In that split second of stunned hesitation, the pursuing students caught up, their riot forks waving chaotically as they tackled one of the "henchmen" to the ground with a thud. The other, shaken from his daze, shivered and snapped back to reality. Dodging around Sumire, he bolted down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the chaos.
Shuichi, hefting the fire axe with a casual swagger, sauntered forward, his eyes locked on the fleeing teacher playing the rioter. As the man, his face comically distorted by a black pantyhose mask, barreled toward him, Shuichi raised the axe with a grin, the polished blade glinting under the fluorescent lights. The teacher skidded to a halt, his eyes widening in panic. "Whoa, whoa, hold on! This is way too much—it's just a drill!" His voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and fear.
Shuichi shrugged, his expression nonchalant but his grip firm on the axe. "This is a safety drill, not a school play. Gotta treat it like the real thing. If an actual intruder broke in, you think I'd leave the fire axe in the cabinet?" His tone was matter-of-fact, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement. He had a point—traffic safety drills often featured real stunt drivers crashing cars, not just pantomiming. Bikes collided with bikes, bikes with cars, all with a jarring authenticity.
The teacher, sweat beading beneath his mask, raised his hands placatingly. "Alright, kid, let's talk this out. Put the axe down, yeah?" His voice trembled, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Shuichi's unyielding stare.
"You first," Shuichi countered, nodding at the baseball bat still clutched in the teacher's hand. "Drop the bat, hug your head, and squat over there." His voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
The teacher hesitated, glancing between the axe and Shuichi's unflinching gaze. With a defeated sigh, he tossed the bat aside, its clatter echoing in the now-quiet corridor, and crouched down, his hands clasped behind his head. 'It's just a drill,' He thought, 'not worth getting chopped over.'
Uchida, late to the scene, jogged up from the restroom, his eyes bulging as he took in the sight. "Chiba, you actually pulled out the fire axe?" He exclaimed, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief.
Shuichi handed him the axe, his grin widening. "Here, hold this. It's not a big deal—just a scare tactic. Nagase-sensei's the real savage. Go check on the principal; I'm not sure he's still breathing." His tone was teasing, but he was already moving toward Sumire, leaving Uchida blinking in confusion.
"Huh?" Uchida muttered, gripping the axe awkwardly. He gave it an experimental swing, only to wince. "Ow… think I tweaked my wrist." His grimace was short-lived as a stern voice cut through.
"You there! Why are you waving a fire axe around? That's dangerous—put it down now! What class are you in?" A teacher, newly arrived and clearly frazzled, zeroed in on Uchida, her eyes flashing with indignation.
Uchida froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Wait, no, it's not—I mean, he—Chiba—" He stammered, clutching his sore wrist, utterly lost.
Shuichi, oblivious to the chaos he'd left behind, reached Sumire, who was crouched beside the principal, her face etched with worry. The older man lay sprawled on the floor, a noticeable lump forming on the back of his head, his pantyhose mask askew.
"Is he okay? Still got a pulse?" Shuichi asked, crouching beside her, his tone half-serious, half-mocking.
"Don't say such scary things!" Sumire snapped, her voice shrill with panic. "Of course he's alive! He just… passed out." Her hands hovered over the principal, unsure whether to touch him, her eyes darting nervously.
Shuichi smirked, leaning closer. "Scary? The scariest thing here is you, Nagase-sensei. Charging in like a superhero, one-shotting the big boss with a flying kick? That's some next-level stuff." His voice dripped with mock admiration, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Sumire's face flushed crimson, her hands clenching into fists. "Stop being sarcastic and call Hajime-sensei!" She hissed, her gaze fixed on the principal's swelling bruise, guilt gnawing at her. 'Please be okay… I totally lost it back there.'
Shuichi pulled out his phone, dialing Naomi without hesitation. He wasn't overly concerned—breathing meant the principal was likely fine. 'If it's bad, Nagase-semesi can open a shop at my place, and I'll call the butler to fix him up at a hospital,' He thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"Moshi moshi? Chiba-kun?" Naomi's voice came through, tinged with a subtle strain, as if she was on edge.
