School=Parabellum

Before I get started, allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Kyoshiro Kuhara. I'm an eighteen-year-old Japanese American. I'm six feet tall and I weigh 196 pounds.

From a young age, I was trained in intense athletic and academic disciplines by my father, Kyosaburo Kuhara, who has a background as a SEALs operative.

At the age of ten, I enrolled in the elite training program of White Falcon, a private military firm where my father was an executive. I excelled in both military exercises and academic assessments, achieving record-breaking scores that enabled me to complete my education by the age of twelve.

After I graduated, I became a special employee candidate at White Falcon. I was involved in security and logistical support on the ground, took part in crime prevention seminars, and formed strong bonds with the local community. I received several accolades at the company, including a gold medal in a violin competition, first place in a bantamweight mixed martial arts event, and an overall win in a logic puzzle challenge.

Afterward, I engaged in a range of international assignments that involved protecting VIPs, controlling riots, and dismantling criminal syndicates, ultimately earning the Excellent Employee Award.

During a mission in Venice to safeguard a young, widowed CEO last year, I unexpectedly fell into a fervent love affair with her. Ultimately, our connection was fleeting, lasting only a single night.

That’s basically the life story of me, Kyoshiro Kuhara.

Over the course of my eighteen years, my journey has been characterized by smooth experiences and, importantly, worthy of admiration.

While everyone thought I would inevitably follow my father's path, join the US Navy SEALs, and become a key figure in national defense. Instead, my life has taken an unexpected turn.

Kyoshiro Kuhara . . . How do you always manage to exceed our expectations so damn effortlessly?

This is where Gosaisei Private Academy comes in.

I, Kyoshiro Kuhara decided to enroll in a high school far across the Pacific Ocean, in Japan.

The academy is a haven for young prodigies blessed with talent and a relentless drive for pushing their limits beyond just courageous efforts.

Everyone, myself among them, thought that this school was tailored for a special individual like Kyoshiro Kuhara.

It was amid constant cheers of the crowd that the gifted Kyoshiro Kuhara strode through the school's hallowed gate made of brick and iron.

The days of youth pass in the blink of an eye. Or, as the adage suggests, time flies like an arrow.

Three months after enrollment, Kyoshiro Kuhara showcased his burgeoning talents without restraint . . .

Kyoshiro . . . Kyoshiro! Kyoshiro Kuhara! You are the worst underachiever in the history of this wonderful academy! Dozing off during my class, in this esteemed school? What on earth are you thinking, you fool?!

It was grim.

Awfully grim.

My head was slumped on the school desk.

From between my lips, parted like a wound, a thin line of drool trickled down.

Wake up, you worthless good-for-nothing! How many times must I remind you you'll get points deducted for sleeping in class?

A teacher's responsibility is to ensure that their students grasp the material fully . . . Isn’t that what you get paid for? It sure is a difficult profession to be in, huh?

As I yawned and lifted my head, there stood Professor Honma, his bald scalp reddening, glaring fiercely in my direction.

Even though he was quick to scold and kick students out of class, he was a good teacher who always ensured we showed up for the next class.

If only students like you would learn quicker, my job would be a bit easier.

You know, there's a more straightforward approach to reach that goal.

And what is that exactly?

Have you considered retiring? You're getting on in years, Professor. If you keep shouting like this, you might land yourself back in the hospital.

The professor's voice, pushed to the limits of his vocal chords, reverberated across five classrooms, and reaching roughly 120 students. Naturally, I was the only one who had the sense to cover my ears in time.

And once the yelling ended, I was, once again, the only one kicked out of the classroom.

At Gosaisei Private Academy, gifted youth found a nurturing environment that fostered growth in every way possible.

These so-called promises were the first thing one would see in the school's lengthy brochure.

The bold claims were backed by research institutions and profit-driven corporations located in Gosaisei City.

Over a thousand organizations invested in and offered their technology to recruit the future's brightest minds.

By attracting young talents from all over the globe and nurturing them to their fullest potential, the school aimed to produce geniuses capable of revolutionizing their fields. It was this daring ambition that brought the school to life.

