VOLUME #4 - EPISODE 6
[CONTENT WARNING: MA19+]
[NARRATOR: Some invasions announce themselves with sirens. Some arrive quietly, wearing smiles and school uniforms. Today, five teenagers enter Jeremy High—transfer students with tragic pasts and government assignments, sent to dismantle a school that's become family for the broken. But one of them isn't here for the government. One of them has a different mission entirely. Today, Riyura faces enemies who are also victims. Today, his comedy returns not as performance but as genuine response to absurdity. Today, Cartoon Headayami returns from COVID absence at exactly the right time. And today, Principal Jeremy sees a ghost from his past walk through his gates—the son he raised, the kid he failed, the agent who's been orchestrating everything from shadows. Welcome to when agents arrive. Welcome to the beginning of the end.]
PART ONE: THE MORNING THAT FELT LIKE WAR
Monday. Fourth week of senior year. One week since the government announcement. One week of waiting for the inevitable.
Riyura stood at Jeremy High's gates with his entire friend group—Miyaka, Subarashī, Sotsuko, Jimiko, Shoehead, Socksiku, and now Jisatsu, who'd been released from psychiatric care with strict outpatient requirements and a support system that insisted he was family.
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: They're coming today. I know it. Can feel it. That atmospheric pressure before disaster. That certainty that everything's about to change. Joyū's still in treatment. Pan's still baking alone at 4 AM. Owari's still desperately performing for her brother's love. And now we add government conspiracy to the list of things trying to destroy us. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. At least if I'm going to face institutional destruction, I'm doing it with people who actually matter. And hey—at least I can make jokes about it now. Genuine jokes. Not armor-jokes. Progress!]
"You seem different," Miyaka observed, studying Riyura's face. "Not bad different. Just—different."
"I feel different," Riyura admitted. And he did. Something had shifted after Joyū's suicide attempt, after Jisatsu's confession, after accepting that he couldn't save everyone but could persist anyway. His usual desperate cheerfulness had been replaced with something more genuine. Something that acknowledged pain while still choosing to exist despite it.
"You're smiling," Jisatsu said quietly, his emo aesthetic slightly less pronounced after days of actual therapy. "Actually smiling. Not performing."
"Yeah," Riyura said, and the smile widened. "Turns out when you stop using comedy as armor, it becomes actual personality. Revolutionary concept. Next I'll discover that breathing is optional and sleep is a social construct."
Subarashī laughed—genuine, surprised laughter. "THERE HE IS! The real Riyura! Making terrible jokes because life is genuinely absurd instead of using humor to hide from trauma!"
"Oh, I'm still traumatized," Riyura clarified, adjusting his yellow star hairclip with theatrical precision. "Deeply. Profoundly. Yakamira's death still haunts me. My father's crimes still define parts of my existence. My uncle fled the country. My mother's in therapy for 'false memories' about psychic abilities. I'm a walking disaster. But hey—at least I'm a self-aware walking disaster who can laugh about it. That's character growth, right?"
"That's something," Jimiko said with a small smile.
The morning bell rang. Students began filtering through gates. And among them—five new faces. Transfer students. Too carefully composed. Too precisely integrated. Too obviously not normal teenagers despite performing normalcy flawlessly.
"There," Sotsuko said quietly, his analytical mind immediately identifying threats. "Five of them. Arriving separately but coordinated. Government agents. Has to be."
Riyura studied them:
First: A kid with sad eyes and dirt under his fingernails, carrying himself like someone who'd lost everything beautiful and learned to exist in the ashes. He touched plants as he passed them—unconscious gesture, like seeking comfort from the only thing that never abandoned him. Shinda Shokubutsu.
Second: A teenager with a hollow expression and the kind of emptiness that suggested genuine trauma rather than regular anger. Something about him screamed danger even while looking completely normal. His eyes were dead in a different way than Joyū's had been—not from wanting death, but from having caused it and learning to live with that. Akuma Kodomo.
Third: A student wearing gloves—multiple pairs, layered, obsessively maintained—with eyes that held disturbing gleam suggesting either genius or madness or both. He was muttering to his gloves. Actually having a conversation with them. That was—that was concerning. Gurōbu Ītā.
Fourth: A kid who looked eerily similar to Riyura—purple hair styled differently, star-shaped pupils but sharper somehow, British accent evident even before speaking, and expression holding complicated hatred mixed with something that might've been desperate need for acknowledgment. Komedi Kirā Shiko.
Fifth: The most dangerous one. Handsome in that carefully manufactured way that suggested he knew exactly how to use appearance as a weapon. Moving through the crowd with subtle authority, students unconsciously making space for him, teachers looking at him with a strange mix of respect and unease. And his eyes—his eyes found Principal Jeremy immediately, locked on with intensity that suggested deep personal history. Hansamu Yumi.
