Chapter 48: Blurred Lines
The auditorium emptied in a slow, buzzing wave.
Conversations spilled out into the hallways like a rising tide. Students exchanged theories in hushed voices, eyes darting, hands gesturing. The video might've been grainy, but the message had landed loud and clear—especially to those who recognized the shapes, the movements, the distinct laughter.
Naoya walked briskly, Shun and Haruki at his sides, the three of them tight-lipped until they ducked into an empty stairwell behind the west wing.
"What the hell was that?!" Shun snapped, his voice low but sharp.
Haruki leaned against the wall, running both hands through his hair. "That was us, Naoya. That was us in the damn club."
Naoya spun around, jabbing a finger at them. "Okay, calm down. It wasn't clear. The quality was trash. No one could tell for sure."
Shun narrowed his eyes. "No one but us. You think that was a coincidence?"
Haruki's brows furrowed. "Why would she have that video? How could she even get it?"
Naoya hesitated. For the first time in a long while, he looked rattled. "I... I don't know. Maybe she doesn't even know it was us. Maybe someone gave her the wrong file."
Shun snorted. "Yeah right. That 'oops wrong file' crap? She didn't even blink."
"She looked surprised," Naoya said, a little too defensively. "Kind of. I mean, she tried to stop it."
"Too late!" Haruki snapped. "The whole school saw it. You saw the way people looked at us afterward."
Naoya clenched his jaw, eyes dark. "Well, no one has proof. It was blurry. Faces weren't clear. If anyone asks, we deny everything. Got it?"
The others didn't answer immediately. Shun cracked his knuckles, pacing. Haruki stared at the floor.
"Guys," Naoya said more firmly, forcing calm into his voice. "We say nothing. We keep our heads up, act like it was a random video of some strangers. It's not our fault if people think otherwise."
He met each of their eyes. "We're not getting taken down by some substitute teacher."
But despite the steel in his tone, Naoya's hands were shaking slightly.
And deep inside, even he wasn't sure if he believed what he was saying.
Because Hana Nakamura didn't look surprised.
She looked like she had planned it all along.
There was a long pause between them before Shun muttered, "We need to talk to her."
Haruki looked up. "What, like confront her?"
Naoya nodded slowly. "No... not confront. We go in calm, casual. Ask questions. Pretend like we're just confused. If she really knows it's us, we'll know from how she reacts."
Shun crossed his arms. "And if she plays dumb?"
Naoya gave a crooked smile. "Then we play dumber. But either way—we need to look her in the eyes. Today."
The three of them exchanged tense glances. Then, with unspoken agreement, they returned to class—but the entire day passed with tension crawling under their skin, the question of how much Ms. Nakamura knew gnawing at them.
By the final bell, they had made up their minds.
They waited until the hallways had thinned, then made their way to the faculty office where Ms. Nakamura usually stayed after school.
Naoya knocked, his fingers steady but his throat dry.
Inside, a calm voice answered, "Come in."
They stepped inside, tense and cautious—ready to ask nicely, but prepared for anything.
Ms. Nakamura was seated at her desk, calmly reviewing a stack of papers with her usual serene demeanor. She looked up and offered a polite smile.
"Oh, boys. What can I help you with?"
Naoya exchanged a glance with Shun and Haruki before clearing his throat. "We, uh... just wanted to ask something. About the video from the assembly."
Ms. Nakamura blinked innocently. "The video? Oh, yes. That silly mix-up. I felt so embarrassed." She gave a light, awkward laugh.
Haruki stepped forward, his voice low. "Where did you get it? That footage. It looked... personal."
Ms. Nakamura tilted her head, her smile still soft. "Oh, that video? I have a friend who owns that club—well, actually, he owns several businesses in the area. We used to work together back in the day, before I went into teaching."
Her tone was breezy, like she was discussing the weather.
"He sometimes asks me for a second opinion on things—background checks, staff issues, that sort of thing. I was helping him sort through some internal footage for a completely unrelated reason, and... I just happened to come across that clip."
She looked at them with a tilt of the head, eyes bright with innocent curiosity. "I almost skipped past it, but then I thought... hmm, those silhouettes look oddly familiar. Isn't that funny?"
Naoya tried to keep his voice even. "So... it was just a coincidence?"
