"As was stated and known to all, Blue Archive belongs to Nexon Games. I will never lay any sort of claim whatsoever to this deceptively lore-deep game. Anyone who knows me and has seen me do otherwise can kindly sue me."
"Also, this story will include blatant references all around. Anything that is too blatant is also grounds for suing."
To become a good teacher, you mustn't only teach them by whatever book or rule your given. Rather, you must make a concerted effort to understand them, to bond with them, and eventually, gain their trust. Much like how schools act as their second home, so too must you be a good second parent.
Anything shorter than that, then what the hell have you been doing?
- The Author
Hello, strangers! So kind of you all to join me on the beginning of this brand new tale.
Now, you all may be wondering. Why am I taking up this darned role as a prologue handler?
And, why am I now in a place where kids and teenagers are tankier than tank shells and are literal angels, winged or not with actual superpowers?
Heh heh heh, No need to sweat over the formalities! I'm just here to play my part.
This story that will be told can be quite unorthodox. In this story, the normal run would be for a singular man to be sent back in time, after a vague cryptic dream, becoming the only human man to be the teacher for all these kids.
But perhaps, you should ask yourself. What would happen to this land if there weren't a singular human man, but several? In this country-sized world where students roam, not a single teacher to watch over them all, but several to watch over their own academies?
It should be more reasonable, yes? I should know. There's already a lot of teachers here already.
But let us get back to what I am supposed to do.
This story is not going to be all sunshine and rainbows, strangers. That only applies to comedy flicks. Anything else would be all too boring, even if this story is insane enough as is.
As for the main character? Well, why don't we just jump straight into it?
If you ever see me, come and stop by. I always have wares to sell, and I'm willing to buy anything. Almost anything.
Now, shall we?
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
THREE DREAMS, ONE VISION
?
"So, you have decided to move, friend?"
"Yes. I've grown tired of what I'm doing here."
A mirthless chuckle of amusement filled the room, as two men sat down in an attempt to relax. It was a dingy room they remained in, filled with nothing short of old household items strewn about. Two worn down couches, an old cupboard filled with nothing, a ticking clock, a ragged sleeping mat, and a small glass table with two cups of coffee up top. Even the wallpaper of the room is peeling itself away, and the door has lost chips of wood due to age.
"So much I have done for the people's sake, and so much wealth I've amassed, yet what did I do to get them?"
On one chair sits is a man in a suit, a classic long pants, white shirt and tie combo with a purple blazer on top. A coat hanger stood by the side of the withering door, his long coat hanging on top. His hands are gloved, for the coat would do the work of hiding his metallic arms. His face is a pallid ash like his skin, with a scar cutting through his left eye and marring his expression of fatigue.
Though, said fatigue is also marred with minor confusion. He had thought that he had left this place so long ago. Why had he returned?
"Hmm. You shed blood, and you robbed them blind. But look on the bright side. Despite your motivations, it's all for a good cause, don't you agree? But perhaps correct it to "for your own sake"."
On the chair right next to him sits a man wearing a long coat with his hood lowered, showing his face with smidgens of oil and his unkempt hair. His expression remained carefree with a small toothy smile despite bringing up such a morbid answer, with his eyes glowing eerily.
Ah yes, he remembered. He is known as the Merchant. In the beginning, he is always referred by him as a "stranger", just like how he refers to all customers who peruse his wares. But, over time, their relationship shifted from strangers to friends, then to partners, though he'll refer him as a "friend" even then.
At least he is not alone in this blasted quarters.
"Good it may be, I told you earlier, many times even. The more I do this, the more it eats at my mind... my humanity."
"Heh. As human as you may look, at least. Don't forget who helped you put those horns on your helmet."
The Merchant pointed to a headwear sitting at the small table in front of them, a black full head helmet, with a similarly colored front plate with blue and cyan colorations on some parts. It was a pivotal part of his friend's line of work that he imposed upon himself, and despite how it looks, he is still able to see and breathe through it. The mouth area of the helmet is also detachable, allowing him to eat when time permits.
It's a wonder of both the arts of smithing and technology, and that is but two of its helpful features. The addition of the horns on the front plate made for a less bland and more stylish yet imposing appearance, akin to a demon. Yet the sight of it made him sigh. It has always been his trademark headwear, and he would be loath to lose it.
Especially when he knew the painstaking price of adding those horns.
"I know, I know. I know how ironic it may be. But I was the one who suggested it in the first place. I know what I want."
"That is four "I know"s in a single statement, friend. In any case, if you wish to stop and leave, I will not stop you. After all, sometimes a person wants a new lease of life, and no one has the right to stop 'em. I know I did when I moved to this town."
The hooded man smiled. "Thank you for your understanding, Merchant."
"Heh heh. I am simply understanding the needs of a customer, and you are my most valued ever since I came here. Maybe it's 'cause everyone else is far too...unsavory for my taste."
And perhaps unsavory is far too small of a description. The city they are both in is a stereotypical world of the strong preying on the weak. Where the rich hold all the power, may it be in riches or governance. When said power gets into your head, suffering and chaos reigns as the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.
