Mission: White Breakthrough

“Uh, Katou-sensei?”

A young voice echoed down the hallway. He slowed his pace, came to a stop, and turned around.

Quick, rhythmic footsteps, like the beat of a pop song. Then a smile, carrying a faint trace of uncertainty.

“Isobe-san.“

“Um… Sensei, I know you said before that you didn’t want to take on any clubs, but… Watanabe-sensei is in the nurse’s office. He hurt his foot, and unfortunately, we need a teacher. We’re not allowed to train on our own.”

Oh man, that guy really is useless…

Takeshi felt a small twinge behind his forehead. The headache was on its way.

“Okay, and what am I supposed to do?”

He knew what was coming, yet hoped he was wrong.

“If you have time… would it be possible for you to supervise practice today?” Akio asked, his voice gentle yet confident.

Me? Why me? I’m sure there are other teachers with more time.

“Why me?” Takeshi asked flatly. His voice came out harsher than he had intended.

“Of course, you don’t have to, Sensei. But I was hoping you might have a little time. After all, you do look pretty athletic. And if you…”

What were you thinking? That I could do judo? Hm…

“Better find someone who can actually teach you something.”

“I see… I understand. Then I won’t keep you any longer.”

That smile was, once again, far too perfect. But his shoulders sank slightly, and his eyes drifted to the side. Clear disappointment.

“Isobe-senpai!” a female voice called from the other end of the hallway.

What now… who’s this?

A girl came running toward them. Energetic, without a hint of hesitation.

“Eh? Imori-san? Did something happen?” Akio stepped toward her, a faint crease forming on his brow.

Running in the school hallways is against the rules…

Out of breath, she stopped in front of him, struggling for words.

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anyone who had time. I’m sorry…”

She folded her hands in front of her chest, eyes fixed on the floor, wearing an apologetic look.

Akio smiled and placed a hand briefly on her shoulder.

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault.“

“But… but… Watanabe-sensei did that one throw just for me, and then he fell… If everything gets canceled because of me, then…”

A trembling voice and glistening eyes.

She’s taking this pretty seriously, huh? And what kind of P.E. teacher gets injured during a demonstration? Isn’t that exactly what he’s there for?

“It’s fine, it’s fine. And about the tournament… we’ll manage.”

The corners of Akio’s mouth lifted a little higher, his voice turning softer.

Seems like everyone’s taking this pretty seriously…I mean… it’s not like I had plans today anyway… Man… these kids…

Takeshi hesitated for a moment, knowing he’d regret it.

Technically, this is still a form of teaching.

Annoying…

“Then we’ll keep looking, Katou-sensei. Thank you, and sorry for bothering you,” Akio replied, bowing as he spoke.

They were just about to turn away when a clearly audible sigh escaped Takeshi.

“Alright… if I have to. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Huh? Are you serious!?”

Both stared at him. Eyes wide, as if he’d just summoned a UFO.

He simply nodded, and the two couldn’t hold back their smiles any longer. Imori looked as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Akio, on the other hand, looked more like a light had just gone on in his head.

With a deep bow, they thanked him and headed back toward the gym.

Running in the hallway… again.

Gravel crunched under his shoes as Takeshi stepped out the main entrance. The sun cast long shadows, painting striped patterns across the ground. The sunlight brought a pleasant warmth, while the shade carried a fresh, cool stillness. The wind swept across the tennis court, carrying off small clouds of dust with every movement.

Students still bustled about everywhere. Here and there, a tennis ball smacked against the fence, followed by shouts of joy and frustration. The whole school echoed with club activities.

Shortly after, he reached the gym.

Imori stood in the doorway, peeking out, visibly relieved when she spotted him.

“Katou-sensei! Over here!” she called, waving her arms with exaggerated enthusiasm.

A bundle of energy, huh?

The gym felt bigger than it had during the opening ceremony. Probably just because it was almost empty this time. The smell of old wood and sweat hung in the air. Familiar, but far from pleasant. Fine scratches marred the floor, mixed with streaks from shoe soles. Basketball hoops hung at the sides, framed by faded lines on the floor. Wooden benches lined the walls. Worn, well-used, yet built to last forever.

A few students stood on the mats. White gi and serious eyes studied him. The club was made up mostly of boys from different grades, though Takeshi spotted three girls among them. They stood in a wide circle, talking about something. He couldn’t make out what it was.

“Come on, Sensei! I’m glad you’re here. Otherwise today’s practice would’ve been canceled because of me.”

“It’s fine. I just have to watch, right?” he asked in a monotone.

Her brow furrowed, her eyes guilty.

