The silence that followed was suffocating.
Yu couldn't stop trembling. The echo of Taichi's voice, the crash of the chair, the burn of all those staring eyes—they tangled together in his chest until he thought he might choke.
"It's okay, Yu."
Fumiko whispered again, rocking him gently.
"He's gone now. You're safe."
"Don't cry, Yu."
Sakura stroked his hair, forcing her own voice to stay steady.
"We won't let anything happen to you."
But Yu couldn't stop. His tears stained Fumiko's uniform, his breath coming in hiccuping sobs.
Because part of him wanted to run after Taichi. To tell him he believed in him, that he wasn't the monster everyone said. But another part—the part still pinned against the wall in memory, still feeling Isuke's lips and hands—shook with fear, with confusion.
And all around him, the whispers started again.
"Did you see how he lost it?"
"Poor Yu… she must've been terrified."
"Isuke was right… Taichi really is dangerous."
Yu clamped his hands over his ears, but the words burrowed through anyway, every one of them pressing the walls closer around him.
He lifted his tear-soaked face at last, ruby eyes darting across the classroom.
And there was Isuke.
Standing near the front, hands folded neatly behind his back, his expression composed but tinged with sorrow—like this scene pained him more than anyone. When his gaze met Yu's, he gave the smallest nod, a silent promise of protection.
Yu's stomach turned. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run.
But his body, trembling and fragile, only curled tighter into Fumiko and Sakura's arms.
And the trap closed another notch.
The classroom slowly settled, though the air was still tense, heavy with the ghost of Taichi's outburst. Students whispered in hushed tones, stealing glances at Yu.
Fumiko and Sakura kept their arms around him, their hands warm, their words soft. But Yu's body wouldn't stop shaking. His sobs came in thin, broken sounds, his pale fingers clinging desperately to Fumiko's sleeve.
That was when Isuke moved.
He stepped closer, every stride smooth and deliberate, lowering himself slightly so his presence didn't loom too harshly over the girls shielding Yu. His voice was gentle, warm as sunlight.
"Yu…"
He said softly.
"Don't force yourself to cry alone. It's all right to lean on people who care for you."
Yu froze, his wet lashes fluttering as he lifted his gaze. Those blue eyes were steady, unwavering, kind. The kind of gaze that had convinced an entire school to trust him.
"I'll speak with the faculty."
Isuke continued, his tone calm but firm.
"You don't need to worry about Arifukua anymore. He won't hurt you again."
"Stop—"
Yu's voice cracked, hoarse. His ruby eyes shimmered with fresh tears.
"Don't say that… don't say he'd hurt me…"
Sakura's grip tightened around him protectively, but Isuke only gave a slight, pained smile.
"You're right…"
He said, lowering his tone as if conceding.
"It's hard to accept. But Yu, everyone saw just now… Arifukua can't control himself. You shouldn't have to live in fear."
The words slipped into Yu's mind like ice water. He wanted to scream that it wasn't true—that Taichi wasn't like that, not with him. But the memory of Taichi's fist trembling in the air, the roar of his voice, the crash of the chair—it all tangled with the fresh sting of last night.
Yu's lips parted, but no sound came. He turned his face back into Fumiko's shoulder, shivering.
Isuke didn't press further. He only placed a hand lightly on Yu's desk, close enough for Yu to feel the presence, but not quite touching. A quiet promise, a tether, a shadow of safety.
The class had already drawn its conclusion. And Isuke didn't need to say another word.
---
Above, on the rooftop, Taichi lay flat on his back, the sky burning blue above him.
It should've felt freeing, the open air, the crisp wind tugging at his clothes. But instead, it mocked him. The color. That piercing shade. The same shade as Isuke Sasaki's eyes.
Taichi squeezed his own shut, trying to blot it out.
But in the darkness behind his eyelids, Yu's face appeared. Not smiling. Not safe. Trembling. Crying.
And worst of all—flinching away from him.
The memory of Yu's sobs hit harder than any punch Taichi had ever taken. His chest tightened until it hurt, a hollow ache blooming deep.
It wasn't just Isuke that Yu was afraid of now.
It was him too.
And that truth broke him more than anything else ever could.
Then the rooftop door creaked open.
Taichi didn't move at first, only clicked his tongue when he heard the footsteps.
"Tch. Damn it. I thought… maybe it'd be Yu."