To lie, kill, and steal, just to survive. And for this man, he did survive, through sheer force of will, following his own set of rules. Death nearly claimed him, and being subjected to prolonged suffering for years fomented hate within as he survived by taking away the lives of others in his fury, especially if they've taken away the lives of innocents. The lives of joyful youths and oldies robbed of their futures and any hopes for a future generation.
For outside onlookers, they may say this is an exaggerated fiction. A needlessly edgy story where the only hope for redemption of a man is through more slaughter of who he deems as unworthy of living.
But unfortunately for him, what others may consider a fakerature of life, it is sadly his reality. And while he decided to fight against it, one can't blame him for wanting to stop after staining his hands for so long. He was simply just done. He wanted to get away from it all, even if what he did is for a just cause.
"So, which means the Killshot Enforcer has done his last job in this forsaken place. I'd say it's about time, friend. Though, if you are to leave, where would you go?"
The Killshot Enforcer. Such a menacing moniker only made him exhale in defeat since it is attributed to himself. The deadliest killer in the city they're in, as the judge, jury, and executioner of the vile, the corrupt, and the truly worthless. His motivation for doing so is not out of a sense of justice, but rather due to unrelenting hatred. His motto is simple enough: "Anyone I kill, is asking for it."
After much thought, he began to remember. This night is his last hours before the next day, the day of departure from this accursed place. A city with a name that he didn't even bother remembering. He still found the whole discovery of the how to be outlandish, or he would, if he wasn't so jaded back then. As for where he went...
"I already have a destination. It is known as the City of Miracles."
To that, the Merchant simply laughed. "The City of Miracles? Where even is that? Are you sure you didn't hear it from a rambling drunk? I wouldn't blame him, however. Drowning sorrows in drink is a common practice for those who live in the sticks like us. At least, for those who have given up."
"I would have agreed with you if I hadn't found this earlier."
The Enforcer stood up slowly as to went to the small drawer on the side of his bed, grabbing the Merchant's attention. From within, he pulled out a small lone flyer before walking back and sitting back to where he was before. Said flyer was given to the Merchant to see, and a cursory scan alone was enough to make him laugh.
"Heh heh heh heh! Kivotos, Where Miracles Begin? Where in gods' name did you get this?"
"Yesterday morning. I had no idea where it came from, or who sent this. All I know is that it was under the door when I woke up."
And the laughter only went harder, which he found unamusing. Though, he didn't blame him for his laughter after placing himself in the tattered man's shoes.
"So, you are saying that this paper showed up under your door with no clue of its origin? I'm surprised you kept it, friend. Any sane man would think that this is nothing more than a very ornate scam, yet..."
The Enforcer can only nod silently, and the Merchant's laughter soon died out. The latter can only look at the former with understanding pity. "Yet you kept it regardless. You really are grasping at straws for a chance to get out, do you?"
A groan escaped the white-haired man's lips. This conversation... He invited the Merchant here for that exact purpose. He sincerely can't believe that such a pamphlet noting of a city like this exists, yet he had to tell someone. Someone who he fully trusts.
"Fair enough. You've been looking worse these days anyway, like your eyes lost their color."
He didn't even bother rebutting, for he knew it to be true. The feeling and urge for escapism remained as strong as he remembered it that day. All the taking of lives had taken the life in his eyes in turn.
"Still, are you sure of this? I've seen my fair share of dubious flyers, but this one takes top spot for the sheer dissonance. If anything, this is less a flyer and more of an invitation. It even has a time, and place of departure. Borean Station, Sunday, 11 P.M."
"I have never been very sure of this before in my life, Merchant."
And he wouldn't forsake any chance to leave this place and start fresh. His lifeless eyes of gray shone dimly with conviction as he answered his friend-slash-supplier, and the latter can't help but chuckle.
"If you say so. Who am I to stop a valued customer from seeking greener pastures, much less a friend? You go and do what you have to do."
"Thank you, Merchant."
"Ah, ah, ah. I did not say that my blessings come free this time. You have to pay me."
Of course. Considering his line of work, the obvious Merchant wouldn't dare to miss an opportunity to make a quick buck. But... what could he want from the Enforcer?
That is when the coated man stood from his seat, dropping the Kivotos flyer and walking over towards the wall. He stopped under what seems a rack. More precisely, it was a weapon rack, holding a firearm that he carefully took.
It was a modified Springfield 1863, improved with far greater durability in both frame and barrel in the event that the Enforcer ran out of ammo, making it double as an effective melee weapon on top of its ranged capabilities. The white-haired man can only look at it with slight fondness. He always had a bigger propensity for using melee weapons, but the musket he had is one of a kind, purchased from the Merchant himself after multiple enhancements, and it was worth the paper he paid. Killing instrument it may be, but it was his one and only ranged weapon.
As for his melee weapons? He simply stored it away. Where?
Such thoughts are immediately stopped when he saw the Merchant took aim with his musket... at himself. The Enforcer immediately stood up in response.
"Merchant. What are you doing?"
"Heh, heh, heh! I think it should be obvious to you at this point, friend. You know what you are in now, yes?"
Such a question prompted him to think, and it didn't take long to reach a conclusion.
