Chapter Text
Hunters, brave individuals who risk their lives battling magical beasts emerging from dangerous gates to protect humanity; their power is what drives these creatures back and ultimately closes the gates.
Each hunter has a personalised Rank that cannot be changed, making your chance at becoming a big shot hunter 50/50.
E-rank is the weakest level. Hunters in this rank usually possess low-level earth or water magic and are considered the least powerful of all the ranks.
D-rank is the second lowest. These hunters are stronger than E-ranks and may wield moderate fire, water, earth, or wind magic, making them capable fighters in their own right.
C-rank is the fourth strongest and is generally considered the minimum respectable level among hunters. At this rank, hunters may use earth, water, wind, fire, or ice magic, and some begin to develop unique personal traits that make their abilities more distinct.
B-rank is the third strongest and highly respected. Many top agencies actively scout B rank hunters because they are far more common than A ranks. While they share similar elemental abilities with C ranks, B rank hunters are also skilled in mastering various weapons to enhance their magical combat abilities.
A-rank is the second strongest level. Hunters of this rank are exceptionally powerful, often possessing rare and unique magic specific to themselves. They can control multiple elements at once and perform advanced techniques and spells.
S-rank is the rarest and most prestigious of all. In Japan, only around twenty hunters hold this rank. Their spells and techniques are overwhelmingly powerful, and their magic is often deeply tied to their personality and overall presence, making each S-rank hunter truly one of a kind.
Being a hunter is a respected profession across the world, admired for both its reputation and the rewards it brings. Because of this, it is rare to find someone who does not hold at least some interest in hunters—except for one.
Meet Yoichi Isagi.
A normal 17 year old boy living somewhere in Tokyo, he lives comfortably in his single independent apartment. He’s stable—well fed and healthy…
except he’s got major issues.
In Japan, once you’ve turned 15, must take a Hunter Rank Test—they’re needed in case an S or A rank pops up, but Isagi flat refuses them every time they’re offered, making him a difficult case for the Hunter Guild Association.
(Aka Hunter Rank Government)
To the Hunter Guild Association, Isagi was nothing short of a headache. Every official notice, every mandatory summons, and every reminder to take the Hunter Rank Test was met with the same cold refusal.
Unlike most people his age, who saw becoming a Hunter as a path to fame, wealth, and respect, Isagi wanted nothing to do with it. He had no admiration for the title, no interest in the power, and certainly no desire to spend his life fighting monsters for a system he had never cared about. To him, Hunters were overrated—praised like heroes and treated like celebrities, while everyone else was expected to simply stand aside and admire them.
For Isagi, life was far simpler that way. His days followed the same quiet routine—a walk to the park in the morning, convenience store meals on the walk back through the park, playing soccer in the afternoon with his friends, and evenings spent alone in the comfort of his apartment.
While television screens in every shop blared reports of gate raids and celebrated the latest Hunter achievements, he barely spared them a glance. To him, it was all noise, a world that existed just beyond the edges of his own.
As long as the gates stayed far from his city and the Hunters kept doing what they were paid to do, he was perfectly content keeping his distance.
That peaceful routine was exactly how Isagi wanted things to remain… until everything changed. One of Japan’s most famous Hunter guilds had chosen to establish a new branch right in the heart of his city. Overnight, the quiet streets he had grown used to were flooded with media crews, scouting vehicles, and crowds eager to catch a glimpse of the powerful Hunters arriving in Tokyo. Giant screens lit up with announcements, banners stretched across buildings, and the city buzzed with excitement. For everyone else, it was a moment worth celebrating.
He wanted nothing to do with the noise, he shut himself away from the world just to flee the endless media crowding his local corner shop, he knew these new changes were the beginning of an endless headache.
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“Why do they always need to crowd this damn street…” Isagi groaned while he avoided media on his way home, “stupid hunters… fuck this!” He yelled to the pavement annoyed.
“Fuck who?” A playful voice asked him.
Isagi lifted his head to face whoever started yapping to him, just to find some annoying bumblebee looking brat.
“Do you need something?” He asked sternly, he was trying to give an obvious hint for this guy to fuck off.
“I do actually, are you Yoichi Isagi?” He smiled creepily, well—maybe not creepy… Isagi just found him creepy.
“Who’s asking?” He asked annoyed, “what the fuck do you want man?”
The bumblebees smile turned into a massive smirk, “I’m guessing that’s a yes, I’ve been sent by the Hunters guild—“
“Not this shit again—I’m not taking that test. You’ll have to drag me there if you want me to take it that badly!!” He fiddled with his keys in annoyance and unlocked his apartment door, “look where the times gone, guess we’ll have to continue this never.” He slammed his front door in the bumblebees face, making him frown.
