The quiet hum of the dojo's hanging lanterns greeted them as they stepped inside, the adrenaline of the mission still wearing off. Keiko immediately slumped onto a cushion by the low table, while Taehyung kicked off his shoes and crashed backward onto the wooden floor, arms spread wide.
"Do you think it worked?" Keiko asked, glancing toward Gen.
He didn't respond. He just walked over to the window, looking out at the faint glow of the Tokyo skyline. His thoughts were racing—about Ito, about his father, about the digital mask that now shielded his identity.
Moments later, Keiko's phone buzzed.
A breaking news bulletin flashed across the screen.
"Tokyo Government Clears Student Suspect in Watchtower Murder Case."
The article continued: 'After deeper facial analysis, authorities have determined that the individual responsible for the incident was not Gen Nanami as originally believed. The suspect bore a resemblance but has now been identified as an entirely different person. An official apology is pending.'
Keiko gasped. "Gen… it worked. You're cleared."
Gen turned around slowly, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I'm… free?"
Taehyung grinned, grabbing a celebratory rice cracker from the snack tray. "Told you this would work. We just had to out-hack the government. No big deal."
Keiko rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "Now that you're not a fugitive anymore… maybe it's time you went back to school."
Gen blinked. "School?"
"Yeah," she said. "Remember that place? Uniforms? Exams? Cramming for tests the night before?"
"Drama and lunch lines?" Taehyung added, smirking.
Gen sat down slowly, letting out a deep sigh. "You're right. All of this supernatural stuff… it's gotten way out of hand. I need a break from missions, fights, powers—I need to remember what it feels like to be normal again, at least somewhat."
He looked at the ceiling of the dojo, as if it could answer some deeper question for him. Was it really over? Could life ever go back to what it once was?
The school gates loomed like a familiar relic, rusted slightly at the edges from time and memory. Gen adjusted his blazer collar as he stepped through them, Keiko to his right, Taehyung to his left. Behind them, Taehyung's loyal goon squad strutted with an almost choreographed precision, arms crossed, faces unreadable, radiating power with every synchronized step.
The hallway buzzed.
Chairs scraped.
Lockers slammed.
Then, silence—followed by a ripple of whispers.
"Oh my god… is that Gen Nanami?"
"No way… wasn't he the guy accused of murder?"
"Girl, I swear I saw him on the news—he was totally innocent though."
"He's too hot to be a killer."
Gen blinked. He wasn't used to attention. Or rather, not this kind. His cheeks flushed lightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.
Taehyung leaned in with a smirk. "Didn't think you'd come back a legend, huh?"
Keiko nudged him playfully. "Ignore them. They'll move on in like, two days."
But Gen couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. It feels… good to be back.
The trio walked through the halls like a scene from a movie—the misunderstood protagonist flanked by his loyal crew, reclaiming a life that had once been taken from him.
Once in class, Gen dropped into his seat with a familiar thud. The lectures droned on—math equations, history facts, a pop quiz announcement. None of it stuck. His mind was drifting, not to missions or status menus, but to the mundane comfort of sharpened pencils and the scent of old textbooks.
When the lunch bell rang, Gen yawned, stretching his arms above his head. The sun filtered in from the classroom windows, casting long shadows over his desk. He reached into his bag, pulling out a neatly wrapped bento box Keiko had helped him make that morning.
He peeled it open, the scent of teriyaki chicken drifting up, and just as he went for his chopsticks—
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.
They grew louder, each one making the other students look up nervously. A few even instinctively scooted their chairs away from the door.
Gen froze.
The air turned electric.
The door slid open with a loudcrack.
Standing in the doorway was Ichika Matsumoto.
Her signature red-ribbon hair glowed in the sunlight, and her piercing gaze locked directly onto Gen.
The room fell dead silent.
Then her lips curled into a smirk.
"Hey, piggy."