Border HQ loomed before me, its towering structure casting a long shadow over the pavement. I had scheduled my appointment for midday, making sure to complete my morning routine first. Now, freshly showered, the scent of soap still clung to my skin, masking the sweat I had worked up earlier.
A cool breeze ruffled my hair, and a flicker of annoyance crept into my mind. My hair was getting long, too long. It now reached my shoulders, and taking care of it was becoming a hassle, especially with how much of it ended up clogging the drain. I was getting tired of pulling out strands every other day.
It was the last month of spring, and I took a moment to appreciate the crisp air while I still could. Summer was just around the corner, and I had never been a fan of the heat. I much preferred the calm of fall. But alas, I was no god and I couldn't control the weather.
The crosswalk light turned green, signaling me forward. I followed the flow of pedestrians, making my way to the entrance of Border HQ. Instinctively, I reached for the door handle with my right hand only to be reminded of my new splint.
A lingering consequence of my "run" the other day.
The aftermath of that night had been... messy. My family had been furious that I had run off, but their anger quickly turned to worry once they saw my hands. Multiple hairline fractures in my right hand. Swelling and deep bruising on my left, though by now, it had faded into a dull lump with a light discoloration.
With a small sigh, I switched hands and pushed the door open with my left.
Inside, the building buzzed with activity.
The front lobby was spacious and filled with movement of young recruits around my age, older cadets, and full-fledged agents going about their tasks. It reminded me of the Battalion headquarters back home, structured, efficient, and military-like.
I approached the front desk, where a male receptionist greeted me with a professional smile.
"Hello, I'm here for my one o'clock appointment with Border recruitment," I said.
"Kage, correct?"
I gave a small nod. "Yeah."
"Take a seat. Mr. Ringo will be right with you."
With that, I turned and scanned the lobby before settling into a chair.
The place was alive with energy, voices overlapping, the sound of boots clicking against the floor, the occasional laugh breaking through the hum of conversation.
Despite its militaristic structure, it didn't feel cold or oppressive. There was a liveliness to it, a sense of purpose. I had barely begun to take it all in when a voice called out—
"Takumi Kage, I assume?"
I looked up.
Mr. Ringo was an older man, someone I placed in his mid-forties to early fifties. Despite his age, he seemed fit, his posture upright and steady. As I looked him in the eye, I noticed the way his crow's feet tightened when he smiled.
"Yes," I responded as he wordlessly led me to his office.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. I took my seat, watching him as he settled in.
"So, Takumi, can I call you Takumi?" he asked.
I gave a small nod, not feeling the need to answer verbally.
"Good," he continued. "First things first, would you like to be an Operator or a Field Agent?"
Operator? I questioned the word in my mind.
"I know what Field Agents do, but what about Operators?" Curiosity got the better of me. The term felt vague.
"Operators serve as the support unit for a team," Ringo explained. "Think of them as battlefield tacticians. They provide intel, direct agents toward enemy positions, and help coordinate strategy. Operators don't enter the field themselves, but they're essential to a team's cohesion."
"Oh" I answer not because I was
disappointed but because It wasns't what I was looking not in the way I wanted to complete my goals.
"I want to be a field agent." I was clear in my directive.
" I wanna know every."
" Ok" he hummed in deep thought until found his answer.
"As a C-rank member, you're a trainee," Ringo continued. "Your main focus is learning how to become an effective agent; understanding Trion, combat techniques, and how to operate within a team. You'll be given a standard training Trigger, but you won't have much customization yet. C-ranks don't go on official missions; instead, they participate in supervised training exercises."
Ringo smirked. "Also trainees receive a small stipend, mostly to cover basic needs like meals and training gear. It's not much, but you're not exactly doing real work yet."
I frowned but stayed quiet, money wasn't really any concern for me right now, buf I hated getting underpaid.
"Once you reach B-rank, things change," he continued. "B-ranks are considered full-fledged agents. You'll be assigned to a squad, gain access to better Trigger loadouts, and be eligible for real missions including defense operations and certain border incursions. Your pay increases significantly since you're actively contributing. The better your squad performs, the bigger the bonuses you earn."
