I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 16

They turned.

Sakura stood there, barely visible at the mat’s edge, shoulders hunched, eyes glued to the floor. Her voice cracked like she might cry.

“Bullying the weak… it’s so wrong.”

Akito blinked, still panting. “Sakura? You’ve been watching?”

She didn’t answer. Just walked forward—slow, deliberate, like every step cost her something. She reached the rack without looking up, fingers closing around a long wooden staff. The grip was light, almost gentle.

“Let me show you,” she said quietly, “how to respect the weak.”

Akito raised both hands, half-laughing. “Whoa, hold up. I don’t fight girls—”

“Sounds to me like you’re scared,” she said, voice sweet, innocent, but carrying a strange, quiet edge that made the air feel thinner.

Akito’s grin faltered. “Of course I’m not scared. What if I hit you too hard?”

“I can take it.” She lifted her head just enough for her eyes to peek through her hair. “I’m not going to break. After all… this is training, isn’t it?”

Akito exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders. “Fine. If you insist.”

He shifted into a comfortable stance—relaxed, confident, bokken loose in his grip like it was an extension of his arm.

Sakura took her place opposite him.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then she moved.

The staff spun once—slow, graceful, like water flowing around stone. Akito’s eyes narrowed. He knew that form. Ancient. Precise. The kind of stance only someone who’d spent years drilling it would use.

He lunged—testing, not full power—bokken slicing a clean diagonal.

Sakura didn’t flinch.

The staff met his blade mid-air—perfect angle, perfect force. The impact rang out sharp. Before Akito could recover, the other end of the staff swept low—fast, low, brutal.

It hooked both his ankles.

He went airborne.

Hit the mat back-first with a thunderclap of breath exploding from his lungs.

The hall went dead quiet.

Sakura stepped forward, staff resting lightly against his chest, pinning him without effort.

“You shouldn’t bully newbies,” she said, voice still soft, almost soothing. “It’s mean. They’re trying their best. You should encourage them… like this.”

She gave the tiniest poke with the staff.

Akito wheezed, trying to laugh through the pain. “Okay—okay—message received—”

She didn’t smile.

Just tilted her head, eyes hidden behind her hair.

Raito watched, mouth half-open. ‘She’s… terrifying.’

Akito tried to roll away. Sakura shifted—staff spinning again, blocking his escape without even looking.

“You’re not finished learning yet.”

Akito groaned. “I yield! I yield!”

Raito finally snapped out of it. “Hey—Sakura, maybe ease up—”

She swung without warning—staff whistling toward him in a perfect arc.

Raito’s hand shot up on instinct. Caught the wood mid-swing, fingers closing tight.

The impact vibrated up his arm.

Sakura froze.

Slowly—painfully slowly—she raised her head.

Their eyes met.

The staff slipped from her grip like it suddenly weighed nothing.

She stepped back, palms pressing together in apology, head bowing low.

“S-sorry… I didn’t mean—”

Raito blinked, still holding the staff. “It’s okay. Really. You were just… protecting your teammate, right?”

Her face flushed crimson. She stared at his hand—the one that had touched the staff she’d been holding.

Then—boom.

She bolted.

Gone in a heartbeat, disappearing down the corridor like smoke.

Raito sighed, long and exhausted. “I keep forgetting she doesn’t like being touched.”

A muffled groan from the mat.

“Help… me…”

Akito.

Raito dropped the staff and hauled him up. “You good?”

Akito rubbed his ribs, wincing. “Didn’t know she was *that* good. I shouldn’t have held back.”

Raito smirked. “Yeah, bet you were.”

“Of course I was holding back!”

Then—

Three slow, deliberate claps cut through the hall, sharp enough to make the air feel tighter.

Then came the smell—sharp, acrid, unmistakable. Burnt cigar.

“Not bad,” a voice drawled from the shadows.

Hank stepped out, slow and deliberate. No shades this time. No sword strapped across his back. Just the black outfit—sleeves rolled to his elbows, cigarette glowing between his fingers like a tiny red eye.

“Not bad at all,” he said, exhaling a slow plume of smoke that curled toward the ceiling. “A girl just whooped your ass in under ten seconds. Not exactly what I was expecting from the so-called ‘squad of the weakest.’”

Raito’s stomach flipped. ‘Senior Hank?’

Akito straightened fast, trying to look less like he’d just been ragdolled. “I was holding back—”

“Yeah,” Hank cut in, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I know.”

He took a long drag, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it uncomfortable. Then he flicked ash to the floor, watching it scatter.

“Anyway…” His eyes moved between them—lingering on Raito a second longer than necessary, like he was measuring something no one else could see.

“I’m overseeing your training now. Thanks to Peace. She wants me to take you three under my wing.”

Akito’s face lit up like someone flipped a switch. “Yes! Finally—real training!”

Hank’s smirk widened, slow and dangerous.

“Real training, huh?”

He stepped closer, boots scuffing the mat. The cigar glowed brighter as he inhaled again.

“Let me make something clear, kids. What you just did? Child’s play. Sparring mats, wooden toys, no real stakes. Cute. But tomorrow?” He exhaled smoke right at them, eyes glinting. “Tomorrow we start for real.”

Akito swallowed. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Hank repeated, voice dropping low. “My house. Dawn. Bring your little squad. No excuses. No late arrivals. And don’t bother packing breakfast—I’m not running a daycare.”

Raito’s heart kicked. “Your… house?”

Hank’s gaze flicked to him, sharp and unreadable.

“Yeah. My house. Private grounds. No seniors watching. No safety nets. Just you three, me, and whatever hell I decide to throw at you.”

He took one last drag, crushed the cigarette under his boot, ground it out like he was killing the moment.

“We’ll see how long that ‘I’m holding back’ bullshit lasts when there’s no referee to save you. We’ll see how fast your teamwork falls apart when the pain’s real. And we’ll see…” He paused, eyes locking on Raito again, something almost amused flickering there. “…how long you can keep pretending you’re not carrying something extra inside you.”

The words hung.

Hank turned, already walking away.

“Get some sleep,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re gonna need it.”

He disappeared into the shadows.

Akito let out a long breath. “Holy crap. We’re dead.”

Raito stared after Hank, pulse hammering.

‘Something extra inside you…’

He didn’t know what Hank knew.

But Hank knew *something*.

And tomorrow?

Tomorrow they’d find out how much.

Akito and Raito spent the night in the training room—crashing on spare mats, weapons scattered around them like fallen soldiers. Akito passed out fast, snoring like he hadn’t just gotten his ass handed to him.

Raito couldn’t sleep.

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, replaying Hank’s words.

Across the room, Sakura sat cross-legged in the corner.

Wide awake.

Eyes fixed on Raito.

Watching.

Like a guard on duty.