"That last one—" Jisatsu started, his shadows unconsciously responding to threat by swirling slightly around his feet. "That one's different. The others are agents. But him—he's something else. Something more dangerous."
Principal Jeremy had frozen at his office window. Riyura could see him from the courtyard—could see the way the principal's usual composed expression had shattered into something between horror and grief and complicated love.
"He knows that student," Riyura said quietly. "Personally. Look at his face. That's not 'oh no, government agents.' That's 'oh no, someone from my past I thought I'd never see again.'"
The five transfer students were directed to the office for processing. As they passed Riyura's group, each one assessed them with different kind of attention:
Shinda looked at them with sad recognition—fellow broken people, maybe. Akuma looked through them with hollow indifference—people were obstacles or tools, nothing more.
Gurōbu looked at their feet, at their footwear, and his disturbing smile widened—he'd noticed Shoehead and Socksiku, recognized kindred spirits in the worst possible way.
Komedi locked eyes with Riyura and his expression twisted with hatred so profound it was almost physical. "Uncle," he said in perfect British-accented Japanese. "We need to talk. About family. About legacy. About why you're alive when better people died."
"I don't—" Riyura started, confused. "I don't have a nephew. I don't know who you—"
"Of course you don't," Komedi interrupted bitterly. "Why would you? You were too busy surviving your father's hatred to pay attention to the people he abandoned across the world. The family he destroyed before even marrying your mother."
He walked away before Riyura could respond, leaving behind confusion and dread in equal measure. But Hansamu—Hansamu stopped directly in front of Riyura. Studied him with eyes that held calculating intelligence mixed with something broken.
"Riyura Shiko," Hansamu said, his voice smooth and cold. "The survivor. The unique son. The kid who exposed corruption and defeated his father and lived when his brother died. I've heard so much about you."
"Have you," Riyura said carefully, instincts screaming danger.
"From my father," Hansamu continued, and his smile was perfect and terrifying. "Principal Jeremy. He raised me, you see. After I was abandoned. After I was left to die. He took me in, gave me education, gave me purpose. And then—" His voice dropped to something venomous. "—then he sent me away. Said I was too dangerous. Too broken. Too much like the legacy he was trying to escape."
He leaned closer. "I'm here to find out why. Why he kept me at distance. Why he knows things about Jeremy High's founding that he won't share. Why three students from 1876—the first generation—matter so much that he built an entire school around protecting their secrets. And why—" His eyes narrowed. "—why your existence, your bloodline, your abilities are connected to those three students in ways that shaped everything."
"I don't understand," Riyura said honestly.
"You will," Hansamu promised. "By the time I'm done, everyone will understand. The government thinks I'm here to investigate and dismantle Jeremy High. But that's just—" He smiled. "—that's just the cover story. I'm here for Principal Jeremy. For the truth he's been hiding. For the 1876 generation's secrets that explain why people like us exist in pain we never deserved."
He walked away, leaving Riyura frozen with questions multiplying faster than answers could possibly arrive. "What," Subarashī said eloquently, "was that?"
"That," Jimiko replied quietly, "was someone with a very personal vendetta wrapped in government assignment. This isn't about dismantling the school. This is about destroying Principal Jeremy specifically."
"Why?" Miyaka asked. "Let's find out," Riyura said, already moving toward the office.
PART TWO: THE OFFICE WHERE GHOSTS SPOKE
Principal Jeremy's office. Riyura burst in without knocking—rude, but urgent situations demanded rudeness.
Principal Jeremy sat at his desk looking older than Riyura had ever seen him. Not physically older. Emotionally older. Like years of carefully maintained composure had crumbled in minutes.
"Riyura," Principal Jeremy said tiredly. "I assume you're here about Hansamu."
"He said you raised him," Riyura replied, closing the door behind him. "Said you sent him away. Said he's here for secrets about 1876 and three students and—Principal Jeremy, what is he talking about?"
The principal was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Sit down. This is—this is going to take a while. And you deserve to know. Especially since your bloodline is central to everything."
Riyura sat, heart pounding.
"Jeremy High was founded in 1876," Principal Jeremy began. "By my great-great-grandfather, Poleheadedsandwich Jeremy the First. He founded it for a specific purpose: to protect three students who'd developed—" He paused. "—who'd developed psychic abilities. The first recorded cases in modern Japan."
"The Edo-period bloodline," Riyura whispered. "My father mentioned it. Said abilities were recorded in Edo period, dismissed as legend."
