"There are rumors—persistent ones—about the Yoshima clan. About you, to be exact. I trust you are not unfamiliar with them."
Ichiro's expression shifted slightly, subtle enough that only Kanzaki noticed. His dark eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
"You are aware of the stories about the 'Nightmare,' are you not?" Kanzaki continued, his tone even but edged with steel. "A handful of the Empire's most elite weapons… annihilated. Gone. All by a single operative."
Ichiro's voice was calm, unflinching.
"Yes, I have heard. But I do not concern myself with ghost stories, Professor."
Kanzaki's gaze sharpened. "Certain… influential people believe the Nightmare is connected to the Yakuza. Specifically… your clan."
Ichiro remained silent.
"More pointedly," Kanzaki said, leaning slightly forward, "there are those who think the Nightmare is not just a shadow in the night… but the heir of the Yoshima. You understand the implication, do you not?"
Ichiro's eyes lifted, cold and unwavering. "Clarify what you are implying, Professor."
Kanzaki's hand tapped the table, deliberate. "Do not play dumb, boy. You know what people believe. You know the whispers. That the one who left the Empire's finest in ruins… is you. What do you have to say about this?"
The room seemed to constrict around the words. Every movement felt heavier. Yamamoto's eyes flicked between them, faintly amused, as if watching pieces on a board of a chess match.
Ichiro's expression did not change. He leaned back slightly, his hands folded neatly on the table. "What people believe is irrelevant to my purpose here. I am not the Empire's phantom. I am its prospective agent. Speculation does not dictate reality, Professor. Action does."
Kanzaki's lips tightened. "Action… or misdirection?"
"I act according to circumstance and command," Ichiro replied evenly. "Rumor does not sway my decisions, nor does it define my allegiance."
Yamamoto's grin deepened, just a fraction. Kanzaki's eyes narrowed, realizing he was pushing against a wall of unyielding composure.
The tension lingered like a drawn wire.
Professor Ishida adjusted his glasses, eyes still on Ichiro, but his tone was directed toward Kanzaki.
"The candidate raises a fair point," he said. "We cannot weigh a man against a rumor. The Institute evaluates evidence, not folklore."
Kanzaki did not look at him immediately.
"I am aware of that, Professor Ishida," he replied coolly. "I am not presenting an accusation. I am acknowledging impact."
His gaze returned to Ichiro.
"Whether the story is true or not is almost secondary."
He gestured lightly toward the suspended statistics.
"Reputation shapes perception. Perception shapes reaction. If cadets believe the heir of the Yoshima is the so-called Nightmare, that belief will follow him into every exercise, every command structure, every mission simulation."
A slight tilt of his head.
"And if the public believes Falcon admitted such an individual without scrutiny, that belief follows us."
His voice lowered.
"Falcon does not operate in isolation from the Empire. Optics matter. Stability matters."
He folded his hands again.
"So yes, Candidate Yoshima. I will speak of rumors."
His eyes sharpened.
"Because even shadows cast consequences."
Ishida gave a quiet sigh but did not counter him this time.
Yamamoto remained silent, watching Ichiro carefully — not for the answer, but for the reaction before it.
The board had shifted again.
And it was Ichiro's move.
Ichiro did not answer immediately.
For a brief moment, the chamber was quiet except for the faint hum of the holographic display behind him.
Then he inclined his head slightly.
"I acknowledge the concern, Professor."
His voice was steady.
"Reputation has weight. Especially in institutions built on discipline and hierarchy."
His gaze moved briefly toward the floating statistics behind him before returning to the panel.
"The Yoshima name carries its own gravity. I am not naive enough to believe otherwise."
A small pause — not hesitation, but consideration.
"But I would argue that Falcon exists precisely to separate myth from capability."
Kanzaki's expression remained unmoved.
Ichiro continued.
"You are not a propaganda bureau. You are the Empire's training ground for its most capable agents."
