Her arrival was met with stiffened stares and shaken resolve.

As Miharu casually stepped on the red carpet laid out by Pandemonium Society member grunts that would inevitably lead to their office, she could sense that tensions were very much high.

Gehenna's reports from the Shittim Chest had been concise before she made her way to the Pandemonium Society's office building. No shootings, just a lot of injured students.

The lack of deaths was a blessing, but a worry nonetheless. The shots described was something else as well.

'Felt like they were glitching into a system they had no power over. Burning poison. Being bitten and thrashed by a tank.'

Their descriptions were... Vivid, to say the least. But that also meant one thing.

The halo breaker bullets were working. And the reports received of the bullets when extracted from the patients and victims by the Medical Emergency Club confirmed her suspicions.

'They thought they were dummy rounds. And they were afraid that such a simple bullet now can harm them like that.'

With that thought process, Miharu almost sneered.

Because of one man, one woman, both recurred massive damage across Kivotos.

The windows unnecessarily tall window panes glinted downwards, shining the refracted light of the sun upon the internal structures of the hallway. Her stop at the inevitably large, unnecessary door that smelled too much like crayons at the end of the hallway, she sighed.

She knew this was the time. So, steeling herself, her expression the same she had when she stepped out of the train, she pushed both doors open.

It creaked, before giving way to her strength and determination, the door opening wide.

To the sighting of a mess.

Paperwork strewn all over, grunt members running all over with papers flying everywhere in a frenzy of panic and fear, and a single, shell shocked Makoto sitting at the seat meant for the President of Pandemonium Society.

Several other members were there as well. Satsuki, the attempted hypnotist, seemingly dazed while holding a dangling coin between her eyes like she fell into her own hypnotism.

Pandemonium Society's photographer and news scooper, Chiaki, snapped a photo right before Miharu's very eyes, causing her to blink and shutting her eyes out of instinct.

"Teehee, sorry. We don't get unwelcomed guests often," she stated. Miharu, once she recovered, rolled her eyes.

And then the last two. Right at the corner with all the drawing paper and crayons in the world. Iroha, the one with the braincells and that girl that drove that wretched tank that caused the traffic jam yesterday afternoon, watching over Ibuki, a blonde girl with a military jacket of Pandemonium Society's rendition too big for her as she drew something.

She did not seem to supposedly be in Gehenna's high school academy setting. If anything, she seemed no older than 11. So why is she here?

"... Looks like I'm not the only one being in a whirlpool?" Miharu asked. Iroha looked up with a sigh, before she walked up from the corner, all the way across to Makoto. She slammed her palm to the desk, causing the President to gasp, before she blinked, finally returning to reality.

"Oh what the--" She met Iroha's stare, and then to the current unannounced intruder. Makoto squinted.

The woman was very much... An oddity. A woman with black hair, glasses, a lab coat, a blue shirt, black trousers and brown loafers.

Seriously, who invited this Millennium wannabe to Gehenna?

"Who are you?" Makoto began.

"SCHALE Liaison Officer, Miharu Yoshikawa." She slid the SCHALE badge in her coat's breast pocket into her hand, letting it hang by the lanyard she held onto before sliding it back. "I'm here to have you all collaborate."

"Oh, is that so?" Makoto concurred, standing up as she adjusted her coat cape ever so slightly. "Well, tell me this, Miss Yoshikawa. Do you have authority to even try--"

"I don't give a rat's ass if you're imposing your so called authority onto me because as far as I'm concerned, this isn't about you."

Miharu's words caused everyone to just... Stop. Even Ibuki, the starry eyed prodigy of a child, looked up at Miharu the moment she spoke.

Sensei would have chuckled and provided an alternative solution.

Kize, their dreaded 'enemy' that they never even saw, would have just dug up their shady pasts and either used it to his benefit or blackmail them to cooperate.

This woman. This one, single, halo-less woman, barged into the room, demanded a collaboration and then shut down the President before she could even taunt.

How does she do it?

"If it's not about her, then it's about what's happening outside, isn't it?" Iroha questioned, ever the voice of reason of the bunch while also having her eyes half lidded not in suspicion, but in the mere delegation of laziness that she wouldn't want to experience any other way.

"You guessed right," Miharu replied, before glancing at the rest. "I have information about what the chaos could be about, and unless you're willing to cooperate, I can't, even in good faith, guarantee that I can make it happen."

