After the events in Classroom of the Elite, Hoshino Aqua crosses paths once again with Ayanokouji Kiyotaka at Ai's funeral. An encounter echoing their connection in a past life when Aqua was known as Amamiya Gorou. Fuelled by a thirst for revenge, A...
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Eleven years have passed since I started my grueling training under Kiyotaka's mentorship, starting when I was just four years old. It's been a journey devoid of emotion, filled only with the cold necessity of honing my skills for the sake of my goal.
Hoshino Ai. She was an innocent casualty in this unforgiving world, a gentle soul unjustly robbed of her chance to live. Her untimely demise ignited within me a fierce determination to carve a path of revenge, a path fueled by the memory of her kindness and the injustice of her fate. But it's not merely vengeance that drives me forward; it's the profound gratitude for the new life she granted me. Every step I take, every choice I make, is a tribute to her memory, a promise to honor her spirit by seeking retribution for the pain she endured.
Ayanokouji Kiyotaka. He was a little boy when I met him in my previous life as the doctor Amamiya Gorou. He came to the hospital because of some broken bones in his leg when he was 8, some years before Ai's pregnancy. Though I didn't know back then that he came from the place called 'White Room', he eventually told me, what I assumed was most of it, once he thought I was old enough to understand as Aqua.
Out of some misguided sense of duty, he took me in. He saw potential in me, not because he wanted an apprentice. He told me multiple times that his reason for helping me was that he owed a favor to Amamiya Gorou, my past self that he's not aware of.
I'm confident he saw an opportunity to mold me into a weapon, just like himself. His guess was correct considering the results I've shown him every time.
From the beginning, I felt nothing but the urge to endure the pain, to sharpen myself into a tool. His methods were brutal, his expectations relentless. But I endured, not out of love or loyalty, but out of a sense of obligation to fulfill my goal.
As the years passed, I became proficient in the art of detachment, mirroring his own demeanor. Emotions were a luxury I couldn't afford.
Now, standing here after all those years, I am a product of that training, bound to find my father.
...
1
Arriving at 6 a.m. each day had become a routine these last few years. It allowed me to complete my morning training with efficiency instead of doing it in the evenings.
His house had an underground garage that served as our training area, ensuring that I could enter without disturbing his family through the front door at this early hour.
"Pardon the intrusion," I said before gently pushing the door open.
"Good morning," he greeted.
"Morning," I replied with a nod.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, we changed into our traditional white judo robes, preparing for our practice match. While we didn't strictly adhere to judo techniques – I had already been taught various martial arts by him– we got used to sparring in these robes, mostly for the tradition they represented. There was no profound significance behind our choice, but it added a sense of ritual to our sessions.