The July sun hung high in the sky, and despite the air conditioning, the school building didn't feel particularly cool. I opted to walk in the shaded parts of the hallway.

As I headed towards the exit of the school building, I ran into two students in lab coats, their presence accentuated by the sticky brightness of the fluorescent lights. At that moment, I caught a sound of a tongue clicking from behind me.

Or rather, it would be more accurate to say they clicked their tongues loud enough for me to hear.

They probably knew that Kyoshiro Kuhara was a renowned underachiever and a slacker.

In this academy where diligence was revered, they looked down on Kyoshiro Kuhara, who frequently arrived late, left early, and failed to perform well in academic tests.

And that was fine by me.

Young people are entitled to err, and part of the privilege of youth is the ability to be pardoned for those errors.

If there was to be one exception to this rule, it would be an extraordinary being like myself.

Noblesse oblige: with great power comes great responsibility.

It was my duty to always make the right decisions; even the slightest mistake or failure wasn't an option.

You might wonder why I was in this predicament.

If you're inclined, I'd appreciate you taking the time to hear about the trials and tribulations of a promising eighteen-year-old.

A man of both intellect and strength, a skilled conversationalist who carries his accomplishments with grace—this dashing individual, Kyoshiro Kuhara, has his own troubles. Yet, it's a rare occasion to find someone to share them with.

There are those in the world known as minorities.

These are individuals of different sexual orientations, religions, cultures, who strive to live each day against the tide of misunderstanding from the majority.

And I, born and raised in an incredibly rich family with no conflict with community or culture, blessed with intellect and physical prowess surpassing human limitations—one might say a perfect man—am no less a minority.

In fact, I might be the only one of my kind.

Is there a single individual in existence who knows the solitude that comes with being exceptional and can relate to my hardships?

Everyone walks their unique path, wearing down the soles of their shoes.

The difficulty of a journey can only truly be understood by the one experiencing it.

I guessed that's why I alone could appreciate the struggle of walking on a smooth asphalt road in high-end sneakers.

I wonder why, even when I believe I'm making perfectly logical statements, I'm viewed as a snob. Thus, communication itself proves to be a challenge.

Anyway, let's return to why I'm making such a spectacle of myself.

All of my problems started about three months ago, when I completed a mission abroad and returned to the White Falcon's US base . . .

* * *

I want to take a vacation.

After concluding a hostage rescue operation in a tropical island nation, I boarded a helicopter straight from the airport and headed for Dean Davidson's office. Dean, the commander of the Razorback, the fourth armed security squad at the White Falcon base in Los Angeles, was my immediate superior.

As I barged in through the reinforced glass door I found Dean, reclining in his chair, turning to me with a cheerful expression.

In his hand was a game controller, and both his ears were covered by a headset.

This guy was playing a first-person shooter game during office hours. He should use his gun for work, not to play video games.

I want to take a vacation.

I repeated the same phrase as soon as Dean removed his headset.

Welcome back, Kyoshiro! I appreciate your hard work. Go ahead, make yourself at home. Have you had a chance to try one of the sandwiches made by our receptionist, Ms. Eliza? They’re homemade, and you’ll definitely enjoy the way she piles on the mayo.

Dean spoke cheerfully, with exaggerated gestures.

However, I couldn't afford to indulge in his small talk at that moment.

I won’t let you sidetrack me today, sir. I came to tell you that I don't plan to undertake any missions for the time being.

Come on, don’t look so down! Take a load off and sit here.

Dean pointed to a chair across from him.

I remained on my feet to express my dissent, yet Dean fixed his gaze on me, skillfully arching his eyebrows as if to signal that he would remain silent until I took a seat.

As soon as I relented and took a seat, Dean's face lit up with satisfaction as he retrieved a hefty folder brimming with papers from his desk drawer.

Hey Kyoshiro, you’ve asked for time off before, right? I think the last time was about a month back.