"So why aren't you sharing with us, then?!" Makoto inquired.

"Because you haven't made your choice yet. Do you want Gehenna to know that the proud leader of Pandemonium Society had proven themselves actually caring and competent to their district for once...?"

She trailed off intentionally. Like the other option would be much worse.

"... Or I call the Prefect Team and start prodding through every inch of your history or be disciplined by the girl you keep trying to undermine."

It was much, much worse.

The mere image of Hina, the hyper competent president of the Prefect Team, foiling every single opportunity Makoto could ever hope to execute and subsequently punished her for, was enough for Makoto to become pale and start trembling in her boots.

"So listen up. I'm not here pushing my authority for no reason." She took a step forward. "I'm here because children are hurt by bullets that shouldn't have been circulating all over Gehenna. Hell, maybe even all over Kivotos for all I know."

"What kind of bullets?" Iroha questioned.

"Dark. Heavy. Tipped in black. Armor piercing rounds."

"... Aren't those--"

"Dummy bullets?" Miharu interjected, before scoffing. "Time's changed. And despite how advanced Kivotos is, looks like even my world has a thing or two that outclasses you."

"There's no way in hell that bullets in black could--!!"

"But it just did," Miharu cut off Makoto before she could finish her sentence. "36 students injured. Bullets of tungsten carbide extracted. Dark bullets. All 5.56."

"So the bullets go owie on everyone regardless if they're us or you?" Ibuki spoke up from the corner, raising her hand that wasn't even visible, due to the jacket being few sizes too big.

"Yeah." Miharu sighed. "So? What are you going to do? Pretend that everything and everyone is going to be alive? Or would you rather risk yourself and be recognized as an actual competent force?"

"............"

Miharu sighed. "I'll make sure that the Prefect Team eats shit one time."

"Deal!" Makoto devoured that offer in no time flat, much to her chagrin. The shit eating grin was also a factor into her disappointment.

But it was short lived. For her priorities were more at stake.

"Then start by pushing a mandate. No one in Gehenna will be using their firearms, and if they have, seen or used any bullets that use those black bullets, they must be sent to the Prefect Team."

"Now why do we have to do that?" Makoto questioned.

"Bullets very owie," Ibuki interjected, before she stood up and walking towards Makoto to tug at her sleeves. Makoto wordlessly carried the child into her arms, chuckling.

"That, and Prefect Team are overworked," Iroha added in. "Doing this makes them more overworked."

"Wait a minute that's a great idea!!"

"......" Iroha and Miharu looked to each other. An unsaid agreement came to be.

They both agreed that Prefect Team's hyper competence was always a given, even if overworked. With a single sigh, Miharu turned around again.

If this was what Katashi went through on a daily basis, she can't help but wonder how Sensei handled this so well with the long period of time he had been Sensei.

But time isn't going to wait on her, as her mind reminded of another team. Sliding the Shittim Chest into her hand, she turned around and headed out, her faith towards Pandemonium Society unfaltering.

"Arona."

The screen lit up.

"Yeah?"

"Call FOX Platoon. Plana."

"Orders?"

"Is there a metal detector tapped into the Shittim Chest?"

"To detect tungsten? Unfortunate."

Miharu clicked her tongue.

"Fair enough. Send a message to the GSC. Metal detectors are to be deployed to Gehenna specifically to detect tungsten materials and ignore any other metal."

"Miharu-Sensei," Plana began. "The GSC's jurisdiction are not within Gehenna."

"Which is why I'm asking them to airdrop to the Prefect Team. Either that, or the members of Pandemonium Society. As far as I've seen? They're more competent than their own leader."

—

While Gehenna sowed itself in chaos by the advent of the bullets, one man breathed softly into the ventilator.

There laid Kize, a man whose bruises were for anyone to see, but none would. His dark coat hung up beside him, his shirt replaced by another, more clean one.  Underneath it all were marks of purple and red, wrapped in bandages that were meant to contain them. A blemished mark upon his body; another history to be noted.

There he laid, eyes closed, but his thoughts, his mind, stretched out towards an empty world that slowly gained color.

A muted color. But color nonetheless.

"Halo breaker bullets..." He muttered, as he stood in the dreamscape he created for himself. Images tingled slightly of nostalgia. One where he sat on a desk, as the students began to make their way out. For club activities, or simply to just go home.

