No matter how strong children pretended to be, the brutal beating Daigo delivered to Rinsuke shook them all.
The courtyard fell silent in the aftermath—except for the low groans of the unconscious boy lying in the dirt, his face swollen and bloodied, his limbs twitching slightly.
A few of the female students fainted on the spot, faces pale, eyes wide. One clutched her mouth and collapsed with a whimper. Even the boys who mocked Daigo earlier turned away, several gagging at the sight. One nearly vomited, another covered his eyes.
The fear wasn't just in their faces. It had carved itself into their minds.
They had watched Rinsuke—one of the strongest among their year—get reduced to a broken mess. And the one who did it? The quiet, blank-eyed kid who never spoke, who never fought back before today.
Daigo.
The boy they'd called a freak.
The silence broke when Chūnin Instructor Kageyama stepped forward with a tense breath. He was a man hardened by battle and teaching, but even he narrowed his eyes at the extent of the damage. He glanced at the shivering children and made a decision.
"Class is dismissed," he said. His tone was gruff but not unkind. "It's almost evening. Go home.Daigo wait in the classroom. I'll handle the rest."
The children didn't need to be told twice. They scattered, avoiding Daigo's gaze like he was some kind of monster.
Two other instructors arrived shortly after, lifting Rinsuke carefully onto a stretcher and carrying him to the academy's medical center. Kageyama gave them a quick nod, then turned toward the building.
When he entered the classroom, he found Daigo sitting alone near the window, back straight, legs crossed in a meditative pose. His eyes were closed, breathing steady.
Kageyama coughed lightly to announce himself.
Daigo opened his eyes slowly and turned his head.
They stared at each other for a moment—Daigo's gaze calm, almost unnaturally so, like a mirror-smooth lake hiding something dark beneath the surface.
"You made use of excessive violence, Daigo," Kageyama said, folding his arms.
"Isn't violence normal in this world, sensei?" Daigo replied without hesitation. His voice was steady, but there was something hollow about it—like the weight of the day hadn't reached him yet.
Kageyama's brow furrowed slightly. "There's a difference between violence against enemies and violence against comrades. You had the intent to kill him."
"Yes, sensei." Daigo didn't flinch. His shoulders shook slightly, but his voice didn't waver. "The anger and rage of being bullied, insulted, mocked... That's all they ever gave me for being an orphan I simply returned it—with strength."
Tears slid quietly from his eyes.
Kageyama's arms dropped to his sides. He stepped forward and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Listen to me, Daigo," he said gently. "If you don't control your anger… your anger will control you. No matter what happens—don't lose yourself to it."
Daigo didn't reply.
Kageyama sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a wrapped piece of candy.
"Here. It's Friday. Go home, calm down. I'll see you Monday."
"...Yes, sensei."
Daigo took the candy with both hands and gave a small bow.
Kageyama watched him for a moment longer before turning and walking away, the door closing softly behind him.
The classroom was quiet again.
Daigo stood after a few moments and walked silently to the academy restroom. He turned on the cold water, letting it run over his hands, then splashed it over his face again and again.
When he looked up into the mirror, he stripped off his upper shirt. Faint bruises from earlier spars and training covered his small torso. He touched one with a wince.
His reflection stared back—dark hair stuck to his forehead, hollow eyes, pale skin. A boy.
But not really.
He stared deeper.
No matter the world… only strength matters.
His gaze turned colder.
That was the truth in the martial world. And here… it was no different.
He washed his face again and got dressed. Outside, the sun was already beginning to set behind the peaks surrounding the Hidden Stone.
He passed a dumpling stall on the way home and bought a small box for dinner. He didn't speak to the vendor, and the vendor didn't ask. Just another orphan in the village.
Daigo lived alone, sustained by the Iwagakure stipend for the War Orphans. No parents. No relatives. No one waiting for him at home.
He let himself into the quiet apartment. The light was dim. He placed the dumpling box on the table and sat down, staring at the food.
For a long while, he didn't move.
Then he began to eat slowly—quiet, calm, mechanical.
Just like everything else in this world.
End of Chapter