“What a meanie!” he whined, puffing out his cheeks before breaking into a giggle. “But my monster is saying he’s suuuper special… so I have to come back tomorrow!”
He rocked back on his heels, grin stretching wide and a little wild, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Hehe… I can’t wait.”
With that, he spun around and skipped down the steps, almost bouncing as he went, like the whole thing was a game only he understood.
“That guy gives me the chills,” he muttered, still staring at the door. Then louder, voice shaking, “I can’t believe I kept it together—he was fucking creepy.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket, making him flinch, “please don’t tell me that dork got my number from the guild…”
Kira ♫: You free tomorrow night?? the boys want to get together for some karaoke again and maybe some bowling (๑>◡<๑) you in?
ˢᵉᵉⁿ
He let out a long, shaky breath, tension draining from his shoulders. Just Kira. Thank God. If it had been the guild, I swear I would’ve shit myself.
Isagi𖦹: I’m busy all day tomorrow taking Puz to the vet, sorry maybe next weekend🙏🏻
ˢᵉᵉⁿ
Kira is typing . . .
He powered off his phone a little harder than necessary, hands still shaking. He didn’t care what reply came next. He was exhausted, on edge, and done dealing with any of it tonight.
He kicked off his shoes by the door and shrugged out of his coat, tossing it over the back of a chair with a tired sigh. The bag of food hanging from his wrist rustled as he carried it into the kitchen.
One by one, he unpacked the containers: a box of onigiri, a carton of gyoza, and a neatly wrapped portion of karage. He slid them into the fridge, shutting the door with more force than he meant to.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the dim reflection of himself in the fridge door, listening to the low hum of the apartment. The silence pressed in, thick and uneasy, like it was waiting for something to happen.
A cranky meow interrupted the silence.
Puz was already winding around his ankles, tail brushing against his leg, as if sensing the storm still clinging to him.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he muttered, some of the tension finally easing from his voice.
He reached for the tin of cat food, scooping it into Puz’s bowl before setting it down on the floor. Puz immediately buried his face in it, purring between eager bites.
For the first time since he’d stepped through the door, the apartment felt almost safe.
He finally sank into the soft sofa, Puz curled comfortably in his lap after his long meal. The football match that had been calling his name since last night was finally flickered across the screen. The energy of the pitch pulled him in—the rush between plays, the tension before a goal—it all matched the restless intensity in his mind, and he soaked up every second of it.
These were the kinds of evenings he lived for—quiet, undisturbed, and entirely his. Curled up in the warmth of his home with a bowl of ramen in hand, he let the calm settle deep into his bones. No pressure, no one else to deal with—just the lively noise of the football match filling the room and his grumpy cat keeping him company.
A sudden roar erupted from the television as a goal was scored, the commentator’s voice rising with excitement. He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little more as he watched the replay flash across the screen.
For a while, it was enough.
Then his phone buzzed.
The sound cut clean through the silence, sharp and unwelcome. He frowned, glancing over before reluctantly picking it up. The notification lit up the screen—brief, official, and impossible to ignore.
Dear Mr. Isagi
He stared at it, the fragile calm of the evening cracking in an instant.
We write to inform you that failure to attend and complete the Hunter Test by 01/04/2018 will result in further action being taken. Should this requirement not be met within the specified time frame, representatives of the Blue Lock Guild will be dispatched to your residence.
While we would prefer to avoid such measures, we trust you understand the necessity of compliance.
Blue Lock Guild
His eyes darted across the screen again, as if rereading it might somehow change the words, but the message remained just as cold and final.
A sharp breath caught in his throat as panic surged through him, hot and sudden. “For fuck’s sake,” he hissed, bolting upright from the sofa so fast that Puz leapt off his lap with an offended meow. His hands trembled around the phone, anger and fear knotting together in his chest. “Those bastards… can’t they leave me alone for one damn week?” he spat, glaring at the Blue Lock Guild’s name glowing on the screen. His pulse hammered in his ears, the fragile peace of the evening shattered beyond repair.
“Crazy obsessed bastards—it’s not like I’ll get anything above C rank so why do these shitheads care so damn much.” He spat angrily at his screen, although I guess I’ll have to do it.
He groaned upsettingly, switching off his soccer match and curling up in a ball to help his mood, “annoying fuckers…” he murmured to himself before he drifted off asleep.
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The conference hall was packed wall to wall.
Camera flashes burst in sharp intervals, the low murmur of reporters filling the room like static. For the past twenty years, the Gates had begun appearing more frequently—first in abandoned areas, then near neighborhoods, and now in places impossible to ignore: in the middle of roads, outside apartment blocks, beside schools, cutting ordinary life in half.
