The classroom buzzed with the usual pre-weekend chatter, but Hiroki sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the morning news playing on the classroom's television. The headline sent a chill down his spine: "Unidentified Vigilantes Thwart Late-Night Assault; Authorities Baffled." The grainy footage showed two figures intervening in a violent incident, their identities obscured. Yet, Hiroki recognized the stance, the movement—it was Peter. But this Peter was different, exuding a presence that was both commanding and enigmatic.
The night before, after their harrowing encounter, Hiroki had accompanied Peter to the hospital. While Hiroki received stitches for a gash above his eyebrow and treatment for facial bruises, Peter remained composed, his focus unwavering on the victims they had rescued. Despite his own injuries, Peter's concern was solely for others, a trait that both inspired and unsettled Hiroki.
That morning, adhering to Peter's advice, Hiroki skipped his usual outdoor run, opting instead for a session on the treadmill. After a brisk workout, he showered and dressed in his customary attire: a dark blue T-shirt, black hoodie, and blue jeans. As he prepared to head downstairs, curiosity tugged at him. The hallway outside his room was lined with doors, each leading to unknown spaces. He tried one, but it was locked. The mystery of what lay beyond piqued his interest, but he decided against probing further.
Downstairs, the house was unusually quiet.
As Hiroki stepped into the kitchen, the microwave let out a soft beep, its door slowly swinging open on its own. He blinked, puzzled—he hadn't touched anything. For a brief moment, he just stared at it, unsure whether to be concerned or amused. Eventually, he shrugged it off and walked over. Inside was a steaming plate of spaghetti, looking freshly made.
"Okay... that's new," he mumbled under his breath.
He placed the plate on the dining table and pulled out a chair. Just as he sat down, a soft, unfamiliar female voice echoed through the room.
???: "I hope the meal is to your liking, Mr. Mori."
Hiroki nearly jumped out of his seat, his fork clattering to the table. His eyes darted around the room.
Hiroki: "Wha—!? Who said that?!"
There was a gentle pause before the voice returned, calm and reassuring.
Voice: "Apologies for startling you. My name is Jelunia. I'm Mr. Rasel's personal assistant—and the AI system integrated into this smart house."
Hiroki let out a breath, resting his hand on his chest.
Hiroki: "Man… don't do that. You scared me."
Jelunia: "My sincerest apologies, Mr. Mori. Mr. Rasel has informed me of your... unique circumstances. I wanted to extend a personal welcome. If there is anything I can do to assist you—anything at all—please don't hesitate to ask."
There was a pause. Hiroki's expression softened. Even though it was just a voice, there was something comforting about it.
Hiroki: "Thanks, but I'm good for now. I'll just eat and head to school."
Jelunia: "Understood. I'll stay quiet for now. But remember… I'm always here."
The microwave door gently clicked shut behind him.
Hiroki twirled the spaghetti onto his fork, humming lightly as he took a bite. The flavor was rich—creamy, balanced, and definitely not microwaved leftovers. He could already tell Peter had put some effort into it, like he always did.
Midway through his meal, Jelunia's voice returned, soft and polite.
Jelunia: "Mr. Mori, would you like me to display the morning news?"
Hiroki chewed thoughtfully. "I'm not usually big on the news," he said with a casual shrug. "But… sure, why not?"
Suddenly, with a quiet mechanical whir, a small panel on the dining table slid open. From within, a sleek device rose and projected a vibrant, floating screen—an advanced hologram TV flickering to life in front of him.
Hiroki leaned back in awe, his fork still in midair.
Hiroki: "Whoa… okay, now this is awesome!"
Jelunia: "I'm glad you approve. Mr. Rasel has a knack for inventing things that surprise people. He's constantly improving this home."
Hiroki: "Man, he really is something. First he teaches half my advanced lectures like it's nothing, then he cooks better than most restaurants, and now this? So he's a chef, an inventor, a teacher… what else? Secret agent?"
Jelunia: Chuckles softly "Well, I'm not at liberty to say… but let's just say he wears many hats. And yes—he's as kind as he is brilliant."
Hiroki smiled and nodded. "Yeah, he really is."
Hiroki: "Alright… let's see what today's news is."
Jelunia: "Streaming now, Mr. Mori."
