The classroom at Kyoto Jujutsu High felt too large for the number of students inside it.
Three.
A blue-haired girl sat stiffly near the window, hands folded neatly in her lap. A tall young woman with short dark-green hair leaned back in her chair, posture loose, expression sharp and appraising. And beside them—
A body of brass and steel. Mechanical joints. A single unblinking optic.
Ren stood at the front of the room, staring.
They stared back.
Iori Utahime brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and spoke with deliberate calm.
"Let's make this simple. That's Miwa Kasumi. Zenin Mai. And Mechamaru."
She gestured to each in turn.
"And this is Fujima Ren. He'll be joining you."
Mai's eyebrow lifted.
"Joining?" she said flatly. "Sensei, the semester's almost over. Why bring someone in now?"
She tilted her head slightly, gaze cutting toward Ren.
"Wouldn't it make more sense to have him start next term?"
"Mai," Utahime warned.
Ren caught the edge in Mai's voice. Not quite hostility. Not yet. More like a test.
He wasn't thrilled either.
He hadn't planned on transferring to a school that trained sorcerers.
He'd asked Utahime directly, once.
"Is there a university for this?"
She'd shaken her head.
There wasn't.
He couldn't return to his old life anyway. Not after what he'd become.
Utahime had promised answers—about cursed energy, about his Innate Technique, about what that stitched-faced curse had done to him.
That was the only reason he was standing here now.
Mai's tone shifted, turning almost playful.
"If you were a junior, I'd be nicer," she said, smiling faintly. "But if we're in the same year, I'm not lowering the bar."
Her eyes sharpened.
"You're coming in at the end of term. Can you even keep up?"
Miwa glanced between them nervously. Mechamaru's optic adjusted, focusing.
Utahime smiled.
"Ren is talented."
She didn't elaborate, but her confidence didn't waver.
The truth was simpler: his starting point already eclipsed most students' ceilings.
"Don't misunderstand," Utahime continued. "He may be new. But in raw combat ability, he's likely the strongest among you."
The room went still.
"Without using his Innate Technique," she added calmly, "his physical strength alone is comparable to a Grade 1 sorcerer."
Miwa's eyes widened.
Mechamaru's mechanical fingers twitched faintly.
Mai didn't react at first.
Ren blinked.
Grade 1?
He wasn't even sure what that meant yet.
Then—
A metallic click.
Mai's hand moved smoothly to her side.
A pistol appeared as if it had always been there.
She fired.
The explosion of gunshots shattered the classroom air.
Six shots in rapid succession.
Utahime flinched. "Mai!"
Smoke curled from the barrel.
Mai lowered the gun slightly, expression casual.
"I didn't aim to kill him," she said. "The bullets shouldn't hit directly. At worst, he'd get grazed."
Her gaze slid toward Ren.
He stood exactly where he had been.
Not moving.
Not reacting.
"Cursed spirits won't give him warning shots," Mai added. "If that's his response speed, maybe he should enroll next year."
Utahime looked ready to explode.
Before she could speak—
Ren's voice cut in quietly.
"Even if they miss," he said, "it would still hurt."
He opened his right hand.
Six flattened bullets fell to the floor.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Mai's expression froze.
She hadn't seen him move.
Not a step. Not a flinch.
Not even the act of catching.
Ren looked at his palm briefly. The skin was unbroken.
Then he turned to Utahime.
"Utahime-sensei," he said evenly, "can I withdraw?"
The room seemed to tighten.
"I think this school might be a little dangerous."
"Absolutely not," Utahime replied immediately.
She shot Mai a look that promised consequences.
"This was an exception. I guarantee it."
Then, sharply:
"Mai. Apologize."
Mai hesitated.
Utahime rarely raised her voice. That made it worse when she did.
Mai stood and walked forward. She stopped in front of Ren and bowed her head slightly.
"Sorry, Fujima."
Ren crossed his arms.
"That's it?"
Mai looked up.
And suddenly, she pressed the pistol into his hand.
"If you want to shoot back, go ahead," she said lightly.
Her earlier edge melted into something almost teasing.
"I swear I wasn't trying to kill you."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"So if you do pull the trigger…"
"Try to be gentle."
Ren stared at the gun in his hand.
The metal felt light.
Fragile.
The air around him shifted subtly.
He exhaled.
This school was dangerous.
But not for the reason he'd just given.