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Utahime was sitting in a spacious office, in front of a desktop computer. The screen displayed an ongoing video call with Principal Yaga, whose stern face occupied most of it.
Masamichi, visibly irritated, spoke in a sharp tone: "It's rather bold of Yoshinobu not to meet me in person."
Sensing the tension rising, Utahime quickly apologized. "The principal has urgent matters to attend to, and may I remind you that you called unexpectedly, Principal Yaga."
Masamichi let out a deep sigh, his expression softening slightly. "Fine," he said, ready to continue the conversation, when the office door suddenly swung open, drawing Utahime's attention.
It was old Yoshinobu. He entered with a steady stride, his piercing eyes sweeping the room before settling on Utahime. "I told you to cut this call," he said firmly.
Masamichi, still on the other end of the line, burst out angrily. "Yoshinobu, are you still sulking about losing at the interschool games?"
Yoshinobu approached the desk. Utahime hurriedly stood to give him her seat. He sat down heavily in the chair, adjusting his posture before fixing the screen with a cold, piercing stare.
"If you don't have a convincing subject, Masamichi, I'm hanging up. Unlike you, I have important matters to handle."
Utahime stood aside, her hands trembling slightly, hoping the situation wouldn't escalate further. She knew the two men shared a complex history, marked by old rivalries and fierce competitions.
The silence that followed Yoshinobu's words seemed to stretch endlessly.
Masamichi, on the other side of the screen, took a deep breath.
"Very well," he finally said, his voice calmer but still tinged with frustration. "Let's talk about what really matters."
Yoshinobu nodded, a faint smile of satisfaction tugging at his lips.
"I'm listening."
After a brief pause, Masamichi cleared his throat and locked his sharp gaze onto Yoshinobu through the camera.
"Yoshinobu, I'm going to ask you a question," he said. "Have you recently accepted a student into your school? A young one, maybe… a little unusual?"
Yoshinobu raised an eyebrow, his face impassive. He leaned forward slightly, fingers interlaced before him.
"That happens regularly, you know, in a school like ours. Perhaps you should clarify, Masamichi. What exactly do you mean by 'unusual'?"
Masamichi pressed his lips together, clearly irritated by his colleague's nonchalance.
"You know perfectly well what I mean, Yoshinobu." He paused, as if restraining his irritation. "This boy… there's something about him that could pose a serious problem. I won't beat around the bush: we believe he might be the anomaly."
Yoshinobu didn't flinch. He swallowed lightly, his face as cold and unyielding as stone.
"And if I did accept him?" he said at last. "How is that any of your concern, Masamichi? My school is not under your control, and I run it as I see fit."
Masamichi shook his head, a trace of exasperation in his eyes.
"Stop playing games, Yoshinobu. You know very well the situation is becoming critical. The frequency of high-grade curses has risen alarmingly in recent months. That's no coincidence, and you and I both know there's a source behind it. If this boy is connected to the disturbance, we need to find out before it's too late."
Yoshinobu smirked, though there was no warmth in it.
"And you think blaming a teenager for such chaos is the solution? If that's the theory you've come to me with, you're wasting your time."
"Yoshinobu!" Masamichi snapped, his features hardening. "You know this isn't just a coincidence. This boy is suspected to be at the very heart of the anomaly. He might even be the cause! If that's true, you'd better be prepared. And you'd better start by listening to me!"
A fleeting spark flickered in Yoshinobu's eyes, but his mask of indifference remained. He leaned back slightly, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
"And what's your grand plan, then? You want to interrogate him? Put him under surveillance like a criminal?"
"That's not it," Masamichi replied, trying to keep his composure. "I just need to be sure you're taking this seriously. If we do nothing and the balance tips, it won't just be your school and mine that suffer the consequences."
A heavy silence fell. Yoshinobu absently ran his fingers along the armrest of the chair. Then, lifting his head, he stared sharply into the camera.
"I'll give you a piece of advice, my dear Masamichi. Listen well."
Masamichi narrowed his eyes, his face set. Yoshinobu continued, his voice low and cutting: "Stay out of this matter. And above all, stay away from that boy. Believe me, this isn't your problem, and you don't want it to become one."
Yoshinobu's tone left no room for argument, and a chilling cold seemed to settle in the room. Masamichi clenched his jaw, his fist tightening against the unseen desk on his side.
"Yoshinobu, he is—"
Without waiting, Yoshinobu ended the call, the screen snapping to black with a sharp click.
Silence now reigned in the office. Yoshinobu rose slowly, adjusted his clothes, and turned to Utahime.
"I don't need to tell you what to do if that man calls again, do I?"
Utahime, her cheeks flushed and her heart pounding, nodded quickly.
Yoshinobu cast her a brief, hard look, then left the room without another word.
Utahime remained still for a moment, her eyes fixed on the dark screen. Masamichi's words echoed in her mind like a distant refrain: "This boy… there's something about him that could pose a serious problem… the anomaly…"
She walked over to the window and gazed outside.
"Ryosuke…"