"Sensei."

Kize, no, Katashi looked up. A boy with short brown hair and a courtesy smile in a uniform.

"Here for the extra lessons?"

"You bet. Seriously you teach really well."

"When you get the hang of things, you see a lot of things."

"When were you spitting poetry that bad?"

"Since your mom."

"Hey!"

A playful nudge later, and then the student pulled a piece of paper. A checklist of subjects, few Katashi taught. A finger pointed down towards a particular subject.

"Here, history of British law."

"Hm? Wait, this isn't a part of the curriculum, though." He let a few beats pass, before shrugging. "Sure. Why not."

He blinked.

"Why are you showing me this?" Kize asked, glancing to the side. There was Kuzunoha, smiling softly at the sight she was seeing.

"Because your past is warm."

"Is it?"

He blinked. Another memory, another student.

The door swung open. The sun glowed overhead, with Katashi walking forward.

"You asked for me?" Katashi questioned, his eyes landing towards a girl in red haired ponytail, her sailor uniform fluttering against the wind. She stared out towards the fence protecting students from accidentally falling through the rooftop.

Misuzu.

"Yes. I..." She took a deep breath. "I promised you, I won't... Hurt myself again, right? I want to thank you for... For giving me a purpose. The therapy you suggested helped... Plenty."

Each line dripped with an authenticity he couldn't place. He found a smile crept up to his face.

"Hey, so long as you keep going, alright? With or without me."

She nodded. She then turned around, facing directly towards Katashi, her hands clasped to her chest. Her ribbon tie a red color; a second year student. Her eyes, a glinting glow of brown that had hopes and dreams where there was once nothing.

A student that he personally oversaw improvement over.

He still remembered how she looked when she first entered his class as a new student. Her head draped down, shortened to a bowl cut while having disinterested eyes that made many distance from her. From the get go, he saw an unfulfilled student, never living her life as she wanted.

He wanted to help her.

When he roll called, a daily routine, he made sure to always call her name out first. Every effort was a reluctant hand raise, and her studies? Average. Painfully below average, as if she never wished to excel further than she should.

He remembered how he called her in every time, not to berate her, but to ask what her thought process was for the wrong statements she wrote. She never answered. He let her back to her seat every time.

And then one day, she spoke. Only when there was no one else in the class.

"Why do you care?"

Katashi looked to her, her eyes of disinterest filled with another emotion: anger.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, are you going to get angry at me for talking back?"

He flinched.

"No. I'm just surprised you suddenly asked that." He cleared his throat, his eyes meeting hers more properly, away from the check marked paper. "But, I care, because you're my student."

"So what? You're going to take advantage of me, is that it?"

"... What?"

She growled. "Forget it." And then she left. He was... Confused, to say the least. That did make him ponder about her status.

Bowl cut, disinterest. Her past must've been... Painful.

His meeting with the principal was brief, as he merely wanted the files for Misuzu Kobane. A skim through, and he found out something rather... Awful.

Middle school credentials were high. Potent. Come first year of high school, and she seemed to progress well, until...

Expelled? So her second year began in his class.

She was...

He breathed out. How could they? How could the teachers took advantage of her? And she was expelled for calling them out?

Her trust to teachers must have eroded. Rightfully so, he thought. But it didn't mean he should give up.

He had faith, and for the first time, he proceeded to do something he rarely did. An extra mile of effort.

He remembered the phone number and how he contacted the Kobane's. They were understandably suspicious of him. He however assured them.

"I promise you, I'll protect her. Even from myself. It's my duty as a teacher, after all."

Cautious as they were, they soon allowed him to do what he felt was necessary for her to heal.

Katashi wasn't a therapist. He never claimed to be. But he knew life shouldn't be dictated by a single traumatic incident.

If only he was so bright in the future.

So, his efforts began.

In a week, he orchestrated and planned with a few students who genuinely wished for the best for her. They asked questions. They offered her company. Both male and female, those he knew had kindness in their hearts and extended it so well.

In another week, she opened up to them. A slow process, but he watched from the desk at how she gradually grew from that disinterested pose to one that seemed like she was somewhat paying attention. He also noticed how she passed off notes every now and then.

He didn't complain. It wasn't a test when they were doing it. By all means, it might've been sharing information they didn't understand and compressed it in a way they'd understand best.