"It wasn't legend," Principal Jeremy confirmed. "It was real. Three students in 1876 manifested abilities through extreme trauma. Abilities that came from hiding immense despair behind immense joy. Abilities that—" He stopped, collecting himself. "—abilities that shaped everything. Created bloodlines. Started legacies. Built the foundation for people like you and Jisatsu to exist."
"Who were they?" Riyura demanded.
"Their names were Hikari Shiko, Yami Hakizage, and Kage Poleheadedsandwich," Principal Jeremy said. "Your ancestor. Sotsuko's ancestor through Letace's family line. And mine. The original three. The ones who survived hell together and built something beautiful from shared brokenness."
Riyura felt the world tilt. "My family's abilities—the Shiko bloodline—it goes back to 1876? To one of these three students?"
"Yes," Principal Jeremy confirmed. "Hikari Shiko was the first. Developed blue energy manifestation—exactly like yours—after experiencing profound loss and learning to smile through it. Started the bloodline."
"And Hansamu?" Riyura asked, though he dreaded the answer.
"Hansamu is—" Principal Jeremy's voice broke. "Hansamu is descended from all three bloodlines. His mother was Shiko. His father was Hakizage. And he was abandoned on my doorstep as an infant because his parents—his parents were terrified of what their sons abilities."
The office was completely silent.
"I raised him," Principal Jeremy continued, tears streaming down his face now. "Raised him as my son. Taught him about the 1876 legacy. About the three students who'd built something beautiful. About how Jeremy High existed to protect broken people because the first generation understood what it meant to be broken and chose connection over isolation."
"But when Hansamu was twelve, his abilities manifested. And they were—they were wrong. Not blue like Shiko bloodline. Not red like corrupted Shiko. Not shadows like some Hakizage descendants. His abilities were—" Principal Jeremy struggled with words. "—his abilities were manipulation. Psychic influence. He could make people do things, believe things, feel things. Could orchestrate events from shadows without anyone knowing he was involved."
"That's terrifying," Riyura said.
"It terrified me," Principal Jeremy admitted. "Because I realized—I realized he'd inherited not just the abilities but the potential for what those abilities became when the first generation's descendants were corrupted. When they chose power over people. When they built networks like your father's corruption system."
"So you sent him away," Riyura said, understanding dawning with horrible clarity.
"I sent him to government care," Principal Jeremy confirmed. "Told them he was gifted. Special. Could be useful. And they—they took him. Trained him. Turned him into an agent. Taught him to weaponize his abilities for their purposes. And they promsied to hide the existance of these so called powers of his from the world. And so they've kept their promise ever since. And would also never even know about the other people besides him having powers to as well, because I said he was a special case when it came to this power stuff of his."
"And now he's back," Riyura finished. "For revenge. For answers. For the truth about why you abandoned him in the first place."
"Yes," Principal Jeremy whispered. "And he won't stop until he destroys everything I built. Until he exposes the 1876 secrets I've protected. Until he proves that the legacy I dedicated my life to preserving was poison from the start."
"Is it?" Riyura asked quietly. "Poison? The legacy?"
"I don't know anymore," Principal Jeremy admitted. "The three students in 1876—they built something beautiful. A school for broken people. A sanctuary. But their descendants—people like your father, like the Hakizage family, like my own family that became obsessed with protecting secrets instead of people—we corrupted it. Turned sanctuary into system. Turned protection into control."
He looked at Riyura with desperate eyes. "Hansamu is right to be angry. Right to want answers. Right to hate me for sending him away. But if he destroys Jeremy High—if he exposes everything—then broken people like you, like Jisatsu, like every student here who needs this place—they lose their sanctuary. They lose the one place that accepts them despite their trauma."
"Then we don't let him destroy it," Riyura said firmly. "We protect the school. We face Hansamu. We give him the answers he deserves while refusing to let him burn down what the first generation built."
"How?" Principal Jeremy asked desperately.
"The same way we've survived everything else," Riyura replied. "By being more stubborn than the people trying to destroy us. By choosing family over bloodline. By protecting what matters instead of what we inherited."
He stood. "I need to tell my friends. Need to prepare. Need to—" He stopped at the door. "Principal Jeremy. The 1876 generation. The three students. What happened to them? How did their story end?"
Principal Jeremy's expression became infinitely sad. "That's what Hansamu wants to know. That's the secret I've been protecting. And it's—" He paused. "—it's the reason I'm terrified of what he'll do when he learns the truth."
"Tell me," Riyura demanded.
"Not yet," Principal Jeremy said. "Not until Hansamu is ready to hear it too. Not until—" His voice broke completely. "—not until I'm brave enough to face what I did to my son by sending him away."
