Nakato awoke to the smell of antiseptic and the steady beep of a heart monitor. His entire body ached as if he'd been run over by a truck.
"Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?"
A sharp voice cut through the haze. Nakato blinked against the fluorescent lights, his vision focusing on a girl about his age sitting cross-legged in a chair beside his hospital bed. She had short, choppy crimson hair and a jagged scar running from her left eyebrow down to her cheek. Her amber eyes studied him with open disdain.
"Who the hell are you?" Nakato croaked, his throat dry.
"Hinako Shirai," she said, popping a bubble with her gum. "Your new babysitter."
Nakato tried to sit up, only to wince as pain shot through his ribs. "Where am I?"
"Kage Corps HQ, Tokyo Branch." Hinako tossed him a water bottle. "You've been out for three days. Ryujin dragged your half-dead ass here after your little fireworks show in the alley."
Memories flooded back—the Beast, the black flames, the silver-haired hunter. Nakato looked down at his hands, half-expecting to see them still burning.
"Yeah, about that," Hinako said, following his gaze. "Turns out you're not completely useless. Just mostly useless."
Before Nakato could retort, the door swung open. Ryujin strode in, his massive cleaver sword strapped across his back. He looked even taller up close, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Glad to see you're not dead, kid," Ryujin said, tossing a file onto Nakato's lap. "Because we've got work to do."
Nakato flipped open the file. His own face stared back from a personnel photo—except he'd never taken this picture. Beneath it, the words **"Subject: Nakato Mazui. Classification: Shadowborn. Threat Level: A"** were stamped in bold red letters.
"What the hell is this?" Nakato demanded.
"Your new life," Ryujin said simply. "You activated your **Black Pyre Style** during that Beast attack. That means you're one of us now—whether you like it or not."
Hinako smirked. "Lucky you."
Nakato's head spun. "You expect me to just believe that? That I'm some kind of... monster hunter now?"
Ryujin's grin faded. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "Let me put it this way, kid. That Beast in the alley? It wasn't alone. And now that you've awakened your Style, every Beast in Tokyo can *smell* you." He tapped the file. "You either learn to fight, or you die. Simple as that."
A knock at the door interrupted them. A lanky boy with messy brown hair and glasses poked his head in. "Uh, sorry to interrupt, but we've got a situation. Another Beast nest just popped up in Shibuya."
Hinako groaned. "Great. More overtime."
Ryujin clapped his hands together. "Perfect timing. Nakato, meet Daisuke—our resident tech genius and Style analyst. You'll be joining him and Hinako on this mission."
Nakato's jaw dropped. "You're sending me out *now*? I can barely stand!"
"Best way to learn is on the job," Ryujin said cheerfully. He tossed a black leather jacket at Nakato—the Kage Corps emblem stitched onto the back. "Suit up. Your first hunt starts in ten."
As Ryujin left, Hinako leaned in close, her breath hot against Nakato's ear. "Try not to die, newbie. It'd be a pain to break in another partner."
Daisuke adjusted his glasses nervously. "Don't worry, I'll walk you through everything! Probably. Maybe."
Nakato stared at the jacket in his hands, his mind reeling. Three days ago, he was just another orphaned high school graduate. Now? Now he was expected to fight monsters.
But as the memory of those black flames flickered in his mind, Nakato felt something else—a spark of something dangerous.
Something like *excitement.*
He slipped on the jacket and smirked.
"Alright, let's see what these Beasts are made of."