Lunchtime Chaos at Sobu High,
Half a day passed quickly, and as the bell rang, it was finally time for lunch.
Second-year, Class D.
Three sorry figures trudged down the hallway: Shihara Tadakuni, Hidenori Tabata, and Yoshitake Tanaka. Their black school uniforms were plastered with ugly sludge stains, the result of a morning encounter that still burned in their memories.
The sound of their shoes squelching slightly on the floor drew attention. Students from other classes peeked out of doorways or leaned casually against walls, watching the three like they were circus animals that had escaped their cages.
"…It's like we're some kind of animal display on Zoo" Tadakuni muttered darkly, his cheeks heating as he chewed on a piece of stale bread. He narrowed his eyes at the gawking students.
The stares only fueled his foul mood.
"Damn it… I hope I never meet that white-haired monster again. He actually ruined my uniform!"
It wasn't just the uniform either.
The morning had already been a disaster.
They'd been late, caught by security while trying to climb the school wall, and punished by standing at attention for an entire hour like prisoners of war. If their homeroom teacher hadn't eventually taken pity and let them go, they would've been stuck there until lunch.
"Ah~!" Yoshitake suddenly ruffled his messy hair, his eyes flashing with sudden determination. "If I see him again, I'll show him my secret technique!"
At those words, Tadakuni and Tabata both froze mid-step. Slowly, they turned to look at their friend, their faces pale.
"…No way."
"…You don't mean 'That', do you?"
Everyone at Sobu High had at least heard of Yoshitake's so-called "secret technique." It was extraordinary, said to be inspired by forbidden jutsu from the legendary lineage.
Absolutely lethal.
Yoshitake smirked, thrusting a thumb toward his chest. "That's right. SENNEN GOROSHI!! (THOUSAND YEARS OF PAIN!!)"
"NO NEED!" Tadakuni's voice cracked in panic.
"Yes, seriously, you can't use that here!" Tabata added quickly, his face crack as he quickly adjusted his glasses.
Yoshitake pouted, but then broke into a mischievous grin. "Fine, fine. If you guys insist, I'll not used it… for now."
Relief washed over Tadakuni and Tabata like a cool breeze.
They could already imagine the chaos if Yoshitake unleashed such a move in the middle of the school day.
The three continued walking, their mood lightening as they exchanged jokes.
Their destination: the famous lawn in front of Sobu High.
The lawn wasn't just soft and green—it was also the number-one hotspot for female students during lunch. For Tadakuni and his friends, the appeal was obvious.
One of the unwritten laws of male high school life: you must at least glance at beautiful girls every day. It boosts morale. It keeps you motivated. It's practically survival instinct.
"Just a quick look today," Tabata said, pretending to push his glasses up like some anime mastermind.
"Yeah, yeah. Purely for morale," Yoshitake added with a grin.
Tadakuni sighed. "You two sound like pervy old men already…"
As they approached the corner stairway that led to the lawn, fate struck again.
A tall figure appeared in front of them. White hair, blindfold, aura of untouchable arrogance.
They froze.
"…That's him!!!" Yoshitake's voice cracked as he pointed forward, trembling with excitement.
Tadakuni and Tabata's eyes widened in unison. Their jaws clenched.
"Damn it… the world is too small! He's… he's in our school too?!"
The three exchanged a glance. Then slowly, wicked grins spread across their faces.
"Fufufu…"
"Hehehehe…"
"Kehehehehe…"
Their evil laughter overlapped like some cheap Saturday morning villain trio.
"This time… it's payback!"
In an instant, they sprang into action, scattering across the hall like badly trained ninjas.
Tadakuni hugged one wall, Tabata pressed against the lockers, and Yoshitake crouched behind a trash bin.
"Report! Target moving left at the next corner! Requesting instructions!" Tabata whispered into a headset, his eyes narrowing as if he were in a spy movie.
"Move in! Don't lose him!" Yoshitake hissed back, tiptoeing along.
Meanwhile, Tadakuni lagged a few steps behind, his expression deadpan.
"…Why do you even have headsets? And why the stupid hand signals? We're like three meters away from each other!"
Rolling his eyes, he decided not to fight it. His friends had gone full Mission Impossible, and there was no stopping them.
The white-haired figure—Gojo Satoru—walked casually ahead, utterly oblivious to the trio trailing him.
After a minute of stalking, Gojo suddenly veered into the public restroom.
Yoshitake's eyes gleamed.
"Heh… he actually went to the restroom. You two wait here. I'm going in to test his confidence as a man!"
With his chest puffed out like a champion, Yoshitake strutted inside.
Five seconds later, he stumbled back out.
His face was pale, his body trembling.
"No… no way… how is this possible?" he muttered, collapsing onto the floor like a broken puppet.
Tabata smirked, adjusting his glasses with mock superiority. "Don't just gape and drool, Yoshitake. Watch and learn from me."
He entered with a confident stride.
Five seconds later, Tabata too emerged, his expression hollow, his lips muttering the same words.
"Impossible… no way…"
Tadakuni blinked at them, then let out a sharp laugh.
"What? Did your breakfast include some kind of cursed potion? You two hyped yourselves up so much, and in the end, you collapsed. Hah… guess it's up to me."
Straightening his uniform and lifting his chin, he marched toward the restroom door with all the confidence of a man walking to his destiny.
Five seconds later…
"…That… that thing…" Tadakuni muttered, his face drained of all color. He slumped onto the curb, staring blankly at nothing. "It's not human."
The three sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their collective humiliation heavy in the air.
Yoshitake groaned, clutching his chest. "I… I underestimated him…"
Tabata shook his head, still pale. "How… how is that even anatomically possible?"
Tadakuni sighed deeply, burying his face in his hands. "This is going to be a long day…"
...
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