I nodded slowly, taking it all in. "And A-rank?"
"A-rank agents are the elite," Ringo said simply. "They receive priority missions, access to the best Triggers, and higher pay so instead of the small stipend or commission for c and b with a you get a salary. They also have the option to take on leadership roles. If you want the best resources and real battlefield experience, you aim for A-rank."
"And S-rank?"
Ringo exhaled, his expression turning more serious. "S-rank is… different. It's not something you can apply for. It's usually reserved for unique cases or exceptionally skilled individuals or those with special circumstances. They operate outside the usual ranking system, often taking on high-risk missions that even A-rank squads wouldn't handle."
I processed his words carefully. The climb from C to A seemed straightforward, train, improve, prove your worth. But S-rank? That was something else entirely, intriguing.
"So, if I want to make a living off this, I need to at least reach B-rank," I muttered.
Ringo nodded. "Pretty much. C-rank is just the start. If you're serious about this, your real goal should be getting to A rank"
"You mentioned training Triggers," I said, shifting in my seat. "That's another thing I want to know, what are the weapons like?"
Ringo smirked, as if he had been waiting for that question. "Figured you'd ask that," he said, tapping a few keys on the console beside him. A holographic display flickered to life, showcasing various Triggers.
"There are two main categories of combat Triggers, Melee and Ranged. Every agent, even C-ranks, chooses a primary weapon type based on their fighting style."
He gestured toward the first set of holographic weapons.
"For melee fighters, there's Kogetsu, a standard Trion blade. Simple, strong, and durable. It's a favorite among straightforward sword fighters. But just to warn you there is a bit of a learning curve. Then there's Scorpion, a more flexible weapon that allows you to extend, reshape, and manipulate the blade in real-time. It's lightweight and fast its more beginner friendly. Lastly, there's Raygust, which is a hybrid weapon as it can transform between a heavy blade and a shield, making it a strong choice for defensive fighters."
I leaned in slightly. "And for ranged?"
Ringo swiped the display, bringing up a new set of weapons.
"Ranged agents split into two combat styles, Shooters and Gunners. Shooters use Triggers that fire customized Trion bullets, while Gunners rely on pre-set rounds fired from Trion-based firearms."
I nodded, taking in the distinction as he continued.
"For Shooters, there's Asteroid, the basic solid Trion bullet, pure firepower, no special properties. Hound has homing capabilities, allowing it to track targets, making it useful in chaotic fights. Viper lets you preset a bullet's trajectory before firing, making it useful for unpredictable attack patterns. Meteor is about widespread destruction, it acts as a bomb essentially." He tapped the console again, shifting the display to another set of weapons.
"Gunners, on the other hand, use firearms loaded with pre-configured Trion bullets. The most common are Asteroid Rounds for high damage, Hound Rounds for tracking enemies, and Meteor Rounds, which are explosive. Gunners sacrifice customization for the ability to fire rapidly and consistently with higher precision. They can us all the other shooter bullets as well." He finished
I frowned slightly.
"So Shooters have more control over how their bullets behave, while Gunners you standard bullet that can't be changed?"
"Exactly," Ringo confirmed. "Shooters manually control their bullets mid-flight, making them more versatile but requiring more Trion manipulation. Gunners just pull the trigger and let the weapon handle the output. Both styles have their strengths, and it really comes down to preference."
"And shields?" I asked.
"Every agent gets access to Shield, a Trion-based barrier that blocks incoming attacks. Raygust also serves as a defensive option, doubling as a blade and a shield."
"So C-ranks get access to all of these?"
"Not exactly," Ringo said. "C-rank agents use trainingTriggers, which are simplified versions of these weapons. They're designed for learning, not real combat. You won't unlock full weapon customization until you hit B-rank."
I exhaled slowly. "So, I'm basically stuck with a starter set until I prove myself."
