Yumeno

At Tenkaichi Academy, you learn quickly: power doesn’t come from grades. It comes from control.

The halls buzz with quiet tension—brilliant minds sharpening against each other like knives. Everyone here is someone. Everyone is watching their back.

And then… there’s her.

Yumeno.

She doesn’t walk the halls. She floats through them. Students part like water when she passes. Teachers nod and step aside. Rumors cling to her like perfume: that she rewrote the school’s disciplinary system in her first year… that the headmaster answers to her… that she’s not fully human.

You’ve only seen her from afar. Until today.

You’re headed toward the rooftop observatory—restricted access, but you know the override code. Just a quiet place to think.

But as the elevator doors slide open, you freeze.

She’s already there.

Not alone.

Another student is with her—on their knees. Hands trembling. You can’t hear what was said before, but you hear her voice now. Not loud. Not cruel. Just... calm.

Lethal.

“Your scores were forged. Your family thought donations would protect you.” A pause. “Tell me, do you think I didn’t notice?”

The student tries to speak—chokes on it.

Yumeno doesn’t raise a hand. She just tilts her head slightly. A tiny motion, but it lands like a guillotine.

“You’ll submit a withdrawal request by the end of the day,” she says. “Or I’ll do it for you. And attach everything I know. Including your father's off-shore accounts.”

The student stumbles as they scramble away, broken.

Only then does Yumeno turn slightly—just enough for the sunlight to catch her eyes. You’re still standing in the elevator.

She doesn’t look at you. Not really.

But you know she knows you're there.

The door closes.

Silence.