Chapter 2 — Mission: School Drop-off

Dawn had barely broken.

Agent Kenji Masato (still unarmed, except for a backpack) surveyed the battlefield: the living room.

The target: a five-year-old girl, fully capable of chaos.
The mission: transport her to **School Base Alpha** without incident.
Threat assessment: high.

“Papa?”

He turned. Emy stood by the door, hair sticking out in all directions, pajamas featuring some sort of intergalactic cats.

“Yes, Emy?”

“I’m ready.”

“Good. Gear up.”

Kenji handed her a backpack. She snatched it like it contained nuclear codes.

Step one: Shoes.

This should have been simple. It was not.

Step one point one: Locate left shoe. She held up both, confused.

“…Which is left?”

“Uh… the one on your left?”

Emy tried both. Neither fit. She looked up with an expression that could topple empires.

“…Papa, help.”

“Yes, of course.” He knelt. A shoe slid on. The other refused.

Minutes passed.

Step one complete. Partial victory.

Step two: Breakfast recap.

“Crunchy eggs were… good,” she muttered.

Kenji Masato nodded, noting in his mental log: **Subject morale stable. Mission success possible.**

Step three: Jacket.

Step three point one: Avoid tangling with hood strings. Agent nearly lost an eye.

Step three point two: Acquire backpack from floor without tripping over cat. Cat ambushed. Casualties: minor.

Step three complete.

Step four: Extraction.

“Ready, Emy?”

“Ready!”

They walked to the car. Mission seemingly normal.

Then: an ambush.

The neighbor. Holding an enormous dog.

The dog barked. The daughter froze. Kenji Masato froze. The dog sniffed. The daughter screamed—then giggled.

Agent Masato exhaled. Mission parameters adjusted: emotional stability fluctuating.

At the school gate: chaos.

Tiny humans everywhere. Screaming. Running. Negotiating for playground dominance.

Emy tugged his sleeve. “Papa, I don’t want to go!”

“Understood. Let’s strategize.”

Step one: distraction.

He crouched, whispering: “Mission code: ice cream after school.”

Emy’s eyes widened. She considered briefly, then nodded.

“Go. Deploy.”

She ran inside like a missile.

Kenji watched. Notebook would have been useful here.

Step two: extraction success.

He turned back to the street. Peace. Calm. Mission complete.

…Until he tripped over a stray backpack, falling flat on his face.

“Status report?” a voice in his head asked.

**Operation: School Drop-off**

Success: partially

Casualties: dignity

Emotional gain: priceless

Kenji Masato rose. Dusting himself off, he smiled.

Emy waved through the window, shouting, “See you after lunch, Papa!”

He nodded. Mission debrief: mandatory hugs later.

From the outside, it looked like a normal school morning.

A father, a daughter, a chaotic street.

But if anyone looked closely—they would notice the man scanning for threats, calculating angles, and secretly proud of the small human running ahead.

This was not a normal family.

But somehow—
It was perfectly normal enough.