Checkmate

In the gym, the mood was that of an execution. Five hundred students sat in absolute silence. On stage, Vice-Principal Akama seemed to shine under the spotlights, his white shirt (now clean of coffee stains) starched to military perfection.

Behind him, a row of painting easels, boxes of paint, and even a third-year student's unfinished clay sculpture were piled up like trash.

"Good morning," Akama said, his voice echoing with satisfaction. "Today, we conclude the transition. These 'art' items"—he said the word as if it were an insult—"will be removed for auction at noon. The space will be cleared for the track and field storage at 1:00 PM."

Kaito, sitting next to Hina, clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

"He can't sell my dragon," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"Wait," Hina said, though her own heart was beating against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Just wait."

She looked at the double doors at the back of the gym. They were closed.

Akama continued, opening his black folder.

"Furthermore, I signed the formal termination of the surplus cleaning staff contracts earlier today. Efficiency is painful, but necessary. Nakamura High will be reborn as a model of austerity."

Hina looked at Ren. He was checking his watch, impatient.

"Something is wrong," Mei whispered. "The spell didn't work. She's not coming."

Hina felt the bitter taste of failure. She had risked everything. She had drained her own life in that hospital room. If Principal Tanabe didn't show up...

"To make the closing of the Art Club official," Akama said, pulling a silver pen from his jacket pocket, "I will sign the final order now, in front of you."

Hina held her breath. It was her pen. The "Conductor."

Akama uncapped the pen. He pressed it against the paper.

Nothing.

He scratched hard. The ink failed.

He shook the pen, annoyed.

"Typical," he muttered. "Cheap equipment."

"Maybe you should try a pen that works, Mr. Akama."

The voice didn't come from the stage. It came from the back of the gym. It wasn't a shout, but it projected with a clarity that cut through the stale air of the room.

Every head turned.

The double doors were open. And there, standing in the entrance, leaning on an elegant wooden cane, was Principal Tanabe.

She was still pale. There were deep circles under her eyes, and she looked like she had lost ten pounds. But she was standing. And her eyes weren't glazed with sickness; they were burning.

A murmur of shock ran through the crowd.

"Principal Tanabe?" Akama stammered, nearly dropping his clipboard. "But... the hospital said you would be admitted for weeks..."

"The doctors called it a 'miraculous recovery,'" said Principal Tanabe, walking slowly down the center aisle. The sound of her cane hitting the wooden floor marked the rhythm: tap, tap, tap. "I call it luck. And a very strong will not to leave my school in the hands of a vulture."

She climbed the stage stairs. It was slow, painful to watch, but no one dared to help. She needed to do this alone.

When she reached the podium, Akama recoiled, seeming to shrink.

"Ms. Tanabe, I can explain... I was just implementing efficiency guidelines..."

"Efficiency?" The principal looked at the pile of art supplies. "Selling school property in an unlisted private auction is efficiency, Mr. Akama? Or is it theft?"

The gym exploded in whispers. Akama turned white as a sheet.

"I... I have authorization from the Board..."

"I called the Board this morning, from my hospital bed," she interrupted, her voice icy. "They knew nothing about the sale. Or about Mrs. Tani's firing. Or about the contracts with your brother-in-law's company."

She pulled an envelope from her coat pocket.

"This is your resignation letter, Mr. Akama. It is already filled out. The Board agreed it is better for you to leave quietly than to face a fraud investigation."

Akama looked at the crowd of students, then at the principal, and finally at the pen in his hand—the pen Hina had given him.

He threw it on the floor in disgust.

Without saying a word, he grabbed his briefcase, stepped off the stage, and walked down the center aisle. This time, there was no respectful silence. There were boos. It started with Kaito, then the basketball team (led by a nod from Ren), and soon the entire gym was shouting.

When the doors closed behind him, Principal Tanabe leaned heavily on the podium. She looked exhausted.

"Mrs. Tani keeps her job," she said into the microphone, breathless. "The Art Club remains open. And today's lunch... well, I'm sorry, but it will still be the meat paste until we can undo the contract. But tomorrow... tomorrow we will have curry."

The gym cheered. It wasn't polite applause. It was a standing ovation.

Later, in the newly rescued art room, the group sat in a circle. The smell of turpentine had never seemed so sweet.

Kaito was hugging his easels as if they were lost relatives. Mei was eating a chocolate bar, grinning from ear to ear. Ren was leaning against the window, looking at the courtyard where Akama's car was no longer parked.

Hina sat on a stool, twirling the silver metal pen between her fingers. She had retrieved it from the stage.

"Are you okay?" Ren asked, without turning around.

"I'm tired," Hina admitted. And she was. Saturday's ritual still weighed on her bones. "But it worked."

"It was close," Ren said. "If she had arrived ten minutes later..."

"But she didn't," Kaito said. "Because luck was on our side."

Mei looked at Hina, serious.

"The doctor said it was a miracle, Hina. You heard the principal. You really healed her."

Hina looked at the ring. It looked innocent now, just a silver band reflecting the afternoon sunlight. But she knew what it was. It was a key. A key that opened doors that should remain closed.

She had opened the door of recovery for the principal.

"Ren," Hina said.

The boy turned.

"What is it?"

"You said your dad knows specialists in Tokyo. Neurologists."

Ren tensed. He understood immediately.

"Hina... that's different. Your brother's coma... it's not a flu or stress. It's brain damage. Magic has limits."

"We don't know the limits," Hina said, standing up. The exhaustion vanished, replaced by crystal clear clarity. "We took down a tyrant. We healed a stopping heart. We saved the school."

She looked at her friends. At the Resistance.

"Akama was a test. And we passed."

She put the pen in her pocket and raised her fist, where the ring shone.

"I'm going to Tokyo. I'm going to the hospital where Haruto is. And I'm going to bring him back. Who's with me?"

Kaito didn't hesitate.

"Always."

Mei nodded, swallowing her fear.

"I'll go."

Everyone looked at Ren. He sighed, pushing off the window and straightening his uniform blazer.

"Someone needs to pay for the train tickets," he said, with that half-smile. "And I'm not going to miss the end of this story."

Hina smiled. The real battle was about to begin.

"Then pack your bags," she said. "We're going to visit my brother."