PREVIOUSLY ON CLASS 24
The arena shook with fire and silver as Nesshou and Tensei clashed before the eyes of the entire class. Every strike shattered stone, every movement too fast to follow. It was not a duel between students, but a battle of monsters.
When their storm threatened to consume the training ground, Daichi intervened — pinning them both to the earth with sheer force. His voice was iron as he reminded Nesshou of the trust he had once begged for in the dungeon.
The fight ended, but the air was left in ruins. Tensei walked away with a smirk, the crowd buzzing in awe and fear.
And in the silence of broken stone, another voice cut through. Ibuki stepped out of the shadows, his grin sharp, his eyes locked on Nesshou.
"You've gotten stronger, Flames… Stronger than me, I suppose."
The words lingered like a challenge — and a warning of what was yet to come.
The arena lay cracked and silent, dust drifting like smoke in fading light. Nesshou stayed kneeling, breath heavy, Daichi's words still burning inside him.
Then—footsteps. Slow. Confident.
From the shadows at the far edge of the training ground, Ibuki stepped forward. Hands buried in his pockets, grin sharp against the dim glow.
Ibuki (cool, calm):
"You've gotten stronger, Flames."
Nesshou's head jerked up, eyes locking on him.
Ibuki (tilting his head, steady):
"Stronger than me… I suppose."
The words lingered, heavy, sharp as a blade suspended mid-air. Nesshou didn't answer. He just clenched his fists tighter, chest still rising and falling.
Ibuki chuckled low, circling closer.
Ibuki (mocking, teasing):
"Silent, huh? Figures. Guess you lost the habit of talking… down there."
His grin widened, voice turning crueler.
Ibuki:
"How was it in the cell, Flames? Dark enough? Cold enough? Did you make some friends? Mice, maybe? Little squeaky things to keep you company?"
He leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough to cut through the silence.
Ibuki:
"Or did you eat them when the hunger got too much?"
Nesshou's jaw tightened. No answer.
Ibuki laughed softly, circling like a predator with words as his claws.
Ibuki:
"And the guards—did they treat you nice? Slip you scraps like a dog? Or just kick you around for fun, to remind you what you really are?"
He stopped in front of Nesshou, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
Ibuki (lower, cutting deeper):
"Tell me, Flames… which was worse? The dungeon chains… or the way everyone looks at you now?"
The words hung heavy in the ruined air. Silence pressed close.
Nesshou's shoulders trembled, the fire inside him straining against the walls of his silence.
Nesshou's fists trembled, the fire in his chest rising hot, his breath sharper with every second. His eyes burned as the silence cracked under Ibuki's smirk. He was one heartbeat away from exploding—
When a voice cut through.
Kurai (firm, stepping in):
"Ibuki. What do you think you're doing?"
The grin slid across Ibuki's face like he'd been waiting for the interruption. He turned lazily toward Kurai, shrugging with exaggerated innocence.
Ibuki (mocking, casual):
"Relax. I'm just chatting with a friend. Right, Flames?"
He glanced back at Nesshou, eyes glinting, daring him to speak. But Nesshou's silence only deepened, the flames flickering faintly around his fists.
Kurai stepped closer, her expression tight with anger, but her voice softened when she looked at Nesshou.
Kurai (quiet, apologetic):
"…I'm sorry. On his behalf. You don't deserve that."
She grabbed Ibuki's sleeve, tugging hard.
Kurai (to Ibuki, stern):
"Enough. Let's go."
Ibuki let her pull him a few steps, hands still in his pockets, grin never fading. Just before they disappeared through the broken arch of the training ground, he glanced back over his shoulder—voice sharp, carrying like a brand.
Ibuki (calling back, smirking):
"Your fire can't be quenched, Nesshou… so don't bother trying to hide it."
The words lingered long after their footsteps faded, sinking into the fractured silence like sparks waiting to ignite
The last echo of Ibuki's words still clung to the shattered arena, but beyond the ruined stone, the night stretched on.
Moonlight slipped through the cabin window. Tensei sat on his bed, elbows on his knees, eyes lost in thought.
Tensei (low):
"…That fight. He wasn't even using everything."