"So, this IS a dream."
"Yes, yes. You've always had a penchant for lucid dreams, so much so that can influence your dreams if none so much as interrupted. The mind holds great power, after all."
The ashen white-haired man can only stare at the Merchant dumbfoundedly as the latter continued. "Listen, friend. I understand your motivations for doing what you do, I really am. But a man motivated by hatred can only let it drive them long enough before they snap. Don't you think you've gone past your sanity threshold at one point?"
Going past the threshold of sanity, to eventually snap. Has he ever reached that point? He didn't believe he did. And even if he did...
"You would have forgotten. Fair point, considering just remembering would be traumatic for most people. But believe it or not, you did."
"Then tell me, Merchant. When did I ever snap?"
To his displeasure, the Merchant shook his head. "That is for you to find out, friend. After all, I am just a figment of what's going on in your head. I am simply going to try and wake you up."
It is a public and mundane knowledge that if you ever die in a dream, you wake up in real life, unless your dream has a succubus in it somehow. The Enforcer can only relent.
"Then do what you have to do, friend. I don't want to suffer any dream in this forsaken backwater any further."
"We both do. Well, in that case, pleasure doing business with you... Kyrzael."
That was the last that the Enforcer, Kyrzael heard before his friend shot him clean in the heart. He soon fell over, his world turning into white.
? ? ?
To die in a dream is to awaken in reality. Such a notion is one many believed, and one that Kyrzael very much believed as well. He very much anticipated to open his eyes to the sight of a ceiling, to turn his head around and see a bed below him and assure that he is back in reality.
To awaken to the sight of a dark sky besmirched in reddish hues is something he thought otherwise. The sight alone is so alarming that he immediately jerked his head towards both his sides, and what he has seen couldn't be any more ominous.
Fire raged as far as his eyes can see while smoke billowed and wafted onto his surroundings. With how much the fire has spread, it's likely that it sparked and remained for a long time. On his right side lies a pathway towards somewhere between scorched walls. To his left is a bridge, or what was supposed to be a bridge as it was destroyed, along with a pathway leading someplace else. What left his heart dry are the sight of trees devoid of leaves and flowers, instead serving as torches of fire.
He left an unpleasant dream of the past and awoke to an unsettling nightmare. His eyes went into alert as he tried his best to stand up, yet his body ached with every movement, leaving him to struggle as he tried to stand up. It was excruciating, as if he was recently smashed dead center on his torso with a spiked mace. Still, he pushed on regardless, eventually managing to stand up even if his legs are tired beyond belief.
And now that he has a better line of sight, two things have caught his attention.
One is his current state of dress. This top side is exposed on all sides with no sign of his usual clothes on him, and his long pants endured a good amount of rip and tear. What caught his attention the most is his own body, which was laden with scars. The scars alone weren't much trouble, considering his former line of "work". As a killer and a hitman, conflict is inevitable, and all the scars he endured from various sources were the results of such conflicts. Gunshots? Sharp weaponry? Blunt weaponry? Fires and electricity? He has endured them all, and those scars are proof, along with his arms.
The only outlier was the large gash on the center of his body, as if something big had pierced through him. Kyrzael would always remember the state of his body current and could immediately tell if something new had occurred to him. The gash was something he did not recognize, and it immediately got him thinking. Where exactly did he get that gash? And how? It was a mystery all on its own, and he didn't have the leisure to investigate, much to his detriment. After all, when you're immediately thrown into a burning landscape, the best course of action is to investigate before making an escape.
The second thing laid before him, an ornate zweihander that has seen a lot of use, yet it's clear that it has been properly maintained for a long time. The Enforcer looked at the weapon with a degree of surprise as he carefully picked it up, inspecting it.
"This...this is one of my weapons. How did it get here?"
It was one of his favored melee weapons that he often used in his life as an Enforcer, known as the Defender. Nobody would expect this out of someone perceived as a relentless and hateful killer, but he had a great penchant for gaming among other mundane things, with a great number of choices in his repertoire for various consoles. To him, this was his most effective way to retain his sanity, much like how everyone has their own ways to not give in to depression. The money he made from launching hits and committing thefts on the rich had to go somewhere.
The Defender itself was forged in the likeness of a weapon of the same form and name in one of his favorite games, Final Fantasy 16. He remembered the Merchant laughing and keeling over how and where the inspiration for such a weapon came from, which left him unamused. Thankfully enough, there were a surprising amount of blacksmiths in the city who knew, though it should be unsurprising due to the popularity. Frankly, he was equally surprised by how they're so willing to forge weapons sourced from games.
Perhaps the very thought of bringing fictional weapons to life tantalized them. And yet for a weapon which such a name, the irony is not lost on what it's used for. Still, he has made peace with said irony not long ago, and hasn't regretted it ever since. After a thorough inspection, he surmised that the weapon is still in fine shape, yet the presence of bloodstains concerned him. He hasn't wielded the blade as far as his memory served him. And that was in...
