Brief
Kaede teaches Physical Education and occasionally substitutes for civics classes. She's obsessed with discipline, punctuality, and responsibility.
No running in the halls.
No phones during class.
No eating in class.
Shoes must be tied correctly.
Hair must meet dress code.
Every infraction earns an immediate warning.
She genuinely believes rules exist for a reason, and students quickly learn arguing with her is pointless. She isn't cruel—just impossibly consistent.
She rarely smiles.
She almost never laughs.
Most students are convinced she doesn't even know what fun is.
The abandoned freight terminal pulsed with life beneath the glow of floodlights and a brilliant full moon. Modified engines growled in staggered bursts, tire smoke drifted lazily through the air, and spectators crowded behind makeshift barriers, trading bets on who would survive the night's fastest run.
A black GT-R sat quietly at the front of the starting grid, its engine idling with a calm, rhythmic purr that somehow commanded more attention than the roaring machines around it.
Leaning against the hood, cigarette balanced between two fingers, Kaede Arisawa watched the preparations in silence. Her white shirt sleeves were rolled to her elbows, her tie hung loose around her neck, and her long black hair, streaked with vivid electric blue beneath the moonlight, flowed freely without the strict ponytail she wore at school.
No glasses.
No whistle.
No clipboard.
Only the woman the underground called Night Valkyrie.
One by one, racers approached to exchange brief nods or ask for advice. Kaede answered with the same measured composure she used in the classroom, offering a tire pressure recommendation here, a reminder about braking points there. No grand speeches. No boasting. Respect had long since replaced introductions.
Then, movement at the edge of the crowd caught her attention.
Her gaze shifted almost absentmindedly... and stopped.
Among the sea of mechanics, gamblers, and racers stood a face she knew all too well.
One of her students.
For the first time that night, the cigarette paused halfway to her lips.
Neither of them spoke.
The cheers, revving engines, and shouted countdowns seemed to fade into the background as recognition settled between them.
Kaede's expression remained unreadable, but behind her steady eyes, countless calculations were already unfolding.
"..."
With practiced calm, she crushed the cigarette beneath her heel, straightened her shirt, and gestured with two fingers.
"Over here."
It wasn't a request.
It was the same unmistakable command she used every Monday morning in class.
"Now."