Instead, Haruka Minami stepped into the sunlight, her braid shifting in the breeze. She crossed her arms, watching him with sharp eyes.
"You're not easy to find, you know."
She said.
"Didn't ask you to come."
Taichi muttered, arm thrown over his eyes.
Haruka's voice dropped, cutting sharper.
"Yu-chan passed out. She cried herself sick. They moved her to the nurse's office—she's resting now."
Taichi shot upright, his heart slamming into his throat.
"What?!"
He was already on his feet, halfway to the door.
"I gotta—"
Haruka grabbed his arm, planting herself firmly in his path.
"Move."
His tone was low, dangerous.
"No."
Haruka snapped back.
"That's the problem, Taichi! This—"
She shook his arm—
"This temper, this violence—it's what got you into this mess. And you dragged Yu down with you!"
"Don't talk like you know me—"
"Someone has to!"
Haruka's voice cracked, but her eyes didn't waver.
"You think storming around, yelling, throwing punches is going to protect her? All it's done is scare her! And if you don't change, if you don't fix this—then kiss Yu goodbye."
Taichi's breath caught, but Haruka pressed on, firm and fierce.
"Because if you won't protect her the right way, then I will. Fumiko will. Sakura will. We'll make sure Yu stays safe—even if it means keeping her away from you."
The words hit like a gut punch. Taichi's fists clenched, but no sound came out. He only stood there, trembling, his shadow sharp against the concrete.
Haruka's expression softened just a fraction.
"You're not bad, Taichi. But right now? You are. And you need to change before it's too late."
Silence. The wind tugged at his hair, the weight of her words pressing down like lead.
Taichi ground his teeth, scratching hard at his scalp until his hair stuck up messily. His mind raged against itself—he knew of one way to fix this. One person who could help. But that path tasted bitter in his mouth.
Still… the thought of losing Yu was unbearable.
Finally, with a rough sigh, he pulled out his phone. He stared at the screen for a long second before dialing. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
The click of the line opening made his chest twist.
"...Hello, Ling. Is Dad there? I need…some assistance in something at school."
Haruka, sensing that this call was related to Yu, decided to give Taichi some privacy and headed back to her own classroom.
Taichi leaned against the chain-link fence of the rooftop, phone pressed to his ear. He'd hoped—just this once—that his father would answer.
Instead, the smooth voice of secretary Ling greeted him without answering his question. That only meant one thing: his father still was sore about their last fight.
"Ah, young master Taichi. I wasn't expecting your call. What can I help you with?"
Taichi's jaw tightened. He forced the words out, low and clipped.
"I heard one of my classmates… his mom's got cancer. I want her sent abroad. To one of those research centers. The best one you've got."
There was a pause, then a surprised laugh from Ling.
"My, my. This is unlike you. Showing concern for others, hm? Yes… that can be arranged. But it would be best if you come by in person and spoke with your father directly soon. He didn't mean what he said, not really. You know how tempers can be—"
"Not until he apologizes for what he did first! Tch, I only wanted to use his name, don't think this changes anything! So are ya gonna help me or not!?"
Taichi cut in, sharp, final.
Another pause. Then Ling's voice softened.
"…I'll see it arranged regardless."
Taichi hung up without another word, staring at the dead screen. His knuckles whitened around the phone.
This was the only way. If Isuke wanted to keep playing saint, he'd have to follow his mother abroad. Far away from Yu.
The problem, for now, was solved.
But the bitter taste in Taichi's mouth told him the price—calling in favors from his father, using his name and resources—was a chain he'd never wanted to wear again.
Still, if it meant Yu would be his again… if it meant no one could say otherwise…
Taichi slid the phone back into his pocket, his eyes hard, his chest tight.
Taichi sat on the rooftop long after the call ended, the wind biting at his skin. His chest felt heavy, suffocated by something far more crushing than the fight with Isuke.
He hated it. Hated having to rely on that man. Hated owing him anything. For years, he'd sworn he'd never be a pawn again in his father's world—where money and power were weapons sharper than knives.
And now? With a single call, he'd chained himself back.
For Yu.
Taichi dragged both hands through his hair, yanking until it hurt. He wanted to scream, to break something, to punch a hole through the world itself. But all he could do was sit, jaw clenched, vision swimming as the sun dipped lower.
