“Clear the training course and get that manaccelerator from him, please, doctor,” the newcomer said to his companion. To Einosuke, he added, “Well, Mr. Sakurai?”

Einosuke felt something turn to stone in his belly. Being separated from the tool felt like losing a part of himself. There wasn’t any choice, though, the device didn’t belong to him. The little man approached and Einosuke held out his arm.

“Pardon me,” the man addressed as “doctor” said, with a slight nod of his head. He tapped a multi-digit code into the tiny keypad on the face of the manaccelerator and with a metallic click, it snapped open, freeing Einosuke’s arm and cutting him off from the use of his mana.

Nodding again, the man backed away from Eino and retreated several steps, the manaccelerator under one arm.

The man in the suit was still staring at Einosuke, waiting for an answer. He wasn’t quite glaring, but he looked far from pleased. Einosuke felt the burn in his cheeks grow hotter.

“Well, um… well, what, Mr. Kikuchi?”

The man called Kikuchi’s lip curled up into a sneer. “That little stunt at the end may have saved you some bruises, but it lost you any points you earned during the test. And you didn’t have many to begin with.” There was naked disgust in his voice now.

Eino’s brows knit in frustration. “I know that pre-set sequences in the manaccelerator aren’t good form, but it’s a last resort.” He lowered his voice and added, “I even put it in the name.”

“They’re more than ‘bad form’, they are amateurish. Do you think Okaruto Corporation is looking for amateurs?”

One of the men behind Kikuchi let out a little snort of amusement. Kikuchi cast a withering glance over his shoulder and the big man shrank like a slug doused with salt. He muttered something that sounded like an apology as Kikuchi turned back to Einosuke. “Is that what you think we’re looking for, Mr. Sakurai?”

The stone in Einosuke’s belly moved upwards and became a lump in his throat. “No, sir,” he said softly.

“If you truly want to become an Okaruto Agent, you’d do well to remember that.”

Einosuke’s fists clenched at his sides as Kikuchi continued.

“I don’t know how you keep passing the written exams, but this is the third live exercise you’ve wasted our time on in the last two years.”

Einosuke lowered his head, squeezed his eyes shut against the tears threatening to spill out, and tried to push down the anger and desperation swirling inside of him. He was nearly at his limit. He knew he failed—and spectacularly—he didn’t need it drilled into him so mercilessly, especially not in front of an audience.

“If you weren’t a legacy applicant,” Kikuchi finished, “I’d have blacklisted you a long time ago.”

Einosuke’s self-control crumbled and he fell to his knees, clasping his hands in a prayerful gesture of supplication. “Give me another chance, then! Please, sir! I- I can do better! I know I can, if you just let me—“

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Sakurai.” Kikuchi’s features were impassive, but his disdain was painfully obvious. It seemed to border on outright hatred. “What would you brother think if he saw this display?”

Eino’s heart seized. His jaw clenched so tightly, his teeth felt like they might crack. A stricken look came into his eye. It was the cruelest thing Kikuchi could have said and he knew it.

“Tch.” Kikuchi clicked his tongue in revulsion.

Einosuke rose to his feet. “Mr. Kikuchi—“

Kikuchi ignored him, turned on his heel and began to walk away, gesturing for the others to follow him. “Don’t you have a train to catch?”

The small man in the lab-coat looked from Einosuke to Kikuchi then back. There was a ghost of a sympathetic look on his face. “Please collect your own manaccelerator on the way out, Mr. Sakurai,” he said, before bowing very slightly and following his boss.

In a moment, all four men were gone from sight. Before long, even the sounds of their footsteps disappeared. Einosuke Sakurai was left alone in the huge, empty space, surrounded by the evidence of his latest failure and his rapidly-darkening thoughts.