The Real Mutsuki

Morning at Torii Heart School began with discipline.

Which, for this class, meant chaos in matching helmets. Eight small yokai lined up under the shrine’s torii gate, uniforms straight, boots tied, safety rope already in place.

Honey stood at the front, chest puffed. ‘Roll call!’ he shouted, even though nobody had asked.

‘Mon!’

‘Present and fabulous!’

‘Gon!’

‘Always radiant.’

‘Sumire!’

‘Naturally.’

‘Meow!’

‘H-hai…!’

‘Kishin!’

‘R-ready!’

‘Akashi!’

‘Tch.’

‘Kojiro!’

‘…Here.’

Honey turned to Mutsuki with sparkling eyes. ‘Sensei! Torii Heart Squad is ready for day two!’

‘I perfected my autograph for when idols ask for it.’ Mon said.

‘I am emotionally prepared to be approached by talent scouts. I will reject them. Twice. For drama.’ Gon winked.

Sumire checked her reflection in a handheld mirror. ‘I will accept tea invitations from dignified heirs only.’

Akashi cracked his neck. ‘I will not fight anyone. Unless they look at Sensei weird.’

Kishin clutched his bat. ‘I-I practiced my bowing! I won’t headbutt the floor this time!’

Meow held her lunch like a relic. ‘I brought extra cookies… in case an important person drops theirs…’

Kojiro adjusted his pristine helmet strap and eyed the horizon like a grumpy war general. ‘I’m prepared to be underwhelmed.’

Mutsuki looked at his eager death squad, then at Youchan, who stood beside the torii rope in her shrine maiden robes, serene and suspiciously amused.

‘Everyone,’ he said carefully. ‘Change of schedule.’

Eight heads tilted.

‘Today,’ he continued, ‘we are… not going to the interschool meet.’

Silence. The birds stopped singing. Seven hearts broke audibly.

‘…what,’ Gon said.

‘We’re staying at the shrine,’ Mutsuki said calmly. ‘Today’s program is mostly… long speeches. Formal reports. Committee discussions. No events for your age group. No arena, no games, no snack stalls. Just adults talking into microphones.’

Honey’s face fell. ‘No games…?’

‘No snacks…?’ Meow whispered in horror.

Kishin went pale. ‘No… tournaments…?’

Akashi frowned. ‘No fights?’

Sumire stared. ‘No tea parties?’

Mon’s voice cracked. ‘No celebrity sightings?!’

Gon clutched his chest. ‘No idol performances?!’

Kojiro shrugged. ‘So… it’s a bureaucratic gathering.’

‘Exactly,’ Mutsuki said, seizing the lifeline. ‘Bureaucratic. Policy. Coordination. Very serious. Very boring.’

‘We can handle boring!’ Mon insisted. ‘We will become emotionally mature!’

‘We will take notes,’ Sumire declared.

Gon grinned. ‘I will flirt respectfully during breaks.’

‘No,’ Mutsuki said.

Honey raised a hand. ‘But Sensei… yesterday Maria said there will be celebrities…’

‘Yesterday was opening day,’ Mutsuki lied smoothly. ‘Today is logistics day.’

He did not mention that three extremely popular yokai idols and one retired human rocker were giving guest speeches. He would rather eat blessed salt. Beside him, Youchan’s shoulders shook very slightly. A soft giggle escaped her sleeve. Every child turned as one.

Kojiro narrowed his eyes. ‘Youchan… laughed.’

Youchan straightened. ‘No I didn’t.’

‘You did,’ Gon said flatly.

‘That was the wind,’ she tried evading.

Mon squinted at Mutsuki. ‘Sensei is hiding something.’

Honey’s eyes got huge. ‘Is it… monsters?’

‘Is it snacks?’ Meow asked hopefully.

‘Is it taxes?’ Kishin whispered, terrified.

Kojiro folded his arms. ‘It is clearly emotional avoidance.’

Mutsuki felt sweat tickle the back of his neck. Umm… Abort! New topic. Big magical distraction.

‘Actually,’ he said brightly, clapping his hands, ‘today is more important than speeches.’

They did not look convinced. He continued anyway.

‘Today we begin real-world magic training. Transformation control. Human-world disguises. Barrier basics. Everything you need to walk among humans safely without causing mass panic, localized storms, or sudden fox-induced riots.’

That got them.

Akashi’s ears perked under his helmet. ‘Real training?’

Mon gasped. ‘Transformation class?!’

Gon instantly recovered. ‘Ah. Finally. A curriculum based on my natural strengths.’

Sumire smoothed her hair. ‘Glamour and etiquette are crucial.’

Honey raised both hands. ‘Can I learn human school rules? I want to go to the library and not break it.’

Meow’s tail twitched. ‘Will this help me… not break the train…?’

‘If you practice,’ Mutsuki said.