Fear had become routine.
Then the doors at the side of the stage opened.
Silence dropped over the room.
Ego Jinpachi stepped up to the podium, expression severe, hands folded neatly behind his back. He stood beneath the harsh lights like a man delivering a verdict rather than a briefing.
“Ask your questions.”
A reporter in the front row stood first.
“Mr. Jinpachi, over the last two decades, Gate appearances have increased by nearly forty percent, many of them emerging in populated areas. Civilians are becoming increasingly concerned about public safety. What is being done?”
Ego’s gaze remained fixed ahead.
“What is being done,” he said evenly, “is exactly what must be done.”
He adjusted his glasses.
“The Hunter force is expanding at the fastest rate in recorded history. Recruitment numbers have doubled within the last ten years alone.”
He let that settle.
“Hunters are being deployed immediately upon Gate manifestation. Their objective is simple: enter, clear the monsters inside, retrieve valuable resources, and collapse the Gate before it destabilizes the surrounding area.”
Another reporter quickly spoke up.
“But Gates are now appearing on major roads and directly outside office buildings. Normal life is being disrupted daily. How can civilians continue to function under these conditions?”
Ego’s expression sharpened.
“They function because Hunters exist.”
The bluntness silenced the room.
“Do you think the roads remain open by chance?” he continued. “Do you think your buildings still stand because of luck?”
His tone remained low, but every word cut through the room.
“Every day, Hunters enter spaces no civilian could survive. They neutralize creatures capable of slaughtering entire districts and return with materials that fund the very economy you continue to live in.”
A reporter near the back raised a hand.
“So being a Hunter is not simply a public service?”
“No.”
Ego’s answer came instantly.
“It is a profession.”
The room stirred.
“Hunters are compensated for every successful clearance and every resource retrieved from inside the Gates. Rare materials, monster cores, dimensional fragments—these are all of enormous value.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“The stronger the Hunter, the greater the reward.”
Another voice called out, “Some critics argue that the profession is becoming commercialized—that people are entering Gates for money rather than public protection.”
For the first time, Ego’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
“Motivation is irrelevant.”
The words were ice-cold.
“If greed produces results, then greed is useful.”
Several pens paused mid-note.
“The only thing that matters is efficiency,” he said. “A dead monster is a dead monster. A closed Gate is a closed Gate. Whether a Hunter enters for duty, pride, or profit changes nothing.”
A murmur ran through the room.
One reporter leaned closer to the microphone.
“With Gates increasing in frequency, do you believe Hunters can keep up?”
Ego straightened.
“They will.”
His certainty was unnerving.
“The number of Hunters is rising. Training standards are improving. Response times are shorter than ever.”
He paused.
“The Gates may be growing.”
His eyes seemed to darken.
“But so are we.”
Silence followed.
“Humanity adapted one hundred years ago,” Ego said, voice firm. “And for the last twenty years, Hunters have ensured society continues to move forward.”
He looked out across the room.
“Without them, your roads would be battlefields. Your homes would be ruins.”
A long pause.
“So if your next question is whether Hunters are necessary…”
His gaze sharpened.
“Ask yourself how many times they have already saved your life without you ever noticing.”
The room fell into a stunned silence, pens hovering over notepads, cameras still fixed on him.
Ego adjusted his glasses one final time, his gaze sweeping over the reporters as though the conference had already ceased to interest him.
“That will be all.”
Before anyone could call out another question, he stepped away from the podium and strode offstage, the sharp click of his shoes echoing through the corridor beyond.
The hallway outside was cool and quiet, washed in the pale hum of fluorescent lights.
Waiting there, tablet tucked beneath one arm, stood his assistant, Anri Teieri.
She fell into step beside him without missing a beat.
“The press seems satisfied for now,” she said, already scrolling through the next set of updates on her tablet.
“They should be,” Ego replied flatly.
A moment passed as they walked.
“Anri.”
She didn’t even look up this time.
“Yes, Jinpachi-san?”
“Get me instant noodles.”
There wasn’t the slightest pause in her stride.
“Spicy miso again?” she asked, voice perfectly even, as if this request had been expected.
Ego gave a short nod.
“And hot water this time,” he added. “Last time it was lukewarm.”
Anri let out the faintest sigh, one that sounded more practiced than annoyed.
“I know.”
Her fingers were already moving across the tablet.
“One spicy miso cup noodle, boiling water, and I’ll have it in your office before you get there.”
“Good.”
Neither of them broke pace.
For Anri, this was routine: one moment managing national concerns over Gates and Hunter deployments, the next making sure Ego had his noodles exactly the way he liked them.
Just another day at the Guild.