His hands rested calmly on his lap.
"If Falcon begins judging candidates by rumor, then it risks overlooking those who are capable simply because they are… inconvenient."
Ishida's brows lifted slightly.
Ichiro went on.
"You have my combat data. My evaluation records. My psychological profile."
A faint glance toward the black-labeled file.
"Those are measurable things. Verifiable things."
His eyes returned to Kanzaki.
"If I am to be rejected, then I would prefer it be for something real."
The words were delivered without challenge, without resentment.
Simply stated.
"Judge me for my performance. My potential. My conduct within this institution."
A quiet breath.
"Not for a story that no one in this room can prove."
Silence settled again.
Ishida slowly nodded to himself, clearly appreciating the argument.
Kanzaki, however, only leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping once against the armrest.
Yamamoto's faint smile returned.
Yamamoto shifted slightly in his chair.
"I believe our primary concerns have been addressed—"
"Not quite."
Kanzaki's voice cut through the room like a blade.
The headmaster's eyes moved toward him slowly.
Kanzaki did not look back. His attention remained fixed on Ichiro.
"Are you aware of your clan's history, Mr. Yoshima?"
Ichiro's posture remained straight, but something in his expression hardened.
Kanzaki continued.
"More specifically… the reason your father, Kaede Yoshima — a man feared across every district of the underworld — willingly bends the knee to the Empire."
A faint tension crept into Ichiro's jaw.
Yamamoto's voice followed immediately.
"Kanzaki. That subject is outside the scope of—"
But Kanzaki was already speaking again.
"Years ago," he said calmly, "the Empire conducted a national census following the restructuring of Neo-Japan's population records."
Ishida glanced toward him, uneasy now.
"Kanzaki…"
The professor ignored him.
"And during that census," Kanzaki continued, "an anomaly appeared within the Yoshima household."
Ichiro's fingers slowly curled where they rested on his knee.
"No documentation," Kanzaki said. "No official identity in the national archives. No educational records. No genetic registry."
His eyes sharpened.
"And yet… the Empire confirmed her existence."
The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop.
Kanzaki leaned forward slightly.
"She possessed Angel's Blood."
Silence swallowed the room.
The words hung in the air like a verdict.
"The only irregularity," Kanzaki went on, "was that this woman was already married."
His gaze locked onto Ichiro.
"To Kaede Yoshima himself."
Yamamoto's voice came again, firmer now.
"Kanzaki. That is enough."
But Kanzaki ignored him.
His voice lowered, almost conversational.
"So I will ask you one final question, Mr. Yoshima."
Ichiro's expression, which had been composed the entire interview, cracked for the first time.
It wasn't fear.
It was anger.
Raw.
Immediate.
"When," Kanzaki asked quietly, "was the last time you saw your—"
The chair exploded backward.
Ichiro moved.
There was no warning. No shift of posture. No gathering motion.
One moment he was seated.
The next he was already across the chamber.
The air tore apart with the violence of his movement as he lunged straight toward Kanzaki, his hand shooting forward with lethal intent.
Ishida shouted in shock.
Kanzaki barely had time to react.
Then—
A hand intercepted Ichiro's wrist mid-strike.
Perfectly.
Effortlessly.
Headmaster Yamamoto stood between them.
No one in the room had even seen him move.
Ichiro's momentum stopped as if the world itself had slammed into him.
For a split second, the two men stood locked together — Ichiro's killing strike halted inches from Kanzaki's throat.
Then Yamamoto moved his hand slightly.
From the outside, the motion looked almost casual.
As if he were simply guiding Ichiro's arm forward.
Turning the violent lunge into something else.
A handshake.
The illusion was so clean that anyone watching the security feed later would see nothing more than an awkward greeting.
Ichiro's eyes widened slightly.
The realization hit him instantly.
He had no control.
For the first time since entering the room.
Yamamoto's voice came quietly, meant only for him.