PART THREE: THE ANNOUNCEMENT THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
Lunch period. The five transfer students were introduced formally in the cafeteria—standard procedure for new arrivals, though nothing about this situation was standard.
Shinda stood quietly, introducing himself with sad politeness. "I like plants. Gardens. Growing things from nothing. Please take care of me."
Akuma's introduction was hollow: "I'm here to learn. To observe. To—" He paused. "—to exist quietly while studying." His dead eyes suggested that existence was burden rather than choice.
Gurōbu's introduction was disturbing: "I eat gloves!" he announced cheerfully, too cheerfully, while his gloved hands moved in ways that suggested the gloves were moving him rather than vice versa. "They're my friends! My family! My everything! Please let me see your gloves sometime! They're lonely! They need friends!"
Shoehead and Socksiku exchanged glances. They'd found their nightmare mirror.
Komedi's introduction dripped with venom disguised as politeness: "I'm Riyura Shiko's nephew. From Britain. Here to learn about my uncle's legacy. About family. About why some people survive when others die. Looking forward to—" His smile was cruel. "—to reconnecting with relatives who didn't know I existed."
But Hansamu. Hansamu's introduction was perfect. Charming. Friendly. Completely false.
"I'm Hansamu Yumi. Transfer from abroad. Excited to be at Jeremy High. I've heard so many wonderful things about this school's unique approach to education and student welfare. I hope to learn everything I can about Jeremy High's history, its founding principles, and—" His eyes found Principal Jeremy standing at the back of the cafeteria. "—and the legacy that makes this place special. Please take care of me."
Applause. Students welcoming new arrivals. Complete obliviousness to the fact that five agents had just declared war while smiling. After the announcement, Hansamu approached Riyura's table directly. Uninvited. Unwanted. Completely confident.
"May I sit?" he asked, though it wasn't really a question. "No," Riyura said flatly.
"I'll sit anyway." Hansamu pulled up a chair. "We should talk. About your father. About the corruption network he built. About how it connects to the 1876 generation's legacy. About why people like us—people with abilities—exist in the first place."
"I know about 1876," Riyura said carefully. "Principal Jeremy told me. The three students. The first generation."
"Did he tell you how they died?" Hansamu asked. "Did he tell you what their abilities cost them? Did he tell you why Jeremy High exists not to help broken people but to contain the damage broken people with abilities can cause?"
"That's not true," Miyaka said firmly. "Jeremy High helps people. We've seen it. We've lived it."
"Have you?" Hansamu's smile widened. "Or have you just been conveniently gathered in one place where you can be monitored? Controlled? Prevented from becoming threats like the 1876 generation became before they—" He stopped. "—before they did what they did."
"What did they do?" Riyura demanded.
"Ask Principal Jeremy," Hansamu replied. "Ask him how Hikari Shiko, Yami Hakizage, and Kage Poleheadedsandwich died. Ask him why their abilities destroyed them. Ask him why he's spent his entire life trying to prevent history from repeating."
He stood. "I'll give you one week. One week to learn the truth from him. Then I start revealing it myself. To everyone. To the government. To the world. And when I do—when everyone knows what Jeremy High really is—this place burns. Metaphorically. Possibly literally. We'll see how it goes."
He walked away, leaving the table in tense silence. "He's bluffing," Subarashī said, though he sounded uncertain.
"He's not," Jimiko replied quietly. "He's desperate. People with personal vendettas don't bluff. They escalate until someone stops them or they get what they want."
"Then we stop him," Riyura said, standing abruptly. "We find out the truth. We protect the school. We—" His phone buzzed. Unknown number. He answered cautiously.
A familiar voice. Impossible. Dead for two months. But unmistakable.
"Riyura?" Yakamira's voice said. "Brother? I know this sounds—I know I'm supposed to be dead. But I need you to listen. Something's wrong. Something about our bloodline. Something about 1876. And I think—I think my death wasn't the end. I think it was—"
The call cut off. Riyura stood frozen, phone trembling in his hand, unable to process what he'd just heard. His brother. Dead for two months. Just called him.
Everything—absolutely everything—had just become infinitely more complicated.
[NARRATOR: And so the agents arrive. Five broken weapons with personal vendettas and government assignments. Hansamu orchestrating from shadows, seeking truth about 1876 that Principal Jeremy guards desperately. The other four agents each carrying trauma that mirrors Jeremy High's students. And now—now Yakamira's voice from beyond death, suggesting his story isn't over. Next episode: Shinda's garden burns again. Pan becomes key to helping an agent remember growth is possible. And the investigation into 1876 intensifies as Hansamu begins revealing secrets that were meant to stay buried. The battle accelerates. History awakens. Stay with us.]
TO BE CONTINUED...