"That's one way to put it," Ringo said with a chuckle. "But trust me, mastering the basics is more important than rushing to advanced gear. A weapon is only as good as the person using it."
I digested the information being given to me, realizing just how differently this world operated compared to Zebc.
Back home, most people had only two routes in the Battalion, enlisted or officer. Officers went through a four-year academy, while enlisted soldiers trained in an intense six-month boot camp.
I had been given the chance to attend officer school, where we designed our own Trion weapons from scratch. Even those with only the bare-bones basics had weapons tailored specifically to them. Our main combat strength came from our unique weapons, each one individually crafted to fit its wielder.
But here? Border had a standardized system. Pre-set weapons, fixed loadouts, limited customization, at least until you ranked up.
It was completely different from what I was used to.
"So, how do you rank up?" I asked, leaning forward slightly. "Also, you mentioned something about having to be placed on a team once you make B-rank."
Ringo nodded, as if he had been expecting the question. "Advancing through the ranks in Border is based on performance. To move from C-rank to B-rank, you have to complete basic training and pass a proficiency exam that gives you points until you get to the threshold of how ever many points you need to get to rank up. That includes combat ability, Trion control, and tactical awareness. Or you can earn you points for solo ranks match."
I crossed my arms. "And once I pass, I get assigned to a team?"
"Not exactly," he said. "B-rank agents don't get assigned they form their own squads. You'll need to team up with at least two other agents to officially be recognized as a unit. Squads compete in ranking battles, which determine their position on the B-rank leaderboard."
I frowned slightly. "So, if I don't join a squad?"
"You won't be able to participate in the rank wars, which means no advancement. Not saying you can't make it to solo but those are very far and few between," Ringo explained.
"Now your squad's performance affects your squad ranking, and the higher your rank, the better your access to equipment, missions, and even pay."
I tapped my fingers against my arm, letting the information sink in. "And what about A-rank? How do you get there?"
"You climb the ranks in B-rank battles. The top teams get a chance to challenge an existing A-rank squad for their position. If they win, they take their spot. Simple as that," Ringo said with a small shrug.
"Simple, huh?" I muttered, already thinking through the process. So it wasn't just about individual skill, teamwork and strategy played a major role in getting to the top. That was going to be... annoying.
"So, is ranking up in B-rank through these 'Rank Wars' the only way to move up to A-rank?" I asked.
Ringo shook his head. "Not the only way, but it's the main path. The top B-rank teams get the chance to challenge an A-rank squad, and if they win, they take their place. That's the standard method."
I narrowed my eyes. "And the other way?"
He sighed, leaning back slightly.
"Exceptional cases. If Border's higher-ups see serious potential in an agent, they might promote them directly, but that's rare. Usually, it happens when someone proves themselves in real combat situations, missions outside of training or Rank Wars. But even then, it's not guaranteed."
"So unless I get some kind of special recognition, I have to fight my way up through the ranks," I muttered.
"Exactly," Ringo confirmed. "Border values teamwork and consistency. One lucky win won't get you promoted. You need to prove you can hold your own at a high level over time."
I exhaled through my nose, already thinking ahead. "And the team thing, why is that so important? You said once you hit B-rank, you need to form a squad. What happens if you don't?"
Ringo chuckled, shaking his head. "Then you don't move up. Simple as that."
I frowned. "They really force you into a team?"
"It's not just a rule for the sake of it," he said, his tone more serious now. "Border isn't just training soldiers, it's training units. Teamwork is everything. The Rank Wars exist to develop coordination, tactics, and synergy between agents. In the field, whether it's defending against Neighbors or handling large-scale operations, no one fights alone."
I leaned back slightly, letting that sink in. It was completely different from what I was used to.
In Zebc, we were placed on teams, sure, but that was secondary to individual skill. Instead of small squads, we operated in units of eight or more people, and depending on the mission, we were grouped with whoever best suited the task. It put way more emphasis on adaptability and pulling your own weight in any given situation. You weren't expected to stick with the same people for every mission; instead, you had to be prepared to work with different fighters at any moment.