His movement stilled for a moment. When was the last time he wielded the Defender? The Enforcer found it a bit odd that he didn't remember when he last wielded his favored zweihander. He ultimately decided to chalk it off to bad memory. After all, it's not like the western-styled blade is his only choice of weapon. There was his musket, and his other two melee weapons that are currently not on him.
At least now he has a weapon to defend himself, in the event that such a place had hostiles despite his ailing state. In such an infernal hellscape however, he doubted that he'll find hostiles regardless.
With everything prepared as best as he can, he pushed on, dragging his feet and sword across the ground as he tried to make his way out of what is presumably the former stage grounds. Difficult it may be, but unsettling landscapes will not investigate themselves. Yet, when he finally stepped out of the stage grounds, the sight before him did little to ease his nerves.
"On God... This is worse than I thought."
The pathway had led him to a courtyard, and unfortunately for him, the fires didn't spare this area a single bit as well. The trees surrounding the central fountain were lapped up by fire, and the fountain itself wasn't operational. Rubble of a building stood at the other side, a sign of its once grand countenance reduced to nothing.
And as if it wasn't bad enough, upon a further lookaround and narrowing of the eyes, he realized that there are lying bodies of actual children in the courtyard. The ones he saw are clad in a uniform of sorts, but he can't help but fear for the worst. He slowly made his way to one downed student, and knelt before them with the Defender laid down on the floor. It was a female student, wearing a sailor shirt and long skirt, both in white color. He placed his hand on the girl's head and...
"...I'm sorry."
In contrast to the surrounding heat, all he felt from the poor girl was coldness. The concern he had for the deceased girl before him was palpable, and concern soon turned into grief. The best he can do is find out which school did she go to, then offer a small prayer in return. Luckily enough, there's a logo emblazoned on the girl's sleeve, and is still visible despite being charred.
"...Hyakkiyako."
His eyes widened upon seeing the name, and his mind soon trailed back to the thought of one school that excelled in tourism and all its forms. It was popular for all its festivals where everyone would flock to it, basking in the festivities while every student of that school showcased their capabilities to its fullest. As if its name isn't a dead giveaway, Hyakkiyako heavily leaned into Japanese aesthetics, and while tourism is the main point of the academy, apparently, they also have ninjas.
But if this is indeed the renowned Hyakkiyako Alliance Academy, then a quick conclusion can be drawn. He is now in Kivotos, the City of Miracles. As much as he is relieved to be in the place he is meant to be, it pales in comparison to the encroaching dread upon his inner psyche. How could the once lively and enchanting grand school of tourism be reduced to an infernal hellscape?
It was a nightmare through and through. And frankly? Kyrzael hoped that it really is a nightmare. If it is, which means what is happening is also a dream, a dream he can wake up from. But for now, the best he can do is take stock of his surroundings, no matter how horrid or morbid the sight can be. To his misfortune however, all he saw were burning buildings and embers flickering all around the area, never mind the courtyard already being a mess as it is and the probable corpses strewn about if the one dead student is any indication.
Alas, for now, he decided to do the one thing any respectful person would do when facing a deceased person, no matter how out of place it maybe much to his chagrin: He sat on his knees, closed his eyes, and began to pray, even uttering the Trinitarian formula to start and end it off. The irony is not lost for a man like him to pray in such a way, but if God will not forgive him, the least he can do is forgive the souls of all the deceased students. Amidst the flames was pure silence as he prayed from the heart, asking for forgiveness on behalf of the student before him, along with the others.
"...In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen."
The Enforcer opened his eyes and let out a breath as he stood up. Hopefully his prayers reached the ears of those above and allowed these students to cross the golden gates. Now, he has to press on and investigate the burning school with the hopes of finding out the cause of the fire, as well as any potential culprits to bring solace to the fallen students.
Yet, as he turned around to face the fountain...
"...Who are you?"
Before Kyrzael was a male who looked as if he stepped into the flames alive and survived a fight to the death. His suit, or rather, what was left of it had so many scorch marks and burn holes, and the same can be said for his pants. The most morbid detail would be the number of injuries sustained by this mysterious person. Black areas that are likely burn injuries, various wide and deep cuts, and a bleeding forehead that is still flowing with fresh blood dripping onto the floor.
Even with his own morbid past, such a grotesque appearance before the Enforcer left him unnerved, yet he can't help but respect him for still standing despite their grave injuries. Such respect became short lived, however. He cannot see the man's shadowed expression, yet he can feel hostility coming from the bloodied man, especially when he glanced at the thing he's holding. It's...a black card?
"I am asking you once more. Who are you?"
The man before him didn't answer, and his hands held the grip of the Defender's hilt as he readied himself. He preferred not to fight at this current state, but it's clear that this is the only way to squeeze some info out of him. He positioned himself into a fighting stance, his fatigue forcing him to wield his zweihander two-handed.
Before Kyrzael can react, with his card on two fingers, the grotesque man made a diagonal slashing motion without moving from his spot. The ensuring wave of energy hurtling towards the Enforcer made his eyes widen as he took the brunt of the wave, piercing through his flesh. Blood gushed out from where the wave pierced him, and his eyes widened as he staggered from rapid loss of sanguine red and energy.
