The morning sun illuminated the small village as Arima Masaki stood before a mirror, examining his reflection.
Today was his first day of school.
His mother, Arima Shiori, had spent nearly an hour preparing him for this moment. She had picked out his clothes, combed his crimson-red hair, and even packed his lunch herself.
Unfortunately, her son seemed far too calm about the whole affair.
"Masaki, are you nervous?" Shiori asked, kneeling beside him.
"No."
"Excited?"
"A little."
"Are you looking forward to meeting lots of new friends?"
"If they're interesting."
Shiori stared at him.
Her son was only a few years old, yet he spoke with the composure of a retired nobleman who had grown tired of the world.
And that face!
His crimson hair was soft and lustrous, with several rebellious strands falling naturally across his forehead. His skin was smooth and fair, while his deep-red eyes possessed an unusual clarity that made them seem like polished rubies.
His features were already remarkably handsome for his age. Even his ordinary school clothes seemed to suit him perfectly.
Most children looked adorable.
Masaki looked like a miniature prince who had reluctantly agreed to attend school.
Shiori clutched her chest.
My son is too handsome!
"Masaki, remember that if anyone bothers you, you must tell your teacher immediately."
"Okay, Mother."
"And don't let any girls get too close to you."
Masaki turned his head.
"Why?"
"Because…"
Shiori's mouth opened and closed.
How could she explain that the world was full of dangerous people who might try to steal her precious son away from her?
"Because Mother worries about you!"
"I see."
He clearly did not see.
Nevertheless, he allowed his mother to straighten his collar one last time before taking her hand.
"Let's go. I don't want to be late."
Shiori's expression brightened immediately.
"Of course! Let's go, sweetheart!"
And so, the first day of Arima Masaki's school life began.
The moment Masaki stepped into the classroom, the room became noticeably quieter.
Several children turned toward the entrance.
Then they stared.
A little girl holding a pencil stopped moving entirely.
A boy who had been eating a snack forgot to chew.
Even the teacher paused while arranging the papers on her desk.
Masaki's crimson hair and striking red eyes made him stand out immediately. Yet what truly caught everyone's attention was the way he carried himself.
He wasn't nervous.
He didn't hide behind the teacher.
He simply walked into the classroom with his hands relaxed at his sides, his expression calm and his gaze steady.
It was as though he had entered a room that already belonged to him.
"Good morning, everyone," the teacher finally said. "We have a new student joining us today. Please introduce yourself."
Masaki stepped forward.
"My name is Arima Masaki. I hope we get along."
That was it.
No awkward introduction. No stumbling over his words.
He gave a small bow and returned to his place.
The classroom remained silent for another moment.
Then a girl sitting near the window whispered to her friend.
"He's so handsome…"
"His eyes are red! Are they real?"
"I want to sit next to him!"
The whispers quickly spread.
The teacher cleared her throat, trying to restore order.
"Very well, Masaki. You can sit in the empty seat beside the window."
"Thank you."
As Masaki walked toward his seat, he noticed several classmates watching him.
He paid them little attention.
So this is school.
In his previous life—or rather, in the memories that occasionally surfaced within his young mind—he had possessed a different perspective on life. Now, he was experiencing childhood again, surrounded by children whose greatest concerns seemed to be toys, snacks, and who got to sit beside whom.
It was strangely refreshing.
Perhaps school wouldn't be so boring after all.
During the first break, Masaki discovered that being the new student came with an unexpected disadvantage.
He couldn't even finish opening his lunch before three girls gathered around his desk.
"Masaki, what's your favorite food?"
"Do you like playing outside?"
"Can I see your eyes up close?"
Masaki slowly looked up from his lunch.
"My eyes aren't going anywhere."
The girl who had asked the last question blinked.
Then she giggled.
"He's funny!"
"I wasn't joking."
That only made her laugh harder.
Before long, more children had gathered around his desk. Some wanted to talk to him, while others simply wanted to look at him.
Masaki endured the attention with remarkable patience.
He wasn't particularly interested in becoming popular, but he wasn't rude enough to chase away children who were genuinely trying to befriend him.
A boy with messy brown hair eventually approached.
"I'm Kenji! Do you want to play tag with us after lunch?"
Masaki considered the invitation.
"What's the point?"
Kenji looked confused.
"It's fun!"
"Then I'll consider it."
"That means yes, right?"
"It means I'll consider it."
Kenji scratched his head.
For some reason, he felt as though he had just spoken to a very small adult.
