It's been a week. A week of absolute hell. Every training session with Satoshi has been like trying to swallow glass—painful and infuriating. If I never have to see him again, that's still not long enough.

  My ribs and shoulder have mostly healed thanks to Shoko's Reverse Cursed Technique—still tender if I push too hard, but at least I can move without wanting to scream. The exhaustion from Satoshi’s relentless training schedule is another matter entirely. I really need to learn RCT myself. But Shoko's explanation makes zero sense to me, something about multiplying negative energy to create positive, and I absolutely refuse to give Satoshi the satisfaction of asking for his help.

  And to top it all off, I still don't have a clue what he meant by "figure it out yourself." He deflects every time I ask, which makes him even more insufferable.

  I stand with my bag slung over my good shoulder, waiting for Misaka in one of the courtyards. The sunlight reflects off the koi ponds as crisp autumn leaves dance around the stone pillars. The splash of koi breaking the water's surface is the only sound besides distant training shouts. A shiver creeps up my spine as the November chill bites through my jacket. Come on, Misaka.

  I catch my reflection on one of the classroom windows. Bags set under my eyes, strands of hair parting from my braid. I look like a sleep paralysis demon’s shit took human form.

  "Sorry I'm late!" Misaka jogs up, slightly out of breath. "Fushiguro-sensei caught me in the halls. Wanted to 'check in' on my technique development."

  I raise a brow at her and a smirk tugs at my lips.

  "Uh-huh. Are you sure you didn't just roll out of someone's bed?" My eyes flick over her disheveled hair and swollen lips.

  A sly grin flashes across her face.

  "Maybe..."

  I roll my eyes but can't stifle the snort that escapes me.

  "Who's the poor unfortunate soul?"

  "One of the third years. I think he said his name was—uh—Fuju? Fuji? Something like that."

  My eyes widen and my breath catches.

  "Fuju? Aki Fuju? Sandy brown hair, eyes that look like agate, scar across his bottom lip—"

  "You know him?"

  I groan and drag a hand across my face. I wish the ground would swallow me whole. Aki Fuju.

  "Unfortunately. A one-night stand that will absolutely never happen again. I thought he was overseas—"

  A voice that makes my skin crawl cuts through the courtyard.

  "Oh, don't be like that, Ren. It was the best night of your life. I distinctly remember you squirming beneath me."

  I whip my head toward the voice. Amusement dances in those agate eyes I despise—possibly more than the Six Eyes.

  My eyes drag over his frame, he was normally the tallest person in the room by at least a good few inches, broad across the shoulders, and he held himself with confidence that made women all over japan swoon. I hate to admit it, but it was that confidence that lured me into his bed on my birthday. I wanted to prove his arrogance was nothing more than a fa?ade. I’d planned to shatter that ego of his once I’d finished with him, but he’d done the impossible and proved that his self-assurance was well-earned. More Than well-earned.

  It makes my blood boil thinking about it. The man is a liar—swore he’d never mention it again— and an asshole, and he loved himself far too much. I mean, who the fuck gets their cursed tool gold plated. It does nothing for practicality.

  “Prick.” I say stiffly as a way of greeting.

  He grins wide, and my stomach rolls in a weightless way that makes me curse under my breath.

  “Whore,” he replies. “Nice to see you haven’t forgotten my name after screaming it for a whole night. I thought we agreed that we would … pretend we didn’t know each other in public.”

  A loud snort from Misaka is quickly covered by a cough, I shoot her a half-hearted glare.

  The last time I’d seen Aki, I was snatching my clothes from his dorm room floor, swearing to whatever gods would listen that this was a one-time thing, and that I’d rather fight a Special Grade than stick around for a repeat performance. No matter how good it was. He knew he’d won. The cocky bastard wasn’t shy about it either, told me we’d see each other again next week, to which I threatened to wipe him off the face of Japan if he ever brought that cursed cock anywhere near me. Or something like that anyway.

  I cut straight to the point. “Why are you hovering around like a fly round shit?” Aki angles his head, deliberately raking his eyes over my figure. Fucking typical.

  “Am I?” he asks incredulously. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d be doing at all.”

  “Aki.”

  The smug prick sucks in a sharp breath, snapping his eyes to mine. “Oh I do love hearing my name on your lips.” He has the pure audacity to wiggle his brows at me and lean down to my height, which earns him a deep scowl.

  He smirks at my reaction and straightens again, flicking his eyes to Misaka and jerking his chin in her direction.

  “I’m here for her, not you. Try not to flatter yourself too much, Ren.”

  Something like genuine concern flashes in his eyes. “Heard some shit from the other third-years. Something you’d probably want to know.”

  Misaka raises a brow at him, and crosses her arms over her chest.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Since you and sweet little sunshine here are the only ones who survived Zone Four, there’s a widespread rumour that some of the first and third-years are joining forces to test you both.” His gaze flicks to me once more. “I’m painfully aware that you’re more than able to handle yourself, especially with Gojo in your corner.”

  A line forms between my brows. Satoshi isn’t in my corner – he hates me and he’s contractually bound to train me. Big difference.

