Chapter 2: “Gifted Academy, and the Meeting of Five”
Chapter 2: “Gifted Academy, and the Meeting of Five”
Morning at the Bird Mansion was, as usual, quiet and filled with the smell of plants.
…Or so I thought—until that voice rang out again.
“Fei-taroooooo!!”
A yell echoed down the hallway. I already knew what happened.
“You dug up Michelangelo No.3’s pot again, didn’t you!? You little demon!”
It was that black, quick little ferret—technically a sable white mitt, but basically a mini panda with white “socks” on all four paws. Fei-taro darted past Katie’s feet, hopping around with his back arched and making that “kuk-kuk-kuk” sound. Totally in full provocation mode.
“…He’s asking for it,” muttered Hachiko, sighing through his nose.
“What? It’s your fault for filling the house with plants!” Fei-taro snapped back. Just the sound of his voice was enough to make you grind your teeth.
“Can’t blame him—it’s a ferret’s instinct,” Raffaella called out lazily from the sofa.
She was as angelic and carefree as ever. “Maybe we should just prepare a pot that’s okay to dig in… like, ‘Not Michelangelo No.Whatever’?”
Okay, that one got me to laugh.
“Not funny!” Katie shot back, though I bet she was laughing a little inside.
――
Meanwhile, I was in the washroom, wrestling with my school tie. Couldn’t get it to look right.
Next to me sat Emil, the blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty who looked nine years old—but wasn’t. Inside, he was someone else entirely. Once a bodyguard who nearly died protecting someone, now his memories had been transplanted into a Honda-made white-clone body. But those memories were fuzzy, leaving him strangely meek, like another person.
“…There’s a smell that feels familiar,” Emil murmured.
“The uniform?”
“No. Raffaella’s perfume. I swear I smelled it somewhere before…”
“Huh. So your memory’s coming back?”
He didn’t answer—just ran his hand over his sleeve. Sometimes, honestly, he felt way older than the rest of us.
――
That day, we walked through the gates of Gifted Academy.
The school where geniuses from all over the world gathered—built for the chosen few.
And right away, we ran into him.
The dorm supervisor. Baxter.
The moment I saw his face, something in my head screeched.
(…That’s him. No mistake.)
The memory came rushing back—of when my mother, Hera, was attacked.
Hachiko stepped forward, growling deep in his throat.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!”
Baxter’s face twisted coldly.
“Jones. Looks like you can’t control your dog.”
“Sorry…” I said, but I didn’t break eye contact.
(I’ll expose your true identity… for my mother’s sake.)
――That’s when it happened.
Noise outside.
Through the window, I saw a limo pulling up to the gate. A boy was surrounded by several men.
The Maharaja. A prince known for flashy headlines. Rumor was, because the dorms didn’t have a room good enough for him, his father dropped 300 million yen to build him his own private mansion. But that wasn’t the point now.
Because suddenly—one of the men pressed some kind of electrode to him.
Sparks flew.
(…Kidnapping!?)
My body moved before I could think.
I shoved the window open and leapt from the second floor.
“Oliver!?” “No way, from the second floor!?”
Hachiko followed right after, wearing a “here we go again” look.
We hit the parking lot, where my partner was waiting: my Harley-Davidson.
Pulse-recognition key, touch. VROOOM—engine roared.
I swung onto the seat, Hachiko in the sidecar.
“Hang on, Maharaja!”
――
We caught up. Maharaja was being shoved into the limo’s trunk.
“Hach!”
“Woof!!”
Hachiko lunged, tearing at the door until the lock gave way with a clank.
I leaned in, grabbing the boy’s arm.
“…You okay?”
“…Who are you? A messenger of God?”
“Nah. Just a teacher’s apprentice.”
――
Back at the Bird Mansion, of course Fei-taro had to stir up trouble again.
“Whoa, who’s this prince? Hey, can I dig his flowerpot?”
“NOOOO!!” Katie screamed before anyone else could.
――
That night, over dinner, we finally had a proper talk with the Maharaja.
“I owe you a debt.”
“Guess so.”
“Until it’s paid, I’ll hire you as my personal bodyguard. You’ll be well compensated, Oliver Jones. Weren’t you the heir of Saint Tosgorn? Doesn’t it cost a fortune to recover those relics from underground?”
“…Not a bad offer. But I’ve got one condition of my own.”
“And that is?”
“Help me. To recover Emil’s memories.”
The Maharaja smirked. “Fine. The memories of a Japanese-made doll? Sounds amusing. But I hear if you force it, they’ll shatter.”
“Yeah. Nine years ago, he was badly injured in a job as a bodyguard. His brain too, apparently. That’s all I know—from my father.”
For a moment, the Maharaja’s face tightened. Maybe he knew something about that incident—the one that put Emil into this body.
That day marked the beginning of our adventure as five.
