Part 4 — The Price of Restraint
Daigo stepped in.
Chairs scraped hurriedly as students rushed back to their seats.
Desks were pushed into place—not neatly, just enough.
By the time the door slid open, the classroom looked orderly.
Too orderly.
Haruki was already seated.
Haruto sat still, eyes lowered.
But the air hadn't settled.
Everyone could feel it.
Daigo stood at the front of the room for a moment longer.
Then he turned back to the board and picked up the chalk.
"Where we left off," he said calmly.
The word control was already written there.
He underlined it once.
"A shinobi doesn't prove control when nothing is happening," Daigo continued. "They prove it when something has already gone wrong."
Chalk tapped lightly against the board.
"When your breathing is uneven. When your body is strained. When emotion is louder than thought."
Haruto remained still.
Then the pain caught up to him.
A dull pain settled in Haruto's stomach.
Not sharp.
Persistent.
He rested his left hand there, fingers pressing lightly, while his right hand continued to move across the page, copying the points Daigo wrote on the board.
Control.
Awareness.
Restraint.
His handwriting remained steady, even as his breathing slowed.
Daigo spoke without pause, chalk moving methodically.
"Control is not about stopping action," he said. "It's about choosing when action is necessary."
The lesson continued.
Minutes passed.
The classroom stayed quiet, focused—almost unnaturally so.
Haruto didn't look up once.
He kept writing.
When Daigo finished the final point, a hand rose from the middle rows.
"Sensei," Riku said, careful and respectful, "may we have a five-minute break?"
Daigo glanced at the clock.
Then nodded.
"Five minutes," he said. "We continue immediately after."
Chairs shifted softly as the class exhaled.
The break had begun.