Jay's POV:
The restroom door opened with a sound that felt louder than it should have been.
I stepped out first.
Big mistake.
Michael was standing right in front of us.
Not alone.
Not with two or three people.
There were more than ten boys, spread out like they had rehearsed this moment—some blocking the hallway, some near the staircase, two leaning casually against the wall like this was entertainment.
My stomach dropped so hard it felt like gravity had doubled.
I slowly clenched my fists
Me:
"So this is it? A whole army for two girls?"
Michael smirked, folding his arms slowly, confidently.
Michael:
"You should feel honored, Jay-jay.
Not everyone gets this much attention."
One of his friends laughed.
Another whistled.
Ellara stepped beside me, calm—too calm.
Me (low voice):
"Don't react."
Michael took one step closer.
Michael:
"You punched me earlier.
You embarrassed me."
I met his eyes without blinking.
Me:
"You embarrassed yourself by touching me.
Now move."
His smile faded.
Michael:
"You don't get to give orders here."
Before I could say anything else, Ellara leaned slightly toward me, her voice barely audible but steady.
Ellara (whispering):
"Backside of the building.
Ground floor.
If we run now, it's the only open exit."
I swallowed.
My heartbeat was loud in my ears.
Me (whispering back):
"They'll chase."
Ellara:
"Then we don't stop."
Michael noticed the shift.
Michael:
"Planning another escape?"
I looked at Ellara.
She nodded once.
That was enough.
We ran.
The sound behind us exploded—shoes hitting tiles, voices shouting, laughter turning sharp and cruel.
We sprinted down the corridor, turned the corner, took the stairs almost flying. My lungs burned. My legs screamed. Fear sharpened everything.
Almost—
A hand grabbed my arm.
I twisted hard, slamming my elbow backward, breaking free—but Ellara was pulled back.
I turned.
We were surrounded again.
Backside of the building.
Open space.
No exit.
Michael stepped forward, breathing heavily, eyes shining with victory.
Michael:
"Running suits you.
You look desperate."
Ellara stepped in front of me.
Not hiding me.
Guarding me.
Ellara:
"Let her go.
This ends now."
Michael laughed loudly.
Michael:
"And if I don't?"
Ellara didn't answer.
She didn't threaten.
She didn't move.
And that hesitation—that underestimation—was their mistake.
Two boys rushed me at once.
I didn't think.
I reacted.
I ducked the first punch, slammed my fist into his ribs, felt the impact vibrate up my arm. The second grabbed my shoulder—I twisted, drove my knee into his thigh, and shoved him back.
Adrenaline took over.
But they kept coming.
Hands grabbing.
Bodies pressing.
Noise everywhere.
I felt myself losing balance.
Then—
One of them grabbed me wrong.
Too close.
Too invasive.
My vision went red.
Before I could strike—
Ellara moved.
And it was like watching a switch flip.
She stepped into the nearest boy's space, grabbed his wrist, twisted it sharply downward. His body followed unwillingly—she used his momentum, slammed her elbow into his chest, then shoved him sideways into another attacker.
They crashed together.
From the boys' perspective, it didn't look wild.
It looked controlled.
Ellara kicked low—fast and precise—dropping one boy to his knees. She spun, grabbed another by the collar, pulled him forward, and slammed his head against the wall—not brutally, just enough to shut him down.
I snapped back into motion.
I punched.
Blocked.
Elbowed.
One boy tried to grab my hair—I yanked backward and drove my elbow into his face.
Ellara moved like she could see everything at once.
She sidestepped swings, redirected force, used their numbers against them.
One boy charged her—she shifted aside, swept his legs cleanly, and he hit the ground hard.
Another tried from behind—she spun, punched upward, then downward, ending it.
From their perspective, it wasn't two girls fighting.
It was two fighters dismantling chaos.
Silence slowly replaced noise.
Bodies lay scattered.
Groans.
Heavy breathing.
I stood there shaking, fists clenched, chest rising and falling.
Ellara straightened beside me.
Uninjured.
Unbroken.
Michael was on the ground, staring at us like he had just woken up from a nightmare.Something was wrong.
Keifer 's POV:
I didn't know how I knew—it wasn't logic, it wasn't instinct sharpened by fights or chaos—it was that quiet, sinking feeling in my chest that told me Jay-jay was somewhere she shouldn't be, dealing with something she shouldn't be dealing with alone.
Her seat beside mine stayed empty.
One minute passed.
Then two.
Then five.
The classroom noise blurred into nothing, words from the teacher floating past my ears without landing anywhere meaningful. I kept glancing at the door, then at the clock, then back at the door again like staring hard enough would summon her.