Yes, I was forced to board a plane arranged by the captain, with no opportunity for discussion. Upon my arrival at the airport, I was taken into custody by local authorities disguised as tour guides and found myself involved in a sweep operation targeting anti-government rebels. I successfully completed the hostage rescue mission yesterday, according to local time.

I see, that does sound tough.

You could certainly say that.

However, I see that you made a similar request three months ago. This file shows that you were granted a sufficient leave at that time.

Well, if you consider being forced to supervise military drills in areas lacking phone reception and handling new recruits from the army, navy, and air force who knock on your hotel door each morning for months as a 'vacation,' then yes, I suppose I did.

Even though I shot him bitter glares as he talked, Dean managed to dismiss them effortlessly, keeping his expression unchanged and even whistling casually.

My life since I joined the armed security force at the age of fifteen had essentially been a continuous cycle of this type of exchange.

After completing a difficult mission, I would come home and request leave, only to be semi-forced back to work.

I even considered putting this guy in the hospital to get some peace, but unfortunately, Dean was a formidable man. Despite my best efforts, I’d never been successful.

Well, I supposed I could have succeeded if I had genuinely put in the effort. However, it didn't seem appropriate to use all my strength against a colleague. Additionally, if we were to engage in a serious conflict, it could jeopardize our homeland. It's a complex situation.

I see. Look, I get your point.

Dean lifted his gaze.

However, your father, Kyosaburo, has entrusted me with looking after you. I’m afraid I can’t grant you leave without his approval.

With a soothing tone, Dean aimed to bring the conversation to a logical close. Yet, his persuasive tactics were far too predictable.

Then please bring my father here. We'll discuss it directly.

You're asking me, your superior, to summon him? You want me to call in Kyosaburo?

Yes, absolutely.

As you're aware, Kyosaburo is a board member of our company, and a man once feared as a battlefield legend. If you're going to take up his valuable time, you need to show some sincerity and determination, don't you think?

Whether he's a board member or a legend, he's still my father. I have every right to air my grievances to him.

I pointed towards the internal line phone on Dean's desk.

Upon seeing this, he gave a deep sigh.

I'll ask you one more time. Are you really going to make me call him up? The legendary badass Kyosaburo Kuhara?

Yes, please go ahead.

Dean furrowed his brow and picked up the receiver, pressing the internal line button.

Welcome back, my beloved son! Were you able to pick up a sandwich from Ms. Eliza at the reception? Although it doesn't quite match your mom's culinary skills, she definitely has the edge when it comes to her figure!

Kuhara Kyosaburo arrived almost immediately, barely twenty seconds after Dean had hung up the phone.

This man clearly had way too much free time. He needed a job.

Settling heavily into the reclining chair that Dean had just vacated, my father Kyosaburo stroked his goatee.

Have you shown your face at home yet? Your mother's really been pining after you.

If I get a vacation, I'll be able to see her as much as she wants.

For a loving mother, there will always be an endless supply of kisses she wishes to shower upon her son!

Both men burst into exaggerated laughter. I, however, remained stone-faced.

Dad, there’s just one thing I need to say. I need a vacation—

You know, your mother is always scolding me.

Kyosaburo interrupted me.

Despite having provided you with a comprehensive education in both academics and sports through our training program, your mother always insisted you attend a normal school. Personally, I believe we made the best use of your abilities.

I understand, Kyosaburo. Parenting can be challenging. There's no definitive right or wrong.

Simultaneously, both men knitted their brows, their expressions reflecting deep sadness.

As Kyosaburo mentioned, I had never been to a regular school.

My entire schooling was orchestrated by Kyosaburo, or I was educated through the White Falcon's program. I didn’t form any bonds with my peers and had no knowledge of what games were in vogue or anything along those lines.

To be honest, I didn't experience any significant feelings of loneliness or anything of that sort.

At the tender age of six, I was convinced my talents couldn't be contained within the confines of a regular school.

I was quite a precocious child, wasn't I? But, the truth is the truth.

I'm a softie when it comes to my dear wife. That's why I arranged this without telling you.

Kyosaburo handed over the binder he had been holding.