  Is he being helpful, or does he have another motive? Either way, it makes it harder to dismiss him entirely.

  “Gojo isn’t in my corner. He can barely be in the same room without looking at me like he wants me dead.”

  He gives me a quizzical look before biting his lip to prevent a laugh bubbling up his throat. I hate him.

  “Whatever you say –”

  “Why are you telling us this? What –”

  “How many? When?” Misaka cuts in.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Sora Yomizaki’s organising it. The scarred prick from your trials. Apparently he's still pissed you survived, Ren. And because Misaka associates with you, she’s being targeted too. Smells like a whole bunch of jealousy to me.” He shrugs.

  A knot forms in my stomach. Misaka’s a target because she stood with me at trials. Fire rushes through my veins. How many others have targets on their backs because they associated with me?

  He doesn’t seem stupid enough to target Shiori. He’d have a death wish to target Satoshi.

  He doesn’t know about the connection between me and Aki. Yet.

  “I know of two third years who want to join Sora, more than likely wanting to earn a favour from his clan, and his two shadows that follow him everywhere will join him. So that’s five ranked sorcerers that I know of that are out for both of your blood.” He continues as he runs a hand through his sandy hair. “I don’t know any details about when. Watch your backs, I’ll do what I can to send them in a different direction.”

  My palms start to sweat. Five against two. Misaka’s tough, and I’m special grade, but I don’t know what those third years are ranked at. Nor do I want to use my Maximum Technique in a small radius—last time I used it, my heart stopped twice.

  He turns to face me fully. “Your best bet is to get them to fear you. Kill someone Ren. Preferably Sora—that would make my day.” He puts a hand on his heart and grins.

  Misaka lets out a startled chortle.

  “Yes, Ren. Do kill Sora, it would be in our best interests of course.” She nods solemnly.

  “I – I don’t think I can kill him. Well. I can, but I don’t want to.”

  Aki’s smile falters and he scans my face before exhaling sharply. “Then you’ll die,” he says simply. “Maybe not today. Maybe not even this month. But eventually, Sora or one of his lackeys will catch you off guard, and you’ll hesitate because you’re too fucking noble to do what needs doing.” His shoulders drop and he bends to meet my eyes, voice lowering to a warning. “And that hesitation will get you killed.”

  My lips part to argue, but part of me knows he’s right, and I hate that he’s right. But does he have to be so conceited about it? I’ve seen the names crossed out from Dad’s reports, seen the bodies brought back from the dead zones to be cremated.

  “Aki, I’m tired and I look like shit. I don’t have time for your …” I gesture with my finger to all of him. “…you.” I finish.

  “The gesture really sells it,” Misaka says with a wide smile. “But, Ren, he has a point.”

  “I’m well aware. We’ll deal with it when I don’t look and feel like I’m on my deathbed.”

  I grab Misaka’s arm and start to drag her away.

  “For the record Ren,” Aki calls as we leave. “You still look beautiful, even on your deathbed.” The asshole has the nerve to wink at me and my cheeks heat. My grip on Misaka’s arm tightens and I pull her away faster.

  I trade blows with Misaka, pivoting my foot to spin out of her reach. Sweat drips down my back and my muscles burn from the last hour of sparring, but my footing holds steady.

  “Your training with Satoshi is paying off, you’re already steadier on your feet.” She taps her thigh to signal the spar’s over.

  “Glad to see you’ve got working eyes, Tanaka.” Satoshi’s voice rings out through the empty training room, echoing off the polished wood walls. “You’ve improved, Renegade.”

  Misaka mouths Renegade at me and I shrug. First time he’s called me that. I don’t hate it. She takes a step back and unwraps her knuckles. Satoshi’s sunglasses slide down his nose as he dips his head toward me.

  “Come.”

  “Um. No. I’m not a dog. Ask nicely.” I retort.

  I know I shouldn’t provoke him, but he’s been ordering me around like a slave all week. If he wants me to comply, then he can at least treat me like an actual human being. I lift my chin and lock eyes with him. His eye twitches and he chews his cheek. My heart hammers in my chest, but I keep eye contact. Anger flares in his eyes. For one glorious fucking second I think he’s about to ask nicely. He doesn’t. He turns on his heel and marches out with rigid shoulders. Holy shit. Did I just win?

  Misaka’s brows rise into her hairline, and she clears her throat.

  “Did – did he just back down? I thought he intimidated everyone.”

  I blink rapidly before turning slowly to her and bursting out into a fit of unhinged laughter.

  “I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming.”

  Misaka joins my laughter, her voice high-pitched and light, the sound vibrating through my bones. She wipes the corner of her eye.

  “Then it’s a collective hallucination. I witnessed that too.”

  “You two definitely weren’t dreaming or hallucinating.”

  I turn my head toward the voice. I don’t recognise him from classes or joint training, so he’s not a first year. Ash brown hair tied in a tight bun atop his head, loose bangs brushing his temples. A crooked smile spreads across his soft features.

  Oh, hello handsome.

  I catch Misaka’s eye. We share the same expression. Pure lust.

  He saunters over to us with the confidence of a man who knows he’s hot. The corner of his mouth curves as he glances between both me and Misaka.

