With that promise to myself still fresh in my mind, I tuned back into the lesson, letting the rhythm of the teacher's voice and the scratch of chalk on the board carry me through the rest of the period. It felt… good, actually. Just sitting there, learning, being part of something normal. No magecraft, no blood, no fire — just the mundane comfort of a school day.
When the bell rang for break, the first one out the door was Taiga, practically a blur as she bolted down the hall. I didn't need magecraft to guess where she was headed — most likely straight to Sakura to mooch food off her. The mental image made me laugh out loud, a short, genuine burst of amusement I hadn't felt in a while.
Issei, sitting beside me, turned to stare. I don't think he'd ever heard me laugh like that before. His brow furrowed in mild confusion, but I just gave him a wink and stood, excusing myself before he could ask anything. I had other business to attend to.
Business named Shinji Matou.
The hallways were alive with chatter, students moving in clusters. I passed a group of girls who broke into giggles as I walked by. It made me pause, and they froze mid‑giggle, watching me with wide eyes. I tilted my head slightly, then asked if they knew where Shinji was. One of them, braver than the rest, told me he was at the archery club. I thanked her and moved on, my focus sharpening.
The archery club was easy to find — the sound of arrows hitting targets carried down the hall. I stepped inside to see Shinji leaning against a wall, surrounded by a few club members. He was in full performance mode, smiling, gesturing, leaning in just enough to seem charming without crossing the line. To my surprise, it was working. They were laughing, nodding, hanging on his words.
It was almost impressive. Almost.
Then he saw me. For a moment, his smirk faltered, but he recovered quickly, turning his attention back to the girls as if I didn't exist. That ticked me off more than I expected. I must have let it show, because his smirk slipped again, this time for good.
I didn't bother with words. I walked straight up, grabbed him by the collar, and started dragging him toward the stairs. His protests were loud and immediate, echoing down the hall. We passed Rin, who raised an eyebrow but didn't intervene, and Sakura, whose eyes widened in horror.
I stopped just long enough to tell them that Shinji had tried to assault someone and I was going to have a word with him. Rin's expression shifted into something like approval — she already thought poorly of him, so this fit her view. Sakura stayed silent, and I knew why. If she mentioned the bruise, Rin would kill him on the spot.
Shinji kept yelling, his voice grating, until I turned and clamped a hand over his mouth. The muffled sound he made was almost comical. I laughed, low and sharp, and kept moving.
The roof door creaked as I opened it, shoving him through ahead of me. The chain‑link fence enclosed the space, the city stretching out beyond it. I activated my circuits without thinking, Structural Analysis running in the background as I reached for something I hadn't used yet — alteration. The door's structure shifted under my will, locking itself in a way no key could undo.
When I turned back, Shinji was scrambling backward, his hands slipping on the rough surface of the roof. His eyes darted to the fence, to the locked door, back to me.
I closed the distance in two strides, grabbed his shirt, and hauled him upright. My knee drove into his stomach with a satisfying thud, and he doubled over, retching. I stepped back quickly, letting him soil himself rather than me.
Disgust twisted my mouth, but I didn't stop. A subtle alteration to the fence behind him snagged his clothes, pinning him in place. To him, it would look like bad luck.
With him secured, I deactivated my circuits. No magecraft now — just me, my fists, and weeks of pent‑up frustration. I hit him again and again, careful to keep the blows in places that wouldn't break bones or leave obvious marks. I wanted him to feel it, not flaunt it to the school nurse.
It was almost meditative, in a way. Each punch was a release, each grunt from him a reminder that I was in control here. I thought about the bruise on Sakura's neck, about the smug way he'd ignored me in the clubroom, about every slimy thing I knew he'd done or would do if left unchecked.
He thought this was about the assault accusation I'd thrown out as cover. Let him think that. If I mentioned Sakura, he'd only take it out on her later. I'd read enough fanfiction to know that much.
After what felt like half an hour, I stepped back, breathing hard. Shinji hung limply from the fence, his head down, his breath ragged. I let him stay there, catching my own breath, the adrenaline slowly ebbing.
The bell rang, sharp and distant. Lunch was over. Time to get back before Taiga noticed I was missing. I altered the door back to its original state, the metal shifting under my touch, and slipped inside.
Calabria played in my head as I slid down the stairwell railing, passing startled students who stepped back to avoid me. I landed lightly, straightened my uniform, and walked the rest of the way to class as if nothing had happened.
The head of the classroom gave me a disapproving look when I entered, but I just winked. Their expression faltered, and I took my seat, letting my face settle into a mask of studious focus.
Taiga arrived, and we stood to greet her before sitting again. The rest of the day passed in a blur of lessons. I used Shirou's memories to keep pace, answering questions when called on, blending in seamlessly.
When the final bell rang, I was halfway to the door when Issei stopped me. "Want to hang out Sunday?" he asked. I smiled and said I'd be down.
At the entrance, I spotted Sakura and called out to her. We walked together, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. She brought up my "escapade" with Shinji, her tone carefully neutral. I told her I'd lectured him, then we'd "played around" to blow off steam.
She seemed surprised that Shinji had listened to me, though she hid it well. Unlike Shirou, I noticed. I didn't call her out — just said that Shinji was still my friend, so my words must have meant something.
She nodded, then mentioned her grandfather wanted her home tonight. I agreed, saying the mansion creeped me out anyway. We parted ways with polite farewells.
That left me with Taiga for the evening. I smiled to myself, already thinking about what to make for dinner. Something hearty, maybe. Something that would keep my hands busy and my mind from replaying the look on Shinji's face when my knee connected.
Because as much as I told myself it was justice, part of me knew I'd enjoyed it. And that was something I'd have to think about — later.