Gosaisei Academy Enrollment Guide

What is this? Why would you have something like this?

It's what you call parental love. If you want to thank someone, thank your mother. This school is an accredited institution with an educational policy and curriculum that's significantly different from both American high schools and those in Japan.

Kyosaburo lit a cigarette he had pulled out from his pocket.

Smoke began to rise from his wide-open mouth.

Parental love? I'd never felt something like that from this man before.

The advanced education I received wasn't because of a parent-child relationship, but because he prioritized our relationship as mercenaries. Both athletics and academics were instructed with the understanding that they would prove beneficial in actual combat situations. There wasn't a single thing that I did because I wanted to, or because he wanted me to do it—not without a deeper meaning behind it.

Upon opening the brochure, it revealed pictures of students enjoying their time in classes throughout the campus.

The youths depicted in the images appeared to fully enjoy their relaxed school days, a lifestyle that, in contrast to my own experiences, I would describe as utterly frivolous.

This was a way of life completely foreign to me.

This school attracts individuals your age, possessing a spectrum of talents. They call it a paradise for gifted youth.

Sounds like it was made for me.

My son, I have to say, you certainly have an irritating personality.

I was aware of what I was like, and I hated to agree with him, but the truth is the truth . . .

As I turned more pages, I came across a description of the private Gosaisei Academy.

Students admitted to this academy, the nucleus of the designated special research city of Gosaisei, were categorized into five divisions according to their talents upon admission.

First, the Tower of Learning - Academia.

Second, the Fortress of Athletics - Strength.

Third, the Retreat of Arts - Culture.

Fourth, the Castle of Politics - Kingdom.

Lastly, the House of Commerce - Trader.

Students selected their division based on their individual skills and strived to enhance their abilities to their utmost potential through competition and collaboration with their equally or more talented peers.

In other words, Gosaisei Academy was an educational institution established to nurture talents in their respective fields.

What the heck . . . It seems like there's no division suited for a multifaceted genius like myself . . .

I wonder if I raised him wrong . . .

Each of the five divisions boasted a unique curriculum, equipped with state-of-the-art facilities to cater to their respective competitive fields and majors. The brochure proudly declared that there was no skill one couldn't learn or hone at Gosaisei Academy.

Kyoshiro.

With a fatherly look, Kyosaburo spoke up.

For better or worse, I've managed to raise you into a pretty extraordinary individual. But as a result, I can’t help worrying I've taken your adolescence away. Even if you start attending a normal school now, you’re already so brilliant that your childhood might be just out of reach.

Kyosaburo stubbed out his half-finished cigarette in the ashtray.

The way he extinguished the little ember seemed to symbolize his effort to quash his own regret.

But you know, there are others like you out there. You might find some kids who understand what you’ve been through. Hell, you might make some friends there too!

The word "friends" pricked my heart just a bit.

Perhaps here, I might find peers my own age, who I could share a laugh with on equal footing.

But Dad, I'm turning eighteen this year. At this age, I should be heading to college. Don’t you think it’s a little too late for me to still be in high school?

That's exactly why it has to be high school, Kyoshiro.

Kyosaburo laughed, the sound echoing with a childlike innocence, as if to dismiss my concerns entirely.

I found myself thinking back to times when this man would have that expression, one that seemed more innocent and pure than anything a teenager, myself included, could ever show.

It's time to take back your youth, son! You need to use all the skills you've acquired for your own sake now.

I was at a loss for words. The term "youth" suddenly seemed to ring with a new brilliance in my ears.

Without knowing what to say to Kyosaburo, I lowered my gaze and began to flip through the brochure.

A piece of paper slipped out from between the pages I was turning.

I glanced down, my eyes landing on the paper that had fallen onto my lap.

Long-Term Infiltration and Pacification Mission at Gosaisei Academy Agent: Kyoshiro Kuhara

Oh, it seems an unrelated document got mixed in there. I'll take care of that, son.

You've got some nerve playing the father card now! How brazen can you be?

Kyosaburo averted his gaze. Dean, standing beside him, also looked away.