"Yeah, we've got a situation. Principal's out cold. Can you come to the second floor, near…" Shuichi gave the location, and Naomi didn't waste time, hanging up promptly. Within minutes, she arrived, her white lab coat billowing as she carried a medical kit, her expression a mix of concern and professionalism.
Naomi dispersed the gawking students with a sharp command, her presence commanding instant respect. Kneeling beside the principal, she conducted a swift but thorough examination, her hands moving with practiced precision. "Looks stable for now," She said, her voice calm but firm. "Head injuries need caution, though. He should go to the hospital for observation. Now, what happened?"
Shuichi recounted Sumire's "heroic" feat, his tone laced with dry humor, prompting Naomi to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Sumire-chan, the principal's nearly sixty. Couldn't you have considered if he could 'survive' your kick before going full vigilante?"
Sumire hung her head, her voice barely audible. "I… I didn't think…"
Shuichi, sensing her distress, stepped in smoothly. "It was chaotic. Nagase-sensei probably got confused, thought it was real, and acted to protect the students. Pure instinct." His voice was earnest, his words carefully chosen to paint her in a better light.
Sumire's eyes widened, a wave of gratitude washing over her. 'This little punk's silver tongue actually sounds… sweet today,' She thought, her chest tightening with unexpected warmth. But she squared her shoulders, her voice firm. "No, as a teacher, I can't let students take the fall for me. I was reckless, and I'll own it."
Shuichi's grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Wow, Nagase-sensei, such a role model. Not only did I learn to take responsibility today, but I also got a masterclass in impulsive justice kicks." His gaze drifted to her legs, a playful smirk forming. 'Who knew those long legs could pack such a punch?'
Just then, the principal stirred, groaning as he came to. His first instinct was to throw up his arms in a defensive stance. "Where are my men? What'd you do to them?" He mumbled, his voice groggy but indignant.
The trio exchanged silent, incredulous glances, their expressions a mix of relief and amusement. 'He's fine,' Shuichi thought, suppressing a chuckle.
…
The farce concluded with other teachers half-dragging the principal, who was still muttering about resuming the drill, to the infirmary. Shuichi and Naomi trailed behind, escorting a subdued Sumire. As the group thinned, Shuichi sidled closer to Naomi, his movements subtle but deliberate.
Naomi's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, her voice low and teasing. "What's Chiba-kun sneaking over for? Up to something?" Her eyes flicked toward him, a playful challenge in her gaze.
Shuichi leaned in slightly, his voice a soft murmur. "Just wanted to be closer to Sensei. No ulterior motives." His tone was innocent, but the spark in his eyes told a different story.
"Is that so?" Naomi's voice dropped to a whisper, her expression softening but firm. "We agreed, Chiba-kun. That memory stays a memory. You can't let yourself fall deeper." Her words were a gentle reminder, laced with a trace of regret.
Shuichi sighed dramatically, his grin unfaltering. "Fine, I'll go bug Nagase-sensei then." He made a show of turning away, testing her reaction.
Naomi's hand shot out, catching his arm with a light tug, her laugh soft but exasperated. "You sly little fox. Stay right here and behave yourself." Her tone was mock-scolding, but her grip lingered, warm and reassuring.
"Really okay?" Shuichi asked, a hint of genuine hope in his voice, his eyes searching hers.
Naomi gave him a sidelong glance, her smile warm but guarded. "Just keep up." She released his arm, her fingers brushing against his briefly, sending a faint thrill through him.
The group delivered the principal to the infirmary, where he adamantly refused a hospital visit, instead lamenting his incomplete drill and vowing to try again next week. Despite his eccentricities and tendency to spout nonsense, his good nature shone through. He even gave Sumire a thumbs-up, his voice cheerful. "Didn't know you had such moves, Nagase-kun! Want to join me as a rioter next week?"
Sumire, mortified, declined with a flurry of apologies before joining the other teachers to restore order. With students milling about, Shuichi couldn't linger. He brushed his fingers against Naomi's hand as he passed, a fleeting touch that made her heart skip. She glanced up, watching his retreating figure, a confusing flutter stirring within her.