But here? Border forced you into one squad. You trained together, fought together, and if one of your teammates held you back, you all suffered for it.
"So let's say I pass the C-rank test and make B-rank, but I don't form a squad. What then?"
"You get stuck," Ringo said bluntly. "You won't be able to participate in the Rank Wars, which means you won't earn points to move up. You won't get access to better Triggers, higher-paying missions, or advanced training. You'll basically be in limbo."
I clicked my tongue in annoyance. "So Border is built completely around teamwork."
"That's right," he said with a nod. "Even at A-rank, everything is squad-based. The only ones who work solo are special cases or exceptionally skilled agents who have proven they can handle things alone. And even then, they still work with teams for larger operations."
I crossed my arms. "So there's no real future here for a solo fighter."
"Not unless you're aiming for S-rank," Ringo said with a smirk. "But that's a different conversation entirely."
I sighed, rubbing the back of my head. I wasn't used to relying on others. The idea of having to depend on a team to progress felt… suffocating. In Zebc, I only needed to trust myself and adapt to whoever I was paired with. Here, my growth depended on other people, people I didn't know, people I had no reason to trust.
For the majority of my career in the battalion as an officer, I was under Euphemia's influence. She was my benefactor, my mentor, and together, we became a formidable duo. We complemented each other's strengths, our teamwork refined through countless battles.
But ultimately, I had to rise through the ranks on my own. That was the ethos of Zebc, your individual skill defined your worth. No matter how well we worked together, my success depended on my own abilities. In the end, it wasn't about who I fought alongside; it was about how well I could stand alone.
hammered out a few more questions, and our conversation with Mr. Ringo settled into a smooth rhythm of question and answer. As we wrapped up, I felt somewhat satisfied, I had gotten what I needed, even though he didn't know much about the neighborhood and avoided some of my deeper questions.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Ringo," I said, signaling the end of our discussion.
"One more thing, Takumi," he added.
"Since you're still a minor, you'll need your parents' permission."
That was going to be annoying, I thought.
(X)
"Hey, Mr. Ringo. How was your evening session with Kage?"
They were sitting in the Border cafeteria, half-empty trays between them.
Ringo leaned back with a shrug. "Went alright. Kid's… intense. Dedicated, yeah, but he kept asking weird questions. Stuff about this Neighborhood."
That made Jin pause, his chopsticks hovering mid-air. His eyes narrowed slightly, the lazy glint gone.
"The Neighborhood?" Jin echoed, his voice suddenly sharper. "You sure?"
Ringo gave him a look. "Dead serious. Why? I have no idea.."
"Hmm." Jin's lips curved into a slow,
knowing smirk. "Interesting…" he murmured, almost to himself, but Ringo caught it.
Ringo frowned. "I don't get why you're so invested in this kid."
"Why?" Jin repeated, leaning back as if trying to pull the answer from the ceiling. Instead of replying, he went quiet, his gaze drifting somewhere far beyond the cafeteria walls.
He was remembering.
The first time he saw Takumi Kage's future.
The battlefield was drenched in smoke and shadow, the ruins of cities crumbling in every direction. The sky itself seemed darker around him, as if the world recoiled in his presence. Standing amid the wreckage was Takumi, no longer a boy, but something more and less than human.
His hair shimmered like embers, soft wisps of pink glowing against a backdrop of destruction. His skin gleamed like obsidian, metallic and cold. And in his eyes… there was no mercy. No hesitation. Just power. Pure, terrifying power.
Jin blinked, coming back to the present.
"He's gonna change everything," he said quietly. "Whether as our strongest ally… or our worst enemy. That future's still in motion."
Ringo didn't respond. He just stared, unsettled, as Jin's smirk faded into something more grim.
" but how about we keep this to ourself, ok." Jin gave a courteous smile and walked away.
You did have to tell Mr.Ringo twice but he had to admit he found the boy weird.