Hiroki leaned forward in his seat, still chewing his final bite as the hologram news feed continued in the calm tone of a morning broadcast. He expected the usual political chatter or celebrity gossip—but then the screen flickered.
A sharp beep echoed from the table. The broadcast abruptly shifted.
[BREAKING NEWS]
Headline: 39 UNCONSCIOUS BODIES AND ONE DEAD FOUND IN ABANDONED INDUSTRIAL DISTRICT.
The moment the words "one dead" hit the screen, Hiroki's fork slipped from his hand and clattered onto the plate. His breath hitched. Cold. That's all he felt—a sudden, chilling silence wrapping around his heart like frost.
He narrowed his eyes at the screen as the anchor handed the segment over to a live reporter on the scene. The camera cut to the outside of an industrial building surrounded by police, caution tape fluttering, and a swarm of ambulances flashing red and blue.
Reporter (shaken but professional): "Good morning to all viewers. Apologies for the grim sight so early in the day. Authorities responded to an anonymous tip about a major fight here in—"
She paused as the camera followed her deeper into the scene. The air was tense. The concrete walls were splattered with blood, and the asphalt below was covered in injured men groaning, broken, and unable to move. Medics rushed to stabilize them.
Reporter (off-camera, voice rising): "—and we've just received confirmation: over 40 individuals were found here, most of them unconscious. But… but there's more—"
The reporter suddenly gasped, and the camera panned slightly left, capturing a scene that should never be shown live. She instinctively raised her hand to her mouth, a muffled scream escaping her throat.
Reporter (voice cracking): "Oh my god… oh my god—turn the camera away—cut the feed—!"
But it was too late.
For a split second, the lens caught it. The body. The horror.
The face was gone—shattered. Crushed. The man's head had been beaten to the point where bone no longer shaped it. A gaping split revealed parts of his brain, red and raw. His jaw was dislocated, and half his skull caved inward. The camera glitched and the image blurred—censored—but Hiroki had already seen enough.
He knew that outfit. That jacket. That chain around the neck.
It was the same man Peter had brutalized the night before. The one who led the gang inside the Yakuza hideout.
Hiroki pushed himself away from the table so fast his chair screeched across the floor and tipped over. He stumbled back, breath heavy, hands slightly shaking.
Hiroki (in disbelief, whispering): "He… he really did it… He actually sent him to hell…"
For the first time since meeting Peter, Hiroki wasn't just in awe. He wasn't even scared.
He was uncertain.
Just how far would Peter go?
Back at school, Hiroki sat at his desk, his eyes open but distant. The voices around him—the rustle of notebooks, the shuffling of feet, the droning tone of the teacher—felt distant, muffled under the weight of what he had seen on the news that morning.
Peter… he really did that…He killed him. Not just defeated him. Not just stopped him. He turned that guy into something unrecognizable…
The image flashed again in Hiroki's mind—the shattered skull, the exposed brain, the horror on the reporter's face.
He gripped his pen tighter.
What are you really hiding, Peter?
A sudden smack of something slicing the air broke his thoughts.
Thwip!
The whiteboard marker flew across the classroom like a bullet, aiming straight for him—but Hiroki snapped out of his daze just in time. With a fluid, almost lazy motion, he caught it between two fingers, his expression unfazed.
Gasps echoed from some of the students.
Teacher (frowning): "Mr. Morisawa! Focus on the lecture, please!"The male teacher's voice cracked with irritation, though there was a glint of surprise in his eyes at Hiroki's reflexes.
Hiroki (calmly): "…Sorry. Won't happen again."
He leaned forward, trying to ground himself in the present. Math. Just math. Focus. But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the formulas, the image of the shattered face still haunted the corners of his mind like a persistent shadow.
Only two lectures left… just get through the day.
When the bell rang to signal break time, Hiroki excused himself and headed for the bathroom. As he walked through the hallway, he noticed it again—those looks.
Girls—alone or in small clusters—whispered and stared. He tried not to meet their eyes, but he could hear them.
Breathless giggles. Rapid footsteps. Flushed cheeks.
Some even held their hands to their mouths like they were trying to suppress something inappropriate.
Hiroki (thinking, disturbed): Again… just like that first day… something's off with their stares.