He ran a hand through his silver hair, scoffing under his breath.
Tensei:
"And still… I was struggling. If Daichi hadn't stepped in… I'd have been finished."
His jaw tightened, remembering the moment Daichi slammed them both into the ground.
Tensei (frowning):
"…But why only hold him down? I was the one who started it. I pushed first. And yet… he's the one treated like a monster."
Silence lingered. His eyes narrowed.
Tensei (quieter):
"He's going through worse than I ever had to. That much is clear."
A smirk tugged faintly at his lips, but his gaze stayed sharp.
Tensei (low, certain):
"Nesshou Genta… I want to see how far you can really go."
The night deepened. Somewhere above, the academy lights flickered out one by one, but down below, in the cold belly of stone, Nesshou's world hadn't changed.
The dungeon was still his room. A slab of rock for a bed, iron chains clinking faintly whenever he shifted, the damp smell of walls that had never seen sunlight. His flames dimmed to nothing here, leaving only the sound of his breathing and the echo of Ibuki's words turning over in his mind.
He lay staring at the ceiling, fists tight against his chest. Silence pressed close, thicker than the dark.
The iron door creaked. Slow. Careful. Heavy boots struck the floor with measured weight.
Daichi.
His armor caught the faint torchlight as he stepped in, the shadows stretching long behind him. He didn't speak at first, just stood there, watching Nesshou in the dimness. Finally, his voice broke the silence — lower, softer than before.
Daichi (quiet, steady):
"…I was harsh earlier."
Nesshou didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, breathing slow, almost deliberate.
Daichi exhaled, his tone carrying something Nesshou hadn't heard before — regret.
Daichi:
"I put too much on you. Spoke like you were nothing but a burden chained to me. That wasn't fair."
The words hung in the cold air. Nesshou blinked once, slowly, but said nothing.
Daichi took another step closer, the clink of his armor breaking the quiet.
Daichi (lower):
"I know what you've been through here. Nights with no end. Days where silence is your only company. I was there when they decided you belonged in chains instead of a classroom. I didn't stop them."
He paused, jaw tight, eyes narrowing as if the admission hurt.
Daichi:
"You asked me once to believe in you. I did. But today, I spoke like I never did. Like I'd already given up on you."
Still, Nesshou said nothing. His body remained still, only the faint rise and fall of his chest betraying he was listening.
Daichi's fists clenched at his sides. He dropped his head, voice carrying the weight of steel cracking just slightly.
Daichi (firm, yet soft):
"…You're not a curse, Nesshou. Not to me. Not anymore."
The dungeon swallowed the words whole. The boy on the slab didn't turn, didn't answer, didn't even breathe any faster. Only silence stretched between them, thicker than chains, heavier than flame.
At last, Daichi sighed, his cape brushing the stone as he turned toward the door. His boots echoed with each step, the sound receding into the shadows.
He stopped at the doorway, looking back one last time.
Daichi (low):
"Even if you hate me for it… I'll keep standing for you."
The door shut with a dull thud, the lock sliding into place. The torchlight flickered once, then dimmed.
And Nesshou? He stayed on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, lips pressed tight. The fire inside him roared, but outwardly he was silent, unmovable — as if silence itself was his last defense.
The morning sun poured into Class 24, the air alive with chatter and leftover energy from the night before. Students leaned across desks, trading whispers about fights, rivalries, and rumors that still clung to them like smoke.
Then the door creaked open.
Kenzo strolled in — not with military precision, but with a bounce in his step, like he owned the room and knew it. He clapped his hands together, a wide grin stretching across his face.
Kenzo (cheerful, sing-song):
"Good morning, my little disasters!"
The room groaned in unison, a few chuckles slipping out despite themselves. Kenzo wagged a finger playfully.
Kenzo (mock serious):
"Ah-ah, don't give me that look. You should be smiling! Because…"
He spun on his heel, stretching his arms wide as if unveiling a grand performance.
Kenzo (dramatic, loud):
"…I come bearing news! Big, terrifying, wonderful news!"
The class leaned forward, curiosity hooked. Kenzo let the pause drag just long enough, then smirked.
