Aogiri Ryuya

  After months of gruelling training at the academy, stepping through the doors of my family home felt like I was peeling off a second skin. The familiar scent of incense mingled with the faint aroma of the wood and the rustle of servants who bowed as I passed by, only deepened that sense of nostalgia. It felt strange, yet oddly comforting.

  The time in the academy felt behind me in this moment as I had come home unannounced. I think I was getting homesick, so I decided to drop by on a day off.

  I trudged down the hallway, the noise of the wooden floor creaking as I went up to my room first.

  I turned to my room, sliding the door open as I stepped inside, and immediately I felt a blast of nostalgia hit me for some reason, it had only been a few months ago that I came home, but my room felt like a safe haven for some reason, I moved my gaze around the room, the floor was just as clean, the bed made and the humidity like usual.

  Everything seemed in place as it had been when I’d left.

  But just as I turned my gaze, I looked at the bookshelf in my room, and my eyes widened and mouth agape in surprise and confusion more than anything.

  There were barely any books, novels or comics left there that I’d painstakingly collected with all my heart. Taking time to pick a collection, taking my time to place them in the right order.

  “My beautiful collection,” I wailed as I stumbled to the bookshelf as I gently caressed it. “What happened to you?” I said, as if the bookshelf might come to life and talk to me about what horrendous acts it had survived in my absence.

  I bit my lips as I already knew who the culprit was. It was that lazy sloth who stole one book of mine after another if she found a book interesting or wanted to use something from them for ideas for her own books.

  I rushed out of my room and walked in the long hallway as I reached a room at the end of the corridor.

  I pushed the sliding door open and saw Ayane lying on her stomach on her bed, a book in her hand as she read the contents of each page with deep concentration. Her legs swaying on her bed as she ate a bag of chips.

  But her room was a disaster, far worse than mine could ever be, books, comics, writing utensils and manuscripts scattered around the room like an old dusty storeroom, making it look less like a room and more of a dump yard.

  “Ayane,” I yelled, but my tone was controlled. “How many times have I told you to put back my books when you use them? Do you have any idea how much effort I put into gather that collection—some of them are even rare books that can’t be found in this day and age—supposedly decades old.”

  I frowned as she looked above her shoulder and shut the novel in her hand, an apathetic crease appeared on her brows as she straightened.

  I crossed my arms, waiting for her to fight back, and this time I wasn’t going to back down.

  I put a lot of damn effort gathering those books. I even had to visit the black market for a few of them. And this girl, she treated them just like any other book of literature, treating them with no respect.

  She sighed, as her face slacked. “Sorry, I didn’t think you would come back home so unexpectedly. Or, I would’ve had a maid put them back without you knowing like last time.”

  My brows perked up. “What do you mean like last time?” I questioned feelings my nerves bulge in annoyance, finally realising why a few of the books were placed in the wrong order when I’d previously visited home, feeling it was a coincidence that maybe Ayane had just borrowed a few of them and returned them later.

  “You always made the maids do this whenever I decided to come back home?” I asked, my face growing more agitated as I started to gather the books scattered across her room, almost all of them were mine.

  Her face turned slightly apologetic as she spoke, covering her mouth with one hand. “Oh, crap. Shouldn’t have said that.”

  I felt anger rise from inside me as I gathered almost all of the books from the floor, desk and bed, as I stored them all inside my dimensional artifact, by then, the room had started to look more like a place where a decent person lived.

  “But hey, you came home pretty unexpectedly. Everything okay? You didn’t get kicked out, did you?” She asked, her face wearing a mischievous smirk as she leaned against the wall behind her, taking the book she was reading previously in hand.

  I exhaled in defeat, knowing there was no way I could defeat her nonchalance. She was the toughest foe to beat in this house—after mother and father that was.

  I turned and took the seat by her desk as I sat on it and spoke, still trying to appease my anger from earlier. “No, unfortunately, I wasn’t kicked out, being one of the best students in the academy since the first year. And this is my home too. I can come and go whenever I want.” I argued, shooting her a sneer and she sent back, matching my intensity. “And what about you, you’re a first year in lock academy already, doesn’t matter if it’s the start of the one month preparation period for the lock international tournament, shouldn’t you start training for the event?”

  Her shoulders sank on my words, her face turning when she got a reality check.

  Ayane was almost always lazy when she wasn’t writing on her newly inspired novels. She was the most laziest and unmotivated person that I’d ever known. Even now when the first year students were preparing delightedly for the lock’s tournament, she was here, back home slacking every chance she got.