One girl, bold enough, even muttered, "He'd look so good tied up…"
Hiroki gritted his teeth, ignoring the heat creeping up his neck.
Hiroki: "I need to make this quick."
He entered the bathroom and washed his face with cold water, watching the droplets drip down his chin and fall into the sink. The chill helped—just a little. He rubbed his hands together under the faucet, trying to clear his thoughts.
But just as he was about to leave—
He froze.
The door creaked open behind him. He turned toward the mirror.
Two figures stepped into the bathroom.
One tall, muscular, cocky. The other, graceful, seductive, and disgustingly familiar.
Kokujin.Nao.
Hiroki's entire body tensed. His heart dropped—but not out of fear.
Out of disgust.
Of all people… why these two again?
They were smiling. That made it worse.
Kokujin had his usual smug, entitled smirk, while Nao looked up at Hiroki with soft eyes… but behind them, a disturbing gleam lingered. Her lips parted as if to say something, then closed again. She tilted her head, as if teasing something—like she was hiding a secret behind that angelic mask.
Nao (giggling faintly): "Let's head to the rooftop," she whispered to Kokujin, purposely loud enough for Hiroki to hear.
The moment their footsteps echoed out of the bathroom, Hiroki stood frozen. His fingers curled tightly into fists. A deep sense of wrongness crept into his gut.
Something wasn't right.
Not just with them—but with this whole day.
And he had a terrible feeling…
It was just beginning.
Hiroki stood near the stairwell, eyes fixed on the closing door to the rooftop. He hadn't moved yet.
"Why the hell would those two want to go up there?"The air had shifted when Nao whispered those words. It wasn't flirtation—it felt like a trap.
A storm brewed quietly in Hiroki's chest. He clenched his jaw and took a cautious step toward the staircase.
Just a peek. Just see what they're up to, and leave. No interactions. No drama.
But then—A gentle tap on his shoulder.
Startled, Hiroki spun around.
And froze.
Standing in front of him… was Peter.
Holding a bouquet of soft pink and white flowers.
Hiroki (confused): "…Huh?"
Peter raised an eyebrow with a casual smile, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
Peter: "What, never seen a man hold flowers before?"
Hiroki blinked, trying to piece things together. Peter? Here? With flowers?
Hiroki (hesitant): "…Hi, father."
Peter gave a subtle nod, slipping right into their well-practiced charade.
Peter (light tone): "Hey, son. How's school?"
Hiroki: "Fine. A little boring. Some lectures are just… dry."
They stood there for a moment, playing the roles of an average father and son.
Students passed them by, throwing occasional glances, but nobody seemed suspicious. They were good at this by now—too good. But Hiroki's eyes drifted again to the flowers in Peter's hand.
Hiroki: "What's with the bouquet?"
Peter (grinning): "It's for the principal. A thank you gift. She went out of her way to help us when we needed it."
Hiroki looked at the bouquet again—roses, lilies, and a splash of baby's breath. Neatly wrapped, fragrant, thoughtful.
So he's making moves like that too, huh…?
Peter (calmly): "Anyway, I won't keep you. Go finish your lectures. Meet me in front of the school gate when you're done, alright?"
Hiroki: "Yeah. Got it."
With that, Peter gave a quick pat on Hiroki's shoulder and disappeared down the hall, heading toward the faculty offices. His footsteps were silent, almost ghostlike.
Hiroki watched him until he turned the corner.
Peter... you're a mystery wrapped in a hundred more.
He let out a short breath, then turned toward the staircase once more. The rooftop door was probably closed by now. But his curiosity hadn't faded—if anything, it had grown stronger.
Hiroki (under his breath): "Let's see what the hell you two are plotting this time…"
And with silent steps, Hiroki crept upward, his fingers brushing the cold steel railing, eyes sharp, ready for anything.
after few minutes later
The rooftop door creaked ever so slightly as Hiroki nudged it open. A gust of wind brushed his hoodie as he stepped out, quiet as a shadow, keeping low behind the concrete wall lining the perimeter.
He could hear them.
Nao and Kokujin.
Their voices carried softly over the breeze, casual at first—but laced with something... wrong.
Nao (whispering): "So, they arrived this morning?"