It didn't.
Yuri leaned back in his chair, nudging my foot under the desk.
Yuri:
"Relax, Watson. She's probably picking a fight with the universe."
I didn't smile.
Because Jay never disappeared this long without warning.
Then the door creaked open.
Civen stepped in, eyes darting around nervously, like he'd just remembered something important way too late.
I stood up immediately.
The chair scraped loudly, cutting through the room.
Me:
"Cien. Where's Jay."
He flinched.
Actually flinched.
Cien:
"I—I saw her. And Ellara. Near the restroom.
Michael was there.
They were arguing.
Then… they ran. Toward the back of the building."
The word Michael hit like a punch to the ribs.
I didn't ask questions.
Didn't wait.
I just turned.
Me:
"Section E. Move."
No one hesitated.
We were already halfway down the corridor before the teacher could shout after us.
We split up instinctively—hallways, staircases, exits—calling Jay's name, checking corners, scanning blind spots behind the school where fights always happened because adults never bothered to look there.
Too many minutes passed.
Too many.
My jaw clenched harder with every second.
Then Aries froze mid-step.
He lifted a hand.
Aries (low):
"Wait."
We heard it then.
Not shouting.
Not screaming.
The sound of bodies hitting concrete.
We moved slowly, cautiously now, approaching the back side of the building where the ground dipped lower and the walls blocked sight from the main campus.
And then—
We saw them.
Jay-jay was fighting.
Not wildly.
Not blindly.
She moved like controlled chaos—ducking under a punch, driving her elbow into a rib, twisting away just before another boy could grab her hair. Her breathing was sharp, focused, her face hard with concentration, like pain was just another obstacle to step around.
Two boys rushed her at once.
She dropped one with a knee to the stomach.
The other caught her shoulder.
I took a step forward—
Then stopped.
Because Ellara moved.
Up until that moment, she had been standing slightly behind Jay, silent, watching, calculating.
And then she stepped in.
Not panicked.
Not rushed.
She intercepted a boy mid-swing, caught his wrist, twisted it just enough to make him scream, then drove her heel into the side of his knee with terrifying precision.
He collapsed.
Felix inhaled sharply beside me.
Felix:
"…No way."
Ellara didn't stop.
Another boy lunged toward Jay from the side—too close, too aggressive, hands reaching where they shouldn't.
Ellara reacted instantly.
She grabbed his collar, yanked him backward, and slammed her forehead into his nose so hard I heard the crack from where we stood.
Blood sprayed.
He dropped.
Jay staggered slightly then, breathing heavy, knuckles bruised, clearly reaching her limit.
Ellara positioned herself in front of her.
Protective.
Grounded.
Like she'd decided, Enough.
What happened next burned itself into my memory.
Ellara didn't fight like someone desperate.
She fought like someone trained.
Every punch had intention.
Every kick had placement.
She swept one boy's legs out from under him, stomped down just beside his head—close enough to warn, not kill—then turned and blocked another attacker with her forearm, countering with a sharp strike to the throat that dropped him instantly.
Yuri whispered under his breath.
Yuri:
"She's… ending this."
Jay found her rhythm again, backing Ellara up, the two of them moving together now—covering blind spots, rotating, never leaving each other exposed.
Not helpless.
Not scared.
Powerful.
By the time we stepped forward, half the boys were already on the ground.
Michael was sitting against the wall, staring at them like he was watching something unreal.
The last boy tried to run.
Ellara grabbed him by the back of the shirt and threw him forward—hard.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Thick.
Jay's chest rose and fell rapidly.
Ellara straightened, brushing dust from her sleeve like this was just another inconvenience.
None of us spoke.
Because none of us knew what to say.
Felix broke it first, voice quieter than I'd ever heard it.
Felix:
"…We thought she was weak."
That word felt wrong now.
Embarrassing.
Aries crouched, checking pulses.
Aries:
"All alive.
All knocked out."
Yuri's eyes never left Ellara.
Mayo:
"You hid this."
Ellara looked at him calmly.
Ellara:
"You never asked."
I finally stepped forward and hugged jay.
She looked at me, trying to joke, trying to act like her hands weren't shaking slightly now that the adrenaline was fading.
Jay:
"Told you I'd be fine."
I exhaled hard.
Before we could ask anything elara's phone rang and she excuse us and sighed us to move to class.
And for the first time, I realized something important.
Ellara wasn't someone who needed protection.
She was someone we needed to respect.
And Section E would never look at her the same way again.