Kojiro nodded. ‘Barrier etiquette is long overdue.’

They were almost sold.

‘Still,’ Gon muttered, ‘I could charm at least three celebrit–’

Youchan coughed delicately. ‘Gon-kun. If you want to impress famous yokai later, wouldn’t it help to master your disguise first?’

Gon paused and thought deeply. ‘Torii Heart School will debut when we are flawless.’

Mon leaned over to Akashi. ‘He’s imagining signing autographs again.’

‘I know,’ Akashi muttered.

Mutsuki seized the momentum.

‘Alright,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Helmets off, rope away. Inside. We’ll use the big classroom.’

As they shuffled back through the sliding doors instead of through the torii, the entire line radiated the specific tragic energy of children who had emotionally prepared for Disneyland and been taken to the museum instead.

At least, until Mutsuki locked the door with a snap and turned toward them with a strange look in his eyes. That got their attention.

Sunlight spilled through the paper windows, pooling on the polished floor. Desks had been pushed aside into neat rows. A faint circle of chalk and ofuda ink marked the center of the room.

‘Transformation,’ Mutsuki said, pacing with his hands behind his back, ‘can be illusion, glamour, or full shapeshift. Some of you do it naturally. Some need practice. Today we focus on one thing.’

He stopped to build momentum.

‘How to pass as human long enough to eat ice cream in peace.’

Honey put a paw to her mouth. ‘The dream…’

Mon clutched his hat. ‘The mission…’

Meow whispered, ‘Ice… cream… in public…’

Gon nodded seriously. ‘Proceed.’

Mutsuki took a breath.

He could feel Youchan watching him from her usual spot near the window, quietly amused. He could feel the kids’ suspicion still poking at his lie about the interschool meet.

Fine. If he wanted their full attention, he’d use the nuclear option.

‘Before we start,’ he said, ‘I’ll show you why I am so annoying about control.’

He moved to the center of the chalk ring.

‘You all know this form,’ he said, gesturing at his soft silhouette. ‘The one I teach in. The one I perform in. The one you’re used to.’

Meow tilted her head. ‘Pretty Sensei.’

He smiled faintly. ‘Thank you. But this isn’t how I was born.’

Tiny gasps.

Kishin clutched his bat. ‘Sensei… are you secretly 500 years old…?’

‘That is a different lesson,’ Mutsuki muttered.

He exhaled slowly.

‘Remember,’ he warned, ‘no screaming. No touching. No telling other kids outside this class. If anyone uploads anything to Supergram, Maria will find you before I do.’

Kojiro nodded solemnly. ‘She will.’

Gon held up a paw. ‘Can we gasp dramatically?’

‘Quietly.’

‘Deal.’

Mutsuki closed his eyes. He dropped his glamour spell. It rolled off him like a veil being burned away.

His body expanded, bones lengthened, frame broadened. His shoulders straightened, carving a sharper line beneath his robe.

His clothes burst into reconfiguration, fabric darkened and restructured into a deep indigo kimono with subtle wave patterns. The sash tightened around a much flatter waist. His face sharpened. Jawline more defined, chin stronger, cheeks losing their softness. Lashes still absurdly long, but now framing eyes that opened slowly to reveal gold.

His hair, freed from pins, spilled down his back, pale silver with shade of green. Not tidy stage braids, but straight, thick strands that caught the light like melted ice.

The collar of his kimono had the audacity to gape slightly, showing the slope of his neck, the dip at his collarbone, the hint of lean muscle. Not bulky, but honed. A dancer’s build with a swordsman’s posture.

In this shape, all the contradictions of him sharpened. He was too beautiful to be a normal human. Too gentle looking to be a threat. But also, too much dangerous aura to be harmless. He looked like he should live in a painting and judge sinners, not teach eight disaster children how to bow properly.

The whole room forgot how to breathe. Honey’s jaw dropped. Meow made a tiny squeak that probably only dogs could hear. Sumire clasped both hands to her mouth.

Gon made a strangled sound. ‘Sensei is–’

‘Very handsome,’ Sumire whispered.

‘Unfair!’ Kojiro muttered.

Mon’s entire soul evacuated his body, came back, vacated again, then decided to just hover. Kishin’s bat slowly tilted toward the floor. Akashi forgot to ‘‘tch’’.

Eight small children and one shrine maiden were staring at Mutsuki like he had descended from the heavens.

And then, his kimono slipped half an inch lower.

Absolutely not. ‘Okay that’s enough!’

He yelped, slapped a hand to his collar, and snapped the glamour back on like a slamming door.

In less than a second, the sharp angles softened. The hair retied itself. The kimono melted back into his usual skirt and blouse. The power sank into the filter. Pretty teacher was back. The damage, however, was done.

‘DO IT AGAIN!’ Mon screamed.

‘NO,’ Mutsuki said instantly.