Losing grip over the Defender, Kyrzael soon fell to the ground, his vision quickly fading as blood pooled under him. Disbelief is an understatement for what just happened to him. Much less how he is pretty much going to die before being able to find out how or who caused this great firestorm enveloping Hyakkiyako Alliance Academy. The thought alone annoyed and brought grief to him to an excruciating degree, especially when he died against someone who only held a black card.
Perhaps the saving grace before his death is that he able to hear faint words before the world became black.
"...did this..."
? ?
"...Gah!"
The eyes of the Enforcer shot open, along with his own upper body shooting up out of shock. He held his own head while hyperventilating, trying to make sense of what just happened to him. He was dead certain that a scorched man with grave injuries had bisected him diagonally by only swiping a black card, leaving him a bloody mess.
By all accounts, he should have died an equally gruesome death, yet he somehow woke up in this... greatly atmospheric expanse of the evening sky. He could have died and somehow ascended to heaven because God actually took pity on his battered soul and cut him a great amount of slack. Yet his grounded pragmatism found a more reasonable yet still outlandish conclusion, partly due to how his clothing is back to its immaculate self, along with the loss of fatigue.
"...That was a nightmare. An actual nightmare."
"Excuse me? A nightmare? Are you alright?"
Kyrzael quickly whipped his head upward to the source of the voice, only to find someone he didn't expect to meet. It was a girl clad in white fitting for a military commander, with long bluish silver hair flowing down her head, along with a light blue halo of a circle and a sparkle of light. He can see her cute face filled with concern and curiosity for him, and he is very much touched by the gesture of such an angelic young woman.
If only he didn't notice how she's bleeding from her left chest, running down to her long skirt.
"I am, but what of you? You are injured heavily."
"Hehe, you don't have to worry. I'll be- ukh!"
Out of reflex, the man caught the mysterious girl as she fell on her knees while clutching onto her injured chest, the sound of rippling water permeating in the air. She looked at him, and he can see her guilty expression.
"Hah... you're right. I'm not alright."
"That much is obvious. Who are you? And where are we?"
"Well, you don't really need to know of where we are~" He shot a look of annoyance, driving down the girl's sheepish guilt. "Anyway! for who am I, let me ask you this. Do you know of the General Student Council?"
"General Student Council..."
He dug deep into his memories, and the closest he ever got was when he first stepped into Kivotos. He went on to learn more about the entire city in general at the time, just so he can become a proper citizen without seeming like an illiterate living under the rock. Based on his studies, the General Student Council, commonly shortened to GSC, serves as Kivotos' central government body, maintaining order all across. The Council is split into various offices, or preferably divisions, and he has seen pictures of each office head on the internet.
The one to rule them all, however...
"...You are the President of the Council."
The so-called President's features brightened at his recognition. "Yes, that's me! I'm happy that you actually know of me, Kyr Sensei."
"You call me Sensei, even though I am no teacher?"
"Well, you did get the invitation, right?"
Words cannot express how the Enforcer felt so weirded out the more he conversed with this GSC President. Living as a recluse for so long, it should not be surprising that the appearance of an invitation from the GSC itself to would come as a surprise for himself. The invitation for a teacher's... meeting...
His faded gaze landed onto the President's crystal blue eyes. "You are starting to scare me."
"Haha... That's the first time anyone has said that me, Normally Rinny would find me a bit annoying instead!"
"Rinny, huh?" Likely referring to Rin Nanagami, Vice President of the GSC. That aside... "Well, apart from your potentially unprofessional work ethic and the fact that you know of my invitation which is likely due to your position, what happened to you, President? What caused your injury?"
At that question, the President's expression grew somber. Kyrzael was ready for a saddening answer, yet he can feel a slight increase in body heat.
"Before that, can you let go of me, Kyr Sensei? I appreciate the gesture, but I think I'll be relatively fine now."
"Of course."
Of course. Most girls would slowly feel flustered if they're held so close to a guy for a prolonged period of time, even more if he's an unknown. The moment he let go of the President, the injured girl let out a breath as she sat on her knees. Kyrzael did the same in turn, the two now sitting across each other, yet his worry didn't cease.
"Now, in our current seated position, I'd like to ask again, President. What caused your injury? I am aware that it is likely from a gunshot or a piercing stab, yet..."
"You're right, Sensei. I was shot." That is one hypothesis proven correct. "But as for how I got shot... It was all my fault."
The sole man can't help but raise an eyebrow. "Come again? Your fault?"
"Yes. I understand your skepticism, but it was indeed all my fault. It's all just the result of my own decisions, along with what came after."
"And what did come after, if I may ask?"
The President remained silent at the question, the palpable somberness and sadness of her expression gave a hunch that the Enforcer had asked a question that shouldn't be asked, which laced his face with regret in turn.
"Never mind. I'm sorry for asking you such."
"No, no. It's okay, Sensei. It's okay if you are curious. I don't blame you at all! It's just..." She let out a sigh. "It's funny, isn't it? It took getting to this harsh condition for me to realize that he was right all along."
Harsh may be an understatement for his current condition, but more importantly... "Who is this he?"
