The gates of Kouryou Academy towered like a monument to defeat. The paint was peeling, and cracks in the outer walls had been hastily cemented over—a futile attempt to hide the traces of never-ending conflict.
An Ata stands across the street, taking a deep breath. The cold morning air causes a thin trail of smoke to escape from her lips. She glances up at the overcast sky, as if seeking answers to her own choices.
*High pay. Remote location. Graduation rate irrelevant.*
Those were the three main conditions when he applied for this job. He imagined a quiet rural school where he could spend a year in peace: reading books behind the teacher's desk, drinking hot tea in the afternoon, and returning home without any disturbances.
He never imagined that the "remote location" would turn out to be a cauldron where troubled students from across the prefecture were gathered.
As a transferred physics teacher, his job should have been easy. But at Kouryou, the most important law of physics was the law of the jungle.
"Good morning, An-sensei."
The greeting came from a muscular physical education teacher who passed by with a friendly smile. An Ata merely nodded briefly in response. He pulled his coat collar higher and walked toward the gate.
The stares from the students roaming the courtyard pierced like static electricity. Judgment, hostility, hunger—predators sizing up new prey.
An Ata ignored it all. He had perfected the art of becoming invisible. Slightly hunched back, blank stare, an aura of apathy so thick others hesitated to approach. Being boring was his best defense.
Classroom 11-Science 4 was the embodiment of the school's reputation. Cracked windows, scribbled desks, and its occupants resembled gang members more than students. As An Ata entered, the noise subsided. Not out of respect, but out of a predator's curiosity toward its new prey.
He placed his bag on the desk calmly. "My name is An Ata," he said flatly. "Starting today, I will be teaching you Physics. Don't cause trouble for me, and I won't cause trouble for you."
He sat down immediately, pulled out a plain-covered novel, and began reading. Or at least, pretended to read.
All his senses were on alert. He mapped out every individual in the room. A small group of leaders at the back. A few minor factions. And...
His eyes paused briefly on a girl near the window. Hinaori Yuki. Long black hair, neat uniform, and the only one who was actually opening her notebook.
A lily in the middle of a crocodile swamp.
She would be the source of trouble.
The thought flashed through his mind without emotion, a cold prediction based on experience.
The recess bell was a blessing. An Ata needed fresh air, away from the noise of the classroom and the smoke-filled teachers' lounge. The school roof was locked, so he chose an alternative route: the path behind the sports building, an area rarely used.
However, it seemed that peace and quiet were a rare commodity at Kouryou.
From behind the old warehouse wall, he heard the voice he had anticipated. A voice of arrogance and fear.
"We've been patient enough, Hinaori-chan," said Kenji, the loudmouth from his class. "Protection money. Now."
"Please... next week..." Hinaori whimpered softly.
"Next week it'll be double the price. Or..." Kenji laughed lowly. "You can pay with your body. We're not stingy."
An Ata stopped walking. Her back leaned against the cold wall. She closed her eyes.
Damn it. It's really happening.
Her internal monologue ran quickly, coldly, and efficiently.
Direct intervention = career suicide and peace of mind. Ignoring it = cheap drama that could escalate into shouting and attract attention. Inefficient.
A thin connection, like an invisible spider's thread, stretched from his mind. Crossing the schoolyard, toward the empty classroom in the old building—where one of his four 'insurance policies' was waiting.
Jin's asset. Standby mode.
An Ata doesn't need to speak. He just needs to want it.
Objective: behind the sports building.
Mission: neutralize three targets. Make them regret it.
Leave no traces.
The order was sent. An Ata felt a sharp pulse at his temple. The first payment for using that power.
---
Kenji's dirty hand reached out to grab Hinaori's collar. The girl closed her eyes, resigned.
But the grip never came.
A shadow flashed by. The next sound was a loud **CRACK!**
Kenji screamed in pain. His outstretched hand now hung at an unnatural angle—his wrist was broken.
In front of him stood a young man with silver hair, who had appeared out of nowhere.
"Kisaragi Jin," he muttered softly.
"Touching a girl with those dirty hands?" said Jin, his voice cold as ice. "How rude."
Kenji's two friends finally reacted. They charged from two directions. Jin remained silent, his violet eyes dancing calmly.
The first came from the right, swinging an iron pipe from behind his back. Jin didn't dodge. Instead, he stepped forward, into the swing. His body lowered, his shoulder colliding with the opponent's stomach, causing him to cough up blood.
While holding the body to prevent it from falling, Jin struck the jaw of the second attacker coming from the left with his elbow.
The sound of bones clashing echoed again. The second opponent was knocked back, his teeth flying everywhere.
Jin released the first attacker, who was already unconscious. Now only Kenji remained, holding his broken wrist, retreating in fear.
"Monster... You're a monster!" he screamed.
Jin approached, his steps calm and measured. He wanted to instill fear. He grabbed Kenji's hair, forcing him to look into his eyes.
"I'm not a monster," Jin whispered, a faint smile curving his lips. A smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm a transfer student who hates noise. And the three of you... are very noisy."
He slammed Kenji's head against the wall. Once. Twice. Until Kenji finally slumped to the ground, unconscious.
The fight was over. Less than thirty seconds. But it felt like an eternity to Hinaori, who was still clutching her notebook tremblingly.
Jin turned to her. The cold expression on his face vanished, replaced by a warm smile.
"Sorry for scaring you, Hinaori-san. Next time if they bother you, just call my name."
He glanced at the three bodies lying on the ground. "Trash."
After that, Kisaragi Jin walked away casually, as if he had just finished disposing of trash.
---
At his desk in the increasingly crowded teachers' lounge, An Ata placed his novel down. His head was pounding. Cold sweat drenched his temples. Exhaustion pierced his bones.
Damn it. The cost of peace of mind was proving to be quite high.
He stared out the window, toward the path behind the sports building. The scene replayed in his mind, not from his perspective, but through Kisaragi Jin's eyes. The dual experience always drained his mental energy.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. A message arrived from an unknown number.
> **[Jin Asset – Status: Standby]**
> **Mission complete. Physical integrity: 100%. Data synchronization complete.**
An Ata deleted the message without reading it all the way through. He already knew its contents. He knew everything.
He leaned his back against the chair, trying to steady his slightly labored breathing. This was only the first day. And one of his four avatars already had to work.
This was going to be an extremely, extremely troublesome school year.