
"Trailblazers," Albert intoned, " and their respective inspirations, yes? "
"Exactly," Ryan said. "I'll start with the ones that made history. Dragon Ball, Yu Yu Hakusho, Rurouni Kenshin, maybe even Hunter x Hunter... And when the time comes—when they're strong enough to face the weight of their own legacies—I'll let them watch their worlds unfold."
Albert hesitated, then voiced what Ryan knew was coming. "You're certain that won't... harm them? Watching their paths, their losses, the futures they never lived to see?"
Ryan was quiet for a long moment.
Then he said softly, "They deserve to know what they were meant to become. And they deserve to decide for themselves whether they want to chase that future... or write a new one."
Albert didn't reply right away. Then: "Understood. I will begin compiling the catalog. Shall I flag key episodes for emotional intensity?"
"Yeah," Ryan said, sitting back down. "And maybe skip Gohan crying for five minutes straight when I show them Cell Saga."
"Noted," Albert replied, with what almost sounded like dry humor.
The silence that followed wasn't heavy—it was thoughtful. Intentional.
Ryan opened Tanjiro's notebook again, staring down at a line he had underlined twice earlier that day: "They didn't give up."
He smiled faintly to himself.
"No," he murmured. "They didn't."
And neither would he.
He turned from the shelf and returned to his desk, resting his hand over the notebooks.
"In three months or so," he murmured, "I'll show them. Not their own stories—those can wait. They'll watch others. Learn from them. See what could have been. What might still be."
Albert's light dimmed slightly, as though considering that.
"Any idea which one you'll start with?"
Ryan paused, then nodded once.
"Yeah," he said. "We'll begin with Attack on Titan."
He looked toward the ceiling, his voice dropping into a murmur.
"If anyone needs perspective... it's Eren. After all...
... he never got his happy ending."