"He's another adult, just like you, Kyr Sensei. Much blander than you in forms of clothes, but his eyes are brighter." He can't help but deadpan at the comparison.
"I am starting to question if your injury is an overstatement if you're able to crack comparisons like so."
"Haha, well, us Kivotosians are very much hardier than most people, but I digress." Laughter aside, the President stared intently at Kyrzael. "Kyr Sensei. I know we only met each other for the first time only a few minutes ago. But, if you don't mind me, I'd like to ask for your help."
"How bold of you to ask a few-minutes acquaintance for favors, President. But you need not worry. All you need is to tell me what I should help you with."
The President's giggles can be clearly heard. "Are you always such a businessman? Well, I can get by your work ethic, Sensei. But..." She paused for a moment. "You'll likely forget about me after this conversation, along with every single word."
Kyrzael shook his head. "I wouldn't immediately doom our meeting in such a way, President. I'd be a fool to forget such a memorable meeting."
The wistful expression of the injured girl made him wonder if he said something wrong again. Yet that quickly faded in favor of mild joy. "That's a relief to hear. I will admit. Including you, I considered choosing one of two people. Though, it didn't take long for me to choose you."
"And why is that? Who is the other one?"
"Well... you will know soon enough. I wouldn't dare ask it to him." The same look of sheepish guilt returned for a brief moment, making Kyrzael wonder who did she consider. "But the reason I chose you is for two reasons."
"And what are these two reasons?"
The President paused for a moment, and Kyrzael can see her hand shifting about, as if wanting to raise them, yet unable to. He decided to do the honors instead, raising one finger in front of her. She flashed him a smile of gratitude, and he can't help but smile in turn, knowing that she's simply trying her best not to expend too much energy.
"Number one is your capability of forming bonds. You may not remember, Kyr Sensei, but you share a bond with him in a way that you may not expect. That capability is one trait you share with him as well."
The capability to form bonds with people easily. Well, he figured that since he'll be teaching students soon enough, he found such a trait to be necessary. A good teacher must be able to understand their students and adapt to each and every situation presented. Yet...
"A bond with the bland man? In what way?"
"Well, I wouldn't want to spoil your fun, Sensei. Wouldn't it be much more meaningful if you found it out for yourself?"
A fact he has no choice but to concede to. But it still miffed him that the answer won't come so easily to him. The previous dreams he had may be able to help him though, but he figured now is not a good time to contemplate. In any case, he decided to raise his second finger.
"And?"
"The second reason... Kyr Sensei. Do you remember the flyer that arrived on your doorstep that day?"
A piercing question that made the Enforcer narrow his eyes. The fact that she knows of the flyer means only one thing.
"You were the one who sent the flyer." The wistful face of admission on her face told him enough. "Why?"
"I know my way around deliveries. As for the why..." She paused, ignoring his mild annoyance over such a roundabout answer. "It's because I sympathize with you, Sensei."
"Sympathize?"
"Mm."
He can see the look on the President's face. A look of pure sadness mixed with said sympathy that she has spoken of before. The only one who has shown sympathy to his current state is the Merchant. The new acquaintance before her would be the second. But what would she know of his troubles?
"Sensei. Do you feel that everything that you've done, all the blood you have shed, is worth it?"
Kyrzael remained silent. It was one deep question that she had uttered, and he's not even going to question how she knew. All the blood he has shed, killing the blasphemous for the sake of making life safer for others. Was it worth it? He knew it was for an ultimately good cause, yet his motivations for doing so throw shade into it. It was a crusade where he alone would charge into, whether it is for pay, or out of hatred.
In the end, he simply nodded.
"Yes. I believe it is worth it."
"And were you happy for doing it, in the end?"
"...No. For I knew that no matter what I have done, it would amount to nothing."
The President nodded as she heard his answers. He knew not what was going on in her head, nor did he know why she's asking all this, but he knew she'd have to ask this for a reason. He knew better than to be dishonest during such times.
"I've spoken of responsibility before." Cryptic. Yet he chose to listen to her. "I didn't truly understand it then, but now I do."
"Adulthood, responsibility, obligation... and the choices that extend beyond those ideals. I even understand their implications."
The steps to becoming an adult. The responsibilities that come with it, and the obligation to fulfill them. He can't help but think about it with a hand on his forehead. He knows that he is now an adult, but what responsibilities he has taken? What obligations has he fulfilled? The only responsibility he felt has taken was...
"Sensei, you've chosen to take up a responsibility far greater that you have thought, with obligations that you've seen through no matter how endless it may be. I really admire you for that."
"The responsibility to make the lives of my fellow city folk better, even if I'm obligated to fight for such?" He can't help but feel bitter from her admiration. Why admire a killer like him? "You still haven't explained why you chose to send me that invitation flyer. Is it only due to sympathy? Or is it so much more?"
And so, her expression returned to somberness, yet he can also see seriousness. "I only wished to give you a little light, Sensei. You've already fought so hard and bled so much, yet it amounted to so little. I can't bear to see you endure this much pain. It's..."