Still, he grinned.
"Okay! I'll come get you later!"
Masaki watched him leave.
At least that one's energetic.
He returned to his lunch, unaware that the girls nearby had already begun arguing over who would sit beside him tomorrow.
His school life had barely begun, and he was already becoming the center of attention.
Unfortunately, not everyone appreciated it.
It happened during the afternoon break.
Masaki was walking along the side of the school building when three older boys stepped into his path.
The tallest one folded his arms.
"Hey, redhead."
Masaki stopped.
"Are you talking to me?"
"Who else has red hair around here?"
"Then speak properly."
The boy's expression twisted.
"What did you say?"
Masaki looked at him with his deep-red eyes.
"I said you should speak properly. Is your hearing bad?"
One of the boys burst out laughing.
The tallest boy's face turned red.
"You think you're special because all the girls like you?"
Masaki tilted his head.
"Do they?"
The boy's jaw tightened.
"Don't act so smug!"
He reached out and shoved Masaki's shoulder.
Or at least, he tried.
Masaki barely moved.
The older boy stared at his hand in confusion.
He had pushed with enough force to make most children stumble backward. Yet Masaki remained exactly where he was, his small frame seemingly unaffected.
Masaki glanced at the hand on his shoulder.
Then he looked back at the boy.
"Are you finished?"
"Y-You little—!"
The boy swung his fist.
Masaki moved.
It wasn't a spectacular dodge. There were no unnecessary movements, no dramatic flourish.
He simply stepped aside, caught the boy's wrist, and redirected his momentum.
The bully stumbled past him and landed on the ground.
The other two froze.
Masaki released the boy's wrist and stepped back.
He had used barely any strength.
So the Fanalis bloodline really is absurd.
Ever since his birth, Masaki had occasionally noticed things that seemed unusual about his body. His grip was stronger than expected, his balance was excellent, and movements that exhausted other children felt effortless to him.
Now, he was beginning to understand just how abnormal his physical abilities might be.
The Fanalis bloodline was famous for its extraordinary physical prowess.
And even at his young age, Masaki possessed a fraction of that terrifying potential.
To him, the confrontation had barely qualified as exercise.
The remaining boys exchanged glances.
"Get him!"
They rushed forward together.
Masaki sighed.
Three of them? Seriously?
He stepped around the first boy, lightly tapped the second on the shoulder as the boy rushed past, and shifted his weight to avoid the third.
Within seconds, all three were sprawled on the ground.
One clutched his backside.
Another stared at Masaki as though he had witnessed a ghost.
The tallest boy struggled to his feet.
"How did you do that?!"
Masaki brushed a little dust from his clothes.
"Practice your balance."
"I'll tell everyone you cheated!"
"Then explain how three people lost to one little kid."
The boy's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Masaki looked at all three of them, his expression perfectly composed.
"Listen carefully. I don't care if you dislike me. But if you try to hit me again, don't expect me to stand still and let you."
His voice wasn't loud.
He didn't need to shout.
There was something unsettling about how calmly he delivered the warning.
The three bullies exchanged frightened glances.
Then they ran.
Masaki watched them disappear around the corner.
"School is more troublesome than I expected."
Unfortunately for him, several classmates had witnessed the entire encounter.
And by the time he returned to the classroom, the story had already spread.
"Masaki defeated three older boys!"
"He dodged all their attacks!"
"Someone said he threw one of them!"
"I heard he could defeat ten people!"
Masaki sat down at his desk.
Ten people?
He hadn't even done anything worth mentioning.
Still, when several girls gathered around him to ask whether he was hurt, he patiently assured them that he was fine.
Their admiration only grew.
One girl even declared that she wanted to marry him when they grew up.
Masaki nearly choked on his water.
I'm going to need a quieter school.
The final bell rang.
Children poured out of the school building, their voices filling the afternoon air.
Masaki walked toward the entrance with his schoolbag hanging from one shoulder.
He was already thinking about what he wanted to do next.
His physical abilities had caught his attention.
If his Fanalis bloodline was genuinely as powerful as he suspected, then relying on instinct alone would be foolish.
Strength without control was merely wasted potential.
He wanted to understand his body, learn proper techniques, and discover the limits of his abilities.
But first, he needed permission.
"Masaki!"
A familiar voice called out.
He turned.
His mother was standing near the school gate, smiling brightly and waving at him.
"Mother."
Shiori hurried toward him with open arms.