Kokujin (grinning): "Yeah. All of them are my boys. Real beasts. You're gonna love 'em."
Nao: "Good. You know tomorrow night's gonna be special."
Kokujin (laughing darkly): "Oh, it fckin' will be... my little slty toy."
Hiroki's heart dropped.
His back pressed harder against the wall as he clenched his fists. He wanted to move, to speak, to scream—but something told him to stay quiet.
What the hell are they talking about...? Who arrived? What's happening tomorrow night?
Everything about their exchange screamed danger. Malice. And something else he couldn't place—something that made his skin crawl.
He couldn't stay long.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps drew closer—Nao and Kokujin were heading back toward the rooftop door.
Nao (laughing quietly): "Let's go. I don't want to be late for the next class."
Hiroki's eyes widened.
Sht.*
He bolted—softly but fast—back down the stairwell, skipping steps where he could, not daring to breathe too loudly. He needed to vanish before they saw him.
He ducked into one of the empty classrooms. The door clicked shut behind him, and he crouched by the window, peeking through the glass slit in the door.
He waited.
One minute passed. Then two.
Silence.
They didn't see me...
But the silence in the room only made the noise in his head louder. His thoughts raced, overlapping and chaotic.
What are they planning? Who are those "friends"? What's going down tomorrow night?
There were no answers.
Not yet.
But one thing was clear—whatever Kokujin and Nao were up to, it wasn't just stupid drama anymore.
This was something darker.
And Hiroki knew one thing for sure:He'd be there tomorrow night.Even if he had to go through hell to find out.
Peter's footsteps echoed softly down the polished hallway as he approached the principal's office. In his hand, a modest bouquet of flowers—white lilies mixed with blue hydrangeas—something elegant, yet thoughtful.
He raised his hand to knock…
But paused.
Voices.
The door wasn't fully closed. Through the small gap, a conversation drifted out—faint, but clear enough to catch his attention.
It was Reina.
Her tone wasn't the usual authoritative one she wore at school. It was softer. Hesitant. Vulnerable.
Reina (sighing): "Yuki… it's been a while since I talked to him. I miss him."
Yuki (teasingly): "Ooh~ someone's in love! Fufufu~"
Reina (hushed): "Yuki, I'm serious. Stop teasing me. I want to make a move, but… what if he rejects me?"
Peter blinked, frozen in place.
Yuki (curious): "Wasn't it supposed to be the man who makes the first move?"
Reina (gently): "Yuki… I'm just… I just want to know if he'd even like someone like me. Someone with a past like mine… someone with scars."
Peter's expression softened. For a moment, his grip on the flowers loosened slightly.
The silence between the women stretched for a beat—before Peter gave a respectful knock, breaking the moment.
Inside, Reina's chair squeaked slightly as she straightened up. Her hand shot up to her hair, smoothing it quickly as her voice went hurried and slightly flustered.
Reina: "I-I'll call you back, Yuki. He's here."
Click.
She took a moment to breathe. Her fingers brushed over her blouse, fixing a wrinkle as she stood and composed herself.
Then, in the calmest voice she could manage, she said:
Reina: "Come in."
Peter stepped inside.
His expression unreadable, his footsteps quiet, and the flowers in his hand still fresh with dew.
What neither of them realized in that moment…Was that something far more complicated than romance or work was beginning to bloom—Something that would soon test them both.
As Peter stepped into the principal's office, a subtle warmth filled the room—not from the lights, but from the quiet shift in Reina Takamura's expression.
Her eyes immediately locked on the bouquet in his hands.
White lilies… blue hydrangeas… dew still clinging to the petals.
She blinked.
Then her face turned bright red.
Reina: "A-Ah…!"
Peter, calm and gentlemanly, offered a small smile as he approached the desk and gently set the flowers down in front of her.
Peter: "These are for you. Just a little thank you—for all the help you've given me and Hiroki… and for how hard you've been working."
Reina fumbled slightly, her fingers twitching before she carefully picked up the bouquet as though it might dissolve in her hands. She raised it to her face and breathed in softly. A shy smile bloomed across her lips.
Reina (stammering): "I-I-It wasn't really necessary, but… I-I-I do appreciate it. They smell like… heaven."