Ms. Nakamura's expression remained calm, her tone light. "Well... I have a friend who owns that club—actually, he owns several businesses in the area. Because of my background, I occasionally help him with a few things—checking reports, scanning footage, internal reviews."
She smiled, almost fondly. "While doing that, I stumbled across that video. I wasn't looking for anything in particular. But when I saw it... well, let's just say I thought I recognized a few familiar silhouettes."
Haruki's jaw tightened. "But why didn't you just delete it?"
Ms. Nakamura blinked at him, then smiled slightly. "Oh, I don't know. I suppose I felt... too young to be spending my evenings reviewing club surveillance footage. Especially footage involving... prostitution."
The word hit the air like a thunderclap.
Shun immediately shot forward. "W-We weren't involved in prostitution! That wasn't what it looked like—"
Naoya's head snapped to him, face pale. "You idiot," he hissed. "Now she knows it was us."
Ms. Nakamura raised her brows slightly. "Oh? That was you three? That explains why the faces looked so familiar." Her voice remained sweet, polite—even innocent, as if she had simply made a curious discovery and nothing more.
The boys were frozen, caught mid-breath, stunned by her disarming tone. Shun's fists were clenched at his sides. Haruki shifted uncomfortably. Naoya's jaw tightened.
She clapped her hands together lightly, her smile bright. "Well, thank you for clarifying that. I wasn't sure at first, you know."
She looked down at the papers on her desk with a thoughtful hum. "I was actually considering forwarding the footage to the local authorities. You know, just in case it involved underage activity or... exploitation."
All three boys reacted at once.
"No!" Naoya, Shun, and Haruki shouted in unison, panic slicing through their composed façades.
Ms. Nakamura blinked innocently, surprised by the sudden outburst. "Oh? That's a strong reaction."
Shun stammered, "I-It's just... it wasn't what it looked like."
Naoya whipped his head toward him, eyes wide. "Shut up! Don't say another word!"
Ms. Nakamura leaned her chin delicately on her palm. "I was just saying. It's not often you catch that sort of thing on accident. Especially involving minors."
Her smile turned sweet again. "But now that you've clarified it was you, I guess that would be... awkward, wouldn't it?"
The boys were silent, pale, trembling.
Ms. Nakamura gave a soft laugh. "I'll be sure to keep better track of my files. No more 'accidents,' promise."
Naoya swallowed hard, then stepped forward. "Can you... just delete the video? There's no reason for you to keep it. It's not what it looked like."
Ms. Nakamura blinked slowly, then tilted her head. "Oh? You want me to delete it?"
Her tone was airy, like she was discussing a mild inconvenience.
She smiled, fingers steepling beneath her chin. "Hmm... Well, I suppose I could delete it."
The boys leaned forward.
"But," she continued sweetly, "I'll only do it if you buy me some bread from the canteen. The melon one, please. Still warm if possible."
The boys blinked.
"Thank you!" she said brightly, as if dismissing them. "That'll do nicely."
As the boys exited the office, the door clicking shut behind them, the weight of humiliation settled heavier with each step.
"This is insane," Naoya muttered under his breath, fists clenched as they stalked down the hall. "Absolutely insane. We're buying bread for a teacher so she won't report us to the cops?"
"It's better than a suspension," Haruki offered half-heartedly.
"Or worse," Shun added. "She said 'exploitation.' That's not just detention level stuff."
Naoya let out a frustrated growl, dragging a hand through his hair. "None of this should be happening. Ever since she showed up, everything's been falling apart. One thing after another—"
"We just need to keep her happy," Haruki said. "We get the bread. She deletes the video. End of story."
Naoya didn't respond immediately. His jaw tightened as he stormed ahead toward the canteen.
They returned minutes later, the warm melon bread in hand, its scent wafting between them. Naoya still looked like he wanted to set the whole school on fire.
They knocked and reentered Ms. Nakamura's office. She looked up with her usual serene expression, as if she had been expecting them.
Naoya dropped the bag on her desk. "Here."
Ms. Nakamura opened the bag and peeked inside. "Ah! Still warm. You boys really do deliver. Thank you."
They stood there, silent, expectant.
Ms. Nakamura blinked innocently. "You can go now. School's over. Don't forget your homework."
The boys exchanged confused glances.
"That's it?" Shun asked. "Aren't you going to... delete it?"