Hey Dad, give me that spiel about youth again, but look me in the eye this time.

No, you've got it all wrong. That paper, it's like . . . a card with song lyrics on it.

Then sing the song, loud and clear. I'm all ears.

Can't you just keep quiet?! Just go and make us some money!

Oh I see, your true colors are showing now aren't they?!

What else can I do?! You're the only one who can infiltrate a Japanese high school without arousing suspicion, and you can handle any challenging situation on your own! You're the right man for the job!

He didn't even bother to pretend anymore. So much for paternal love.

I felt like cursing myself for almost believing him, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

. . . Wait. What do you mean by 'challenging situation'? Isn't it just a regular high school that's been properly authorized, albeit with a different system?

That city over there has turned into a complete mess due to all the funding from various organizations. It's all regulations and factions, and overrun with spies and saboteurs. Funny, isn't it? All of this mess for a high school.

It's enough to make your head hurt. What on earth are the local police doing?

Well, when I investigated the chief of police in Gosaisei City, it turned out he purchased a condo under his mistress's name two years ago.

So you think his money’s dirty?

What kind of father would resort to such measures?

He probably thought that by assigning me this job, he could fulfill my mother's wish for me to attend school and also make some money—killing two birds with one stone.

These were the kinds of individuals who worked at this company. They didn't hesitate to exploit love and family ties to deceive their own children for their own gain. They were the epitome of unprincipled pragmatists—essentially, the scum of the earth.

But it wasn't as if I had come here without a plan of my own.

. . . Dad, do you recognize what this is?

As I spoke, I pulled a stick with a thick grip on its end from my pocket and placed it on the desk.

You've really outdone yourself this time.

Kyosaburo grimaced.

I had some spare time on the way from the airport, so I constructed a pipe bomb to, you know, kill some time. Guess where I put it? It's now tucked under the hood of that McLaren you're always polishing.

Kyosaburo looked disgruntled as he stared at the handbrake lever on the desk. I pulled out my smartphone and showed him the screen, revealing the activation mechanism for a pipe bomb.

Do you think I went too far?

But based on my past experiences, I learned that I needed this much to secure a vacation.

I promise you'll get your vacation once the mission is over. Can't you listen to your old man just this once?

No. I'm vacationing in Acapulco next week. I'm not saying I'm quitting. I'm just asserting my right to a proper rest after work.

In response, Kyosaburo's demeanor shifted significantly. He lowered his head and slumped his shoulders.

I suppose I can't force you into anything at this point.

He glanced at me, his eyes revealing his total resignation.

Then I'll just deduct the damages and expenses you caused last month from your paycheck. Are you okay with that?

Aren't you ever afraid you'll end up in hell?

I had enough of hell back in my twenties, thanks for asking. Well, considering just the vehicle and collateral damage, it's clear your savings will take a hit. Care to wager how much will disappear when we add in the ammunition costs?

That's absurd! There's no way I should be held accountable for the expenses, let alone the damages from the operation!

The company only covers the 'unavoidable losses' during operations, and it's my duty as an executive to approve these claims. Oh, the joys of wielding power, eh, Kyoshiro?

By this point, I think you get it.

He's the kind of man who would misuse his power just to win an argument. That is the true nature of Kyosaburo Kuhara.

But let's set that aside for a moment. What was I up to last month?

I recalled tackling anti-government rebels and venting out by piloting an Apache helicopter . . . This was a problem. The repair cost for that alone would definitely top a hundred thousand dollars.

Even though I earned a good salary, it's obvious that if I had to pay all that cost, I’d be working for nothing for about the next decade.

I want to hear you say, 'Dad, please let me go to school.' Go on.

I'll be the one to send you to hell. Keep that in mind, Dad.

Alright, I'll remember those charming words on your wedding day. So we have a deal, then.

After that, Kyosaburo pressed the 'Approved' stamp onto the paperwork in front of him while whistling a tune.

After sighing deeply and taking a moment to recuperate, I filled my lungs with air and looked up. There was no point in resisting now.

