The classroom had turned into a full-on war room by the end of it.
Ideas were flying. Everyone—even Mika—threw out theories, route plans, trap strategies, and roles. Ishino cut through them like a surgeon: dismissing weak plans, sharpening the good ones, and occasionally tossing in a suggestion so brutal it made Sato blink twice just to process it.
By the time the bell should’ve rung, class was still going. An hour over, nobody even noticed until they were being kicked out by the next teacher waiting to use the room
But when they walked out, they weren’t just a disaster squad anymore.
They were ready.
At least, mostly.
“Uhhh, that man—why did he go and put his whole job on us?” Mika groaned, arms thrown dramatically over her head like the weight of employment had landed on her back.
“We just got a man fired,” Sato mumbled, eyes distant. “He’s already making cardboard box measurements.”
Elle and Derrin walked ahead, quietly rehashing the plan step-by-step, adjusting where needed. Focused. Clean.
But the strangest thing?
Zach was quiet.
Not a smug quip. Not a sarcastic jab. Not even a nitpick when someone back in class misused a strategy term. Just… silence.
He walked with his hands tucked in his haori sleeves as usual, eyes narrowed—not angry. Not anxious.
Just calculating.
Like someone trying to predict a storm.
Like someone who already knew something was off.
As they walked to their room they kept discussing plans all while Zach sat there and contemplated
‘What strategy could they be running would they try to overwhelm us or would they break apart to attack us and find the base’
by the time he finished this singular thought everyone else in the dorm had passed out hours ago.
Mika’s leg was twitching mid-dream like she was fighting ghosts in her sleep. Sato had fallen asleep on the fridge, a drone buzzing weakly beside his head. Elle had taken the corner by the window, arms folded, eyes closed in total stillness. Derrin looked like he hadn’t moved at all, his bugs tucked into their corners, the two queen ants resting in tiny hammocks he’d made from gauze.
But Zach?
Zach was very much awake.
He lay on his bunk with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him. No matter how he tried, his brain wouldn’t shut up. Wouldn’t stop running simulations. Wouldn’t stop picturing everything that could go wrong.
After thirty more minutes of internal screaming, he gave up.
Silently, he rolled out of bed, threw on his haori, and slipped outside.
The night was cold. Clear. The sky was bleeding stars. The kind of quiet that pressed in around your thoughts until they were the only noise left.
Zach wandered behind the dorms until he found a soft patch of dirt, half-shaded by trees, and crouched down. He took a stick and started drawing a rough top-down layout of the mission forest.
Then came the rocks.
Small ones. Flat ones. Broken ones.
Each one got assigned a role.
“This is me,” Zach muttered, planting one just off-center. “Elle’s here. Sato hangs wide with drone support. That gives us a triangle flank if we pressure the left.”
He moved a chunkier rock to the side.
“That’s Mika. Derrin’s bugs go north. Forest cover’s dense—he can cut off any runners without needing to see them.”
Stolen story; please report.
He added a few more pebbles on the outer ridge.
“Class C’s gonna split. No way they send 22 into a single cluster. Probably four groups of five, two floaters.”
He moved a pinecone into the middle of the map—representing the mock base.
“Base is either central… or it’s tucked behind dead terrain to mess with visibility.”
He shifted rocks into new positions like he was coaching a soccer team.
“If they sweep wide and we push in hard, we either force a sandwich or burn the trap. But if they counter flank…”
Zach rubbed his face, then adjusted a stick acting as the forest trail.
“This is a formation match. Just with people instead of positions. Forward, mid, anchor, scout…”
He placed one rock just slightly off the grid.
“That’s the weak link. It has to be. You don’t send 22 perfect players. Someone’s gonna panic. Someone’s gonna chase. And when they do…”
He snapped a twig and dropped it on top of the rock like it got crushed.
“…checkmate.”
He sat back on his heels, exhaling slowly.
The little battlefield sat in front of him—twigs for trees, rocks for people, pinecones for danger. He had predicted six of their formations, five of their possible traps, and three emergency rotations if things went sideways.
And yet…
Something still felt off.
Like there was a gap in the board he couldn’t see.
Zach frowned. Looked around. The trees rustled softly. The cold bit at his neck.
And the plan in front of him, perfect as it was, still left a tight knot in his gut.
He swept the “forest” clean with one hand and stood up.
“I’ll figure it out on the field.”
Then he turned, slipped back inside, and let the night hold onto his unfinished blueprint
By the time morning rolled around, Ishino was already inside their dorm room.
Playing a trumpet.
With shocking efficiency.
The sound ripped through the silence like a warhorn from hell. Everyone jolted awake like they were under siege.
“AHH—shit, okay, okay, we’re up!” Mika yelled, throwing a burst of light straight at him—only to be immediately defeated by Ishino calmly slipping on a pair of reflective sunglasses.
Derrin sat up mid-yawn and waved one hand lazily toward his bug tank. “Could you please stop?”
Dozens of tiny insects scrambled into action, climbing up Ishino’s arm and plugging the trumpet holes one by one. The sound choked mid-note.
Silence fell.
Sato rolled out of bed like someone had unplugged him. Elle was already sitting up, arms crossed, not even surprised. Everyone looked rough—bags under their eyes, hair uncooperative, stress clearly winning.
And then there was Zach.
He moved without a word.
Didn’t groan. Didn’t blink.