  “I know you acquired the top fifth position in the academy after the entrance exam, but each year the talents increase, and people give their best efforts to rise in ranks. While you are slacking away, someone is trying to better themselves to beat you or the other top ten.” I said, trying to appear supportive as I shot her a look of understanding. “Ayane, I know you aren’t to the fighting side, but, while you did take the foundation of runic analogies as your major in the academy, you still have a position to maintain, as a high rankers and an Aogiri.”

  Ayane fell silent, her mouth opened once, but no words, she looked at me again, the book in her hand placed on her bed as she wrapped her hands around her knees.

  “Ryuya, big brother and you are already doing everything you can, but father always expects more. I’m not like you both. Ayato is so much intelligent and stronger than me, he has a good head on his shoulders and he has always been like that since our childhood, now shouldering father’s responsibilities and taking care of the family business, and while you are always praised as a prodigy for your age, I don’t know what I need to be in a family like this. I’m just me. And I was never like you guys. That much I know.” Ayane said, her shoulders trembled slightly, the slightest of a twitch I noticed as I saw her looking at me with a quiet look of wanting to be understood.

  The conversation had shifted in a way I hadn’t expected, but as the adult, it was my responsibility to guide Ayane if she needed guidance. She was still my little sister, and the reason I grinded all these years to become at least good enough for father to accept me like Ayato.

  “Sometimes, I feel like I can’t do anything right, and I have to be the useless sibling of this family.” She continued, her voice thick and cracking with uncertainty. “And, I feel like father has no expectations for me. Because, he has you two.”

  I knew the tournament was a big burden over the students, and I wouldn’t deny it, I was also nervous out of my mind during the one month preparation period, but I knew I had to do it, because that’s what I was supposed to do.

  I stood up from the seat and walked closer to her bed, taking a seat and Ayane drew closer to me, I took her in my arms, wrapping her in a hug as a tender smile pulled my lips. I looked down at her, her face buried in my chest.

  “Isn’t that why Ayato and I are dragging our asses around, so you can have a easier time? And you’re not useless. You’re our stubborn and headache of a little sister. And father cares about all of us equally, he may not show it outright, but he cares.” I said, to reassure my sister and I felt her breathing even.

  Her mousy brown hair were loose as she wrapped her hands around my back, her grip firm as I patted her head, my fingers running through her smooth hair. “Ayane, you can take it easy, but, like I always tell you, you need to be at least strong enough to protect yourself if placed in a dangerous situation, or if you want to protect someone else.”

  “And, it doesn’t take a genius to tell that the demons are always at our throats, so even we need to prepare if something like the calamity that appeared decades ago appears again.” I stated, my mind replaying the old videos I’d seen of the calamity.

  But all I can say is, the world was engulfed in flames, it was a living hell and if that were to happen again, and if it did, I wanted to be prepared, to be able to protect my family and friends.

  After a minute or two, Ayane finally pulled away and I saw her look at me with a grin and I mirrored her expression. “Got it. I’ll start training tomorrow.”

  I inclined my head, raising a brow. “Shouldn’t you start today?”

  “Well, I have already wasted the entire day, so better start tomorrow. I’ll also ask Ayato for help. While you rarely are home, and no help. But still, thanks for being my therapist.” She stuck her tongue out as she rolled off the bed and strode to the door.

  I shook my head as I exhaled, lips pulling with a smile.

  “Yeah, and how are your preparations for the joint exam coming up? You know, where the three most prestigious schools do a joint test.” She suddenly asked, stopping by the door.

  I turned to her and answered. “Honestly, it’s a little nerve-wracking, but I’ll manage. You know, like I always do.” I reassured, giving her a thumbs up.

  Ayane smirked mischievously as she opened the door, one leg out of the room. “Yeah, like how you broke your arm in the gate disaster an year and a half ago.” Just as she said, she stepped out of the room.

  “And you better not take anymore of my books from now on, if you aren’t going to put them back in my room.” I said, my voice raised slightly as her voice rang from the hall outside.

  “Yeah, yeah, sure.” She said, as I took the last book on her bed and walked out of the room.

  I looked down at the book in my hand, it was one of oldest ones I had in my collection, the rough surface of the cover hinted of its old age.

  It was actually a book which I’d found in the black market a long time ago, the books original age was supposedly more than a hundred years, and it was still in good condition.

  I straightened the book and looked at the title with the author's name over it.

