WE ARE RUHBINDERS

EMBRACE THE DARKNESS TIED TO YOU. CHANNEL ITS POWER AND USE IT TO PURGE THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN CONSUMED BY THE SAME DARKNESS.

Things were not looking good for the three of us. Sosuke was unconscious and useless; there was nothing I could do to stop the monster smashing the door in front of us. The only person who actually knew what was happening was also overpowered.

“Hey — you said you were calling backup, right?” I asked.

“Yeah. All I have to do now is hold my ground until she arrives,” he replied, eyes on Miss Yamaguchi as he thought of what to do.

“I have a plan. I want to keep her busy so you and your friend can hide somewhere else. Once you’re both out of the way, I can at least keep it away from you.” He handed me a phone. “Take this. When she calls, answer and explain everything about the enemy. Don’t leave out any detail.”

I grabbed Sosuke and prepared to run.

He drew his katana and pointed it at Miss Yamaguchi. She unsheathed that shrouded, spiky arm and smiled. “So you’re ready to die, huh?” she shouted.

They clashed. Lethal slashes met lethal slashes.

I ran through the broken doorway and ducked into a classroom. There was nowhere else to go — the hallway looped back on itself like a maze, and the stairs had disappeared. I laid Sosuke down and sat beside him, my head buzzing. Ever since we came to this floor, everything had been weird. First the stairs vanished. Then our art teacher turned into a monster that sucked life out of girls. Since when? Had she always been like this? We saw her every day; she was normally the kindest teacher in the school. Maybe this wasn’t Miss Yamaguchi at all — an imposter. I couldn’t make myself believe it.

Trrrrng. The phone’s ringing cut through my thoughts. I snatched it up.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice said.

“He’s fighting,” I blurted. “He left me with the phone. He told me to give you the details.”

“Where are you right now?” she asked.

“Shinjuku Metropolitan High — East. Second floor.”

“I’m already at the gate. I’ll come in.” Her voice was calm. “Wait—”

“We’re trapped in a hallway that loops. The stairs disappeared. There’s no escape.” My words came fast.

“Hmmm.” She paused. “I’m already on the second floor and there’s nothing here.”

“Then—how are you not trapped?”

“Relax. You were trapped without realizing it.” She sounded oddly casual. “Let me ask you something — what class are you in?”

“Class 2-B.”

“And you? What class are you from?”

“Class 3-A. That’s on the first floor.”

“I understand. Thank you.” She hung up.

What was she planning?

I crept back toward the shattered doorway, heart hammering, and risked a glance outside.

Steel flashed. The man’s katana carved arcs of light in the dim hallway, each swing fast enough to shear the air itself. Miss Yamaguchi blocked with her warped arm, spikes grinding against the blade in a shower of sparks. Every impact rattled the walls like thunder.

She laughed, a horrible sound that didn’t belong to a teacher. With one hand she slammed into the floor, and black tendrils erupted upward, snaking across the tiles. He vaulted back, just narrowly avoiding being skewered, then lunged forward again, his katana slashing down with a sharp clang that split one of the tendrils in two.

“Is this all you’ve got?!” she screeched, her eyes glowing red. Her arm lashed out like a spear.

He caught it with the flat of his blade, but the force sent him skidding backward, shoes gouging into the floor. The katana trembled under the pressure; his teeth clenched as he pushed back, sweat flying from his brow.

I couldn’t breathe. The hallway that used to echo with morning chatter was now a warzone — tiles cracked, walls shredded, sparks lighting the dark. If either of them slipped, it would be over in a single heartbeat.

The phone slipped from my hand when I heard it — the sharp echo of heels striking the warped floor outside the classroom. My heart stilled. Someone else was here.

Through the broken doorway she appeared, stepping calmly into the looping hallway as if it belonged to her. Tall — her frame reminded me of the athletes in track posters, but sharper, heavier with muscle. Not bulky, but carved, like she could crush steel with her bare hands.

Her long hair trailed behind her in a glossy cascade, pulled into a loose style that somehow stayed perfect even in this cursed place. Her presence shifted the air — steady, deliberate — like gravity bent toward her.

Miss Yamaguchi actually stopped mid-swing. The monster’s grin faltered, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I saw her hesitate.

The newcomer rolled her shoulders, as though warming up for a spar. Her eyes locked on the creature with a calmness that didn’t match the chaos around us.

“So… this is the thing that’s been keeping you busy,” she muttered, voice low but carrying. Her gaze flicked briefly toward me — not unkind, but sharp, like she measured my worth in a single glance. Then her attention went back to the enemy.

The trap had finally snared her too. But unlike us, she didn’t look afraid. She looked ready.

Miss Yamaguchi shrieked and launched forward, spikes ripping out of her arm like jagged spears. The air crackled with her malice.

The newcomer didn’t flinch. She stepped in — not back — weaving between the strikes like she’d seen them a hundred times before. Her hand shot out, palm flat, and crack — she slammed it against Miss Yamaguchi’s elbow joint. The limb bent sideways with a sickening pop, and the monster howled, stumbling back.

“Pathetic,” the woman muttered.

Miss Yamaguchi roared and swung again, her spiked arm stretching unnaturally, crashing against the wall and exploding plaster into dust. The newcomer ducked low, twisted on her heel, and drove her knee straight into the creature’s ribs. The impact echoed like a cannon, sending Miss Yamaguchi flying into the opposite wall hard enough to leave a crater.

The hallway shook. Debris rained down.

But the woman just rolled her shoulders again, unhurried. “I don’t even need my weapon for this.”

Miss Yamaguchi crawled out of the rubble, her face warped in fury. Her spikes multiplied, lashing out in all directions. For a second it looked like a forest of blades filling the corridor.

