That morning, the sky above Marry Academy stretched in a pale shade of blue, streaked with thin clouds drifting slowly. The school building stood tall with its classical architecture—grand pillars, wide glass windows, and a front courtyard bustling with students clad in the academy's distinctive uniforms of varied colors.
Kaito stood at the gate, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze sweeping across the imposing structure.
❝Huh… this is my first time setting foot here. The building looks neat enough, but… why does it give me the feeling of a labyrinth?❞ he thought uneasily.
His steps carried him through the courtyard until he noticed a student seated on a bench, head lowered, fully absorbed in a phone. Her fingers flew rapidly across the screen, her expression shifting between annoyance and bursts of laughter.
"Excuse me," Kaito leaned slightly forward. "Do you know where the training room is around here?"
The student glanced up. She wore an oversized purple hoodie with a glitch pattern, a short black skirt with gray leggings, sneakers scribbled over with colorful doodles, and a large purple-black headset around her neck. A pixel-cat keychain dangled from her hoodie, and the phone in her hand was still open to a screen filled with bold owo-commands.
"The training room? Oh, that's easy, bro." She stood and pointed her thumb toward a white-painted side building with a green roof. "Head straight that way, then turn left. You'll see a big bunker-like door. That's the place."
"Thanks a lot." Kaito nodded. He glanced at her phone briefly, then asked, "By the way, what's your name?"
The girl smiled and patted her chest proudly. "Name's Nalia. Grade 10. My signature weapon—UZI."
Kaito returned the smile. "Kaito. I'm the Flying Teacher… currently taking over for Teacher Alke."
In an instant, Nalia's expression froze, her eyes widening. "WHAA!? So it's really true? You're the Flying Teacher? I thought that was just a myth! I figured you were just some transfer kid!"
Kaito rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Heh, yeah… I get mistaken for a student often. But, well… I am the teacher."
"No way… no way!" Nalia stepped closer, her eyes sparkling like a fangirl meeting her idol. "teacher Kaito, can I get a selfie with you? Seriously, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance!"
Kaito could only sigh but gave a faint smile. "Alright, quick, before anyone sees."
Beaming, Nalia raised her phone, adjusted the angle, and snapped a selfie with Kaito. Click! The photo saved instantly, and she rushed to check it.
"Whoa, this is awesome! You look more like a cool high schooler than a teacher. This is going viral—I'm posting it right now!"
"Wait, don't—" Kaito tried to stop her, but she had already hit the upload button.
"Done. It's up on social media!" Nalia chuckled proudly.
Kaito covered his face with his hand. ❝Hhh… I'm doomed. Mila will definitely see this post.❞
Meanwhile, Nalia whistled cheerfully, leaning back against the bench as she admired her screen with a triumphant grin. "I can't believe it—I actually got a selfie with the Flying Teacher. People are gonna line up to hang out with me just to hear this story."
Kaito walked away, hands still buried in his pockets. ❝I really shouldn't have asked her. Now the entire student body of Akarius probably knows I'm here.❞
---
The corridor leading to Marry Academy's training room reeked faintly of metal, oil, and the muffled echoes of gunfire striking targets. Kaito pushed through the heavy steel door, which shut behind him with a metallic clank.
Inside, the vast chamber was divided into firing lanes, lit by harsh white neon lights that glared against polished floors marked with shooting lines.
In one corner, a student stood with an awkward expression, rubbing the back of his neck. An M16 rested on the table in front of him, though he seemed hesitant to touch it.
"Alps?" Kaito called as he approached.
The student turned quickly. His medium-length pink hair fell across his forehead, his round glasses slipping slightly down his nose, giving him the air of someone more suited to a lab than a battlefield.
"Yes, Flying Teacher?" Alps replied cautiously.
Kaito nodded with a gentle smile. "You're the one who sent me that message, right? Alright, let's begin. But remember—I'm not allowed to handle weapons directly. I'll supervise and give instructions."
Alps blinked in surprise. "Eh? Teacher can't touch weapons at all?"
"That's the rule." Kaito patted his shoulder with a sigh. He gazed at the wall briefly. ❝These hands have been accustomed to weapons since childhood…❞
Alps gave a meek nod. "Honestly… I feel awkward, Teacher. Since I entered this school, I've spent more time in the medical wing. I've become something like an impromptu doctor here."
"I see," Kaito replied with a faint smile. "So you've been handling bandages and medicine more than bullets, hm?"
Alps chuckled softly, though tension lingered on his face. "Exactly. Which is why… I'm terrible when it comes to shooting."
Just then, Kaito noticed another student lounging against the wall, casually munching chips from a crinkled packet. His old green bomber jacket hung loosely open, revealing a wrinkled black shirt underneath.
"Hey, you," Kaito called.
The student looked up mid-bite, crumbs still at his lips. "Huh? Me?" he muttered, surprised.
"Yes. What's your name?"
