Several weeks had passed since the hailstorm and the destruction of three buildings in downtown Tengu. On the surface, life went on as usual. Students returned to school, shops opened as usual, and news of the destruction was only briefly mentioned without mentioning a single name.
But to those who knew what was really happening, those few weeks felt like a deep breath before the second storm.
And that morning, in Class 2-B at Raizen High School, it seemed like any other morning.
Except… for Arashi Kaito.
He sat in his usual seat, right by the window overlooking the school garden. One hand propped up his cheek, his eyes half-closed. A soda-flavored lollipop was in his mouth, and dark circles were faintly visible under his eyes from two days without sleep.
"…damn, the game is too fun…" he muttered softly, almost like a lazy snore. "One hour turned into two days…"
He had no intention of falling asleep. But neither did he intend to fully wake up. He was simply floating between reality and dreamland, the sounds of the bustling classroom a faint background.
But the calm only lasted a few minutes…
CRACK.
The classroom door opened quickly. Soft footsteps entered the room.
Tamae-sensei stood at the front of the class, smiling as usual, though her voice was slightly nervous.
"Ahem… class, we have a new transfer student today. Would you please welcome her properly?"
All the students turned to face the front. The chatter faded away instantly.
Then she entered.
A girl with long, wavy black hair, wearing a bright red ribbon on the left side of her head. Her uniform was neat, her steps light yet graceful, and her eyes…
…mysterious.
Thick hair covered the left half of her face, completely obscuring her left eye. Only her right eye was visible, soft, round, and a deep red like a pomegranate in the dim light.
"I'm Kurumi Tokisaki," she said softly. "It's a pleasure to be here. I hope… we can all get along."
Some students shuddered involuntarily. The others just stared, stunned, unsure why the hairs on the back of their necks stood on end, even though the girl seemed polite and friendly.
At the back of the class, Origami Tobiichi narrowed her eyes. Her hand instinctively gripped her pen tighter.
Meanwhile, Itsuka Shido, who was sitting not far from the front, could only stare at Kurumi with a tense expression.
"…There's no mistaking it…" he whispered softly. "It's her."
A faint aura that only those who have encountered Spirits can recognize. Kurumi didn't try to hide it… but didn't show it openly either.
"Ah… it's so nice to meet you in person, Shido-san~"
Shido held his breath.
Origami moved quickly, gripping the pen with great pressure.
Kaito? He merely raised an eyebrow and muttered softly, "…Of course she went straight to Shido. Classic."
Tamae-sensei continued in an awkward tone. "The empty seat is next to Shido-kun. Please sit, Tokisaki-san."
Kurumi smiled sweetly and stepped lightly to her seat. His footsteps were silent, as if he hadn't even touched the floor. The classroom remained silent. All eyes followed his movements, except for one pair of lazy eyes that had barely opened.
Kaito.
He slowly opened one eye. His lazy gaze stared at Kurumi as she stepped through the aisle. And for a very brief moment…
Kurumi turned her head towards Kaito.
Not completely. Just a little, just to be sure.
And those dark red eyes met blue ones half-lidded with sleep.
There was no dialogue.
There was no expression.
Just the blank stare of a man who wanted to sleep…
…and the soft gaze of a girl who hid the death clock behind her bangs.
Then they both looked away, as if nothing had mattered.
Kurumi sat down gracefully.
Kaito closed his eyes again, letting out a soft sigh.
"…Even the most dangerous Spirit appears when I haven't slept for two days. Damn it…"
And just like that, a new chapter in their high school life opened.
Slowly.
Soundlessly.
Yet it was filled with a tension that only those truly paying attention could sense.
The morning sun illuminated Classroom 2-B with golden rays that filtered through the glass windows. The cool air hung between the sound of chalk scraping against the blackboard and the faint whispers of students chatting quietly. Outside, the leaves rustled in the breeze, creating a gentle rhythm, almost like a lullaby.
For most students, the first period of class felt long and boring. But for Arashi Kaito, who sat in the seat closest to the window… time didn't pass slowly.
Time almost didn't exist.
His head rested on his right hand, which supported his cheek, and his eyes were half-closed, weighed down by the weight of his eyelids, insistently demanding sleep. His mouth still held a lollipop, which was only its stem. His breathing was steady, calm, and barely audible.
He looked completely sleepy. And indeed, he was.
He hadn't slept in two days, caught up in a game world so immersive that it made real-world time seem like an insignificant dream. A strategy game full of choices and branching endings… and Kaito loved all things complicated. So two days passed in the blink of an eye.
But what not everyone realized was… even though his body was nearly asleep, his consciousness remained pervasive.
His Observation Haki was working passively, forming a thin layer of perception around him. He could sense every movement, sound, and even the slightest fluctuation in intent from the people in the room, even when he wasn't fully conscious.
From the front of the class, Tamae-sensei, who had seen Kaito's head still for the past ten minutes, sighed in annoyance.
"…Arashi Kaito."
No answer.
Tamae-sensei raised an eyebrow, then turned to the teacher's desk. She picked up a slightly used piece of chalk and turned her body toward Kaito.
"If verbal warnings don't work…"
He took a deep breath, weighed the chalk between his fingers, and then threw it straight at Kaito's head.
CRACK!
The chalk soared through the air.
Some of the students sitting around him instinctively turned their heads, expecting Kaito to fall on the head and startle him awake.
But…
"Click."
Before the chalk reached his forehead, Kaito's index and middle fingers calmly lifted and caught the chalk in the air, as if he knew the throw was coming long before it happened.
He didn't lift his head. He didn't open his eyes.
Only one eye was open lazily, half covered by his hair that fell forward.
The class fell silent.
The reaction came quickly.
"Whoa…"
"He… he caught it?"
"Used two fingers!?"
"He wasn't looking forward, after all…"
Tohka, who was sitting next to Shido, nearly stood up from her seat. "So cool! It's just like an anime!"
Shido stared at her, slightly confused. "That's no ordinary reflex…"
Meanwhile, Kurumi Tokisaki rested her chin on her hand. A faint smile formed at the corner of her lips. Her pupils reflected Kaito's silhouette leaning against the window. His face looked calm… too calm.
"Fufufu… like a sleeping tiger," she whispered to herself.
But Origami Tobiichi, on the other hand, didn't comment. She didn't share his amazement. She didn't laugh. She didn't even look surprised.
She simply remained silent, staring straight at Kaito.
Her pupils narrowed slightly.
Her right hand gripped the pen a little tighter.
She replayed the scene in her mind. The trajectory of the chalk. The angle of the throw. The reaction time. The distance. The sitting position.
And a movement that showed no support or momentum.
Not just fast. But measured.
Too measured.
And she realized one thing: Kaito wasn't looking. He hadn't even moved more than to raise two fingers. Not even a hint of the muscle tension that normally occurs when a reflex occurs.
"…He knew before he threw it," Origami thought. "Not a visual prediction. But… something else."
Meanwhile, Kaito opened one eye slightly wider and looked at the chalk clutched in his finger. He sighed lightly.
"…Sorry, sensei," he said with a small smile.
Then, lazily, he placed the chalk on the corner of his desk and leaned back.
The class resumed a low murmur, but this time with a tone of admiration.
But Kaito didn't listen.
He had already returned to the realm between consciousness and sleep.
The only one still staring intently at him was Origami, who had begun writing something in the corner of her notebook.
Not lecture notes.
But observations.