Chapter 4: The Predator in Seat 1-B

I get discharged two days later, my torso wrapped up so tight I feel like a mummy. The doctor gives me a whole speech about "avoiding strenuous activity," and I have to bite my tongue to stop from laughing.

Walking back into Shinjin High is... weird.

Everything looks the same, but it feels different.

The morning bell rings, and right on cue, the daily chorus erupts from the school gates.

"AYAKO-SAMA! WE LOVE YOU! PLEASE LOOK AT US!"

Before, it was just annoying background noise. Now, it sounds... sinister. Are they cheering for a goddess? Or are they, like, subjects bowing to a queen?

My classroom, 1-B, is its usual rowdy self. My buddies, Ken and Taka, wave me over.

"Shoujo! You're alive!" Taka claps me on the back, and I almost fold in half, hissing in pain.

"Dude! Sorry!" he yelps, backing off. "We heard you got into it with some serious yakuza-types. You're insane!"

"I'm fine," I grunt, slumping into my chair.

And then, she's there.

Ayako Katsumi.

She's sitting at her desk, right next to mine, reading a thick textbook on classical literature like it's the most normal day in the world. Like she didn't command a private hit squad two nights ago.

She turns her head, her long black hair swishing over her shoulder.

"Good morning, Minatawa-kun," she says, her voice all polite and proper. "Are your injuries healing well?"

I just stare at her. "Yeah," I finally manage. "Thanks to your... 'family security'."

I'm baiting her. I want to see a reaction. A flinch. A nervous tick. Anything.

I get nothing.

"That is good to hear," she says, and then... she goes back to her book.

That's it!

I'm left sputtering, my mind totally blown. How can she be so calm?

The teacher, Mr. Tanaka, drones on at the front of the class. I can't focus. I keep stealing glances at her.

I'm not looking at a goddess anymore. I'm looking at... something else.

I'm watching the way her eyes scan the classroom. She's not just looking. She's monitoring.

I notice how, when she walks to the front to solve a math problem (perfectly, of course), the other students move out of her way. They don't just let her pass, they shrink back. It's not just admiration. I see it clearly now.

It's fear.

These guys are all terrified of her. Why?

"Minatawa!"

My head snaps up. Mr. Tanaka is glaring at me, his face all red and blotchy.

"Daydreaming again? Or just too cool for my class? If you spent half as much energy on your studies as you do on... whatever brawls you get into... you might actually pass!"

The whole class snickers. This is his usual routine. "Shoujo-the-Delinquent."

I just grunt, sinking lower in my chair. Whatever.

"Tanaka-sensei."

The voice is quiet, but it cuts through the entire room like a knife.

The class goes dead silent.

Tanaka-sensei's expression flips. "Ah... yes, Katsumi-san? Is there a problem with the lesson?"

Ayako hasn't even stood up. She just looks at him from her seat, her expression perfectly neutral.

"There is," she says. "Minatawa-kun was hospitalized two days ago. He intervened in a violent assault where two of our students were being attacked by ten adult men. His 'daydreaming' is likely a symptom of the concussion he received."

You could hear a pin drop.

Tanaka-sensei's face goes from red to paper-white. He knows. He knows he just messed up. Attacking the school's problem child is one thing; insulting a kid who's now a school hero is another.

"I... Ah... I was not aware," he stammers, looking at me. "My apologies, Minatawa. Please... take it easy."

I'm just... stunned. I'm sitting here with my mouth open. She... she just defended me.

The class continues, but now everyone is stealing glances at me. Not as the problem kid, but as... something else.

I lean over, keeping my voice low. "What the hell was that?"

Ayako doesn't look up from her notebook. She's already taking notes again.

"It was the truth," she whispers back, not a trace of warmth in her voice. "Your classmates were laughing at you based on inaccurate information. That is inefficient."

I lean back, my head spinning.

It wasn't a defense. It wasn't her being nice.

It was a correction. A display of power. She was telling the teacher, and the whole class, that she has the correct information. That she controls the narrative.

My God.

The perfect, untouchable goddess... is a total predator.

And she's sitting right next to me.