Part 1: Silence at the Podium
The quiet shuffle of chairs scraping against the floorboards filled the classroom as the students returned to their desks. The lingering weight of Raizo's words hung thick in the air, leaving no room for idle chatter.
Near the front entrance, a tall figure stood leaning silently against the doorframe, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Daigo-sensei had been there the entire time. Positioned just beyond the threshold, his dark eyes had quietly observed the entire storm—Hina's outburst, Misaki's intervention, Riku's tearing confession, and Raizo's scathing breakdown of the village leadership. Not a single soul had sensed his presence.
Souta was the first to look up and catch sight of him. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Sensei... how long have you been standing there?"
"From the very beginning," Daigo replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft, devoid of its usual stern bite.
A wave of subtle tension rippled through the room. They all realized it at once: he had heard every painful word, every broken promise, and every dangerous critique of the elders.
Yet, Daigo didn't press. He didn't demand an explanation from Hina for striking a classmate, nor did he offer pity to Riku for his mother's death. He didn't even address Raizo's open defiance of the political system. He simply let the moment rest where it lay.
"Take your seats," Daigo commanded quietly, stepping up to the wooden podium.
Without a word, the students shuffled into their rows. Hina slowly pushed herself up from the floor, her eyes swollen and red, and quietly retreated to her seat without looking at anyone.
"Bring your notebooks to the front for correction," Daigo announced, opening the wooden drawer beneath his desk.
One by one, the students stood up, forming a subdued, orderly line. The usual lighthearted banter that accompanied assignment collection was completely absent; each child simply placed their book onto the desk and walked back to their seat in silence. Daigo didn't pick up his red pen. He merely stacked the submitted notebooks into one neat, aligned pile, making no move to review them.
Beside the middle aisle, Amaya glanced sideways at Haruto. He sat entirely empty-handed, his bandaged hands resting motionless on his lap.
"You forgot your notebook at my house," Amaya said softly, leaning in slightly so only he could hear. "I turned it in with mine."
Haruto slowly turned his head toward her. Underneath the crimson fringe of his hair, his dull eyes met hers for a brief second. He gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.
Amaya offered no reassuring smile, nor did she treat it as a grand gesture. She simply settled back into her chair, looking straight ahead.
Daigo adjusted the stack of notebooks on his desk, his eyes drifting over the rows. "Riku."
Riku flinched slightly, looking up from his hands.
"You don't need to turn yours in," Daigo said gently. "Your house was lost in the raid."
Riku's throat tightened, but he swallowed the lump and nodded quietly. "Yes, Sensei."
Daigo turned his gaze to the row behind him. "Yuna. You were released from the hospital this morning, so you are excused from the assignment as well."
"Thank you, Sensei," Yuna whispered, keeping her head lowered.
With the notebooks stacked, Daigo reached into his coat and pulled out the thick leather attendance register. The room grew unnaturally still. In the wake of a village raid, the simple act of taking roll call was no longer a mundane routine—it was a sobering count of who had survived the night.