(Mr. Unagi's Perspective December 21st, 2026 | Morning | N.I.F.L Teacher's Lounge)
Coffee.
That cursed, beautiful, life-sustaining liquid. The only thing keeping this godforsaken school from collapsing into chaos—or at least keeping me from walking out and never looking back.
I slumped forward, head on the cold metal of the teacher's lounge table. The hum of tired conversation around me barely registered. The air was heavy with burnt-out sighs and the occasional complaint. It was another day at the **National Institute for Future Leaders**, or N.I.F.L as the brass liked to call it. But between the secret tests, emotional breakdowns, and students more dangerous than half the staff, I just called it what it was:
**A glorified war zone disguised as a school.**
And today?
The *coffee maker* was broken.
Of all the hells I've endured here—combat training incidents, psychological meltdowns, *that one time a student hacked into the grading system*—this... this was the one that finally broke me.
Across from me, Mr. Hoshikawa, the Class D homeroom teacher, looked suspiciously fresh-faced. Probably got his coffee before the machine died.
"Why are you so addicted to coffee, Mr. Unagi?" he asked, that condescending smirk on his face. "Don't you think it's unhealthy?"
I raised my head slightly, met his eyes with the deadest stare I could manage.
"You wanna know the reason I survived this job for so long?" I muttered. "*Coffee.* Without it? I'd have quit years ago. I assure you."
Hoshikawa chuckled but then turned toward the lounge's wide window overlooking the training fields.
"…Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" he asked.
I groaned. "What the hell are you talking ab—"
Then I followed his gaze.
My blood pressure spiked.
Out on the **east field**, where the smaller soccer pitch was tucked between the art building and the dormitories, there was a **crowd**. I'm not talking fifteen or twenty students cutting class. I mean **over a hundred**. Students, staff, faculty… like some impromptu tournament had just started.
And there, at the center, standing on either side of the field like gladiators?
**Ayame. And Reika.**
A soccer ball between them. Silent tension in the air.
No referees. No paperwork. No adult supervision.
"Yeah, hell no," I muttered, flopping my head back onto the table.
Hoshikawa raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you gonna do something?"
I didn't move. "Not until that coffee machine gets fixed."
"Fine. I'll buy you coffee at the store down the street if you come see what's going on."
I sighed, long and slow. That offer was too tempting.
"…You're paying?"
"Obviously."
"Alright. Lead the way, caffeine enabler."
We made our way down the stairs, and by the time we reached the lower level, the energy in the air had shifted. Even from a distance, I could *feel* the tension. The crowd was roaring. It felt like a championship final, not some rogue 1v1.
Then I heard a voice—sharp, clear, commanding.
**"KICK OFF!"**
Rika. The new girl. She blew a whistle and launched the ball into the center of the field like she owned the place.
**Ayame and Reika charged.**
Reika reached the ball first, taking it with aggression. Her footwork was sharp, predatory. The crowd exploded. Kids screamed. Phones came out. Even the janitor was filming.
"I personally think Reika's gonna win," I muttered, arms crossed.
Hoshikawa looked at me like I'd insulted his ancestors. "Don't you have any faith in your students?"
"Ayame's 5'6". Reika's 5'7", faster, stronger, and one of the top ten sprinters in the school. Plus, Ayame doesn't strike me as… *skilled.*"
"She's in the karate club," he said.
"Yeah, I heard. Brown belt. So what?"
He squinted. "Brown belt is *one step* below black."
"…Tch. Just watch the match."
Reika charged the net and tried to shoot right away—reckless. Predictable. She just wanted to score for the crowd.
Ayame didn't let her.
In one smooth motion, she stole the ball, spun on her heel, and took off across the field. The girl was fast—faster than I remembered. She went for the shot.
But Reika, like a wolf, closed the gap and blocked it with her leg, sending the ball bouncing away. She immediately countered, aggressive again, dribbling with fire in her eyes. Ayame went to press her, but this time, Reika *shook her off* like she was a fly.
She shot.
**GOAL.**
The scoreboard read: **0 – 1.**
Reika roared, throwing her fists into the air like she'd already won the match. The crowd went wild. Students chanted her name. Some even screamed "Class A supremacy."
Ayame? She just stood there, breathing hard. Sweat on her brow. Focus in her eyes.
Rika blew the whistle again. "RESTART!"
Then, right beside me, a familiar voice spoke:
"What the hell's going on?"
I turned slightly. **Haruto.** Another student. Strong, quiet, always observant.
"As if I'm supposed to know," I said.
This time, Ayame didn't rush. She stepped back—defensive posture. Interesting. Reika laughed, thinking it was fear.
She fired off another aggressive shot toward the net.
Ayame intercepted it *cleanly* and began dribbling. Reika closed in fast, trying to block.
And that's when I saw it.
Ayame lifted her hand mid-run and used it to *redirect* Reika's momentum—just slightly—enough to break the rhythm. It wasn't random. It was controlled.
"Did she just use a karate block… in soccer?" Haruto asked, eyes wide.
"That's… impossible," I muttered.
"No," Hoshikawa said beside me, a strange grin on his face. "It's rare. But not impossible. I just didn't think *she* could pull it off."
Ayame passed Reika, now storming toward the goal. Reika dove—*literally* dove, like she was throwing her body at the ball.
Ayame paused.
Didn't shoot.
Waited.
And only when Reika was *down*, flat on the ground, did Ayame fire—
**GOAL.**
The crowd exploded louder than before.
Score: **1 – 1.**
Reika got up slowly, eyes wide.
"…Did you just *predict* my moves?" she whispered.
Ayame didn't respond. She simply walked back to her position. Calm. Focused.
**This girl had flipped the entire momentum of the match in one play.**
Rika's whistle rang out again:
**"RESTART!"**
I didn't say a word.
Because for the first time in years…
I was *very* awake.
And I didn't even need the coffee.