Takes one to know one.

In a month since her enrollment, her marks had a marked improvement. It was a raise, slowly, carefully, all the way until he saw that she jolted from 43 to 66.

"Teach me your ways, Misuzu," Katashi stated with bright eyes. Her response was a sneer.

"Don't pretend like you're my friend."

"But I'm... Not?" Katashi tilted his head. It looked like it irked her.

"I said stop pretending to be my friend."

"I'm not. I'm your Sensei. But that doesn't mean I can't learn something new everyday."

He watched her flinch, before looking back down to her paper. A drawing of sorts that seemed abject and one he didn't understand in hindsight.

"Really, you didn't even use any calculations and, and you used... What is this?"

"...."

A disgusted noise left her lips, before she took hold of the chalk at the edge of the desk. An image. Not a formula, but an image that Misuzu formed of a tyre with numbers. Then an arrow pushing forward with numbers.

"... A visualizer?"

"It helps me understand how it works better than just reading."

"... Noted."

"Wha--"

An exasperated look emerged upon her before she slammed the chalk onto his desk and slid out of the classroom.

The next day, paper assignments had visualizers for their physics calculations.

Her marks skyrocketed to 88.

When he gave the paper back to Misuzu, he had an approving nod. She didn't say anything back, but returned to her seat.

When lunch came, she approached Katashi, who began to pack up his stuff after everyone else had been satiated of off-handed knowledge.

"... You're weird."

"Hm?" He looked at her, only to scoff playfully. "What? Just because I'm a teacher doesn't me--"

"I meant that you're being weird by listening to me."

"....." He was confused, obviously. Exasperated, even. "But... Why?"

"... Because they didn't. They demanded respect. They demanded perfectionism. They demanded that you do your absolute best or you fail as a person already."

"......."

He didn't know his hands rapped against the polished wood of the desk. She noticed.

"Struck a nerve?" She questioned.

"You weren't the first to experience that. Doesn't hurt less, that's for sure."

And then, for once, he saw a glint in her eyes. It was there he found that kinship.

A strange one born from a similar trauma.

"You did, too?"

"Imagine having attorneys for parents. Makes saying anything suffocating when someone points out about the wording."

"..." She rolled her eyes. And yet, in that moment, there was something that formed.

Two months passed since her enrollment, and he watched steadily as she slowly opened herself to others. When he entered, he saw her chatting amongst other students, her hair now neck length. What, he didn't know. He didn't care to prod. But when their eyes met, her eyes sparkling in a hot he fathomed so well, they both smiled.

A marked improvement in her mood. Her studies were also beginning to see fruition. Not just in his class, but to the others as well.

He would know, he called her parents to ask. Even they're surprised by the results.

Three months in, and a school festival was beginning. It was Misuzu that brought the lead, as she took the chalk without his input and began to draw on the blackboard.

He allowed it. He had no reason to stop her when she began.

"So," she began. "I suggest we don't do what every other conventional means tend to do."

A few hums of curiosity came about. Katashi seemed rather invested.

"So no haunted classes? No thematic cafes? Not even food stalls?"

"None of that! If we want our class to win, we'll need a real deal hard hitting event!"

A hand slowly raised.

"No plays!"

The hand slowly dropped.

"What we'll be doing is challenging intelligence. Bring debates. Informational teaching. Talk of trivia that we know."

"And... We ask them to pay us for that information?"

"It's not about the money. It's about sending a message. That knowledge should always come free."

"... Are you suggesting a more convoluted method of a play?"

"Interpreting a historical figure by dressing up as them isn't the worst way to go around it, would it?"

Mutters amongst the class commenced, while Misuzu and Katashi met eyes. Katashi was the first to glance away.

"Misuzu, if you're asking me to dress up as someone, don't expect me to be a judge of a court," he stated.

"What about a kangaroo court? Someone could dress up in a--"

"I'm going to stop you right there and say that's a terrible idea," Katashi cut off one of his students. A few awww's later, Katashi snickered. "I didn't say no."

"Oh so you will--"

"No. I'm a teacher, not a student. This is for you guys, not me."

"What if we want to do it to commemorate you?"

Misuzu's words called out to him. He could hear a few gasps in the classroom, as he shook his head with a nervous chuckle.

"That's not necessary. You all being here is enough for me."

"Gee willikers, that's our teacher right there," called out one student.