So, when does it start?

When does what start?

The assignment. I have things to wrap up here, I need to know the schedule—

Oh, it starts right now.

What?

The mission starts immediately. You're to fly to Japan right away. Go through the briefings on the plane.

Kyosaburo gestured toward the door behind me.

When I turned around, I found Ms. Eliza waiting with my luggage intended for a lengthy trip.

She also held a large sandwich in her hand.

Good luck, son. You can have lunch in the car on your way to the airport.

I appreciate it.

As I exited the office, I accepted the sandwich from Ms. Eliza and flashed her a crisp smile.

Could you possibly make another sandwich later?

Watching Ms. Eliza tilt her head in confusion, I held up my smartphone.

My father is sure to be hungry after the cleanup work that's about to start.

As I tapped the screen, a satisfying blast echoed from the floor below.

Ground zero was the first-floor parking lot. I couldn't help but picture my father's beloved McLaren reduced to scrap metal as I walked towards the elevator, luggage in tow.

Well, if you're going to pull this off, then I've got plans of my own, you bastard, deadbeat dad. Just as you ordered, I'll die trying to reclaim this thing called youth!

This was the 31st of March. The usual father-son communication in the Kuhara family, a ritual that had spanned eighteen years, went down that day without any exceptions.

* * *

So, what did you think?

Hearing a story of a talented young man, manipulated by his father's tyranny, it's hard not to shed a tear.

What? Are you wondering why, after all that, I’m not doing so well here? Isn't it obvious?

Take back your youth.

My father gave me an order. Essentially, it was an order from my superior.

Commands from superiors must be followed without question. In the formative years of a student, weapons and explosives should be completely excluded.

That's exactly why, against my will, I opted to sideline the covert mission of resolving the major issues infesting this school, choosing instead to continue masquerading as an average student.

Screw you, Kyosaburo, for messing up when it mattered the most. You deserve it, you dumbass.

Basically, this was a strike aimed at my father.

The reason behind my failure is simple: it's a tarnish on the company's reputation. It's a blatant act of spite.

I chose the Academia Division when I enrolled.

The reason was simple. The Academia Division, which focuses on scholarly pursuits, is the only faculty in the school that conducts regular academic tests. This would clearly illustrate my decline in quantifiable terms.

I've also meticulously prepared to fail every subject in the upcoming exams, using the averages from past data.

All my actions were a retaliation against my cretin of a father.

That being said, this life isn't too bad.

For someone as extraordinary as me, it's incredibly challenging to lead a carefree life simply living normally, without any particular goal. I have a tendency to always seek out something to do.

However, my current relaxed life doesn't permit that. Hard work isn't part of it.

That's exactly why I chose this kind of life. Thanks to that, I could now enjoy unproductive time, like aimlessly wandering around after leaving the faculty building. I was able to experience freedom.

Even though I was walking toward the shade provided by the lush green cherry blossom trees, I didn't have any specific destination in mind.

My mind was primarily occupied with feelings of hunger and considering a trip to the downtown shopping area.

This place truly is a paradise for the young, buzzing with energy even in the middle of the day.

While I was strolling along, my attention was drawn to a gathering of about a dozen people.

Shut up, all you do is bark like a dog!

What?! I dare you to say that again you scumbag!

It was delightful to see that everyone appeared to be brimming with energy.

The guys were glaring at each other, raising their voices and creating a charged atmosphere.

However, minor disputes like this were not particularly unusual at this school.

Conflicts among students and divisions were commonplace, and seeds of discord were scattered all over.

With that said, I decided it was best to just walk past them. This was an integral part of my strategy.

Oh, hey, it's Kyo.

From the center of the throng, a voice emerged that prompted me to rethink my choice to overlook the situation and continue on my way.

It was a peculiarly enchanting voice, delicate yet with a resonating depth.

Amid the flurry of insults, her voice reached my ears, clear as a bell. As I turned toward the sound, my gaze landed on a young girl pointing at me.