Peter chuckled softly, folding his arms.
Peter: "Glad you like them. And… Miss Takamura—"
Reina (quickly): "R-Reina. C-call me Reina, please."
Peter tilted his head slightly at the sudden correction. His warm demeanor didn't falter, but his eyes studied her for a moment, quietly noting the color in her cheeks.
Peter: "Very well, Reina. I wanted to ask—since Hiroki started attending here, have you noticed anything strange? Either from the students… or the faculty?"
Reina's brow furrowed. She leaned back in her chair, giving it some thought, her tone turning more professional.
Reina: "Hmm… Not really. Things have been surprisingly smooth lately. Hiroki's been helping other students more than I expected, and there's been nothing suspicious from the teachers either."
Peter nodded, but before he could respond, Reina's eyes lit up faintly—she suddenly remembered something.
Reina: "Wait… there was something odd. Not at school… but yesterday evening."
Peter's posture shifted. He leaned forward slightly, and his gaze sharpened—not menacing, but intense.
Peter: "I'm listening."
The moment his eyes met hers with that unshakable seriousness, Reina's cheeks warmed again. She quickly cleared her throat and tried to center herself.
Reina: "W-Well… I was on my way home, walking past an old high school about 300 meters from here. Near the front gate, I overheard someone talking to another guy. I didn't see their faces clearly, but…"
She paused, shivering slightly at the memory.
Reina: "One of them mentioned something about hypnotizing people. And then he said something like… 'I still have time… I'll do it on the first day of the week.'"
Peter's face darkened in an instant.
The softness in his expression vanished. His jaw clenched. One of his eyebrows twitched as it curved into a sharp angle, his anger quietly surfacing like a volcano just before eruption.
Peter (low, cold): "That's all I need to know."
Reina looked at him, half worried, half in awe.
Reina: "You're welcome… Be careful, Peter."
Peter stood from his seat slowly—but instead of heading for the door, he turned back toward Reina.
His expression softened.
His usual composed demeanor melted into something warm… sincere… almost vulnerable. He looked at her the way one might admire a sunset—quietly, reverently.
Reina felt her throat tighten.She tried to stay calm. Professional. Unshaken.
But her face?Her face betrayed her completely—her cheeks flared a deep shade of red, glowing like apples kissed by the morning sun.
Then, Peter spoke. And his words came out like silk.
Peter:"You are so beautiful, Miss Reina... Your eyes—they're like the only ocean I'd gladly drown in. Your smile… could cure any illness mankind has ever known. And your soul… your presence… it's something that no words or numbers could ever describe."
Reina's heart skipped. Not once.
Not twice.
It beat so wildly, she could barely breathe.
Reina (blushing hard):"Wha—wha-wha-wha—What are you t-t-t-talking about?!"
But just as hope began to flutter in her chest—Peter's next words hit like a gentle but devastating blow.
Peter (softly):"…But I can't be your lover."
Reina froze.Her lips parted slightly.
Reina (shocked):"…What?"
The room grew still.She looked at him, trying to decipher what he meant, like putting together a puzzle made of shattered glass.
Peter stepped closer, gaze unwavering.
Peter:"I have… reasons. Deep ones. Things you wouldn't understand yet.I know… I know you have feelings for me. I'm not blind.But I can't give you the heart you want… not right now.You don't know my story. And even if I tried to tell it… it would take time.That's why… I want you to find someone better. Someone who can make you happy… fully."
Silence.
Then—
Reina (softly):"…I'll wait."
Peter blinked.
Peter:"…I know you will—wait. What?!"
Reina looked right into his eyes.No hesitation. No fear.Her voice, though quiet, struck with the force of certainty.
Reina:"I don't care how long it takes.I. WILL. WAIT."
Peter stood there, stunned.
Then, after a beat… he chuckled softly. He walked up to her, placing a hand gently on the edge of the desk.
His grin had returned—but this time, with a touch of mischief.
Peter:"You know… you really act like a spoiled kid sometimes."
Reina (eyes wide):"Wha—WHAT?!"
Peter:"Take it as a compliment."
And with that, he turned and walked out.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Reina stood frozen in place, her heart pounding so loud she swore the whole school could hear it.