He whispered into the empty darkening sky:
"Don't you dare slip away from me, Yu…"
---
The school day ended under a heavy sky.
Yu walked slowly down the quiet street, his bag heavy at his side, the whispers of the day still echoing in his ears. Every glance, every rumor, every pitiful look weighed him down until each step felt like it carried stones.
The sun was sinking, casting long shadows, and in those shadows he could almost see Isuke. That smile. That voice. Those eyes, wrapping tighter around him with every passing hour.
Even with his friends' warmth earlier, Yu felt utterly alone.
And the worst part—the thought that gnawed deepest—was how the world now saw him. Not as Yu who laughed and blushed and tried so hard to live quietly. But Yu the trembling princess who needed rescuing. Yu, the prize caught between beasts.
His arms hugged his books tighter against his chest, and his breath shook in the cool evening air.
"DK01…"
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Tell me… is Isuke Sasaki nearby?"
[No.]
The voice answered calmly in his mind.
But Yu still quickened his pace. Because even with that reassurance, he couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows were watching.
The streets were nearly empty, lined with jack-o'-lanterns half-burned down from the night before. Their hollow smiles flickered faintly as Yu walked, his arms tight around his books.
That was when he heard it.
[Isuke Sasaki is approaching.]
"Yu."
His body froze. His breath caught.
From the corner ahead, Isuke Sasaki emerged, his steps unhurried, his uniform immaculate even after a long school day. The fading light made his blue eyes glow sharper, too much like the sky that Taichi hated.
Yu's heart stuttered in his chest. His legs wouldn't move. His hands tightened on his bag's strap until his knuckles turned white.
"Walking home alone?"
Isuke's voice was smooth, warm, the kind of tone that soothed others—but in Yu's ears it crawled under his skin.
"That's dangerous, you know. You never know who might try to take advantage."
Step by step, he drew closer.
Yu's breath quickened. His body screamed to run, but his feet stayed rooted. His lips trembled, but no sound came.
Isuke reached out—fingers just about to brush his cheek—when his phone buzzed.
The sound snapped through the air, sharp, jarring.
Isuke's expression tightened, the faintest edge of irritation crossing his perfect mask. He slid the phone from his pocket, pressing it to his ear.
"Yes… Mm. What? Are you sure? But I thought—no, I'll be right there."
His eyes never left Yu.
A minute passed. Then he clicked the phone shut with a sigh.
"Well…"
He murmured, voice soft again, smooth as velvet,
"It seems our time is short today."
His hand lifted, brushing against Yu's cheek with feather-light touch that made Yu flinch violently.
"But next time…"
Isuke leaned closer, his breath warm against Yu's skin.
"I'll have you longer."
His fingers slipped into Yu's pale hair, twirling a strand before letting it fall. Then, with a faint smile, he turned on his heel and walked away, his silhouette melting into the twilight.
Yu stood frozen for a heartbeat—then his knees gave out. His bag slid from his shoulder as he dropped to the cold pavement, trembling.
Tears spilled silently down his cheeks, his throat locked tight so no sound escaped. His hands clutched at his chest, as if to hold himself together, while his body shook with every shallow breath.
The jack-o'-lanterns flickered faintly, their carved smiles leering in the dark, as Yu sobbed soundlessly into the empty street.
Somehow, Yu managed to stumble home, legs weak as if they weren't his own. The moment his apartment door shut behind him, he slid the locks in place—once, twice, three times—before checking the windows, tugging them closed until the latches clicked tight.
The silence pressed down. His breaths came ragged, still shaky from the street.
"…DK01…"
Yu whispered, curling into his bed with his knees to his chest, covers pulled over his trembling body.
"Is… is Isuke Sasaki nearby?"
The soft hum of the AI's voice filled the room.
[No.]
Yu squeezed his eyes shut.
"Are you sure?"
[There is no sign of Isuke Sasaki nearby.]
He repeated the question again and again, each time clinging to the same answer, until his body eased just enough to let exhaustion creep in. His tears dampened the pillow as his whispers faded, his fragile bubble of safety stitched together by the soft reassurance of DK01.
---
The next day, the school buzzed with whispers.
"Did you hear? Sasaki's mom is leaving for treatment overseas!"
"It's sudden, right? But wow… imagine the connections to make that happen so fast."
