The sound of soft breath filled the apartment.
Akari Shikimori stood barefoot on the sleek polished wood of Riku's skyrise living room, her arms raised in front of her, palms out, eyes narrowed in stubborn focus. She was dressed in a cropped gray tank top that showed her toned stomach, and loose workout shorts she'd borrowed from Riku. Sweat clung to her skin. Her dyed-pink hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, strands sticking to her forehead.
Riku stood a few feet in front of her, arms crossed, wearing black sweats and a fitted T-shirt, relaxed but focused. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind him framed the Tokyo skyline, golden sunlight spilling over the room like a blessing neither of them fully believed in yet.
"All right," he said, tone steady but not condescending. "You've got cursed energy now. That's good. But right now, it's leaking out like a cracked faucet. You need to control the flow—tighten it, feel it, and pull it back in."
Akari exhaled slowly. "Easier said than done."
He smirked. "Yeah, well, welcome to my world."
For hours, they'd been practicing. Or more accurately, Akari had been struggling not to blow up the decorative vase on the side table for the third time. Cursed energy wasn't like anything she'd felt before—it didn't move like a muscle or obey like a limb. It was more like trying to guide a living thing with a mind of its own.
"Focus on your breathing," Riku said. "Imagine your energy like threads under your skin. You don't need to force it—just notice it. Pull it in. Control it."
She tried again.
For a moment, nothing.
Then—flickers. A faint hum beneath her fingertips. A soft electric sensation crawling along her arms like static before a storm.
"I think I feel it," she whispered.
Riku stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against her wrist. "Keep it steady. Don't overdo it."
Akari's eyes lit up with determination. "I'm not about to pass out after five minutes."
He tilted his head. "You nearly passed out twenty minutes ago."
She glared. "Let me have this."
The cursed energy flared—then fizzled.
Akari groaned and dropped to the couch with a frustrated flop, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from her brow. "This is insane. How the hell did you figure all this out?"
"I didn't have a choice," he replied, tossing her a cold water bottle. "Same as you."
She took a long sip, then leaned back, eyes closed, letting the air conditioner breeze over her flushed skin. "It's like trying to learn how to swim in lava."
"Accurate," Riku said, grinning as he dropped beside her. "But you're making progress."
"Barely."
"You're still alive. That's better than most people who get thrown into this."
Akari let the silence stretch for a moment, her breathing slowing. "So... when do I start punching things?"
He turned to look at her, brow raised. "You wanna spar already?"
She nodded. "I'm not gonna get better by meditating and sweating on your hardwood floors."
Riku laughed. "All right. But if you end up flying into the wall, I'm not calling the hospital."
"Pfft," she said, standing and brushing off her shorts. "You really think I'll lose that bad?"
"I've been doing this for nine months. You've been doing it for nine hours."
"Still worth testing," she shot back with a smirk.
They cleared the room, moving the furniture to the sides. Riku stood across from her again, his stance casual, hands loose at his sides. He didn't coat himself in Haki—he didn't need to. He wasn't planning to hit her. Just test her instincts. Let her get a feel for the flow of cursed combat.
Akari took a breath, dropped into a loose stance—not perfect, but passable—and waited.
"You come to me," Riku said.
She hesitated, then dashed forward, throwing a quick jab. He swayed to the side with ease, tapping her shoulder as she passed.
"Too predictable."
She spun and kicked—he caught her ankle, twisted, and gently tossed her onto the couch like a sack of potatoes.
"Ow."
"Your energy surged when you got mad. That's good," he said, offering a hand to help her up. "Learn to move with that. ."
She grabbed his hand and pulled herself to her feet again, grinning. "Okay. Round two."
And so they continued.
Over and over, Akari charged, adapted, tried new angles. She missed every time. But her reactions sharpened. Her instincts improved. And though she couldn't land a hit, Riku saw the raw potential building with every attempt. The curse energy was no longer lashing out in random bursts—it was coiling tighter, beginning to respond to her will.
Eventually, her body gave out again. She collapsed onto the floor, arms spread, chest heaving.
"That's it," Riku said, walking over and crouching beside her. "You did great."
She looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. "I'm dying."
He snorted. "You'll live."
"You're lucky I like you."
He reached down, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. "Yeah… I am."
The sun dipped low outside the window, casting golden-orange light over the apartment.
And as Akari lay there, tired but alive, sore but strangely exhilarated, she realized something.
This world—this insane, cursed, dangerous world—was her new reality.
And she wasn't afraid.
She was ready.
...
Do you guys think I should make her really talented in this or just okay cause I was think about making her really talented. Also shout out to the_racist_one for the last name suggestion of "Shikimori"