Kenzo (childish excitement):
"In one week, you get to do something truly special. Something that will show me, the academy, and yourselves just how much you've grown since you crawled in here half-baked."
He clapped again, eyes sparkling.
Kenzo:
"A Power Test! A trial! A glorious chance to shine… or to burn out spectacularly."
Gasps and murmurs erupted instantly — some thrilled, others nervous, all caught in his whirlwind delivery. Kenzo grinned wider, clearly enjoying the reaction.
But as he let his eyes sweep across the desks, his smile thinned. He stopped, tapping his chin dramatically.
Kenzo (mock confusion):
"…Hmm. Wait. Something's off. Where's our little silver spark? Where's Tensei?"
The room went quiet. Students glanced around, whispers rising again — uncertain this time. No one raised a hand. No one had seen him.
Kenzo's grin lingered, but a sharper edge crept into his tone.
Kenzo (still playful, but firmer):
"Oh? Missing already? My, my. Does he think that just because he's the son of the Chairman, he gets a free pass?"
A ripple went through the class. Some students chuckled nervously, others glanced at the empty seat, the weight of Kenzo's words sinking in. He let the silence hang for a beat, then clapped his hands once, sharp enough to make a few jump.
Kenzo (grinning):
"Well! If the mountain won't come to class, the class will send climbers to the mountain."
His gaze swept the room like a spotlight before landing on two boys.
Kenzo (pointing with mock drama):
"You two. Go fetch our runaway star. Tell him the show doesn't start until he arrives — and that I'll be very, very cross if he keeps me waiting."
His grin widened, but his eyes stayed serious, leaving no doubt that beneath the playful tone lay an order, not a joke.
The two boys left the class.
The walk across the academy grounds was quiet. Riku kept his hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the path ahead, while Takeru muttered under his breath about Kenzo's timing. The tension of carrying a teacher's order weighed on them both, but neither complained out loud.
At last, they reached the cabin. Light seeped faintly through the window, but the door stood half-shut. Riku knocked once, firm but polite.
Riku (calling in):
"Tensei. We're coming in."
The door creaked open, revealing the silver-haired boy sprawled across his bed, one arm folded behind his head, the other draped lazily across his chest. His eyes flicked toward them once, then away, as though they were nothing more than a passing breeze.
Takeru (straightforward, crossing his arms):
"Kenzo's been waiting for you. Class has already started. Get up — we're taking you back."
Tensei gave a soft scoff, rolling slightly to his side.
Tensei (flat, dismissive):
"I'm not going back. Not anytime soon."
Riku's brow furrowed, his voice quieter but edged with firmness.
Riku:
"Tensei… this isn't a request. You know how Kenzo gets."
But Tensei only shut his eyes, exhaling slowly, like their words were nothing more than background noise.
Tensei (calm, tired):
"Let him wait. I need rest more than I need another lecture."
He shifted deeper into the bed, the morning light catching the faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Tensei:
"Tell Kenzo if he really wants me there… he can come drag me himself."
The silence that followed was heavier than storm, leaving Riku and Takeru standing frozen in the doorway, caught between their teacher's orders and Tensei's defiance.
Time flew away, and Riku and Takeru were still in Tensei Cabin
Tensei:
"You guys can leave, no one is holding you back, and if you feel you can move me from where I lay. Try it then"
Before anything else Tensei covered his face with his pillow.
Riku:
Takeru what do we do, we can't go back empty handed or we would have to face Master Kenzo
Takeru:
And we can't force Tensei, we all witnessed how strong he is, the flame boy was practically struggling to keep up with him.
Tensei who laid on his bed, eyes covered was carefully listening to their discussion. His thoughts portrayed
"What do they know, they were only observers, My strength is no where reach his level, That's why I remain here, can't be outshined by a nobody".
The thought tightened his chest, but he said nothing more. The cabin hung heavy in silence.
Meanwhile, back in Class 24, the mood was far less still.
Kenzo leaned against the teacher's desk, twirling a piece of chalk like a dagger between his fingers. His eyes flicked toward the door again, grin thinning.
Kenzo (mock impatience, sing-song):
"Tick-tock, tick-tock… my little errand boys should've been back ages ago. Unless Tensei decided to braid their hair before class."