  ‘The Social Basis of Consciousness’, and the author who wrote this book was: Trigant Burrow. An underrated writer of his time, but his books were always interesting for me, while they taught about the bias of human psychology being fundamentally social rather than purely personal, he argued that psychological disorders stem from a breakdown in communal and interpersonal relations.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  But it was true in every generation, social norms always decided what was right or not, what could a person’s worth be. And Trigant emphasized exactly, how societal and group dynamics shape individual thought and behaviour.

  With the exam coming up, I was hoping to come back home to clear my mind, and I think it was right decision to come back home.

  I reached my room, and immediately withdrew all of the books from my dimensional artifact as I rearranged all of the books in their correct order.

  After a thorough check on each book, I heard a knock at the door and I saw mother walking inside.

  She was draped in a cream coloured kimono, its sleeves cut short, with a hair accessory tying her hair behind her back.

  My brows raised in surprise, but I could feel the air around her turn cold as if she was irked about something.

  And I knew why. I hadn’t gone to immediately meet her, but the head maid had told me she was busy with father, they were discussing something and father had told them to not intrude them. But, honestly, sometimes mother was a lot. She would always tease me about dating, and go on like forever, and it was pain in the rear.

  But, this time her anger was about something else. Perhaps a fight with father?

  “I was just about to come greet you mother. But Miss. Haneda told me you were busy with father..” I said, my tone hesitant, almost awkward as I rubbed my neck.

  Mother shook her head, her face relaxed, the previous coldness around her vanished.

  “Ryuya, come with me. There is something your father and I discussed regarding your furture. And I think you should talk it out with you father, and I believe he will also like to see you right now. So, it’s fortunate that you came home at the right time.”

  I raised a brow in question, unsure what mother was talking about, and whatever she had discussed about with father it must be important.

  I nodded, as we strode out of my room and walked down the hallway, reaching the stairway as we walked down to the floor below.

  We trudged down the hallway, my mind occupied with the thought of meeting Father. His summons weren’t frequent, but they were rarely insignificant. Mother wasn’t telling me exactly what he wanted to talk about, or what they discussed, so it was making me nervous.

  As I passed the living room, I heard the familiar rustle of maids and butlers moving along as I saw them rushing through the halls, either cleaning, preparing for the meals or faring along their daily tasks.

  "Ryuya," mother called out from the side, her voice warm and inviting.

  I paused, knowing better than to ignore her.

  She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with that usual blend of concern and affection. But, I knew what was about to unfold.

  "Yes, Mother?" I asked, stepping closer.

  "You’ve been so busy these days, and you didn’t even contact me, I know it’s good and all that you’re so dedicated to your studies, but take it easy once in a while. Tell me, how’s everything at the academy?"

  I sighed lightly but complied, knowing I’d just jumped the gun and been saved a lecture from her. "It’s fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual lectures, but the preparation for the joint exam is coming up, so everyone is preparing for that.”

  Her lips twitched into a knowing smile. "Nothing out of the ordinary? You mean to tell me that with all those friends—and admirers—you have, nothing interesting has happened?"

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I’m not sure what you’re expecting me to say. Classes, training, the usual. That’s all. Out of that, I don’t have any free time, and if I do get any, I’m always home during my days off."

  She tilted her head, her smile widening. "And what about that lovely girl—what was her name? Ameri? Or was it Amelia? You know, the girl who I saw when you also visited during the first year, and when I went to the lock's festival last year, I saw her with you. She even visited you when you were back home after that gate disaster. She was such a lovely girl.” Mother said, her lips pulling mischievously that I felt the urge to face slam. “So, is something going on?” She raised a brow and I sighed.

  "Mother," I groaned, my face heating up despite myself trying not to think about Amelia, her face immediately popped in my mind. "No, I’m not dating anyone. And Amelia is just a friend, like Park Jiyoung and Han Shu-hui. That’s it."

  She chuckled, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Alright, alright. I won’t pry. But you know, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone special to share your time with, and I wouldn't hate having a grandson or daughter by now. Even your father had his moments of romance, believe it or not.”

  "Somehow, I doubt that," I muttered under my breath, earning another laugh from her. "And shouldn't you expect that from Ayato, he's of marriageable age."

  Her expression softened as we walked to the other wing of the house, her probing questions momentarily set aside. "You’ve grown so much, Ryuya. I’m proud of you, you know that? But you should take time to enjoy yourself too. Life isn’t just about responsibilities and achievements. And your father doesn’t want you to be burdened.”