It struck Takeshi that she’d been hoping he would do more.

“Uh… right! We can handle it!” Her tone didn’t sound convinced.

He gave a short nod and walked over to a bench.

These old wooden benches have been around since my time… and they’re still just as uncomfortable.

A blond boy stepped into view.

That smile - once again, too perfect.

“Sensei, as captain of the judo club, I’d like to thank you again for your time.”

“Class rep, top of the class, and now captain? Don’t overdo it,” Takeshi replied dryly.

A slight twitch at the corner of Akio’s eye told him everything he needed to know.

“No, I’m happy to do it. It’s my duty to look after others.”

“If you say so…”

With a short, polite bow, he turned and walked back to his comrades.

Something… isn’t right about him.

“Okay, let’s go over the throw from last time again. Everyone ready?”

“Yes, sir!” the others answered in unison.

“Good! Then let’s get started. Our big tournament’s coming up, and we want to do well, don’t we?”

The circle broke apart as everyone found a partner, some with more enthusiasm than others. Spread out across the mats in pairs, they faced each other.

Wrong… Their stance is really… bad, almost all of them. What the hell is Watanabe even teaching them?

The dull thud of bodies hitting the floor echoed through the room. One goes down, then another. Takeshi let his gaze wander. Shoulder too high. Stance too wide. No balance in the roll.

Most of them have no idea what they’re doing. No wonder Watanabe got himself injured.

Akio was solid, not perfect, but it was clear he practiced a lot.

Imori, on the other hand was a whirlwind. Too uncontrolled, too reckless. Her movements too wild.

It reminded him a little of his time in the military. Endless hours in the training room. He could still feel the small scar from when he bit his tongue back then.

His gaze lingered on Imori, who had already fallen for the third time. She smiled, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and carried on without hesitation.

Guess I used to look like that once, too. Maybe I should… at least make sure they learn it properly.

No one seemed to notice as Takeshi rose from the bench without a sound. Not a single creak, not even the faint echo of his steps reached the air of the gym. His pace was so steady, so quiet, it was as if the very walls conspired to hide him. He moved closer to the mat where Akio stood, like a predator closing in on its prey.

A brief pause. Then a single step, barely audible. Two fingers pressed onto Akio’s shoulder. Precise, yet gentle in their pressure.

That was all it took.

Akio went down instantly, stumbling forward, losing his balance, and falling flat onto the mat.

A dull thud, and suddenly every face in the room was fixed on Takeshi.

“Isobe-senpai!“

Imori was the first to reach him, dropping to her knees.

"Are you okay!? Did you get hurt!?"

She spun around, eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion. Her brows drew together. Fists clenched, she glared at Takeshi.

"What was that for!?"

Takeshi stood there calmly, hands sliding back into his pockets.

"The way he was standing, even an elementary school kid could’ve done that. Without strength. Without technique."

His gaze swept across the faces of the students. Steady, deliberate, one by one.

"If you don’t understand that, you can forget about the tournament. First, you need the basics."

Imori bit her lip.

"And how would you know that? You’re only here to…”

Before she could finish, Akio stood up and raised his hand.

"It’s fine, Imori-san. He’s right."

His voice was calm, and for a brief moment, that perfect smile was gone. Uncertainty flashed in his eyes and something that almost looked like disappointment.

So… he knew it already.

Imori stared at him, wide-eyed, as if he’d spoken a foreign language.

"W-What do you mean?"

"Haven’t you noticed? The things Watanabe-sensei teaches us are… well."

"Are you saying it was all for nothing!?" shouted another student, a stocky-looking guy.

Akio opened his mouth to answer, but Takeshi spoke instead.

"Nothing’s for nothing. At the very least, now you know how not to do it."

Uh… Katou-sensei… I don’t think that was very motivating…" Akio whispered behind his hand.

"It wasn’t meant to be. It’s just the truth."

A flicker of confusion and doubt crossed Akio’s face.

"Katou-sensei!“

Takeshi turned to him without a word.

“Would you… I know we only asked you to watch, but if you don’t mind… would you teach us?"

Akio’s request was sincere, accompanied by a deep bow. The rest of the club looked at him with pleading eyes. Only Imori still glared.

I’ve already stepped in. If I say no now…

Takeshi hesitated for a moment, let out a quiet sigh, and finally nodded in agreement.

The light in Akio’s eyes, the wide-open gaze, the slightly parted lips. Everything about it looked almost childlike.

Relax. You didn’t just win the lottery…

"Thank you so much, Sensei!"

This was Takeshi’s element. He’d never learned how to teach. But combat training, that he knew.