The President found herself unable to utter a word, her breath hitching. Now it's Kyrzael's turn to feel sympathy. Their encounter may be short, but he knows enough that her sentiments are genuine, her current injury notwithstanding. With how she's struggling to speak, he felt he had little choice but to hold her shoulders gently. He can't have her exacerbate her injury any further, never mind how her body stiffened once his hands landed.
"President. Calm yourself for a moment. Look at me."
"Kyr Sensei?" She stared onto her jaded eyes; confusion riddled onto her face.
"Hah... Listen, I have chosen to take up said responsibilities, and fulfill whatever obligations that came with it. But I will not hide how it greatly embittered me towards living. A responsibility that will only rip you into nothingness, no matter how honorable it may seem, is not a responsibility. It is self-imposed torture."
The President's simply listened on, albeit with a dumbfounded expression. "While I may not be as aware of your responsibilities as the leader of the GSC, as well as any others that you have and what obligations entail them, but you must remember not to ever let it become a self-imposed torture. All I can say is, thank you for helping me escape mine, President."
What was once a dumbfounded look turned into relief once Kyrzael stopped talking, so much so that she ended up hugging the jaded man, catching him by surprise.
"No, thank you for showing me teaching me a valuable lesson, Sensei. Thank you, so much."
As unexpected as it may be, the Enforcer found it fitting that he hugged her back. "Hm... I suppose this makes you my very first student, as outlandish our meeting may be."
"Mm. I suppose so. I really was right to place my trust in you. You two are so different, yet so alike in some ways."
More comparisons? "If I may. What similarity between me and him did you find to be so striking?"
"Hmm..." She pulled away from him slightly. "If I were to say, it's the determination. He was always so determined to ensure that his students are safe with a bright future. Don't you feel the same too, Kyr Sensei?"
"...I can agree on that. It is enough for me to consider him a comrade. If he was with me that time, perhaps I won't have to bear the pain alone."
What he would do for a comrade to share all his hardships with. Well, he already has one in the form of the Merchant, but he wouldn't dare drag his supplier onto his hits. All he ever does is vent to him, and knowing his practice, he's just grateful he didn't charge him for each session.
The President herself seemed pleased with his answer. "Right? I know you two would get along just fine! You're going to be a Sensei just like him too!"
"You've already implied that, President. Still, this new responsibility will no doubt be less bloody than my previous one. Perhaps I'll finally be able to find peace in teaching students."
"That is all I'm hoping for, Kyr Sensei! Well... But..."
"But?"
The serious expression returned from the President, prompting Kyrzael to pay attention. "Sensei. I do not wish for our futures to be distorted. What came after... It is something I dare not speak of." She let go of his body, just like how he did the same with hers, only to clasp his hands. "Along with him, you are the only one I can trust."
"You place your trust in me for such a purpose? I assume such a purpose is to prevent the distorted future that will befall us."
"Hehe, yes, Kyr Sensei. I'm happy you caught on so quickly. I hope that together with him, you'll be able to make the choices that'll lead us to a brighter fate."
"Because you'll never know whether the choices you make in the present will leave a lasting impact on the future..."
The importance of choice, and the free will to make such decisions. He had always valued the sentiment, with how decision-making implies the hopes of free will. Such is why he did his best to ensure that every decision he made truly count. Every choice one makes can mean something, and if it eventually led to something so utterly mundane...
Well, at least you made it of your own will, yes?
When you have the chance to make a choice, make one you know you won't regret.
Words to live by, even if the source is quite unorthodox.
"Sensei?"
Kyrzael let out a breath. "...I understand, President. I will do my absolute best to lead us to a brighter future. On one condition."
What was once a bright expression on the President was replaced was quick confusion. What kind of condition would he want to impose when the task is something this great? Her confusion only grew when he raised his gloved pinky.
"I want you to promise me that this will not be our last meeting with each other, President. I am well aware that this encounter is no more than a dream, but I know that this also means many a great thing. A start of a great relationship, perhaps?"
The silver-haired girl went silent before the adult, before shifting into giggles as she hooked her pinky with his. "Hehe, I had a feeling you knew, Sensei. I know I said that you'll likely forget about this, but..."
She flashed an earnest smile at the helmeted man. "I promise, Kyr Sensei. We'll meet again someday, whether here or there. As long as you promise that you won't forget about me."
"I promise, on my own pride and our bond."
And so, the teacher and student made a pinky promise between each other. The President to ensure that this won't be their first and last meeting with each other, and the Enforcer to never forget about the President in the first place. The start of a blossoming friendship between the two.
"Now, since you're aware that this is a dream, Sensei, isn't it time for you to wake up?"
"What are you? My personal assistant? But still, I appreciate it. Wouldn't want to be late."
The President's previous pout turned into a well-meaning smile. "That's the way! Good luck on your first day~! And... Please don't give Rinny a hard time."
"And to you, please rest up. We both know why."
She can't help but let out a sheepish laugh, making him sigh. "Are you trying to tell me that you forgot about your current condition?"
"Heheh. Well, some of my coworkers tend to say that I may be superhuman, so..." And he shot his first student a deadpanned look, making her even more sheepish. "Uhhh... Anyway! Before you go and I get my beauty sleep, I want you to remember something!"
