Chapter 4: The Crimson Queen's Mask

During recess, Arata brought his own lunch and sat on a bench, observing the students. His gaze fell upon a familiar head of crimson hair. Akari Yumehara sat alone, picking at her food with a sullen expression, an island of isolation in a sea of chattering students.

Arata stood and walked over to her. "Akari Yumehara, isn't it?" he asked, his voice calm.

Akari looked up, her expression a mix of defensiveness and annoyance. "What do you want from me, sensei?"

"Nothing. I was just observing. Why are you eating alone? You have many classmates. Are you not eating with them?"

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped her lips. "Friends? Who said they're my friends? They're my enemies. Because after we graduate, friends are no longer needed. We'll all just be in each other's way."

Arata's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you sure you won't regret saying that?"

Akari, angered by his quiet confidence, stood up and stormed away, leaving her untouched lunch behind. Arata watched her go, a grim understanding settling in his mind.

Later that afternoon, Arata didn't head straight home. He saw Akari walking away from the academy with a man he didn't recognize. Curious, and following a soldier's instinct, he followed them from a distance. He found himself in a part of the city he knew all too well—a place of shadows and neon signs, where the underbelly of society thrived.

He followed them into a dimly lit bar that doubled as a hotel. Inside, he watched as Akari sat with the man, who introduced himself as Ichiban. The man pulled out a small packet of a white substance.

"Are you sure, Ichiban, this will make me beautiful?" Akari asked, her voice small and desperate.

"Of course," Ichiban replied with a predatory smirk. "You'll be even more beautiful, and you can stay here all night. Besides, your parents won't care, right?"

That was the line. Arata acted, moving with the silent efficiency of a predator. He was on them in an instant, snatching the packet from Ichiban's hand.

"Sensei, what are you doing here?!" Akari yelled in shock.

"I should be asking you," Arata replied, his voice a low growl. "What are you doing in a place like this, and with this kind of person?"

Ichiban, seeing the situation turn, reached out to grab Arata's shoulder. Arata's hand shot out, grabbing Ichiban's wrist and squeezing until a sickening snap echoed through the room.

"Ouch! It hurts! It hurts! Get him! Teach him a lesson!" Ichiban screamed.

A group of burly men rushed at Arata, but they were no match for him. He moved like a whirlwind of fists and feet, dropping them one by one until they were all unconscious. Akari just stood there, stunned and terrified, her mask of defiance shattered. Arata took her by the arm, led her outside, and called the police, providing the address and a tip about the illegal drugs.

In a nearby park, under the cool evening sky, Arata sat with Akari on a bench. Tears were streaming down her face, her body trembling.

"You wouldn't understand how I feel!" she sobbed. "You wouldn't understand what it's like to be ignored by your own parents!"

SMACK!

Arata's hand connected with her cheek, the sound sharp and final. Akari went silent, a single red handprint blooming on her face.

"You also wouldn't understand what despair feels like!" Arata's voice was low, raw, and trembling with an emotion that had been locked away for years. "You think you're the only one who suffers in this world, huh? I, a former JSDF special forces soldier, have seen my close friends die one by one on the battlefield! The people I considered my family are gone! And you? You still have parents who care for you, even if they show it the wrong way. And you call not getting attention 'suffering'?! HUH?!"

Tears finally welled up in Arata's eyes and streamed down his face. The man who had been a cold, emotionless machine all day was now breaking down.

Seeing him, Akari's anger and self-pity dissolved into a deep well of guilt. She hugged him tight. "Sensei, please stop! I beg you... I truly didn't know, and I'm so sorry for my behavior."

Arata finally stopped crying and, with his voice choked with emotion, told her about his past—about his father who died in war and his mother who died in an accident. After a long conversation, he gave her a final piece of advice: "The only way forward is to be honest. I will go with you. Tell them everything."

Later, at Akari's home, her parents were relieved to see her. "Papa? Mama? There's something I want to talk about," Akari began, her voice shaking but firm. "I've been trying to get your attention, and I almost did something terrible. I almost used illegal drugs."

Her parents were stunned. Her mother's hand flew up and slapped her. "What have you done?! Do you know how we would feel if you became an addict?!"

"Mama... Papa... I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Akari sobbed.

As her father raised his hand, Arata grabbed his arm. "Enough! Your daughter just told you the truth. She needs your attention, not punishment. She did this because she loves you and feels ignored. Did you not realize that?"

The parents stared at Arata, then at their crying daughter. They finally broke down, embracing Akari and apologizing for their neglect.

The next day, Arata arrived at the academy to find Akari waiting for him with a packed lunch. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, and she turned her head away when he looked at her.

On the other side of the campus, Shion Kanzaki watched them from a distance. The teacher had not only survived Class 9 but had also managed to break through Akari's defenses. A cold, vengeful look crossed Shion's face. He began typing on his laptop, already plotting his revenge.