> December 22, 2026 — Halftime break.
The air in the VIP room felt heavy — the kind of stillness that hides the scent of rot beneath perfume.
I could hear the faint cheers from below, distant and hollow. The crowd watched the game like puppets dancing to a rhythm they didn't understand. And standing behind those strings… was him.
Principal Sobu turned to face me, the dim lighting catching that same smug grin he always wore — one that spoke of dominance disguised as wisdom.
He lifted a glass bottle with feigned civility.
"What a surprise to see you here, Aoi. Would you like some soda?"
Even his tone dripped manipulation. I didn't bother playing along.
"Cut the crap, Principal Sobu."
My voice came out colder than I intended — but perhaps that was appropriate. "Do you realize the circumstances you've possibly put the school in with your activities?"
His smirk deepened, the kind of smile a spider gives when it knows the fly is already tangled.
"Ah… so I'm assuming you already know about the Puppeteer Age Resurrection Project."
That name again. That cursed name.
The one my brother was forced into.
The one that turned an entire institution into a chessboard of human experimentation.
I clenched my fist, forcing my tone to remain steady. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Sobu took a leisurely step toward me, the click of his shoes echoing like a countdown.
"Let me guess… you're planning to frame me for manipulating all the students?"
"Not just that." I met his gaze head-on, unflinching. "The fact that you dragged Kei into this sickens me to my core."
For a moment, the room was silent. Then Sobu's grin sharpened. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"And just what are you going to do about it, then?"
He wanted fear. He wanted hesitation.
But all he got was calculation.
"Who knows," I said evenly. "Maybe an anonymous tip will be sent to the FBI."
His expression twitched. "Is that a threat?"
I turned toward the door, the faint light reflecting off my glasses as I looked back at him one last time.
"You'll see very soon."
Then I walked out, leaving him alone with his arrogance.
---
> He believes he still controls the board. He believes every student, every teacher, every soul here dances to his strings. But he forgets something critical…
Even pawns, when they reach the end of the board, can change what they are.
For now, I'll play his game.
I'll move where he expects me to move.
I'll watch, wait, and strike only when the time is right.
Because the greatest revenge… is not in the moment of victory.
It's in the silence before it —
when your enemy still believes he's winning.
> And I, Aoi Fushimiya… will be the silent pawn that ends his reign.
---
> December 22, 2026 — Halftime break.
The wind was sharp enough to cut through skin, but it didn't bother me. Pain and cold only mattered to those who had something left to protect. I'd already lost that illusion long ago.
Snowflakes drifted across the stadium entrance, dissolving against the concrete like forgotten memories. I stood there, hands buried in my coat pockets, my breath faintly visible beneath the gray sky.
The crowd inside roared with excitement, unaware that just beyond the walls of their perfect academy, something far darker was stirring.
Principal Sobu's sins… could no longer remain buried.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. The number I was about to call wasn't one that existed on paper. It had taken weeks of digging — backchannels, encrypted forums, and favors owed to people I'd rather forget — to get this contact.
I pressed call.
Ring.
Ring.
Then, a voice — sharp, cold, and emotionless.
"Who is this?"
I stared out into the distance, my tone measured. "You can call me A. And I have an important tip to give you."
A pause. Static hummed between us. Then he replied, voice steady as ice.
"And what would that be?"
"There's illegal activity being committed in the National Institute for Future Leaders," I said, tightening my grip on the phone. "And the person behind it… is Principal Sobu."
"Where is your evidence and reasoning?" he asked immediately — no hesitation, no emotion. Just pure logic.
"I don't have proof yet," I admitted, exhaling a faint cloud of white breath. "But my little brother — and others — are being manipulated. Used as pieces in his experiment. Please, you have to—"
He cut me off, tone absolute.
"You have exactly one year to gather all the evidence and bring it back to me."
My eyes narrowed. "…What?"
"When your brother becomes a sophomore, call this number again," he continued. "By then, I expect you to have everything — documents, witnesses, testimonies. I'll bring two others with me, and you will bring five. Nine of us in total. We'll collaborate to bring this Principal Sobu to justice. Until then, you observe. You collect. You wait. Understood, Aoi Fushimiya?"
My heart stopped for half a second.
He… knew my name.
Before I could speak, another voice — younger, lighter, teasing — cut through the static.
"Who are you talking to, Tetsuy—"
The line distorted with interference.
"Shush, Kenz—" the first man snapped, but his name glitched out too.
"How the hell do you know my name—" I began, but before the words left my mouth, the call cut off.
Silence.
Only the winter wind remained.
---
> That call lasted less than two minutes. And yet, in those two minutes, they not only knew my name — they likely knew my location, my voice patterns, maybe even the intent behind my words.
Whoever they were… they weren't ordinary agents.
I slid the phone back into my pocket, exhaling slowly.
"So… they already know who I am. Good. That means I've chosen the right people."
I turned back toward the stadium, the floodlights flickering through the glass as the second half was about to begin. Kei would be out there soon, fighting in his own quiet war, unaware of the one I had just started.
> One year. That's all the time I have.
Five people to gather. Proof to collect. Lies to unravel.
And when the time comes, I'll make that call again.
The world will remember the name Sobu.
Not as a leader.
But as the man who brought his own empire crashing down.
For now, I walk back into the noise — just another face in the crowd.
But even the smallest pawn… can bring down the king.
---