The sun had slipped beneath the horizon, leaving only the faintest traces of light bleeding into the sky where it had vanished. The dark, threatening clouds that had loomed overhead, heavy with the promise of heavy snow, had softened, flattening into a gentler, more subdued veil. The snowfall had retreated along with the change.
On Okinawa, cadets filed into the grand hall one after another. Each wore the same crimson uniform shirt paired with neat black trousers, all except the finales, who had yet to make their entrance.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as eyes swept across the hall's elegant design, jaws struggling to stay shut.
"Wow... the design is insane. Those finales really outdid themselves," one boy remarked to his group of three.
"It looks even better than last year's ceremony," another added, his voice carrying a smug, almost cocky edge despite the compliment.
"Hate to admit it, but I'm impressed," the third said as they made their way toward the column of seats designated for the 4th Years. "They've set the bar way too high for us next year."
The first boy gave him a light smack on the back of the head. "You're worried about a design bar being too high? You should be worried about how much the instructors hype up these finales. They talk about them like they're once in a decade geniuses." He let out a small sigh, his tone cooling. "They never hyped up the previous finales this much. Or the ones before them."
The first boy, sensing his friend's dismay, tried to ease the tension. "Relax. The reason they weren't hyped up before is probably because we weren't 4th Years back then. We're the upcoming finales now, remember? Of course they want us to feel small, so we work harder."
As they found their seats among the still empty chairs, the middle boy interjected. "Partially true. They definitely want to stoke that competitive spirit. But that's not the only reason. It's also because Pathro and most of his friends are freakishly strong, well above what's normally expected. I mean, Kiligaku and Pathro were already the best in martial arts before they even got their powers."
"Uh uh uh, remember what they always say," the last boy cut in subtly as they settled. "The Shinkai realm doesn't give us powers. It only unlocks our ability to build power. Meaning they became strong because of their hard work."
The others turned to him with blank stares that practically screamed, Really, dude?
The one who had spoken earlier replied with heavy sarcasm. "Thank you for reminding us of what the instructors and teachers have been drilling into our heads since the day I stepped foot on this island."
***
"Took you long enough," Kiligaku said, eyeing Sumire and Pathro as they met up with him and Toshiro on one of the classroom pathways. "What happened? I expected you to keep track of time for once, Pathro."
"Well, I..."
"Apparently, Pathro here got a little held up," Sumire interjected, her voice laced with teasing amusement. "He just so happened to be in a supermarket that came under attack by some bandits. So he got to play hero, catching the robbers, talking to the police, the whole thing. How very coincidental."
"Hey, you make it sound like I hired those guys myself," Pathro said defensively, turning to address Kiligaku and Toshiro. "I had to give statements and clarifications. It's not every day a Zunan Fighter stops a robbery. And don't forget, we're not supposed to intervene in civilian matters unless it's self-defense or something similar."
Kiligaku let out a brief laugh. "Self-defense? Bro, you weren't even in danger. Even the police know guns can't do anything to a Zunan Fighter."
Sumire smiled. "Well, since he was in the supermarket that got robbed, they said his intervention made sense. So he's not getting in trouble."
Toshiro observed the exchange in silence, his thoughts drifting.
To prevent Zunan Fighters from becoming the world's central defenders, we're assigned to handle primarily extraterrestrial threats. Matters like drug trafficking, human trafficking, or robbery are left to the police and conventional military forces. Normally, Pathro's intervention would have been problematic if he'd been an outsider, but since he was already on the scene, it's considered logical. What a remarkably grey law.
"Anyway," Pathro said, his gaze shifting to Toshiro with a hint of curiosity, "we should get to our class. We can't keep everyone waiting forever. The ceremony's about to start, and we need to get dressed quickly."
Toshiro adjusted his glasses, pressing them firmly back into place with a finger. "Don't worry. I already selected the nominees for the next Cadet Council. I did it a while ago, in case you were unable to. Let's just focus on handing out the outfits quickly."
Without another word, he blurred out of sight.
The others exchanged brief glances, shrugged, and then vanished as well, following Toshiro's trail.
