Chapter Text
The silence in the meeting hall was the kind that carried weight — heavy, purposeful, filled with the quiet hum of people who had seen too much.
Shin stood near the back, posture rigid, trying not to fidget under the faint flicker of the fluorescent lights. His heartbeat was a sharp, steady rhythm against the background buzz of overlapping thoughts.
"He looks too young for this."
"Is that really the telepath kid from Sakamoto's shop?"
"He doesn't even look like he can handle Takamura's swing."
Shin clenched his jaw, forcing the voices out of his head. His psychic field was open wider than usual, a subconscious reflex whenever he got nervous. The collective murmur of The Order's inner circle was deafening.
And every one of them — the strongest assassins in the world — were staring at him.
At the head of the room, Sakamoto adjusted his glasses and exhaled softly, voice calm but firm. "He's ready."
That simple statement was enough to shift the atmosphere. The Order did not question Sakamoto easily — but this was not just any ordinary recruit.
Shishiba leaned back on his chair, tapping his hammer against his shoulder. "Ready, huh? Last I checked, the kid nearly fried his brain using future sight for too long."
Osaragi, sitting on the table beside him, twirled a lollipop between her fingers. "He didn't die though." Her voice was flat, mild, eyes half-lidded. After a beat, she added, "That's better than most."
"Not exactly the bar we're aiming for." Shishiba muttered.
A laugh — smooth, careless — drifted from the corner. Nagumo sat slouched with his legs crossed, flipping his dagger between his fingers. "Relax, Shishiba. If the kid explodes mid-mission, it will make things more exciting."
Shin twitched. He's doing that on purpose.
Nagumo's thoughts brushed against his mind like silk and static all at once — unreadable, but sharp around the edges. The man's smile widened when Shin's gaze flicked toward him.
"Eyes up, Rookie." Nagumo murmured, voice just loud enough for Shin to hear. "You're already sweating."
Shin scowled and looked away. "I am not sweating."
"You are. I can see it from here."
"Then stop looking."
Nagumo chuckled — maddeningly lazy, like this was all a joke.
Sakamoto cleared his throat — a small warning that only the veterans seemed to pick up on. Instantly, the teasing quieted.
"We've entered a new phase." Sakamoto continued. "With Slur gone, the JAA needs restructuring. The Order is going to take on both internal security and field missions until new divisions stabilize. That means more hands — trained hands."
He turned slightly, giving Shin and Heisuke a rare, fatherly look. "That's where they come in."
Heisuke, standing beside Shin, straightened instantly, giving a sharp salute that was a little too eager. "We won't let you down, sir!"
Osaragi's expression did not change. She tilted her head slightly toward Heisuke, as if studying him. "Shoots well." She said simply. "Doesn't talk much. Good balance."
Shishiba raised a brow. "You're evaluating recruits now?"
She shrugged. "Just saying what I see."
Heisuke's internal monologue was a quick-fire stream Shin couldn't tune out. "Oh my god, she noticed, stay cool, don't blush, oh my god—"
Shin coughed to cover a laugh.
Sakamoto gestured toward the long table where badges gleamed under the light — trainee insignias of the Order. "You will both start as provisional members. You will train, assist, and run operations under supervision. Once you pass evaluation, you will be official."
He paused, meeting Shin's eyes. "No killing. Ever. Understood?"
Shin nodded. "Understood."
Nagumo leaned forward, chin on his hand. "Even if someone's trying to kill you?"
Sakamoto's voice cooled by a few degrees. "That's not the kind of Order we are anymore."
For a brief second, the air tightened. A flicker of memory in everyone's mind. Takamura's faint chuckle broke it, low and raspy from the far end of the room.
"The kid's got a spine." Takamura said, resting his sword against his shoulder. "Let him prove it. If he dies, we will know Sakamoto's judgment slipped."
"That's not funny." Kindaka muttered, though even he looked faintly amused.
Beside them, Hyo yawned and folded his arms. "If he's with Sakamoto, he will live. Probably."
Yotsumura gave a noncommittal grunt, arms crossed, one eye half-closed in faint approval.
Shin stepped forward to receive his trainee badge. His hands did not shake — not visibly — but the air around him pulsed faintly with psychic tension, enough for loose papers on the table to rustle. Heisuke reached over to steady them, grinning nervously.
As Sakamoto pinned the insignia on Shin's jacket, Shin's telepathy accidentally brushed against him — a warm pulse of reassurance and quiet pride. The kind of thought that did not need words.
Shin swallowed. "...Thank you."
The sound of a chair scraping cut through the room. Nagumo stood, hands in his pockets. "Well, if he's gonna be one of us, he should know what he's walking into."
He walked up — too close — his grin sharp as ever. "Welcome to the madhouse, Rookie."
Shin met his gaze, defiant. "Stop calling me that."
"Nope." Nagumo said cheerfully, tapping a finger against Shin's badge. "You've got the look of someone who still cares too much. That's Rookie energy."
"Maybe because I am not a psychopath." Shin muttered.
Shishiba snorted. Osaragi raised an eyebrow, the faintest ghost of a smirk tugging at her mouth. "He's got bite. I like him."
The meeting dissolved into chatter and light bickering — a strange, almost domestic chaos that only the Order could make feel normal.