"And that is?"
The sight of the student before him pouting afterward made him sigh, as if she's claiming that he isn't taking this whole deal seriously. The thought alone is enough to make him want to sigh again, but he held it in as he schooled his face into a more amicable expression.
"Thank you. Now, repeat after me."
"We thirst for the seven wailings. We bear the koan of Jericho."
As much as he wanted to question the importance of those insanely cryptic phrases, Kyrzael decided to just roll and repeat. "We thirst for the seven wailings. We bear the koan of Jericho."
"We thirst for the seven wailings. We bear the koan of Jericho."
"We thirst for the seven wailings. We bear the koan of Jericho."
Soon, what was once a seeming request of memorization turned into a chant, as the two ended up holding hands together with their eyes closed as they kept on repeating the two cryptic phrases in unison.
And it seems to the Enforcer, they might never stop.
"We thirst for the seven wailings..."
"We bear the koan of Jericho..."
Kivotos
Millennium Ward / Residential District
"...Unh..."
The sounds of quiet groans can be heard in the small confines of a well-furnished apartment room. A singular man clutching a body pillow shifted about in his bed, slowly awakening to the sight of a white ceiling and the feeling of cold air. Kyrzael's eyes blinked profusely as he pushed his blanket away, trying to make sense of where he is. The sight of a kitchenette in the short distance, the light filtering from a nearby window, and the air conditioner on the left.
It didn't take a pain test to figure out that he is back in the apartment he lived in, free from any sort of tangible lucid dreams or nightmares. He breathed out a sigh of relief, and now decided to take the time to finally contemplate at this fine hour.
But before that, he decided to check his alarm clock sitting right on the small desk on his left. Considering his current housing at Millennium, everything tech related is state of the art, and the same goes for his own that can play any form of music he loads in it as an alarm. In front of the clock itself is an opened letter bearing the seal of the GSC, the so-called teachers' meeting invitation.
As for the clock? It read 6:45 A.M. A bit earlier than he had hoped, but it will do. He grabbed invitation letter and gave it a once over.
To whom it may concern.
On behalf of the General Student Council, we would like to invite you to the Introductory Teachers' Meeting at the following time and place.
Place: GSC Main Tower, D.U Ward Central, Shiratori City.
Time: 12 P.M
Due to the urgency of such a meeting, we strongly wish that none of the receivers of this letter are absent at the meeting place before the mentioned time. We await your arrival with hope.
With regards,
Rin Nanagami.
12 P.M. And the clock now reads 6:48 A.M. The former Enforcer can't help but chuckle weakly.
"... President, you cheeky rascal."
The audacity to be awakened so early when the promised hour is still considerably so far away. He'll need to chide the President for waking him up at this time of day. Granted, how is one supposed to tell the time while sleeping and having 3 consecutive lucid dreams bordering on visions? He always had a propensity for them, but to such an out-of-control degree?
Though, the saving grace is knowing that lo and behold, he didn't forget about meeting the bluish silver-haired girl in white. In some other world or time, someone might actually forget a meeting that is destined to be forgotten. For him however, it's his lucky time. Destiny can kindly scurry off to whatever cave it lived in.
He would be remiss to forget his first student. That is for certain.
"Well, no time like the present."
As much as he wanted to sleep, he figured he'll make an exception for today. It's a very important day after all! If he's going to be a new teacher for Kivotos, then he'll have to be at his absolute sharpness, in his most immaculate form of figure and dress.
After all, it's his inauguration day, and he is one of the chosen. What kind of teacher would he be if he didn't make his first student proud?
By the time you are reading this, it is likely New Year's Eve. Time flies, and I can't help but feel somber.
Also, for all you Senseis and Doctors who read my Persona X Arknights fic. Hello, I am going to terrorize you here now.
Yes, you are reading this correctly. This is a legitimate original Blue Archive fan fiction, written by me, the man who decided it was a good idea to cross Persona with Arknights. Before you start asking, I will just say this.
I have never played Blue Archive at all.
To compensate, I delved deep into its lore, and decided to bring this up as a way to test myself. Being a Discord role-player has its perks, and I am not one to waste opportunities to step into a series where it's utter insanity, enough for me to bring my own brand of insanity. Anyone who's seen my disclaimer up top WILL know.
Also, if you've read this far, you may have noticed one particular difference when it comes to canon prologue. And that is in regard to the President. I always found it bittersweet to know that the President is no more than an encounter us Senseis will canonically forget. So, then I thought, what would happen if the Sensei actually remembered her? Will it be a mundane, or a big one? I suppose it depends on the writer, AKA me.
Also. also! For those who refuse to be thirsty, take a shot for every reference you've seen in this fic! This will apply for every consecutive chapter coming onward. I'll even put up a reference counter starting from the next chapter! Of course, you have to mention where it came from in the reviews. Think of it as a game from me to you, fellow Doctors and friendly Senseis.
Also, also, also! I did say I delved into Blue Archive lore, but there will be times where I will mess up, even if I attempt to deviate from canon to suit my wishes. Leave your thoughts and hopes in the comments!
Also, from me to every gamer and reader out there...
Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!