The newcomer surged forward through the storm. Each strike she blocked with nothing but forearms and fists — sparks flying where flesh met metal. Her movements were precise, sharp, almost surgical. Then she pivoted, grabbed one of the spikes mid-swing, and wrenched it down. With her other hand she slammed her fist into Miss Yamaguchi’s face.

The sound was wet, final.

The monster staggered, blood and ichor spilling down her chin. The newcomer didn’t even look winded. She shook the gore from her knuckles and exhaled through her nose.

Miss Yamaguchi staggered backward, her breath ragged, spikes retracting into her trembling arm. The confidence in her grin had bled away, replaced with something ugly — fear.

The tall woman stepped forward, slow and deliberate, each footfall echoing against the twisted, looping hallway. The trap pulsed faintly around them, walls flexing like living flesh. The very curse Miss Yamaguchi had woven to ensnare her prey now sealed her in with the one opponent she couldn’t control.

“Funny,” the woman said, her voice steady, almost mocking. “You built this cage thinking you’d be the hunter. But a trap is just a box. And now you’re the one locked inside it—with me.”

Miss Yamaguchi’s eyes darted left, right, searching for a way out. Every path curved back on itself. The illusion hallway, the endless loop, the vanished stairs—her own spell tightening around her throat.

She lashed out desperately, spikes forming again, but her arm shook as if her body refused to obey. The woman didn’t even raise her guard. She kept walking, closing the distance one step at a time, her shadow stretching across the cracked tiles.

The monster’s bravado cracked. “S-stay back!” she snarled, her voice quivering, her feet tripping over debris as she retreated. “This is my domain! Do you hear me?! Mine!”

The woman tilted her head slightly, long hair sliding over one shoulder. Her eyes were sharp, merciless. “Then you should’ve made a better domain.”

Miss Yamaguchi hit the wall. There was nowhere left to go. The air itself seemed to shudder as the woman loomed over her, fists loose at her sides, calm as a blade before the strike.

For the first time, the predator looked like prey.

Miss Yamaguchi’s back pressed against the warped wall. Her spikes twitched uselessly, her voice cracking into a shriek.

“You don’t belong here!” she spat, desperation breaking her words.

The tall woman stopped in front of her, gaze calm, unreadable. Then she lifted one hand.

Water rippled into existence around her palm — impossible in this sealed space. Droplets swirled, spun, and stretched upward, forming shafts of liquid light that hardened into steel. In a heartbeat, a trident materialized, its three blades gleaming as though fresh from the ocean depths.

The air grew heavy. This wasn’t a normal weapon — this was a mark, a signature of someone who didn’t play by mortal rules.

Miss Yamaguchi froze, eyes wide. “You… you’re one of them—”

The woman’s lips curved into the faintest smirk.

With a sudden thrust, she drove the trident forward. The blades pierced through Miss Yamaguchi’s chest, not with gore but with a blinding surge of water that erupted outward like a tidal wave. The entire hallway shook. The warped walls shattered, cracks racing across the false loop. The suffocating snare dissolved, melting away into streams of mist.

I shielded my eyes as the world seemed to wash clean. When I looked again, the hallway was normal — stairs back in place, walls intact, the oppressive air gone. Miss Yamaguchi was gone too, dissolved into nothing.

The woman planted the trident against the ground. Droplets ran off its blades before it faded back into water, scattering into the air like rain. She exhaled slowly, calm as if she’d only swatted an insect.

Then she turned to me. Her eyes narrowed.

The dust had barely settled when I saw him — the katana-wielder. He leaned against the wall, chest heaving, one hand braced on his blade for support. His uniform was shredded in places, streaked with blood, but none of the cuts looked fatal. Still, the way he winced with every breath told me the blows he’d taken had been brutal.

The woman approached, stepping over broken tiles, her trident already gone as if it had never existed. She stopped in front of him — almost the same height, their eyes nearly level. Yet somehow her gaze pressed down on him like a weight.

“You’re standing. Good. But look at yourself,” she said flatly, eyes flicking over the gashes across his arms and ribs. “You let her drive you back too easily. Your footing was sloppy.”

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself upright. “I—held her off long enough, didn’t I?”

Her expression didn’t soften. “Barely. You still need more training.” Her voice was calm, but sharp enough to cut. “If I hadn’t arrived when I did, that little bravado of yours would’ve ended with you in the ground. Don’t forget—you’re still a rookie.”

He lowered his gaze, biting back a retort. For a moment, the only sound was the dripping of water still clinging to the cracked floor.

She turned, long hair swaying behind her. “Ruhbinders don’t get second chances. Survive long enough to learn, or you'll just end up dying.

The hallway was quiet now—too quiet. The looping trap was gone, but the silence pressed harder than the chaos ever had.

I glanced down at Sosuke, still out cold against the wall, his breathing shallow but steady. Relief should’ve hit me. But it didn’t.

Because then it snapped.

Mr. Sato. The girls.

Where were they? When the trap broke, shouldn’t they have come spilling back into the halls, alive, confused, something? But there was no one. Just us.

And then another thought sliced through me like ice water:

Aoi.

I hadn’t seen her since she left class. Not once. Not even when everything fell apart.

My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. “What about Mr. Sato? The girls? And Aoi—where the hell is Aoi?!”

No answer. Just the hum of flickering lights.

I turned to the two strangers—one bleeding, katana trembling in his hand, the other standing tall, unreadable, her long hair swaying as if nothing could touch her. They stared back at me, their silence louder than any answer could’ve been.

Standing there in the ruined corridor, with Sosuke unconscious at my side and two unknown warriors in front of me, the questions piled up like a weight on my chest.

Who’s going to explain all of this?

—End of Chapter Two.