Ms. Nakamura gave a gentle smile. "Of course. I said I would, didn't I?"
But she made no move toward her computer.
Naoya hesitated. "You swear you'll delete it?"
"Mmm," she hummed, reaching for the bread and tearing off a small piece. "I keep my promises. Especially to students who go the extra mile."
Still uncertain but lacking any other choice, the boys slowly turned and walked out of the office.
"She'll delete it," Haruki said, mostly to himself.
"She better," Naoya muttered, but even he didn't sound convinced.
--
A few hours later, Hana Nakamura slipped quietly into the safehouse apartment, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. The air inside was warmer, lived-in, and the scent of tea drifted from the kitchen.
Damian looked up from the couch where he'd been sprawled, lazily flipping through an old comic. "And there she is! Our queen of chaos."
Audrey, who sat with her notebook open beside Kenzo at the table, smiled slightly. "Rough day, Hana?"
Hana pulled off her blazer, tossing it neatly over the armrest. "Gosh. Those kids? They're actual demons in uniform."
Damian whistled. "You mean them? Naoya and his merry band of sociopaths? What did they do this time, steal candy from orphans?"
Hana chuckled dryly as she dropped into the armchair across from them. "Let's just say I made a small... public service announcement. In the form of a questionable school assembly video."
Kenzo didn't look up from his laptop, but his lips twitched. "The CCTV footage?"
"Mmhmm," Hana hummed, pulling her hair loose from its clip. "They panicked. You should've seen their faces when I mentioned the word 'prostitution.'"
Damian nearly fell off the couch laughing. "No way. You went there?"
"Accidentally," she said with a straight face. Then added with a smirk, "Obviously."
Audrey raised an eyebrow. "And what happened next?"
Hana stretched her arms behind her head. "I made them buy me bread. Melon pan. Warm. And then sent them home."
Kenzo finally looked up. "You're enjoying this too much."
Hana smiled faintly, almost tiredly now. "Maybe. But it's not about the game—it's about the message. They needed to understand they're not untouchable."
Damian grinned. "Oh, they got the message alright. You just taught bullies what it's like to be outplayed."
Audrey leaned her chin on her hand, thoughtful. "How did it feel, though? Being back in a school setting? Teaching again?"
Hana paused, then her eyes softened. "Honestly? Kind of great. I didn't think I missed it... but standing there, guiding those kids—even if half of them want to set me on fire—felt like something I was meant to do."
"So," Kenzo said, ever the analyst, "you're saying you're not just enjoying the vengeance. You're enjoying the purpose."
"Exactly," Hana nodded. "I want to finish what we started. Close this chapter. Help Miho. And maybe... just maybe, we can all finally go home."
The room went quiet for a beat. Warmth lingered in the silence.
Then Damian threw a cushion at her. "Look at you getting all sentimental. I give you two weeks before you're grading papers voluntarily."
Hana caught the cushion midair with a smirk. "Only if you're the one writing them."
Audrey laughed softly, leaning back in her chair. "At least this time the assignment wouldn't involve faking a drunk stumble."
Kenzo's gaze lifted from his laptop slowly, his expression unreadable. "Which, by the way, was still too convincing."
Damian grinned, pointing a teasing finger. "Right? Audrey, how did you even pull that off without getting kicked out of the club?"
Audrey shrugged, feigning innocence. "You underestimate how much heels and a red lipstick can distract people."
"You underestimate how many veins popped in Kenzo's forehead watching that CCTV feed," Damian teased. "I've never seen our walking encyclopedia get jealous before."
Kenzo didn't respond, but the twitch at the corner of his eye betrayed him.
Audrey gave a small smile. "Well... thanks for worrying, Kenzo. I was safe. And honestly, I'm just glad it worked."
Hana nodded in approval. "That footage sealed it. They panicked like cornered rats. Honestly, Aud, your performance sold the illusion."
Damian lifted an imaginary glass. "To Audrey, the undercover goddess of chaos."
Audrey rolled her eyes. "Let's just focus on helping Miho. This mission isn't over yet."
Hana's expression softened as she glanced around the room. "No, but we're getting closer. And someday soon... we'll finally be able to go back."
And for the first time that day, surrounded by quiet warmth and earned laughter, they all allowed themselves to hope.