***
Subtle vibrations pulsed through everyone's chests as the music, amplified by the hall's speakers, beat with driving rhythm. No one was truly dancing, but the effect was unmistakable. Hands tapped against thighs in time with the beat, heads bobbed along, bodies swayed subtly in their seats. Some, however, paid the music no mind at all, absorbed in their own quiet conversations.
At the podium at the front of the hall, a man stepped forward. He wore a blue jacket over a white shirt, neatly tucked, paired with black shoes. His dark navy hair was combed back, exposing a slightly prominent forehead. His eyes, emerald green, were gentle and a touch wide, lending him an approachable air.
The music stopped. He took the microphone and tapped it gently, testing its response.
"Alright. May I have your attention, cadets?"
The murmur of voices gradually subsided as eyes turned toward the stage. The man waited patiently for silence to fully settle before continuing.
"It's wonderful to see you all here tonight as we commence this graduation ceremony for our finales. However, as you can see behind me," he gestured with his left hand without turning, "and to my left, those seats remain empty. The academy directors and the owners of this ceremony are not yet present. And we cannot begin without them."
He paused and cleared his throat.
"So, if you would, please rise as we welcome them into the hall."
The doors swung open, held by the guards stationed inside. A collective rustle swept through the room as everyone stood. Postures snapped rigid, backs straight, arms pressed to their sides, feet together. A wall of disciplined stillness.
Down the red carpet that stretched from the doors to the stage, they began their entrance.
They advanced in two parallel lines. On the left walked the finales, clad in the T-shirts they had designed specifically for the ceremony. The fabric was a saturated grey, with words emblazoned across the front, "Class of 2016," "2020 Finale," in a mix of yellow, black, and white. Across the back, their names were printed in stylized signatures. At the top of each sleeve sat the school emblem: the twin lion symbol, identical to the one carved into the podium.
On the right walked the instructors, each paired with a student. At the very front was Pathro, his usual easy expression replaced by something rigid and severe. Beside him strode the superintendent and head of the academy, a man whose presence towered over Pathro despite his lean physique. His dark crimson hair fell just past his shoulders. His eyes were narrow, sharp, but a cunning intelligence glinted within them, fierce and calculating. A full, classically groomed beard framed his jaw. He wore a general commander's formal uniform, adorned with medals. It was not battle dress, but the immaculate regalia of high level ceremony, designed to command authority.
Behind him followed the remaining instructors, including Instructor Kamir, Instructor Kurosaki, and others, numbering twenty in total, along with the twenty students paired between them, all members of the Cadet Council. Among them walked Kaile, Sumire, Toshiro, Kiligaku, and fifteen others.
The procession continued until they reached the point where the steps of the stage met the floor. There, the lines divided. The instructors ascended the steps to take their places on the stage, while the finales veered toward their designated seats.
Only after the superintendent had taken his seat did everyone else follow suit. The master of ceremonies offered a slight bow toward the superintendent, who responded with a barely perceptible nod.
"Thank you, Superintendent Takeshi Takahashi, and to the rest of the academy board, for gracing this ceremony with your presence," the emcee said, his delivery smooth and practiced, the voice of a man who had done this a thousand times.
He turned back to the cadets. "Today, as you all know, is a day of celebration and congratulations for our finales, cadets who have been nothing short of extraordinary throughout their time at this academy."
Applause erupted from the finales' section, punctuated by laughter and exchanged grins. The emcee's speech flowed with a natural ease, not the rigid stiffness of forced professionalism, but the warmth of someone speaking from genuine feeling.
"Just a brief reflection on their journey here," he continued as the clapping faded. "As you can see from the T-shirts they designed, they arrived at this academy on the first of January, 2016. From that day until now, the 30th of December, 2020, they have been here with us. That's five years of training to become defenders of humanity."
He stressed the word five with deliberate weight, as though underscoring a mark of superiority. A ripple of chuckles passed through the audience.
"You may be wondering why I emphasize the five. But I suspect you already know. During your first four years, you focus primarily on martial arts and academics. But once you enter your fifth year, once you have undergone the Anabasis, that is when you truly begin the journey to becoming a Zunan Fighter."