She pressed the bouquet to her chest, still red as a tomato, whispering just barely under her breath.
Reina (whispering):"…I meant it. I'll wait."
The Unspoken Things
The soft thud of Peter's boots echoed faintly in the hallway as he walked with quiet composure. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his long black coat, the flowers now given, his purpose fulfilled—for now.
The school was still in session, but the hallways near the front were nearly empty, save for scattered murmurs behind classroom doors. Then, in the distance, a familiar figure appeared.
Peter's eyes lit up slightly.He raised a hand with an easy smile, slipping once more into the mask he wore so naturally.
Peter:"Hey, son. School finished already?"
Hiroki, still wearing his hoodie over the school uniform, walked toward him with his usual calm but distant demeanor.
Hiroki:"No, just one class left. But the principal told us to stay after school for some activities."
Peter gave a soft nod, his tone light and approving.
Peter:"Good. Make sure to show them your best behavior—make your 'father' proud."
There was a brief moment of shared silence. The kind only two people with shared secrets could experience.
Then Hiroki glanced around, casually pretending to stretch as he subtly motioned for Peter to lean in. His voice dropped into a low whisper, barely audible above the ambient hum of the school.
Hiroki (softly):"Mr. Rasel… what happened to Ayato?"
Peter didn't answer right away.
He looked at Hiroki, reading him. The boy's voice was composed—but his eyes were searching. Behind the blank mask of his calm, Hiroki was uneasy.
Peter (softly):"He's still in the hospital. But… in two days, he'll be out. After that, he'll join us."
Hiroki gave a quiet nod.It was small. Barely noticeable.But Peter knew what it meant.
Reassurance.
Confirmation.
That was all Hiroki needed to hear.
And yet… there was something more. Something unsaid. Hiroki turned slightly as if to walk away—but then paused. He glanced over his shoulder for a brief second. His mouth opened—just slightly—as if he was about to ask something else.
But the words never came.
The weight of last night's events still lingered heavy in his mind.
The image of the news report.The mangled body.The blood. The face that no longer existed.
He couldn't say it.Not here.Not now.
So he simply nodded again.
Hiroki (quietly):"…Alright. See you at the gates."
Peter:"I'll be there."
Hiroki turned and walked back down the hallway, his steps slow, thoughtful. The shadows from the tall windows stretched across the polished floor, dancing along with his fading silhouette.
Peter stood there a moment longer, watching his 'son' disappear into the corridor.
Behind his calm smile, his own thoughts stirred.
He knew Hiroki wanted to ask.
He knew Hiroki was shaken.
But some truths had to come in layers.Not all wounds can be ripped open and stitched in the same breath.
Peter (in thought):He's not ready to face that yet. And maybe… maybe neither am I.
He sighed softly, turning to walk toward the school exit, his footsteps echoing with a quiet intensity.
Outside, the sky was shifting into late afternoon hues. A slight breeze brushed against the school walls, gently rattling the windows as if whispering secrets they weren't yet ready to hear.
As Hiroki disappeared behind the corner, Peter stood still in the now-silent hallway.
The moment the boy was out of sight, the soft warmth that had once painted Peter's face melted away—completely.
Gone was the gentle smile.Gone was the playful, easygoing father.
What remained…Was him.
His eyes darkened—not in color, but in aura. His expression sharpened like the edge of a blade. There was no longer softness in his features, only focus. Intensity. Rage... barely restrained.
A low gust of wind slithered through the narrow hallway window, brushing Peter's coat as if nature itself could sense what was building beneath his calm exterior.
Then, Peter clenched his right fist—so tight that his knuckles cracked and a faint shimmer of energy rippled through his arm like a warning tremor.
His voice was low.
Barely a whisper.
But the weight behind it could crush mountains.
Peter:"…They're coming."
The silence that followed was not peaceful—it was ominous. As if the world had inhaled… and forgotten how to exhale.
His coat rustled as he turned slowly toward the exit, footsteps heavy with purpose.
He knew what was waiting on the horizon.
And it wasn't just trouble.
It was war.
A war only he remembered.A war only he survived.
A storm that began long ago… was about to reach Japan.
And this time, no one—not even Hiroki—was ready.
TO BE CONTINUED...