In that moment, I sensed a strange emotion, as if the brightness enveloping her had broken into delicate, shimmering particles.

It was Fuka Arima. She was a freshman in the Culture Division, my only friend in this academy, and the most stunning beauty I've ever encountered.

The angle of her pointing finger, her slightly parted lips, and the long lashes framing her eyes—every casual gesture Fuka made was in exquisite form.

In this academy, she was, in some ways, more unique than even myself and was extremely popular due to her beauty.

We were talking to her first?!

Oh, I didn't see you because you're so short! So is your friend, I guess?!

Haha, what was going on here? It felt like some sort of overly spirited meet-and-greet.

Kyo, help me!

Fuka called out to me, a hand over her mouth. Unfortunately, it seemed she was in trouble again.

I guess I had no choice. Even though I was technically on a break, I couldn't just turn a blind eye to a friend in need. I, Kyoshiro Kuhara, was a man of honor and loyalty.

Excuse me, could you let me through?

I made my way into the circle of students surrounding Fuka.

It didn't seem like these guys were her friends. They could have been club scouts or just guys trying to hit on her. With this many of them, it could be both.

Sorry, she's my friend. Coming through.

What the—? Who are you? Woah!

As a student tried to grab my shoulder while passing by, I tripped him.

Fuka, just to clarify, are these guys your friends?

No, I don't know them. They came up to me just now.

I pulled out some cable ties from my pocket and bound the fingers of two other students who were trying to reach for me.

Wow, what's that?

What do you mean, 'what'? It's a cable tie. Haven't you seen one before?

. . . Why do you carry them around?

I'm just prepared for any situation. What if I suddenly needed to tidy up some cables while out in the city and didn't have any?

With a yell, one student charged forward, throwing a punch, while another attempted to deliver a sweeping kick.

After dodging them both, I quickly tied up their arms and legs.

Ow! Ow! My damn joints are locked!

See? Handy in these situations, aren't they?

Ahh, yeah, I see.

It wasn't uncommon for guys to approach Fuka, but today the atmosphere was distinctly tense, brimming with a fierce and combative spirit.

Could it be the nice weather? Sunny days tended to boost moods. I got it, I really did.

So, what are you doing out here? I'm assuming you're on your way somewhere?

Yeah, work. By the way, Kyo, aren't you supposed to be in class? Are you skipping?

I'm not cutting class. I was kicked out for falling asleep.

Oh, you delinquent! You really should pay more attention in class, you know.

With that, I continued to tie up the rowdy students as we chatted.

Wow, this guy had brass knuckles. That could have been dangerous.

Did you know? In Japan they call these things 'meriken sacks' because they were originally used by Americans.

What are brass knuckles?

These things here.

After delivering an authentic American gut punch to the last guy, I grabbed his limp right hand and showed it to Fuka.

Whoa, that seems dangerous!

So, who are these guys anyway? I got so carried away tying them up, I forgot to ask.

I gazed down at the students still sprawled on the ground, spewing curses my way.

Who the hell are you, and which division are you in?!

I'll remember your face! You won't get away with this!

Haha, everyone was pretty lively. Ah well, no harm done.

I'm not sure . . . I was just walking when I suddenly got surrounded.

Did they mention anything specific when they came up to you?

I think they said something . . . But what was it again?

With her head tilted towards the sky, Fuka seemed deep in contemplation, looking absolutely delightful.

If I end up in court on assault charges, I'll need you to testify for me.

As I said this, lacking any kind of assurance, she confidently nodded in agreement.

More importantly, are you hurt?

I wouldn’t rough up an ordinary student too badly.

Well yeah, them too, but I meant you, Kyo.

As we began to walk, Fuka spoke up, tugging on the hem of my shirt.

What a silly question.

I see . . . Well then, I'm glad.

Fuka smiled. Her lips were pressed together, her hands clasped behind her back, and she lifted her gaze towards me. In that moment, it was as if a vibrant rainbow enveloped her.

To avoid causing a commotion, we distanced ourselves from the station.

As for the guys we'd tied up . . . I hope someone came to their rescue.