Just slipped on his haori with slow, practiced motions, eyes half-lidded from what could only be maybe twenty minutes of sleep. Then he walked outside and leaned against the wall, arms tucked in, waiting.
No one even questioned it.
Because Zach looked like someone who had already lived through the day twice in his head—and wasn’t sure a third time would go any better.
Now then, are we all ready?” Ishino asked, casually tucking the trumpet back into its case like he hadn’t just ruined everyone’s soul.
“As we’ll ever be,” Mika muttered, hurriedly fixing her hair and trying her best to restore her usual bounce—even though her face said otherwise.
Elle, precise as ever, cruised by without a word. She didn’t look stressed. She didn’t look excited. Just… focused. Like someone either ready to get it over with—or quietly confident there was nothing to worry about. She took her place outside, standing parallel to Zach, who hadn’t moved since he got there.
Derrin carefully placed the two ant queens onto his shoulders with practiced care, tucking a beetle into his sleeve like a hidden weapon. He followed silently.
Sato came next, arms full of tech, muttering something under his breath about “range calibration” and “heat sync drift” as he checked and rechecked a handful of drones.
Mika was the last to step out, her usual energy just barely holding on. There was a smile on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. The weight of possibly getting their teacher fired was doing a number on her optimism.
Together, Class D made their way toward the academy loading zone.
Ishino was already climbing into the back of the transport truck, hands tucked in his coat pockets like this was just another Tuesday.
“You’ve been briefed on the mission,” he said, cool as ever. “You understand what’s at stake should you fail. You have a plan. You have your strategies. I expect you to use them.”
He adjusted his glasses with two fingers.
“And should trouble arise…” he paused, looking at them all with a near-imperceptible smirk. “I trust you’ll handle it yourselves. You won’t need me.”
“Great,” Sato muttered, not even looking up from his drone. “No pressure. No backup. Just another day in the world’s worst field trip.”
As the truck rolled down the dirt path toward the academy-controlled forest, the mood inside was… off.
No one spoke much.
Not even Mika.
Not even Sato.
But the weirdest part?
Zach.
He sat near the back, arms folded inside his haori like always. But his usual smugness was gone. His eyes weren’t closed. They were watching the forest through the small window, scanning the trees like they might move.
It wasn’t just quiet.
It was eerie.
Even the others could feel it—like Zach was already in the middle of a fight no one else could see.
The transport rolled to a stop at the edge of the forest.
Class C was already there.
Their bus sat idle under the trees like it had been there for hours, and lined up in front of it were the very people Class D would be dealing with for the next three.
Long.
Grueling.
Hours.
“Well,” Ishino muttered as he stood up, adjusting his coat, “guess we should go introduce ourselves to the people responsible for getting me fired.”
He said it in the flattest tone imaginable. Like it was a joke.
But it didn’t feel like one.
It hit Class D in the gut like a bag of guilt bricks. No one laughed. They just groaned as they slowly filed out of the transport, one by one.
Zach was the last to step off, arms still tucked in his haori, eyes quietly scanning the field.
And what they saw was their opposition:
Class C.
At the front stood four figures that screamed main characters.
The first was a tall, dark-skinned girl with a dozen rings across her fingers, each one glinting in the sunlight. She snickered as Class D unloaded like she’d been waiting specifically to judge them.
Right in front of her stood a smug-looking boy with sharp light-blue hair, a popped blue-collar shirt, and a grin that said I’m about to be insufferable for the next three hours.
Flanking him was a wiry, rough-looking kid with wild, greasy hair who was currently licking the inside of his arm like it was a midday snack. He had chains hanging from his arms like bracers and eyes that twitched too much to be normal.
And just behind them, half-hidden, was a girl no taller than five feet. She wore a standard school uniform and a white rabbit-ear headband. She didn’t say anything. Just stared from behind the others like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be seen at all.
Ishino walked off to the side to meet with the Class C teacher.
They exchanged a few words.
Then she strolled toward Class D, phone in one hand, the other waving lazily.
——————————————————
Aspect of Ink – Subclass: Paperform
Rank 47 Hero
Modern art teacher vibes. Long black hair, half-lidded heterochromia eyes (one gray, one violet), always carries tea and smells faintly like ink.
——————————————————
Hi guyyysss,” Ms. Nami drawled, her voice slow and syrupy, like she was halfway into a nap. “Why do you all look so down? Did big, bad Ishino say something scary on the ride over?”
She didn’t even try to sound invested. Her tone had just enough effort to qualify as legal communication.
“Something like that,” Mika muttered, her shoulders already drooping.
“Well,” Ms. Nami said, reaching into her coat pocket, “I brought you all a toootally cute gift.”
She pulled out a handful of delicately folded paper cranes—pastel-colored and perfectly creased. They shimmered faintly with a magical seal.
“Take one~”
Class D hesitated… then each of them took a crane and tucked it away somewhere—Mika actually muttered “aww,” while Sato examined the folding method. Elle barely looked at hers. Derrin pocketed it with one hand while the other adjusted a beetle vial.
Zach didn’t even react. He just slid his crane inside his haori without a word.
Ms. Nami blinked slowly, then clarified:
“They’re not gifts. They’re flares. If you get seriously hurt, crush one. I’ll know. We’ll come find you.”
Her voice didn’t change.
But the silence that followed did.
A tiny, invisible thread of tension pulled tight across the clearing.