  Her words lingered in the air, and for a moment, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease. But then, as if sensing the shift in my mood, she added, "Oh, and Ryuya, dear. You shouldn’t be too worried that your father called you today. It’s probably nothing too serious like I said. It’s just a decision we have been complementing for a while.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her, skepticism evident. "It’s father. It’s always serious. And if both of you took that decision, I highly doubt that.”

  "Maybe," she conceded, smiling faintly. "But you’ll handle it. You always do. Well, you siblings her my pride and joy, and everything you do makes me the proudest mother in the world.”

  She reached out, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off my shoulder. "And when you’re done, how about I cook your favourite cuisine? Wouldn’t that make up for it?"

  For a split second, I felt my composure crack. My mouth twitched upward, and I quickly took a step faster as we stopped outside father’s room, masking the brief flicker of excitement. "I’ll hold you to that," I said, my tone deliberately casual.

  She chuckled, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "You better. Now, go on. Don’t keep your father waiting."

  With a nod, I turned and marched toward father’s room, the slight spring in my step betraying my earlier unease. The thought of my mother’s cooking lingered in my mind as I steeled myself for whatever awaited behind that door.

  Turning into the room, I found father seated on the tatami floor, he silently sat there, his poise posture like an immovable mountain. His eyes turned to me, and he nodded in greeting, before I bowed my head in response, as he gestured for me to take a seat.

  His mousy brown hair were tied, his sharp eyes gauging me as he looked at me with a fatherly warmth.

  I felt the weight of his gaze bearing down, we both remained silent for a few minutes as father was the first one to speak.

  But I knew perfectly, that a confrontation with father would also be about something serious. But comfort wasn’t why I was here.

  Father’s summons were direct, as always, his silhouette cast against the evening light, hands loosely placed over his lap. I took a steadying breath and waited for him to speak.

  “How have you been, Ryuya? Are your studies going well?” He asked, his voice straightforward.

  I nodded firmly, meeting his eyes as he studied me. “Yes, father. My studies are going well, and I’ve started preparing for the joint exam which is due in a few weeks.”

  He turned then, eyes sharp as he studied me, regarding me with a long look of understanding. “You lost your position to the Park family’s daughter, and have yet to regain it,” he said, his tone calm yet firm, like he was delivering an inevitable truth. “And were demoted to second rank since the end of the first year.”

  It was a blunt statement, without judgment or pity. Just fact.

  And I knew well enough, that I’d lost my position to Jiyoung. But, I also wouldn’t deny the fact, that I had allowed her to take the position from me. Her strength had grown abnormally since we had escaped that dungeon gate.

  But, that was what made want to do better. I didn’t want her to outshine me.

  I held my gaze, unwilling to let disappointment show. He continued, “But remember, ranking isn’t everything. What matters more are your choices—your allies, your judgment, and your understanding of the opponent. A rank is just a number; real strength can’t be measured by it. In the real world, your influence, how people perceive you and how you are respected matters more than a ranking. There are many high rankers in the world, that don’t go for the ranking qualification but are good enough to be in the top hundreds in the World Union hunter association.”

  “And perhaps, a good example of that would be your friend. Seo Jiwoo.” He said, and I was surprised to learn that father knew about Jiwoo.

  A thin smile pulled at his lips as he regarded me. “I’ve heard about the achievements of your friend, what he did inside that dungeon gate—the truth. His information was quite well protected by Adam Griffin himself and when I tried dig around the Lock’s information channel, I was stopped by Samuel Owens.”

  I nodded, hearing the unspoken lesson beneath his words. The way Father saw it, strength was earned with every decision, every cut of the blade.

  And I knew, Jiwoo was someone whom people came to respect, not because of his strength, but his good character, and one such person was me. Even if he was gone, I always trained with a thought in mind; how could I reach his level?

  Father paused for a moment, eyes thoughtful, and then his lips curved into a slight smile, which I rarely saw—he only showed it when he was delighted. “I believe it’s time for you to learn Kazeshin, our family’s Wind God style.”

  My heart skipped. Kazeshin—Father’s technique, our legacy. A sword technique which great-grandfather created and father honed to its limits to create the Kazeshin.

  I’d dreamed of wielding it for years, watching from a distance as he honed each strike with a mastery that left the air still in awe. Now, that power was within my reach.

  But, the question arouse in me: was I ready?

  I hesitated and father caught on to it. My expression was an open book to him, and even after coming so far, I was still second guessing whether I should learn it not. Whether I was worthy of continuing our family’s legacy.