"Don’t come crying to me later. This won’t be fun. I’m warning you now, it’s going to be tough, exhausting, and painful. If you can’t handle that, then wait until Watanabe comes back!"

Takeshi’s voice shifted. Louder now, sharp-edged, he stood before them like a commanding officer, his tone cutting through the air.

"Alright, listen up. Line up, and I don’t want to hear a single word unless I’m speaking to you."

The room fell silent. No one knew exactly what had just happened.

Imori stepped closer to Akio and whispered something to him.

"Is that still the same teacher? What’s wrong with him…?"

Even whispered, every word carried clearly. The gym was simply too big.

Takeshi clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze sharp enough to cut straight into the soul. He began to move, each step deliberate, each step a threat. Uncertainty spread through the air. It felt heavy. Pressing. Almost tangible.

He stopped in front of her. Cold. Like the sweat on her forehead might freeze.

Regain control. Establish dominance.

His eyes locked onto hers. No blink, no twitch.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, barely above a whisper, and yet it felt like a blade.

Fear induced. Obedience restored.

"…It’s fine…" Imori managed to get out, though it was probably all she could manage.

"Good. Now… line up!" The shift into a commander’s voice was seamless.

Without wasting time, the students formed a line. Rigid. Like statues.

"Isobe-san."

Takeshi stepped onto one of the mats. The old, dark blue vinyl squeaked under his feet, worn in places where time had left its mark.

"Come here and try to overpower me. Any grip, any technique. You’re allowed to use them all."

Akio’s shoulders twitched, his lower lip trembling for a moment as if he wanted to say something. He gave a silent nod.

"Don’t hold back. Show me everything you’ve got."

Akio’s gaze locked on him, every movement deliberate. Good, but don’t focus on it too much.

A quick step. His hands shot forward, reaching for Takeshi’s shoulders. No hesitation, only determination in his eyes.

But just as his fingers were about to brush the fabric, Takeshi shifted to the side, moving so smoothly that Akio’s grip caught nothing but air.

In the same instant, Takeshi’s hand clamped around his right wrist. A short pull and Akio’s stance collapsed. With a dull thud, he hit the mat.

Takeshi stood there, his left hand still tucked in his pocket, as if nothing had happened. In front of him, Akio struggled to get back on his feet.

“Too slow,” Takeshi remarked casually, as if commenting on the weather.

Silence settled over the gym. Only the faint hum of the fluorescent lights remained, as the students stood frozen in a row, eyes wide open.

“Wait… what just happened?” one of the first-years asked in disbelief.

Another member jabbed his elbow into the side of the boy next to him.

"Did you… did you see that? What the…?"

"…Wow…" Imori breathed in astonishment.

Takeshi slid his right hand back into his pocket, his eyes settling on Akio.

"Watch your stance. Your balance. Your footwork… You have to control the fight. Then you control the opponent. You hold the advantage because you know what’s going to happen before they do."

He turned toward the students again, speaking once more like a commander. His posture stiff, hands clasped behind his back, gaze razor-sharp.

"Listen closely. You will never take the first step. Ever. The one who strikes first… loses control."

Fighting isn’t an art. It’s mathematics.

"Imagine you’re predators. You wait until your opponent makes a mistake. You observe. You lie in wait. Every movement has a pattern. Posture, pace, rhythm. Recognize it. Exploit it to your advantage.
Fighting isn’t a competition. There’s no code of honor. You’re not here to be better. You’re here to win.
Control creates reaction. Reaction creates mistakes. Mistakes lead to panic. And panic is the end of every fight."

No one said a word. Akio sat on the floor, listening intently, though a faint shadow lingered over his expression.

"Pairs. Training starts now."

At first, there was silence. Then movement.

Imori hesitated, raising her hand slowly. Takeshi gave her a small nod.

"Uh… Sensei? And what exactly are we supposed to do?"

"Pay attention to your opponent’s movements. Spot the openings and use them."

Her face didn’t look satisfied, but she didn’t dare ask again.

"Get started!"

The hall was filled with the sound of bodies hitting the mats and the strained breathing of the club members. Takeshi kept his eyes on every single one of them. Not a movement, not a moment of hesitation, not a single mistake escaped his notice.

He corrected their stance, balance, throwing techniques, or body tension and they immediately felt the difference. Akio’s stance was too narrow; with a slight adjustment and his weight better centered, his stability improved.

Takeshi showed him what a deeper stance could do. Now, two fingers would no longer be enough.

Time slipped by unnoticed. The hall was bathed in orange light before anyone realized it.

Movements grew slower. Shoulders drooped. Concentration wavered.