The memory faded like a dispersed cloud.

"These memories. You hold them dear, don't you?" Kuzunoha questioned. Kize clung to his knees, bringing them close to him.

"If only I wasn't so focused..."

"You love her."

Kize glanced at Kuzunoha with furrowed eyebrows.

"I don't mean romantically. You love her as your student. A girl you practically raised to become better, more confident. You are what a teacher, a Sensei, should be. What changed you?"

"..." Kize sighed. He felt it, even in the real world of which he was unconscious for. "You saw it too, didn't you?"

The memory of the rooftop returned.

"... That's..." Misuzu's voice trailed off, as she looked to the horizon again.

"Hm?"

"I... Seem to have problems, Sensei. Everytime I look at you lately, it... It feels like my heart is... It just... Beats out of my chest."

"......"

"Looking into your eyes, it made me feel all... Warm. Fuzzy. I... I didn't know what to make of it."

'Oh no...'

"But... I... Think I do now." She turned to face him. "I love you, Sensei."

"........." Any appearance of blood on his face was quartered and drained, a revelation and misunderstanding of her own feelings a culmination of which he was utterly unprepared for.

And terrified for.

"... No."

Misuzu flinched, her smile becoming neutral.

"No?"

"Misuzu, you're a student. I'm a teacher. Do you understand what line you're crossing here?"

"I do. And I'll jump it."

"This isn't just about you, Misuzu," Katashi firmly stated. "This is about us. If you take that jump, nothing will be the same for both of us."

He turned around. "And I won't take that jump. For your sake."

And when he walked away, he knew he broke something.

The memory ended, but the scars burned brighter than ever. A breath or two passed, a reminder that he was alive, that the present day still called to him.

"... So that's it?" Kuzunoha questioned.

"What do you mean?"

"This one event. It's... Why you chose not to be who you truly are?"

"It saves me the hassle of caring."

"It's destroying you."

"... I'm not saying it wouldn't."

"So your rage against Haruto Kuzaka?"

"...." A sigh. "He hurt children. Unforgivable."

"Even if the other students do the same to each other here? In Kivotos?"

"Sticks, stones and bullets can break bones. Words break spirits and souls."

"That's not the point, Sensei. You promised change to the two AIs. Are you going to break that?"

"........."

Arona's cries lived in his mind forever. That small moment in the Shittim Chest, as he sat and Arona and Plana cried on his lap. His hand gently holding onto Arona.

A silent concession. A small admittance to change.

"And Miharu? You know she's looking for you. Do you have a reason to avoid her?"

"......"

In the moment, he closed his eyes, knowing, acknowledging even, that Katashi was still in there.

"Hey."

He opened his eyes, and in Kuzunoha's place... Katashi sat beside him, smiling.

"It's not your fault it happened. You did what you had to."

"..." Kize sighed. "And look where that got us."

"It got us here."

"..... Kivotos, hm?"

"Without that event, without you shunning everything and everyone, without all those rejection letters Haruto forged, you wouldn't have gotten into Kivotos."

"........"

"You would've never truly knew how it's like to be loved all over again."

"... What if they know what I did? What I've..."

"They know. They never made any advances on you because of Shun. She protected you from the student's own misguided affections, if they had any."

"Shun...?"

Katashi chuckled. "She doesn't love you romantically, you stupid. She cares. Like a caring sister to an edgy brother."

Silence passed between the two, before Katashi continued.

"Weird, isn't it? We're the only son of the Sekai family."

"And your understanding of a sibling relationship is skewed."

"Well I didn't say it was really a sibling dynamic. Besides, you know where our hearts really lie on."

Another silence. An unspoken name rang between the two. The name that had always stuck through him thick and thin. No matter as Katashi, no matter as Kize.

Miharu.

"Listen."

Kize didn't respond.

"You don't have to immediately change. Hell, you won't even remember this even happened. This dream, this memory. Kuzunoha. But you're doing so well as a Sensei. And keep it going. Your job doesn't end just because Sensei woke up. It means you're going to have more to do for yourself."

"What do you know about more to do?"

Katashi smiled.

"Because Arius is always going to welcome you."

"....." Kize didn't respond again. But this time, he scoffed.

But he didn't say no.

The last thing he saw was Katashi waving at him, a faint whisper in the dreamscape.

"You're healing. And that's fine."

And then, he blinked.