‘Sensei, you’re so cool!’ Honey vibrated.

‘Why would you hide that?!’ Gon demanded.

‘You looked like the heir of a legendary clan,’ Sumire breathed. ‘Which you are. But… visibly.’

Kojiro folded his arms. ‘This level of false advertising should be illegal.’

Meow’s face was still pink. ‘You looked… very… um… no words…’

Kishin whispered, ‘You looked like the hero at the end of a movie…’

Akashi avoided eye contact, but was blushing. ‘You look less weak that way.’

‘Thank you,’ Mutsuki said dryly. ‘Rude. But thank you.’

Gon leaned forward with gleaming eyes. ‘Tell us why, Sensei. Tell us the tragic backstory.’

Mutsuki rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really had done this to himself. He sat on the front step and motioned for them to gather. They did, clustering around him like overexcited ducklings.

Youchan stayed by the window, watching quietly. Her cheeks still held a faint pink that she probably thought no one noticed.

‘Alright,’ Mutsuki said. ‘Short version. I am a high-ranked onmyoji heir infected with vampirism. Both sets of powers are strong. Together, they are… too much.’

‘Too much like Sumire,’ Mon whispered.

‘In a different way,’ Mutsuki said. ‘Yes. When I was younger, my magic leaked without my permission. I could hypnotize humans and yokai without meaning it. I hated it.’

Honey crept closer, arms hugging himself. Mutsuki continued the rest of his story, in child friendly version.

‘That’s when Maria decided teaching children would be good for me,’ he added dryly.

Gon snorted.

‘Before that,’ Mutsuki said, ‘we needed a fix. A filter. A cage for my own magic.’

‘This form is part of that. It’s not just clothes. It’s a full-body sigil. A second body built on top of my own, like a soft armor. I pour my power into it. It redirects and dampens the leaks. It keeps people safer.’

‘So… your girl shape is a seal?’ Kojiro asked.

‘Exactly.’

‘And your boy shape is the raw one,’ Akashi said.

‘Unfortunately, also yes.’

Meow fiddled with her sleeve. ‘Is it… heavy?’

‘Sometimes,’ he admitted. ‘But it also helps me stay… me. I chose this. No one forced me into a dress. I’d rather be strange and safe than impressive and dangerous.’

The children’s eyes softened with admiration.

‘Shigure-sensei helped once, didn’t she?’ Honey asked suddenly.

Mutsuki nodded. ‘She did. She stopped me from losing control when I just got infected.’

They fell quiet.

‘She’s not a bad person,’ he said. ‘She’s just… stuck in a difficult family. Like I was. Like some of you are. That doesn’t excuse everything, but it matters.’

Honey leaned against him and hugged his arm.

‘You are beautiful in both forms, Sensei,’ Sumire said quietly. ‘And… I will push anyone into a river who laughs at you.’

Mutsuki laughed under his breath. ‘Thank you. Please push them gently.’

The rest of the day softened into something sweet.

They still did drills, of course. Barriers that didn’t shove classmates into walls. Glamours that didn’t sparkle like emergency flares. Practice bows. Practice voices. Practice ‘I’m a normal human child buying bread, please don’t perceive me as a cryptid.’ But in between, whenever the room got too tense, Mutsuki filled the gaps with stories. Not the polished idol stories. The real ones.

About the first time his magic responded to music without permission, singing along like a choir that lived inside his ribs. About the early days of vampirism, when sunlight felt too loud and his own hunger scared him more than any hunter ever could. He didn’t dramatize it. He didn’t flinch away from it either. He just… offered it, carefully, like handing a fragile bowl to eight small hands.

And the kids, for once, didn’t interrupt much. They listened with that bright, serious attention children have when they decide something matters.

By late afternoon, the interschool meet felt like a distant noise. Somewhere across Tokyo, trending yokai were giving speeches and posing for cameras and shaking hands like they were born for spotlights. Torii Heart School missed all of it.

But nobody complained. Because, they had Mutsuki-sensei. Not the scandal. Not the ‘pretty teacher’ behind a filter.

They had the person. The one who trusted them enough to show his real face, explain the weight of it, and then still turn around and teach them how to be safe in a world that likes to misunderstand. That felt more important than watching celebrities from a distance. 

When the final bell chimed, the classroom wasn’t buzzing with disappointment. It was glowing with pride.

Mon whispered to Gon on the way out, loud enough for everyone to hear anyway, ‘So… Sensei is actually the celebrity, right?’

Gon sniffed. ‘Obviously. We just didn’t know we were already in the fan club.’

When Youchan caught Mutsuki’s eye as they started cleaning up the last stray sparkles, she smiled like she’d been holding it in all day. Mutsuki’s cheeks went faintly pink.

Outside, the torii gate hummed. The shrine’s magic settled around them with a satisfied sigh.

No speeches. No famous guests. Just Mutsuki-sensei.