"Careful, young Yoshima."
A faint smile touched the old man's lips.
"You almost made this interview very difficult."
Ichiro exhaled slowly.
The rage that had surged through him receded just as quickly.
He straightened.
Yamamoto released his wrist.
For a brief moment, the room remained frozen.
Then Ichiro bowed his head.
"My apologies… Headmaster."
His voice had returned to its earlier calm.
"I acted out of line."
Across the table, Kanzaki stared at him — no longer merely suspicious.
Now he looked certain.
Ichiro remained still for a moment after speaking.
The room had not fully recovered from what had just happened. Even Ishida looked unsettled, his fingers still resting stiffly against the edge of the table. Kanzaki, however, had not moved. His eyes remained locked on Ichiro, studying him with renewed certainty.
Ichiro straightened slowly.
Then he spoke again.
"Headmaster Yamamoto… if the panel has no further questions…"
His voice was calm again. Collected. The earlier flash of violence had vanished as if it had never existed.
"May I be excused?"
For a moment, no one answered.
Yamamoto regarded him quietly. The old general's gaze lingered on Ichiro's face, as if measuring something deeper than the words spoken during the interview.
Then he gave a small nod.
"I understand."
His voice carried its usual calm authority.
"You may go, Mr. Yoshima."
A short pause followed.
"Please wait for the panel's final decision. You will be informed once the interview results have been reviewed."
Ichiro lowered his head in acknowledgment.
This time, the bow was deliberate.
Respectful.
But still not submissive.
"Understood."
He turned and walked toward the chamber doors.
No one spoke as he crossed the room.
The reinforced doors parted with a quiet mechanical hiss, and Ichiro Yoshima stepped out into the corridor beyond.
They closed behind him with a heavy thud.
Silence lingered in the chamber.
For several seconds, no one moved.
Then—
A faint smile escaped Yamamoto.
It was small. Brief.
But unmistakable.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers resting lightly against the armrest, as if something deeply interesting had just unfolded before him.
Across the table, Kanzaki's voice came low.
"You still intend to admit him."
It was not a question.
Yamamoto did not answer immediately.
His eyes remained on the closed doors.
Then he said quietly,
"That boy…"
Another small smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"…is far more dangerous than the rumors suggest."
He finally glanced at Kanzaki.
"And far more useful."
Kanzaki's expression hardened.
"Useful?" he repeated. "He nearly attacked a senior dean inside Falcon itself."
"He stopped," Ishida said calmly.
"He was stopped," Kanzaki snapped back. "The moment pressure was applied, his composure collapsed. After Kuragane, after the elimination phase, after everything surrounding the Yoshima name—you still consider him acceptable?"
Yamamoto's eyes shifted toward him.
"Kanzaki."
The room immediately fell still.
"You ignored my instruction twice during that interview."
Kanzaki stiffened.
"I was attempting to expose—"
"I told you to stop."
The words landed like iron.
Kanzaki fell silent.
Yamamoto slowly stood.
"You were no longer evaluating the candidate," he said evenly. "You were provoking him."
Kanzaki's jaw tightened. "With respect, Headmaster, Falcon cannot afford instability—"
"And Falcon also cannot afford arrogance from its own faculty."
That shut the room completely.
Yamamoto stepped closer.
"Do you believe you understand Ichiro Yoshima better than I do?"
"...No."
"Do you believe your judgment outweighs mine?"
Kanzaki hesitated.
"No, Headmaster."
"Then do not ignore me inside my own chamber again."
The pressure behind the words was suffocating.
Even Ishida remained perfectly still.
Yamamoto's gaze sharpened.
"You saw a dangerous weapon and lost composure."
A faint smile returned to his face.
"I saw a weapon capable of being controlled."
He turned back toward the dark chamber doors.
"And if Falcon cannot control people like Ichiro Yoshima…"
His voice lowered slightly.
"...then this institution has no right to exist."