"Isuke-kun is so strong… even with something like this, he still comes to school, still smiles…"
"I didn't even realize his mom was sick! With how he is at school, you would've never realized!"
In the courtyard, Isuke stood surrounded by well-wishers. He accepted each word with the grace of a practiced saint—his posture straight, his smile calm, his nods perfectly timed.
"Thank you. I'll keep doing my best for everyone's sake."
"Yes, I'll be moving abroad with her after this term ends."
"She's strong. Just like all of you believe in me, I believe in her."
Every word dripped sincerity, every gesture polished.
But when his admirers parted, when the crowd thinned and the sunlight caught the glint in his eyes—his gaze always returned to Yu.
Yu, who sat in the corner of the classroom, shrinking smaller and smaller, wishing he could vanish. His pale fingers twisted the hem of his skirt, his ruby eyes glued to the desk. Each time he dared to glance up, Isuke's gaze was there—warm, steady, suffocating.
And still no sign of Taichi. Yu hadn't seen him come home last night. He hadn't seen him this morning either.
Yu's chest ached like something inside was breaking piece by fragile piece.
"…DK01…"
Yu whispered under his breath, clutching his pen like it might hold him together.
"Does Taichi… still love me?"
The AI's calm response flickered in his mind:
[Taichi Arifukua's Love-o-meter is at 50%. He still loves you. After the Love-o-meter gauge is filled to over 50, it's hard for it to go below the number. Believe in him that he is still hopelessly in love with you, Host.]
Yu closed his eyes, trembling. That single number—the only tether keeping him from collapsing completely.
As the class stirred around him, as rumors swelled and Isuke smiled, Yu sat perfectly still, desperately clinging to the fragile lifeline of DK01's voice.
The hum of voices in class shifted as Isuke rose from his desk. Smooth, deliberate, his presence quieted the chatter as easily as if he'd commanded it.
"Everyone…"
He said, tone humble, composed.
"I don't want to burden you all with my personal matters, but… there's something important I should say."
Dozens of eyes turned toward him.
Yu froze. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Isuke's gaze swept the room like sunlight—warm, embracing—until it stopped on Yu.
"In times like these, people can feel lost, can feel… like they don't know where to belong."
He walked slowly, each step a careful stage direction, until he stood near Yu's desk.
"Yu has been my light."
Isuke continued softly, so every student had to strain to hear.
"Reminding me what it means to keep smiling, even when things are difficult. I'm… grateful. Truly."
Gasps and murmurs rippled across the room. A few students clapped quietly. Others leaned toward Yu, eyes wide with awe.
Yu's breath hitched. His body trembled under the weight of attention, like he was trapped under glass. He wanted to protest, to shake his head, to tell them it wasn't true— but his throat closed. He could only sit there, red eyes wide and damp, while the story rewrote itself around him.
Isuke smiled down at him, hand brushing the edge of Yu's desk in a gesture that looked protective—possessive.
"No matter what hardships come, I'll keep standing strong. For her… for everyone."
The class erupted.
"He's amazing…"
"Yu-chan really saved him!"
"They're perfect together."
Yu pressed his hands together under the desk, nails digging into his palms. He wanted Taichi. He wanted someone—anyone—to pull him out of this spotlight.
---
Meanwhile, Taichi shoved his hands deep in his pockets, dragging himself up the familiar path toward school.
He'd spent the night at a motel, he couldn't face Yu. Not after making him cry. If Yu ever looked at him like he looked at Isuke, if Yu flinched when he tried to hold him, talk to him, get close to him…he couldn't face that kind of rejection, he might just break.
He was a coward wearing lion's skin.
The gates of the school loomed. The noise of chatter, laughter, rumors—all of it crashed against him like a tide. He knew, even before stepping through, that Isuke had already moved, already planted seeds.
And as Taichi pushed open the classroom door, every eye turned—half with fear, half with judgment.
Isuke's smile widened.
Yu's head bowed lower, shoulders trembling.
The classroom air thickened the moment Taichi stepped in. The chatter stuttered, the gazes sharpened—some wary, some accusing, some almost hungry for him to explode and prove them right.
Taichi clenched his jaw. He forced his hands to stay loose at his sides, shoulders squared but not aggressive, eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. He could feel it—the poison of Isuke's influence crawling through every whisper, every look.