"Maxim. Grade 11. My weapon of choice—MP5." He gestured lazily at the submachine gun slung over his shoulder before digging back into his jacket pocket for more snacks.
"Good," Kaito nodded. "Show Alps how to handle a weapon properly."
Maxim swallowed, then stepped forward with an air of lazy confidence. "Alright. Watch closely, Alps. First—don't hold the gun like it's a cooking pot. Second, control your breathing. Third, don't panic when recoil makes the barrel climb."
He gripped his MP5 firmly, angled his stance, and pulled the trigger. Rat-tat-tat! Bullets streaked toward the target, striking dead center.
Alps swallowed nervously. "O-okay… let me try."
He mimicked Maxim's posture, but when he squeezed the trigger, his shots sprayed wildly, some nearly clipping the side wall.
"Hey, careful!" Maxim exclaimed, stepping back.
Kaito exhaled slowly, watching. "See? You're too tense. Your arms are stiff. Relax. Adjust your stance—feet apart. Don't stand like a statue."
Alps tried again, but his shots still strayed wide.
❝Hhh… this really reminds me of the past…❞ Kaito's gaze unfocused.
A memory surfaced: a ten-year-old boy in a military shooting range, his small frame straining against a rifle too heavy for his size. Beside him stood a stern-faced man with warm eyes, whom Kaito always called "Uncle."
"Come on, Kaito. Don't fear the weapon. You control the gun, not the other way around."
Bang! The child's bullet missed the target completely.
"Again!" the uncle's voice thundered.
The boy panted, cheeks flushed with shame. ❝Why can't I ever hit the mark?❞
Blinking back to the present, Kaito refocused. Alps was still trembling as he fired.
"Listen, Alps," Kaito said firmly but kindly. "Not everyone is born a sharpshooter. But anyone can learn. Concentrate. Feel your breathing. Don't let fear dictate your movements."
Alps inhaled deeply and tried once more. The shot wasn't perfect, but at least the bullet struck the target board, even if near the edge.
Maxim gave a low whistle. "Not bad. At least you're not shooting the wall anymore. Keep that up and we'll avoid fines from the Student Council President."
Alps smiled sheepishly. "I-I'll try harder."
Kaito crossed his arms, faintly smiling. ❝This child… he reminds me of myself. Fragile, clumsy, but still trying.❞
As gunfire dwindled, silence crept back into the room, broken only by the acrid sting of gunpowder.
"That's enough for today," Kaito finally declared, patting Alps' shoulder. "Push it too far and you'll only get worse."
Alps collapsed onto a nearby bench, panting and drenched in sweat. "I… I thought shooting was just about pulling the trigger… but it's exhausting."
"Of course." Maxim plopped beside him, already tearing open another snack—corn chips this time. "If it were that easy, everyone in this city would be a pro marksman." He crunched loudly, the sound echoing.
Kaito sat as well, stretching his legs. "Exactly. A weapon isn't just a tool. Mishandled, it harms others. That's why focus is everything."
Maxim smirked, crumbs clinging to his lips. "Teacher, you sound like a war veteran."
Kaito gave him a flat look. "…And if I said yes, would you believe me?"
Maxim froze, then chuckled. "Nah. You look way too young. Honestly, when I first saw you, I thought you were a transfer student."
Alps lifted his head, nodding nervously. "M-me too…"
Kaito groaned, covering his face with his hand. ❝Hhh… even the kid who nearly shot the wall thinks I look like a boy…❞
Maxim clapped his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, Teacher. That's actually a plus. Imagine—having a teacher who looks this young. The other classes would be jealous."
Kaito side-eyed him wearily. "…If youth only earns me constant underestimation, it's more curse than blessing."
Maxim burst out laughing, nearly choking until he swigged from his water bottle.
Meanwhile, Alps lowered his gaze. "Teacher… thank you for training me. I know I'm different from the others. They probably see me as odd, always in the infirmary instead of the field."
Kaito studied him seriously. "Alps, never belittle your role. A doctor isn't 'lesser' than a fighter. In fact, without doctors, fighters wouldn't last long."
Alps' eyes glistened slightly as he looked up.
❝This Teacher… he's different. He doesn't just teach shooting—he teaches how to see yourself.❞
Maxim interjected, cheeks bulging with chips. "Yeah, exactly. Doctors matter. If I collapsed mid-snack, who else would save me but a doctor?"
Alps blinked. "Collapsed… while eating? How does that even happen?"
Maxim grinned. "Hey, I almost choked on chips just now, didn't I?"
Kaito shut his eyes briefly and muttered, "Why am I always surrounded by absurd people…?"
The room soon filled with light laughter from Alps and Maxim. Kaito leaned back against the bench, staring up at the stark white ceiling of the training hall.
❝These kids… they're growing up in a world where weapons are ordinary. Yet they can still laugh, joke, and just be themselves. I… must protect them, no matter what.❞