Chapter 348: A Tale of Two Professors

Takamura’s expression sobered. He leaned back in his chair, thick arms crossing over his chest.

"You think Nakano is collecting them?"

"I think Nakano is building something." Reyna’s fingers drummed against her thigh, a nervous habit she usually suppressed. "He’s got the President’s sister. He’s got a girl whose family helped her walk away from the most exclusive recruitment class in a decade. He’s got Monica Von Astrom, who apparently can command vegetation now. He’s got a telekinetic powerhouse, an illusionist, a girl hosting an S-Rank beast spirit..."

She trailed off, frustration bleeding through her composure.

"I’ve watched the footage from their dungeon clear. His team moved like they’d been fighting together for years, not weeks. They anticipated each other’s actions. They covered each other’s weaknesses. It was..."

"Beautiful," Takamura finished quietly. "I watched it too. That kind of coordination doesn’t happen by accident."

"No. It doesn’t." Reyna met his eyes. "So what do we do about it?"

"We do what Phantoms do." The professor’s grin returned, sharper now. Hungrier. "We watch. We learn. And when the time comes, we hit hard enough to make sure they don’t get back up."

He pulled up a file on his tablet, tossing the holographic display between them.

Satori Nakano’s academy ID photo stared back at them. Average height. Sharp features. Red hair that looked too deliberately styled to be natural. And eyes that held something dangerous behind their casual indifference.

"This kid came from nothing," Takamura said. "Zero background. Zero connections. Zero Aspect until some freak manifestation. And now he’s commanding a guild that has Anya Petrova contemplating murder and the President of the VHC sending personal commendations."

"Which means what, exactly?"

"Which means he’s either the luckiest bastard on the planet, or he’s something we haven’t seen before." Takamura killed the display. "Either way, the Phantoms don’t back down from a challenge. If Nakano wants to play king of the hill..."

He cracked his knuckles.

"We’ll just have to remind him why they call us the Scarlet Phantoms."

Reyna nodded slowly, her expression settling into something calculating. She had built her reputation on charm, on beauty, on the kind of social manipulation that made enemies into allies and rivals into admirers. But beneath all that polish lay something harder. Something that didn’t like being outmaneuvered.

"The tournament," she said. "That’s our opportunity."

"Six weeks to prepare. Six weeks to find their weaknesses." Takamura grinned. "Think you can handle it?"

"I can handle anything." She stood, smoothing her uniform. "But I want answers first. How did Nakano convince Celeste to transfer? Why did Isabelle choose the Hounds over everyone else? What is he offering them that we can’t?"

"Maybe he’s just prettier than us."

Reyna shot him a look that could have melted steel.

"Find out," Takamura said, his amusement fading. "The Phantoms have ears everywhere. Someone knows something. Someone always knows something."

"And when I find out?"

"Then we decide whether to recruit him or destroy him." The professor’s eyes glittered with something that might have been respect. "A boy who can turn the Onyx Hounds into first-place contenders isn’t someone you dismiss. He’s either an asset or a threat."

"He can’t be both?"

"No." Takamura shook his head. "Men like Nakano don’t do half measures. Whatever game he’s playing, he’s playing to win. And that means eventually, he’s going to be in someone’s way."

Reyna paused at the door.

"What if he’s already in ours?"

The question hung in the air.

Takamura’s smile held no warmth.

"Then we make sure he regrets it."

Professor Hanae Mori was drunk.

Not falling-down drunk. Not slurring-her-words drunk. Just pleasantly buzzed, the kind of warm haze that made the world’s edges softer and its problems more distant.

She sprawled across the couch in her office, an empty bottle of expensive sake on the floor beside her and a half-full one balanced on her stomach. Her Verdant Striker sat across from her, a nervous young woman named Yuki Tanaka who had clearly expected a professional meeting and received something considerably less formal.

"You want my opinion on the Hounds?" Hanae waved her hand vaguely in the air. "My opinion is that they’re idiots. Lovable idiots. Chaotic idiots. But idiots nonetheless."

Yuki clutched her tablet like a shield. "But Professor, they’re in first place..."

"First place doesn’t mean smart. First place means lucky. First place means they stumbled into a situation where their particular brand of insanity happened to work." Hanae took a long drink from the bottle. "Also, first place means that Anya is going to spend the next six weeks trying to destroy them, which is frankly hilarious to watch."

"Shouldn’t we... do something? Prepare some kind of strategy?"

Hanae considered this with the intense concentration of someone who had consumed far too much rice wine.

"Strategy," she repeated. "You want a strategy for dealing with the Onyx Hounds."

"Yes?"

"Okay. Here’s my strategy." Hanae held up one finger. "Don’t die."

Yuki blinked. "That’s it?"

"That’s it. Don’t die. Don’t let your teammates die. Don’t do anything monumentally stupid that gets people killed." Hanae drained the rest of her bottle. "Beyond that? Everything else is just details."

"But the rankings—"

"The rankings will sort themselves out. They always do. Some teams rise, some teams fall, and in the end, the only thing that matters is whether you’re still breathing when the dust settles." Hanae’s eyes, usually warm and unfocused, sharpened momentarily. "You want to beat the Hounds? Beat yourself first. Become the best version of whatever you’re supposed to be. That’s the only strategy that works in the long run."

Yuki stared at her professor, clearly unsure whether she was receiving profound wisdom or drunken rambling.

Probably both, knowing Hanae.

"Now." Hanae stretched, her voluptuous figure shifting beneath her rumpled uniform. "Go away. I have important drinking to do."

"But—"

"Important. Drinking." Hanae pointed at the door. "Out."

The student fled.

Alone in her office, Hanae let her mask slip slightly. Her eyes found the window, gazing out at the distant lights of Onyx House.

Braxton was over there. Probably losing at cards to Carmen. Probably pretending he didn’t care about his students while secretly worrying about every single one of them.

Damn fool.

Her tablet buzzed. A message from Carmen:

Drinks later? Braz is being insufferable about the rankings.

Hanae smiled despite herself.

Tell him I said congratulations. And that he still owes me twenty credits from last week’s poker game.

She set down the tablet and reached for another bottle.

First place. The Onyx Hounds were in first place.

She should probably feel threatened. Should probably be scheming and plotting like Anya and Satoru and whoever else was sharpening their knives. The Verdant Strikers had a reputation to maintain, after all. Standards to uphold. Points to accumulate.

But honestly?

Hanae was just happy someone was finally giving those silver-spoon Sentinels a run for their money.

She raised her bottle in a silent toast to the absent Braxton.

"Good luck, you idiot," she murmured. "You’re going to need it."

Outside her window, the sun continued its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and crimson.

Six weeks until the tournament.

Six weeks for alliances to form and strategies to crystallize.

Six weeks for a boy named Satori Nakano to prove whether he was a flash in the pan or something far more dangerous.