Shin's telepathy danced between minds unintentionally: Takamura thinking about lunch, Osaragi wondering if the vending machine still worked, Kamihate's calm focus as he reassembled a rifle, Shishiba's quiet annoyance that no one was cleaning up, and Nagumo — unreadable, as always, his mental field like a fogged mirror.
Shin tried again, lightly brushing against it — and felt something flicker back. Like Nagumo noticed.
Their eyes met.
Nagumo smirked. "Curious, huh?"
The thought was not spoken aloud, but Shin heard it. He jerked his head away immediately, heat creeping up his neck.
He did not realize Nagumo was chuckling until Shishiba threw a paperclip at him.
Later, after the meeting adjourned, Shin lingered near the glass corridor overlooking the city. The JAA headquarters stood rebuilt, towering and bright against the late afternoon light. Drones patrolled the skyline like quiet sentinels.
It should have felt like closure — but instead, Shin felt the strange weight of beginning again.
He sensed Sakamoto before he spoke. The man's familiar, grounding presence. "You did well."
"I almost passed out just standing there." Shin admitted.
Sakamoto chuckled softly. "That's still progress."
Shin leaned against the glass. "It's... weird. Seeing you all together again. The originals."
"Yeah." Sakamoto said. "We have changed, but we are still who we are. The Order's strong because they balance each other — even when it looks like chaos."
"Is that what you're hoping for me?" Shin asked quietly.
Sakamoto looked at him, gaze kind but firm. "I am hoping you find your own place in it."
Before Shin could respond, a shadow fell over them.
"Touching." Nagumo drawled. "Should I leave you two alone for a heart-to-heart?"
Sakamoto sighed. "Nagumo."
Nagumo waved. "Relax. I am here for the tour. Gotta make sure our Rookie knows where the bathrooms are before he accidentally reads Osaragi's thoughts in the wrong place."
"I am not a rookie." Shin said again, exasperated.
"Sure you aren't." Nagumo said. He started walking, and to Shin's annoyance, motioned for him to follow.
The Order's base was not like the JAA's sterile training centers — it was alive.
Corridors lined with old photos, weapon racks, and half-broken equipment that no one bothered to fix because they all knew how to work around it.
Nagumo walked with lazy confidence, hands in his pockets. "Rule number one — don't touch anything that looks half-broken." Nagumo said, strolling past a dented wall panel. "Hyo uses this hallway for strength tests."
"Strength tests?" Shin asked.
"Yeah. He punched through a reinforced door last week because someone told him it was unbreakable."
Shin blinked. "Did he get hurt?"
"Nah. The door did."
Nagumo grinned. "So yeah — stay clear when you hear him stretching. That's usually your five-second warning before something explodes... naturally."
They passed Osaragi's section — neat, quiet, weapon stands perfectly lined. A cat plush sat on the shelf beside a sheathed blade.
"Don't touch that either." Nagumo said when Shin slowed. "She'll kill you. Calmly."
They turned another corner, leading to the observation deck where the Order usually briefed field ops.
The sunset spilled through the windows, casting gold light over Nagumo's features. For once, he was not smirking — just looking out over the city.
Shin caught a flicker of something under the man's surface thoughts — distant, unreadable sadness. Before he could focus, Nagumo turned, smile back in place.
"So. Telepath, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Dangerous thing to be around people like us." Nagumo said lightly. "You might hear something you wish you hadn't."
Shin frowned. "You mean secrets?"
"I mean thoughts." Nagumo's eyes glinted. "The mind's not always kind, Rookie."
Shi's pulse skipped. "Stop calling me that."
"Make me."
Before Shin could react, Nagumo closed the distance, stopping just short of touching. The air between them buzzed with faint static — the byproduct of Shin's flaring psychic field.
"Lesson number one." Nagumo murmured, leaning close enough for Shin to feel the warmth of his breath. "Control your output. People can feel it when you flare. Makes you easy to read."
Shin gritted his teeth. "You are standing too close."
Nagumo smiled lazily. "Am I? Must be your imagination."
Sakamoto's voice echoed from down the hall, "Nagumo, stop harassing him."
"Harassing?" Nagumo echoed, stepping back with mock innocence. "I was educating him."
Shin exhaled slowly, pulse still racing. "You are impossible."
"Flattery will get you everywhere."
That night, Shin lay awake in the dorms assigned for provisional members. Heisuke was already snoring softly on the other bed, rifle schematics scattered across his nightstand.
The room was quiet — until it wasn't.
He caught fragments through the walls, faint but distinct: the Order's minds. Shishiba arguing with Osaragi over snacks. Kamihate silently cleaning his rifle. Sakamoto's steady, calm hum of thought.
And, faintly, Nagumo's.
Shin focused, just a bit — curious — and brushed against the edge of it.
For a heartbeat, he caught a flicker of an image. A silhouette in the rain, a hand holding a badge, laughter echoing through static.
Then — a sudden pushback.
Like a wall slamming shut.
Shin gasped, startled, and his vision blurred for half a second. His nose stung — the faint metallic taste of overreach in his mouth.
He wiped the small streak of blood from his upper lip. "Damn it..."
Outside, Nagumo stood on the balcony, smoke curling between his fingers as he stared out over the city.
He felt the brush of psychic energy fade and smirked faintly to himself.
"Curious little Rookie." He murmured, voice half a laugh, half something else.
Then he turned away, the city lights reflecting in his eyes — sharp, unreadable, and just a little too interested.