Then—
"Taichi!"
Yu's voice cut through the noise. High, trembling, desperate.
He was already on his feet, his chair screeching back, his small body leaning forward like he was about to run. For one heartbeat, Taichi thought Yu would actually make it into his arms.
But Isuke moved first.
One smooth step, a subtle shift, and suddenly Yu collided against his chest instead. From the outside, it looked perfect: Yu stumbling into him, Isuke catching him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
A chorus of gasps filled the air.
"They're so close…"
"See, I told you—"
Taichi's vision tunneled. His blood roared in his ears.
"No—no, don't please!"
Yu's cry broke through, muffled against Isuke's uniform as his hands pushed weakly at the boy's chest. But the harder Yu tried to push away, the tighter Isuke's arms wound around him, crushing him against his body.
"Stay with me, Yu."
Isuke whispered, his voice so low only Yu could hear, smooth and burning with obsession.
"I won't let anyone—not even him—take you from me. You're mine."
Yu's stomach twisted. His skin crawled. The room spun sickly around him as those words sank into his ears like poison.
Taichi took a single step forward, muscles coiled to strike. He could already see himself tearing Isuke off Yu, could already taste the blood in his mouth.
But before he could reach them, two figures burst forward.
"Enough!"
Fumiko and Sakura shoved themselves between the boys, their hands gripping Yu and prying him free. Isuke resisted for half a heartbeat—then released with calculated grace, as if he had chosen to let go.
Yu stumbled, breathless, into safety. And then he saw Taichi.
All at once, the trembling in his legs gave way, the tears he'd been holding back spilled over. He broke from Sakura's hold and rushed into Taichi's arms, crashing against him with a sob.
"Taichi!"
His fists curled into Taichi's shirt, his face burying itself into the warmth of his chest.
"I missed you—I missed you so much—"
Taichi's arms folded around him instantly, fiercely, one hand cupping the back of Yu's head as if he could shield him from the world. The smell of Yu's hair, the tremor of his small body—everything carved into him like a blade.
The room erupted again, gasps and whispers colliding. Some eyes widened in horror, others narrowed in judgment. But Taichi didn't care. He held Yu tighter, his gaze lifting past the boy's silver hair to lock with Isuke's.
Isuke was smiling. Calm. Unbroken. His blue eyes gleamed with something sharper than victory.
"Did you see that—?"
"Taichi just snatched Yu-chan back—"
"No, Yu-chan ran to him! She chose—"
"Poor Isuke-kun… he's the one who's been holding everything together—"
The whispers clawed at Yu's ears. Every word felt like a stone hurled in his direction, even as he buried his face deeper against Taichi's chest. He just wanted it to stop, for everyone to vanish, for the ground to swallow him.
"Enough!"
The classroom door slammed open. A teacher strode in—Mr. Kanda, his stern face twisted with frustration. The chatter died instantly. His gaze swept over the scene: Yu trembling in Taichi's arms, Fumiko and Sakura standing like shields, Isuke perfectly composed with his hands folded loosely at his sides.
"What is going on here?"
Mr. Kanda demanded.
Silence.
Isuke was the first to speak. His voice was smooth, respectful, just loud enough for everyone to hear.
"There's been… a misunderstanding, sir. I was simply trying to comfort Yu-chan, but Arifukua seems to think—"
"That's a lie!"
Sakura's voice cut through like a blade, sharp and trembling with fury.
"Yu was scared! We all saw it—"
"Watch your tone!"
Mr. Kanda snapped, but his gaze lingered longer on Sakura than it did on Isuke, irritation twitching at the corner of his mouth.
Taichi's hands tightened protectively on Yu, his glare locked on Isuke.
"He laid hands on Yu."
He said, his voice low and dangerous.
"That's all anyone needs to know."
Murmurs surged again, students caught between the steady saintly mask of Isuke and the seething fire of Taichi.
"Alright, enough!"
Mr. Kanda barked.
"Arifukua, step away from her."
"Yu's not a—"
Taichi bit back the word her, because Yu was trembling in his arms, fragile, breakable, and he couldn't correct anyone without dragging Yu further into the spotlight. He just tightened his hold, daring the teacher to force him.
The tension drew thinner, tighter. Then Yu's small, broken voice slipped through, muffled against Taichi's chest.
"Please… don't make me let go…"
The silence that followed was deafening.