  Ayato was a far better candidate, but due his lack of affinity, he couldn’t learn Kazeshin, and it was now pushed over me.

  “What’s wrong?” Father asked, his eyes holding me, as I took a breath and spoke.

  “Do you think I’m ready? I know you took this decision after much thought, but...” I said, before father cut me off and spoke.

  “I believe you are. But if you’re still hesitant, and unsure, I will stop if you still don’t show any progress after learning the basics of Kazeshin.” He assured, and I believed him. “You already know that out of your siblings, Ryuya, you’re the only one who inherited the wind element’s affinity from me. While you may think that Ayato, your elder brother was a better candidate to learn it, it was just not his destiny.”

  I nodded, as father's eyes seemed to hold the conviction that I could do it, his pride, his confidence in me was projected through it.

  He took a moment and told me. “And don’t worry, I tried teaching your brother the Kazeshin too, even if he doesn’t have the correct affinity to learn it, he still mastered the basic movements on which the technique is built upon, creating a Kazeshin of his own, which was able to counter the first few movements, even overpowering them to some extent just by his raw strength." He held my gaze, and then continued. “That just showed his willingness to better himself given the slightest chance, and I expect the same from you and Ayane.”

  He then gestured for me to follow him to the training ground behind the house in the open air. Once we were there, he turned, his dimensional artifact flared and he unsheathing his blade, a magenta katana, his expression shifting into something that felt almost sacred.

  I held my breath, as he walked to the middle of the training ground, his back looked massive, as wide as a mountain as I was glued to his visage.

  “I will teach you only the first four movements for now,” he said. “Master them, and then we’ll discuss the rest. And like we discussed, if you still don’t feel the need, we can stop.”

  I nodded, as father got ready and I could feel the air around him change, like a storm about to burst.

  “Watch closely,” he said, lowering his stance.

  With a controlled breath, he slipped into Ikazuchi—Thunderclap—, the first movement. He stood still, blade low, and in an instant, his body moved—a thrust so fast I almost lost track of the motion, all I saw were afterimages of his body. A crack sounded as his blade struck the empty air, resonating like thunder through the quiet courtyard. Dust and stones scattered, trembling as if under a lightning strike. He held his stance, so perfect, feeling goosebumps rising on my skin, calm and unwavering, the aftermath of his strike rippling out around him.

  I blinked, taking in the force of that single move. Ikazuchi. Thunderclap. I felt its power still lingering, humming through the earth beneath my feet.

  Father didn’t pause, transitioning seamlessly into the second movement, Kaze Tatsu—Rising Wind. His blade swept up in a spiralling slash, drawing a visible gust that cut through the air, stirring the dust and leaves around him so fiercely as the air seemed cut. The gust carried the energy of his strike upward, twisting the air itself as if bending it to his will.

  He caught my gaze, an intense glint in his eyes as I swallowed hard, finally taking in the sight of our family’s legacy started by our grand-grandfather. “You see now? Kazeshin is more than a technique—it’s an embodiment of the wind itself. The way you want to shape the wind, it becomes you, carrying your intent, choice and focus.”

  I nodded, but my focus barely wavered from his blade as he moved into the third stance, Hyoufuu—Icy Gale. He swung his blade in a double slash, the precision so sharp it felt like the air itself chilled and frozen, and the cold seemed to settle over me, reaching my bones. Frost traced along the ground, and I shivered, feeling that frozen calm within each cut—but it seemed I had missed something, the true essence, the destructive power behind it. As if the molecules were being froze.

  The fourth movement, Arashi Otoshi—Storm Drop—, came with a fierce downward slash that slammed into the ground with the force of a storm. The ground cracked, dust erupting upward. I staggered back, not from the physical force but from the sheer power he wielded with every fibre of his being. Even the trees shook, their leaves raining down around us, settling like the remnants of a battle, as the air erupted and calmed after a few seconds of the movement’s completion.

  He straightened, lowering his sword, no sweat on his forehead, no shortness of breath or fatigue, and looked at me, his expression unreadable. “These are the first four movements of Kazeshin,” he said. “Master them. Only then will I show you the final three. Each movement embodies the elements of nature—thunder, wind, ice, storm. Together, they form the essence of Wind God. And you can only understand when you reach the perfect affinity with the wind element you have."

  The weight of his words settled in, and my grip tightened, a renewed determination flickering to life.

  “Yes, Father,” I replied, my voice steady, ready to forge myself into the wielder Kazeshin demanded.