He paused, glancing toward the instructors seated on stage. They regarded him with mild curiosity. The superintendent remained impassive.
"These finales have already undergone the Anabasis. For the past year, they have been learning to control, wield, and strengthen their power. The rest of you have yet to taste what that feels like. Though the fourth years are in luck, you will undergo your Anabasis tomorrow. Meanwhile, our finales will face their final test: a demonstration of their readiness to step onto the actual battlefield."
As if a sudden realization struck him, he turned toward the instructors once more. "Ah, I nearly forgot. As some of you may have noticed, there are new faces among us. These are representatives sent by various nations to observe the Anabasis. While we may differ in nationality, our purpose as Zunan Fighters is unified, because the Zunan threat endangers all of humanity. So please, a round of applause for these dignitaries, for dedicating their time to be with us during this momentous event."
The audience clapped. Pathro joined in, but his mind was elsewhere.
'That's quite the diplomatic way to spin the real reason they're here,' he thought, casting a sidelong glance toward the instructors. 'Only eight of the people up there are academy instructors. The other twelve are from foreign nations. The truth is, every nation operates under an international agreement capping the number of individuals they can transform into Zunan Fighters each year. They're here to ensure those quotas are respected. Japan is permitted only one hundred per year. That's why our class, and every class after, has exactly one hundred cadets. They can't exactly trust Japan to follow the rules on its own.'
"I don't want to waste much your time," the master of ceremonies continued, cutting through Pathro's thoughts. "Graduation is meant as a celebration, not a grandiose parade of speeches. But regardless, speeches are necessary, for progress, and, well... formalities." He smiled, a touch self-deprecating.
"So allow me to call upon our very own superintendent to bless us with a few words before we reach the joyous phase. A round of applause, please."
Gentle but eager clapping filled the hall as the superintendent rose and approached the podium. The master of ceremonies inclined his head slightly before retreating to his seat.
Unlike the emcee, who had moved about the stage with the microphone in hand, the superintendent fixed the mic firmly onto its stand atop the podium. His hands came to rest on the edges, and there he remained, still as stone.
An eerie silence settled over the room. His eyes lacked the lightness that filled the hall. He looked as though he could hardly be bothered with this ceremony at all.
"I will not waste much of your time. I have come only to say a few words to our soon to be soldiers, and perhaps to the rest of you cadets as well."
His voice was deep, cold, yet utterly calm. Authority radiated from every syllable.
"We, as an academy, have done what we can to train you to be the best possible soldiers. In academics. In martial arts. In the utilization of your Meta-Energy."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the finales, ensuring his words were being absorbed. Not a single one of them dared look anywhere else.
"To you, we entrust the future and prosperity of not only our nation, but the whole of humanity. For our duty as Zunan Fighters is to combat the threats that endanger humanity as a whole. But despite your incredible power, the strength to reduce mountains to dust, even to sink continents, the creatures you will face are equally potent. Equally dangerous."
He turned, gesturing toward the instructors seated behind him. "These people before you can bear witness. As you know, they are currently far stronger than any of you. And yet, they have faced near death situations against the Zunans. This is a serious duty. It will place your lives at stake. Some of you may not survive. That is the cost of being a soldier."
A weight settled over the finales and the audience alike. No one spoke. They only listened.
"To avoid death, you must push yourselves, to become stronger. Smarter. Stronger than you were yesterday. Always seeking greater knowledge. By doing so, you ensure not only your own survival... but the survival of humanity."
He let the silence linger before exhaling quietly.
"That is all. Other than that... I wish you a successful test tomorrow, finales. Make us proud."
He turned from the podium and walked back to his seat. A loud round of applause followed, but it was not the joyous kind. It was the sober acknowledgment of weighty words.
He sure knows when to deliver quite the speech, Pathro thought, his fist clenching slightly.
' I've trained hard. And he's right. With power like this, you feel as though you could crush anything... but soldiers far stronger than I have died to these Zunans. I need to grow even stronger. I need to become the strongest soldier of all. '