'No,' She thought, shaking her head to dispel the feeling. 'Yesterday was a fluke, a moment of weakness. I can't let myself feel this way about a student.' She repeated the mantra, convincing herself it was just lingering emotional turmoil from recent heartbreak. Time would smooth it out, she assured herself, as the flutter slowly faded.
…
Shuichi, unaware of the storm he'd sparked in Naomi's heart, trailed behind Sumire as they headed back to class, his mind already scheming how to tease her further. His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. Glancing at the screen, he saw a cryptic message from Uchida: ''[Save me student council]''
The lack of punctuation made it jarring, but the meaning was clear. Shuichi tapped Sumire's lower back, earning a startled yelp as she spun around, her eyes wide with alarm. "W-What now? Don't mess around!" She squeaked, her hands clutching her files protectively.
Shuichi rolled his eyes, spreading his hands in mock innocence. "What's with you, Sensei? Always jumping to conclusions. Uchida's been nabbed by the student council. I'm heading over to check it out."
"Oh, okay, go ahead," Sumire said, relief flooding her voice. "I'll tell the math teacher. Hurry up!" She practically shooed him away, eager to escape his unsettling presence. Being near him made her heart race, her mind replaying those humiliating dreams with alarming clarity.
Shuichi sighed theatrically, shaking his head. "You wound me, Sensei." With a playful smirk, he turned and left, knowing full well she'd brace for his next prank.
Sumire watched him go, her shoulders slumping. 'He's just messing with me again,' She thought, her cheeks burning. 'No way I'm falling for his tricks.'
…
Shuichi made his way to the student council president's office, brushing off the disciplinary committee member stationed at the door. "Chiba-kun, what's your business? Unless it's urgent, don't disturb the president. She's busy. You can tell us," The girl said, her tone clipped and authoritative.
Shuichi ignored her, knocking firmly. "She's got my guy. I'm here to collect him. Simple as that." His voice was calm but carried an edge, like a negotiator in a standoff.
The committee member frowned, thinking his words sounded like a yakuza showdown, but before she could respond, a voice called from inside. "Come in." Tsuki Akiyama's tone was icy and commanding, the kind that made spines straighten.
The committee members tensed, but Shuichi just grinned, unfazed. That familiar voice, no matter how stern, could never intimidate him—though it did send a pleasant tingle down his spine. Pushing open the door, he stepped into the office, the heavy scent of paper and ink greeting him.
Uchida stood by the massive desk, his head bowed as if studying the wood grain with intense fascination. Behind the desk sat Tsuki, her posture regal as she sifted through documents, her expression one of cool detachment. The papers likely related to the day's drill, explaining why she'd pulled Uchida during class time.
"Something to say?" Tsuki asked, not looking up, her voice clipped and distant, as if addressing a stranger.
Shuichi's lips twitched, finding her act oddly refreshing. He decided to play along, adopting a mock-formal tone. "Pardon the intrusion, President-sama. Might I inquire why Uchida's been summoned?" He leaned against the desk, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Tsuki set down her pen, her gaze lifting to meet his, her face a mask of impartiality. "During the riot drill, he brandished a fire axe, a dangerous weapon." Her voice was flat, authoritative, each word precise.
Shuichi pulled out a chair, sitting across from her with a casual ease. "It's a riot drill. Using a weapon like that seems reasonable, no?" His tone was challenging, his eyes locked on hers, a silent dare to keep up the charade.
Uchida, caught in the crossfire, felt the air grow heavy with tension. 'Why's Chiba so bold? Talking to the president like that?' He thought, his palms sweating. The atmosphere was oppressive, but beneath the desk, unseen by Uchida, Tsuki's facade cracked. With a swift motion, she slipped off her small leather shoes, her cotton-socked foot stretching out to rest lightly on Shuichi's thigh, her toes wiggling playfully.
Shuichi's grin widened, his composure unshaken as her foot teased him, the contrast between her stern demeanor and secret mischief sending a thrill through him…
.
.
.
.
You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
200 Power Stones for 1 extra chapter.
5 New reviews for 1 extra chapter.