  “Ladies,” he dips his head and grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. Hazel eyes meet storm-blue. “Shinji Kamo. But you can call me Shin.”

  Kamo. One of the ‘Big Three’ clans.

  My eyes widen. Of all the beautiful men to stroll into my life, who I don’t immediately hate—it’s a fucking Kamo.

  His fingers slip from mine and he reaches for Misaka. I’ll give her credit—she’s less flustered than I am. I need to take flirting lessons from her.

  His lips meet the back of her hand.

  She pulls her hand back with a flirty smile. “I’m Misaka Tanaka, and this is Ren Sazama. Who apparently forgot how to use her voice.”

  He trails his gaze over me—whether he’s sizing me up as a threat or someone worth taking to bed. I can’t tell. I hope it’s the latter. Fuck the politics. The Kamos aren’t like the Zenin. There wouldn’t be political fallout from a Sazama and a Kamo hooking up.

  “Sazama.” He repeats my name slowly, rolling it around his mouth. He doesn’t seem wary which works in my favour. “Principal’s daughter?”

  Fuck. A knot forms in my chest. Here we go. This is where he’ll decide whether I’m a liability or an asset.

  “That’s me.” I keep my voice level, but my hands tremble. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  He knits his brows together. “Why would it be?” He tilts his head. “Your father’s policies have nothing to do with you, do they?”

  I start to breathe easily again and a small giggle bubbles up my throat. Smooth, Ren. Real smooth.

  That’s not the standard reaction to someone hearing my name. Most people hear Sazama and either treat me like I’m made of glass or like I’m the one personally responsible for the fifty-eight percent mortality rate.

  “I guess not.”

  “Good. Then we both understand that I don’t give two shits who your parents are. I judge sorcerers by what they can do. Anything else is just a waste of time.” He waves his hand dismissively and I notice the dirt beneath his nails.

  Misaka nods softly.

  “That’s a surprisingly refreshing take.” She raises a brow at him.

  He shrugs at her and locks his eyes onto mine.

  “So, what can you do, Ren Sazama?” He paces in a circle, and his boots squeak against the waxed floor. “I heard that you, took out all four Grade One curses using a Maximum Technique and that your heart stopped twice. Kind of reckless in my opinion, but … effective.”

  “You heard facts then.” I reply dryly.

  “Word travels fast in these walls. Secrets never stay secret for long.”

  Was that a warning or a threat? I don’t have any secrets. Not ones that I’ve muttered out loud anyway.

  He rests his elbow on my shoulder and grins down at me.

  “You look tense. Relax. All I’m saying is, if you have anything to hide, keep it to yourself.” He gestures to the walls. “It’s like the walls have ears and the ceilings have eyes.”

  “Kamo. Stop being a fucking creep, and take your elbow off of Renegade.” Satoshi’s sharp voice shatters the moment.

  He glances between me and Satoshi and then back again before breaking out into a manic smile.

  “Renegade?” Amusement laces his tone.

  “This is the one you’ve been assigned and can’t stop whining about.” He holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Didn’t realise you called dibs, Satoshi.”

  “Dibs?” I ask incredulously.

  “Don’t annoy me when I’m in the mood to hit people.” Satoshi quips back to Shinji.

  Of course I’m fucking ignored. I can’t help the snort that tumbles from my lips at Satoshi’s retort. His head snaps to the sound and he narrows his eyes at me.

  “Careful Renegade, that almost sounded like you volunteer.”

  Any humour that threatened to burst from me shatters in an instant. What. A. Dick.

  They’re definitely friends.

  I swallow down the insults burning in my throat.

  “That was a little harsh, brother.” Shinji says, raising his brows.

  “What do you want me to say Shin?” He cocks his head to the side. “She needs to learn that not everyone here is friendly.”

  “Damn, Satoshi.” Shinji pinches the bridge of his nose. “Way to get the girl to like you.”

  “If she wants friends then she shouldn’t fucking be here. This place strips away any care you have towards others and makes you remember that there’s no point getting attached to anyone. I can hold her hand and make her feel welcome but let’s be real, that bullshit only got other sorcerers killed.” He turns his head to look at me again. “Sorcerers die. That’s what happens in this world. It’s not like the books you read as a kid about the things that go bump in the night. These monsters are very real and death isn’t quick or peaceful. Necks get snapped. Hearts get ripped from chests. People get eaten from the inside out. My point is, attachments make you vulnerable to exploitation.”

  I clench my jaw and my hands curl into fists at my side. Misaka glances at me and bumps her shoulder against mine. But it doesn’t stop the ringing in my ears or the anger building in my chest.

  “You’re a condescending prick Satoshi, I’m well the fuck aware that sorcerers die. Or did you forget that your clan murdered my mother?”

  The temperature in the training room plummets. Satoshi freezes and I swear I see guilt flash in the endless blue of his eyes. It takes me a full second to realise he’s not wearing his sunglasses. Where the hell did they go? Stop thinking about his eyes.

  “What my clan did had nothing to do with me. You’d do well to remember that, Ren.”

  I knew I’d overstepped as soon as he stopped calling me Renegade.