A few chuckles broke out, but no one laughed too loud. Beneath the playful tone, everyone could sense Kenzo's irritation mounting.
He pushed off the desk with a sigh, brushing imaginary dust from his coat as he started for the door.
Kenzo (grinning, but sharper):
"Well then, if they won't bring him back, I suppose I'll just—"
A voice drifted lazily from the back.
Ibuki (calm, almost amused):
"Let me. I'll take care of it."
Heads turned. The room went still. Everyone knew what Ibuki "taking care of it" looked like.
Kenzo stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing as his grin froze. Slowly, he swiveled to face Ibuki, sizing him up like a chess piece that might bite.
Kenzo (mock cheer, edged):
"Oh-ho, noble offer! But forgive me if I don't trust you not to return with three bodies instead of one."
Ibuki's smirk widened, unbothered.
Ibuki (low, teasing):
"Then choose someone else. Unless you'd rather waste time yourself."
Kenzo clicked his tongue, gaze flicking across the room before his eyes landed on two particular faces. A mischievous spark lit his grin again.
Kenzo (clapping once, loud):
"Perfect! Nesshou! Kurai! You two will fetch our runaway star."
The class murmured instantly. Nesshou stiffened, eyes narrowing, while Kurai glanced sideways at him, conflicted.
Kurai (uncertain):
"…Us?"
Kenzo (beaming, dramatic):
"Yes, yes, the firebrand and the voice of reason. Balanced, bring me back the silver spark, and do try not to burn the academy down along the way."
His playful tone lingered, but the steel in his eyes made it clear — it wasn't a request.
The door closed behind them, shutting out the noise of Class 24.
Nesshou and Kurai walked side by side, their steps slow, the air outside biting cold against their skin. The academy grounds felt emptier than usual, shadows stretching longer in the morning light.
Kurai kept her arms folded, her gaze fixed on the path. A faint shiver ran through her, though she wasn't sure if it was from the chill or the weight of what they'd been asked to do.
Neither of them spoke. Nesshou's silence was heavy, unbroken, flames faintly flickering at his knuckles before fading back into nothing.
It stayed that way until the looming shape of the boys' quarters came into view. The cabin doors lined up ahead, quiet, still — one of them cracked open just slightly.
Kurai finally exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kurai (low, uncertain):
"…This doesn't feel right."
Kurai's steps slowed as they neared the boys' quarters. Her mind churned.
Why Nesshou?
Kenzo had seen the clash between him and Tensei — every strike, every fracture in the arena floor. Sending him now… it couldn't just be about fetching a student. Was Kenzo testing them? Or was this something else entirely?
Her brows tightened. The thought pressed harder the closer they came to the door left half-open.
She glanced at Nesshou, his face set, unreadable, flames hidden beneath that steady silence. For a moment she bit her lip, then finally spoke.
Kurai (quiet, careful):
"Nesshou… could you wait here? Let me go in. I'll bring Tensei… and the others out."
No reply came. Nesshou didn't look at her, didn't move. He just stood firm at the doorway, his presence heavy and unmoving as stone.
Kurai hesitated once more, then pushed the door open and stepped inside, leaving him posted like a sentinel in the cold air outside.
Inside the boys' quarters, Riku and Takeru lingered stiffly near the door, still trapped by Kenzo's order. Tensei sprawled lazily on his bed, silver hair tumbling across his eyes, a faint grin carved into his face. When Kurai stepped in, that grin only grew wider.
Kurai (gentle, steady):
"Tensei… you need to come back. Kenzo's waiting, and you know what he's like when people waste his time. Please—don't make this worse."
Tensei stretched with a lazy yawn, one arm behind his head, the other draped across his chest. His gaze slid slowly over her, deliberate, sharp.
Tensei (smirking):
"…Well, well. Look who came to fetch me herself. Did you miss me that badly, Kurai?"
She frowned but pressed on, keeping her tone calm.
Kurai:
"I'm not here for games. Just stand up and come with us. Everyone's already talking."
Tensei (mock wounded):
"Talking? About me? Or about you coming all the way here just to see me?"
Kurai's brows furrowed.