For the first time, Mr. Kanda's eyes flickered—not to Taichi, but to Yu. His sternness cracked, just slightly, as if he'd been reminded this wasn't just a scuffle between hot-headed boys but that a delicate girl was involved as well.
Still, he cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders.
"Both of you—Arifukua, Sasaki—you'll stay after class. We'll settle this properly with the administration."
His tone was final, the slam of a gavel.
Isuke bowed politely.
"Of course, sir. I only hope Yu-chan won't be further distressed by… misunderstandings."
His eyes flicked to Yu with that same gleam—possessive, calculating—before returning to the teacher, angelic as ever.
Taichi almost lunged again. It took Fumiko's hand, firm on his shoulder, to hold him in check.
Yu clung tighter, trembling harder.
And all around them, the classroom became a crucible of whispers, stares, and judgment, pressing in until the bell finally rang.
---
The park was quiet compared to the suffocating classroom, the autumn air crisp and soft against Yu's flushed cheeks. He sat on a bench between Sakura and Fumiko while Haruka crouched in front of him, all three girls keeping close as though their presence alone could shield him.
"Here, Yu."
Sakura murmured, pressing a chocolate bar into his hands.
"Something sweet always helps."
"And I got these cookies from the convenience store this morning."
Fumiko added quickly, forcing brightness into her voice as she tore the bag open.
"You love these, right?"
Haruka nudged his knee gently.
"You don't have to say anything, okay? We'll just sit here. The sun feels nice, doesn't it?"
Their voices layered, warm and careful. For a moment Yu almost believed he could hold himself together, could keep his trembling locked away.
But then his lips quivered, and his vision blurred, and before he could stop himself the dam burst.
"I–I… it's not fair…"
The words tumbled out between hiccups, his small hands curling into fists around the chocolate bar.
"I love him… I love Taichi… I'll only ever love Taichi—"
The girls stilled, their breaths caught.
Yu's body shook as sobs wracked him, his words slipping raw and broken.
"But Isuke—he… he made me—he… I had no choice—he forced me—hic, hic—"
The rest tangled in his throat, choking him before it could spill free. But it was enough. The horror in the girls' faces said it all:
They understood.
Fumiko's grip on her bag of cookies tightened until the plastic crinkled.
"That bastard…"
She hissed, eyes blazing.
Sakura pulled Yu close, hugging his trembling frame. Her voice was shaking but fierce.
"You don't have to finish, Yu-chan. We get it. He hurt you."
Haruka's jaw clenched, her usual soft calm cracking into steel.
"Taichi went too easy on him. If Sasaki thinks he can keep doing this…"
She trailed off, her fists tightening.
The girls exchanged looks—an unspoken agreement burning between them. They wouldn't just stand by.
For the first time, Yu wasn't crying alone.
---
Meanwhile, back at school, the after-class confrontation had already begun.
Taichi stood before the teacher and administration, arms folded, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. He could already feel the weight of judgment pressing against him. The whispers of his past clung like chains, threatening to drag him down again.
"Arifukua…"
The principal, Mr. Aoki said sternly.
"This is the third time you've been involved in violent outbursts at our school, not to mention outside it. Do you understand the severity of this?"
Taichi said nothing. His jaw tightened. He could hear the faint sound of students outside the office window—voices gossiping, no doubt echoing the poisoned story Isuke had spun.
'Damn it…'
He slipped his phone from out of his pocket, not caring about the questioning look he got. He didn't want this. Every time he called, the chain around his neck tightened. But Yu's broken sobs from earlier still echoed in his mind.
He pressed dial.
"Young master Taichi? Again already?"
Secretary Ling's voice was crisp, immediate.
"I got in trouble at school. Pull some strings."
Taichi muttered under his breath, keeping his eyes locked on the principal.
"Make sure the donation is triple the amount this time."
A pause. Then Ling's steady reply.
"Of course. But, young master Taichi… you know what this means."
Another chain. Another debt to his father.
Taichi's fist curled in his pocket.
"…Do it."
When he hung up, the principal's own phone chimed and after checking the notification, his tone softened, almost reverently now.
"Given the circumstances… perhaps we can resolve this without further escalation. For everyone's sake."
Taichi didn't smile. Didn't relax.
He just nodded once, the weight pressing heavier on his shoulders.