Practice had technically ended already, yet no one headed to the locker room. Instead, they collapsed onto the mats, exhausted.

“Ahh, man, I’m dead,” one groaned.

“You’re telling me. My legs are shot…” another replied.

But not Imori. She ran straight over to Akio, still brimming with energy.

“Isobe-senpai, can we keep going? I feel like I made huge progress today!” she fired off at double speed.

“Haah… I’m wiped. Let’s pick it up again tomorrow, nice and fresh.”

“Ah… right… you’re probably right.”

I’m surprised she still has that much energy…

Her gaze dropped, all that energy seeming to dissipate in an instant.

“Alright, that’s it for today. Get changed. Keep practicing. If you think you’ve got it down, that’s when you’re only at the beginning. Never stop keeping your focus. Understood?”

“…Yes, sir…” the students groaned with the last of their strength.

One by one, they left, except for one person. Imori seemed lost in thought, her shadow stretching longer than usual.

Maybe she wants to train alone…

“Imori-san.”

“Huh? Uh, yes, Sensei?”

“You don’t seem ready to stop yet…” Takeshi noted in a gentle tone, his commanding voice already gone.

“Ah, well… the others are probably right. I should rest too.” A forced smile.

“You know your emotions are holding you back, right? You’re too hot-headed, too impatient, and your movements waste too much energy.

“…Heh… you may be right.” Her hand went to the back of her head, paired with an embarrassed grin.

“Get into your fighting stance, as low as you can. Hold it for as long as possible. Control your breathing. Focus on your body. When you can’t hold it anymore, do it again. Keep going until your legs can’t hold you.”

Takeshi reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.

“Give it back to me tomorrow. And don’t forget to lock up.”

Imori felt the key drop into her hand. Her heart sped up, and the grin on her face refused to fade.

“But Sensei, you’re not allowed to give me the key! The principal literally said that at the opening ceremony!”

Ah, she’s right… whatever.

“No one’s gonna notice. Just hand it back to me in the morning and I’ll… conveniently forget.” Takeshi held a finger to his lips. “Now, fighting stance.”

“Yes, sir!”

She kind of reminds me of myself at that age… Why am I going easy on her?

She followed the order immediately, getting into position.

Takeshi turned to leave. At the exit, he glanced back.

She was still holding the stance, eyes closed.

“Oh yeah, one more thing.”

“Huh?”

“Good luck with Isobe-san.”

“HUH?!”

Her face turned bright red, eyes wide with shock. In less than a second, she dropped onto her butt.

“I-It’s not like that…”

Got you. You’ve still got a lot to learn.

“You lost focus. That can never happen.”

Without waiting for her reaction, Takeshi turned and headed back toward the staff room, hands in his pockets.

I need coffee.

It had been a long day. Not just for the students,

but for him as well.

***

The air was fresh and gentle, the morning sun brighter than usual, painting his face in yellow light. The entrance of the school lay just ahead, framed by bright green trees. Around him, the bustling of the students on their way to school was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Sensei! Sensei!”

A young, female voice ran out, stopping him in his tracks.

It took him less than a second to recognize the face. A young girl with shoulder-length, red hair and petite frame was hurrying towards him. Takeshi hadn’t seen her in uniform but immediately noticed, that her sleeves were to long…

A reliable whirlwind, at least…

“Haa… finally I caught up to you,” Imori gasped, out of breath, “ouch, my legs are hurting!”

She rubbed the muscles on the thighs.

“… I told you not overdo it,” commented Takeshi, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I was so excited, I couldn’t stop!”

Takeshi was nearly blinded by the sparkle in her eyes, still full of energy.

Imori reached into her bag and pulled out a key.

“Ah! Before I forget it… here. The key, as promised.”

Between her fingers dangled a small key with a red keychain. A big grin spreading on her face.

“Y’know, yesterday I thought you’d be a total ass. But in the end, you seem nicer than you look, Katou-sensei!”

Along with her grin, there was a look of satisfaction on her face, as if she’d just discovered something.

… I am… not so sure about that.

He held out his hand and the key dropped silently into his palm.

Imori skipped a few steps ahead before turning back to him.

“I hope you’ll train us again in the future.”

An unfamiliar feeling stirred inside of Takeshi. It was the most genuine smile he had seen for a long time, brimmed with anticipation and hope.

“Unlikely,” Takeshi said flatly.

“Grr! You are such a downer! Well, maybe I’ll just have Watanabe-sensei show me a super advanced technique someday.”

She stuck out her tongue, smiled and waved at him before she disappeared inside the building.

What a devilish girl…