Chapter 31 | Hero License

Chapter 31: Chapter 31 | Hero License

Monday morning.

Kai was up at five-thirty.

He pressed his palm to the floor. Both rhythms. Both present. Shira with the deliberate quality that meant she’d been awake a while. Mira still sleeping — her rhythm deep and even, which had become the normal recently.

He made tea. Started breakfast. The specialty ingredient rotation — Shira’s spinal blend today.

The morning moved through its rhythm the way mornings did now. Shira came out first. Mira followed at seven-fifteen. They ate. Mira’s whiteboard had two observations before she finished her bowl — one about the tea temperature being slightly hotter than usual and one that Kai suspected was funnier than he could read from the angle she held it.

After breakfast he washed the dishes.

Then he put on his jacket.

Shira was in the living room with the physio sheet. She looked up when she heard him.

"You’re going out," she said.

"Vanguard Academy," Kai said. "Administrative office. I need to check on something."

Shira looked at him.

"Something," she said.

"I’ll be back by lunch," Kai said.

Mira’s whiteboard appeared around the kitchen doorway . she had been listening from the hallway.

What something.

"Hero licensing office," Kai said. "I want to look into the combat performance pathway."

The whiteboard stayed in the doorway for a moment.

Then it disappeared.

Then it reappeared with new text.

You don’t have a Gift.

"I know," Kai said.

The combat performance pathway requires demonstrated ability at hero-level combat output.

"I know," Kai said.

You have been living on a couch for two weeks.

"I know," Kai said.

The board disappeared again.

From the living room Shira said, without looking up from the physio sheet: "The combat performance pathway has a ninety-three percent rejection rate for unclassified applicants."

"I know," Kai said.

A pause.

"You looked it up," Shira said.

"Last night," Kai said.

Another pause.

"The seven percent who pass," Shira said. "How do they do it."

"Dungeon performance assessment," Kai said. "Three runs. Evaluated by a licensed assessor. Results submitted to the Hero Licensing Board. If the board determines the applicant operates at hero-level output without Gift classification they can issue a provisional license."

Shira looked at the physio sheet.

"Provisional," she said.

"To start," Kai said. "Upgrades to full after six months of licensed operation."

Shira said nothing.

Mira’s board appeared in the doorway again.

Why do you need a hero license.

Kai looked at the board.

He thought about saying it’s fine the way he said enough when the money question came up. He looked at Mira’s face — aimed past the doorframe toward his voice, composed and waiting.

He thought about the Foundation rep three days ago.

"Because the Foundation coming to this door and threatening to relocate you is a social problem," Kai said. "I handled it socially. But if they escalate , if they get a civil court order or find a legal mechanism ,I need legal standing to counter it. A hero license gives me that standing. A licensed hero can file protective jurisdiction over registered dependents. They can’t override that without going through the Hero Licensing Board directly."

The board held in the doorway.

Mira lowered it slowly.

She wrote something and held it up.

We’re not your dependents.

"No," Kai said. "You’re my wives. But the law uses the dependent classification for protective jurisdiction. It’s the mechanism available."

Another pause.

She wrote: You researched this.

"Last night," Kai said. "After you went to sleep."

The board stayed up for a moment.

Then she lowered it and stepped back into the kitchen.

Kai picked up his bag.

From the living room Shira said, still not looking at him: "The Vanguard administrative office opens at eight-thirty. You’ll miss the first window if you leave now."

Kai looked at the clock on the wall.

7:58.

He sat back down.

=======

He left at eight-fifteen.

The Vanguard Academy administrative building was forty minutes by train. He arrived at eight-fifty-two and joined a queue that already had eleven people in it.

The queue moved slowly.

He used the time to read the licensing pathway documentation on his phone — the full version, not the summary he’d found last night. The combat performance pathway had seventeen subsections and four separate assessment criteria that the summary had not mentioned.

He reached the window at nine-forty.

The administrator was a middle-aged man with the expression of someone who had answered the same questions for fifteen years and found the repetition neither interesting nor distressing.

"Name," the administrator said.

"Kai Renmei," Kai said.

The administrator typed. He looked at the screen. He typed again.

"Family registration flagged," the administrator said. Not unkindly. Just factually.

"Restructured," Kai said. "Forty-two days ago."

"Gift classification," the administrator said.

"Unclassified," Kai said.

The administrator looked at his screen.

"Combat performance pathway," Kai said. "I want to apply."

The administrator looked at him over the monitor.

Not rudely. Just with the particular look of someone who had seen this specific request before and knew how it usually ended.

"The combat performance pathway requires a sponsor assessor," the administrator said. "A licensed hero at B-rank or above who agrees to evaluate your three dungeon runs and submit the assessment to the board."

Kai had not read that part.

"Where do I find a sponsor assessor," Kai said.

"Hero agencies," the administrator said. "Independent licensed heroes. Some academies maintain an assessor pool but Vanguard’s pool is currently inactive , they suspended it eighteen months ago after a liability incident."

"What about independent assessors," Kai said.

"The board maintains a registry," the administrator said. He slid a printed sheet across the counter. "These are the independent assessors currently active in this district. Availability and fees are negotiated directly."

Kai took the sheet.

He looked at it.

Seven names. Four of them had notes beside them currently on contract, not accepting new clients, assessment fee negotiable (minimum 80,000 coins).

The remaining three had no notes.

He folded the sheet and put it in his jacket pocket.

"Is there anything else I can file today," Kai said. "While I’m here."

The administrator looked at his screen.