"How was your first day? Did you eat your lunch? Did you make friends? Did anyone bother you?"
"Mother, that's four questions."
"And I'll ask four hundred more if necessary!"
Masaki stared at her.
She immediately embraced him.
"My poor baby! You must have been so lonely without me!"
"Mother, I was at school."
"Exactly! Away from me!"
Masaki decided that arguing would be pointless.
Then Shiori noticed something.
Several girls were standing nearby, watching her son with sparkling eyes.
One of them waved shyly.
"Bye, Masaki! See you tomorrow!"
"See you," Masaki replied.
Another girl hurried forward.
"Masaki, don't forget that you promised to play with us!"
"I said I'd consider it."
"That's practically a promise!"
The girls giggled and ran away.
Shiori's smile slowly stiffened.
She watched them disappear.
Then she looked down at her son.
Then back at the girls.
A dangerous silence descended.
"Masaki."
"Yes?"
"Why are so many girls talking to you?"
"Because they want to."
"Why do they want to?"
"Perhaps you should ask them."
Shiori's eyes widened.
He's already attracting girls! He's still so young!
She tightened her embrace.
"Masaki, you mustn't grow up too quickly!"
"I don't think I have any control over that."
"Then Mother will simply have to protect you more!"
"From what?"
"From everything!"
Masaki sighed.
He suspected his mother was going to be a far greater challenge than the bullies.
On the walk home, Masaki finally brought up the subject that had occupied his thoughts all afternoon.
"Mother, I want to learn martial arts."
Shiori stopped walking.
"What?"
"I want to join a martial arts dojo."
She stared at him in disbelief.
"Why? Did something happen at school? Did someone hurt you?"
"No. Three boys tried to bully me."
Shiori's expression changed instantly.
"WHAT?! WHO?!"
Her voice was so loud that a nearby bird flew off a tree branch.
"Mother, calm down. They didn't hurt me."
"Then what happened?"
"I dealt with them."
Shiori looked him over anxiously.
"Are you sure you're not injured?"
"I'm sure."
She crouched in front of him, checking his arms and shoulders anyway.
Only after confirming that he was unharmed did she release a long breath.
"Those terrible boys! How dare they bother my precious son!"
"That's why I want to learn martial arts."
Shiori paused.
Masaki continued speaking in his usual calm voice.
"Today, I could handle them. But I don't want to rely on luck or instinct. I want to learn how to control my strength properly."
His expression remained composed, but there was a quiet determination in his eyes.
"I want to become stronger."
For a moment, Shiori didn't respond.
She had always known that her son was unusual. Even as a baby, there had been moments when his grip seemed surprisingly strong. As he grew, his coordination and physical abilities continued to impress her.
But hearing him speak so seriously about becoming stronger made her realize something.
Her little boy was beginning to develop ambitions of his own.
And she couldn't keep him in her arms forever.
Even if she desperately wanted to.
"Masaki…"
"Yes, Mother?"
"Will you still let me hug you when you become strong?"
He blinked.
"Of course."
"Will you still come home with me after school?"
"Yes."
"And you'll always be Mother's precious little boy?"
Masaki looked at her for a moment.
"That's not something that changes just because I learn martial arts."
Shiori's eyes immediately glistened.
My son! He's too wonderful!
She pulled him into another embrace.
"Of course you can join a dojo! I'll find the best one in the village! The kind with good teachers, clean floors, and absolutely no dangerous people!"
"Wouldn't a martial arts dojo naturally have dangerous people?"
"Not when I'm choosing it!"
Masaki decided not to argue.
"Thank you, Mother."
Shiori beamed.
"Anything for you!"
Then, as they continued walking, she glanced back toward the school.
Her expression grew serious.
Those girls…
She hugged Masaki a little closer.
Mother will have to keep a close eye on things.
Masaki, meanwhile, was already thinking about his future training.
He wanted to learn striking, grappling, footwork, and everything else a proper martial artist should know.
He wanted to test his strength, sharpen his instincts, and gain complete control over the extraordinary body he had inherited.
The Fanalis bloodline had given him a remarkable foundation.
But a foundation was only the beginning.
If I'm going to become stronger, I might as well do it properly.
His crimson eyes glimmered beneath the afternoon sun.
For the first time since starting school, Masaki smiled faintly.
His peaceful childhood had just become a little more interesting.
And somewhere in the village, an unsuspecting martial arts instructor was about to receive the most unusual student of his career.
End of Chapter 4