The classroom door slid open with a sharp clack, cutting through the low hum of morning chatter.
Rin Kuga stepped inside, his expression unreadable as the morning's chaotic display finally fell behind him. He moved to his desk with a practiced, steady rhythm, sliding the strap of his bag onto the hook at the side of his chair. Before settling in, he let his gaze drift back—a brief, searching look toward the girl sitting directly behind him.
Utaha Kasumigaoka met his wine-red eyes for a fraction of a second. But instead of the sharp wit or playful jab he expected, she simply turned her head away, her chin tilted up as she fixed her focus on the scenery drifting past the window.
Rin didn't press her. He offered a faint shrug to the empty air and took his seat. Without a word of greeting or explanation, he folded his arms on the desk, buried his face in them, and let the world fade into the darkness of a morning nap.
Behind him, Utaha's composure fractured. She turned back, her teeth gritted as she stared at the back of Rin's head. Her pulse quickened with a mix of disbelief and mounting irritation. She had expected—perhaps even hoped—that he would offer a word of explanation for the circus on the sidewalk, or at least try to break the ice. Instead, he had looked at her as if she were a mere fixture of the room before immediately surrendering to sleep.
In another wing of the school, the atmosphere was just as heavy.
Sakura Yamauchi sat at her desk, her usual bright energy dimmed by a rare, nagging shadow of doubt. The morning had been a wake-up call. For the first time, she realized just how many brilliant girls were swirling around Rin Kuga. Between the poise of an international star like Mai Sakurajima and the rsharp intellect of Utaha Kasumigaoka, Sakura felt a sudden, uncharacteristic weight in her chest. They were more than just beautiful; they were formidable.
The carefree world she usually inhabited felt a little smaller, crowded by the realization that she wasn't the only one drawn to the King's orbit.
Chime. Chime. Chime.
The lunch bell rang out, its high-pitched tone pulling Rin from the depths of his rest. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes adjusting to the bright midday light pouring through the classroom windows.
Usually, this was the signal for a frantic rush—the sound of chairs scraping and students laughing as they scrambled for the cafeteria or unpacked their bento boxes. But today, the silence was unnatural. It was thick and heavy, punctuated only by a strange, low murmur and the frantic tapping of glass.
Rin's heightened senses caught the shift instantly. No one was moving toward the door. No one was eating. Instead, his classmates remained rooted in their seats, their faces illuminated by the pale blue glow of their smartphones.
"Is this real? Tell me this is just a movie leak," a girl whispered, her voice trembling.
"You can't fake a live stream like this," a boy replied, his thumb scrolling feverishly. "If this is real... nowhere is safe."
Rin's ears caught the fragments: Movie? Video? Danger?
The keywords sparked a memory of Tsukasa's warning. Before he could reach for his own phone, he felt a firm, familiar hand press against his shoulder.
"Rin."
He turned to find Utaha Kasumigaoka leaning toward him. Her face was pale, the usual mask of cynical indifference replaced by a rigid, focused seriousness. Without a word, she tapped her screen and held her phone—encased in its signature pink cover—directly in front of his face.
"Look at this," she said, her voice dropping to a low, urgent hum. "Something is happening to the city."
Rin took the phone, his thumb brushing the screen to play the clip. As the images flickered to life, his gaze sharpened, the warmth of the classroom replaced by a sudden, tectonic coldness in his soul.
The video was shaky, likely shot by a panicked bystander. It showed an arterial street in the heart of the city being swarmed. Not by a dozen monsters, but by an army. Countless figures—monstrous, chitinous, and terrifyingly organized—were tearing through the morning traffic, shattering glass and lunging at fleeing civilians with a coordinated, ruthless efficiency.
It wasn't just a random incursion of Gurongi. This was an invasion. The sheer number of combatants suggested that a full Shocker division had somehow bled into this reality overnight. On the forums, people were already arguing, dismissing it as a high-budget promotion or CGI, but Rin knew the truth.
The video ended, leaving a dark reflection on the screen. Rin's brow furrowed, his jaw setting in a hard line. This was far beyond the scale of anything he had anticipated.
"Tell me the truth, Rin," Utaha whispered, her eyes searching his, looking for a certainty only he could provide. "Is that video real? Is the city actually under attack?"
Rin handed the phone back, his movements slow and deliberate.