Kurai:
"…Don't twist this. I came because Kenzo sent me."
Tensei chuckled low, pushing himself upright on one elbow, his grin widening.
Tensei (teasing):
"Kenzo sent you? Figures. He knows I wouldn't budge for anyone else. Guess he thought—send the prettiest girl in class, and maybe I'll listen."
Kurai's cheeks warmed despite herself. She crossed her arms, glaring.
Kurai (firm):
"This isn't about looks. This is about respect. Now get up."
Tensei (leaning forward, playful):
"Respect, huh? Then say it nicely. Tell me you need me, Kurai… just once. Who knows, I might follow you anywhere if you do."
Riku shifted uncomfortably, muttering under his breath. Takeru looked away with a half-smirk, enjoying the show.
Kurai clenched her fists, struggling to hold her ground.
Kurai (tight voice):
"Stop playing around."
Tensei tilted his head, eyes gleaming, voice dropping softer.
Tensei (mock sincere):
"…Or maybe you're not playing either. Maybe you really don't want me to leave this room."
The words lingered in the heavy air, his grin daring her to break.
Tensei rose from the bed in one smooth motion, that sly grin never leaving his face. His steps were unhurried, deliberate, the air between them tightening with each one.
Kurai's back stiffened as he stopped just in front of her. He lifted a hand, fingers brushing the air, reaching toward the loose strands of her hair.
Before he could touch her, a firm grip locked around his wrist.
Nesshou.
Nesshou (low, sharp):
"Quit playing around, Tensei. Get your ass to class. Now."
The grin slipped from Tensei's lips. His gaze flicked down to the hand holding his, then back up at Nesshou, sharp and offended. With a forceful tug, he yanked his hand free.
Tensei (cold, biting):
"…And what are you doing here?"
Nesshou didn't answer right away. His eyes lingered on him for a moment, unreadable, then he turned toward the door.
Nesshou (flat, walking away):
"I really don't know."
The room stayed still in the wake of his words.
Riku blinked hard, his mouth half-open, as though caught between stepping forward or staying rooted to the floor. Takeru muttered a low whistle, smirking nervously, the tension too heavy to ignore.
Kurai stood frozen, her breath caught, her heart pounding from the near-touch that never came. Her eyes followed Nesshou as he left, a swirl of confusion and relief tightening in her chest.
And Tensei? His jaw clenched, that playful grin long gone. His silver gaze lingered on the doorway where Nesshou had disappeared, sharp as steel — less amusement now, more challenge.
For a moment, the room was thick with silence after Nesshou's words. The silver-haired boy stood still, his expression unreadable.
Then, without warning, Tensei bent down, grabbed his jacket from the chair, and slung it over his shoulder. His movements were sharp, decisive — nothing like the lazy refusal from earlier.
Riku's eyes widened.
Riku (stunned):
"Wait—you're… coming?"
Takeru blinked, scratching the back of his head with a nervous laugh.
Takeru:
"Just like that? He was ready to fight us a second ago…"
Tensei didn't answer them. He walked straight past Kurai, his boots striking the floor with measured steps, heading for the door.
Kurai's breath caught. Her thoughts churned, sharp and sudden.
So that's why Kenzo sent him.
Not to fetch Tensei… but because only Nesshou could move him.
Her gaze shifted, following Nesshou's back as he stepped out first. His presence was quiet, steady, unshakable — a fire that didn't need to roar to make itself known.
Something tugged faintly at her chest, an unfamiliar weight pressing just enough to make her uneasy.
Why does it always come back to him?
Why… him?
She shook her head, forcing the thought away, but her eyes lingered on him a moment too long before Tensei's voice broke through.
Tensei paused at the doorway, his silver gaze flicking once at Kurai, then toward the path ahead where Nesshou was already walking.
The smirk returned, faint but dangerous.
Tensei (low, to himself):
"…Interesting."
And with that, he followed.
Kurai stood in the cabin doorway, caught between the fading echoes of their steps. Her heart beat faster than she liked to admit, and no amount of steady breathing eased it.
This is trouble, she thought, her lips tightening. Because if I'm not careful… it won't be Tensei I'm worrying about.
NESSGEEORIGINAL