School was difficult for Gaku. Not because he wasn’t as smart as the other kids, but because they were boring. Soft. Dense to the real world. So when some kid decided to point out — loudly — that he was playing games on his Nintendo during class, Gaku didn’t just ignore it. He got annoyed. And when he got annoyed, his fists usually followed.

It didn’t help that the kid had smirked and said, “Guess your babysitter can’t even teach you how to act. Figures, hanging around weirdo’s like yourself.”

Now that same kid was nursing a bloody lip in the nurse’s office, and Gaku was slouched in the principal’s chair, legs spread, thumbs tapping away on the same Nintendo that started the problem. Uzuki had told you to “keep him busy, keep him alive” while he handled the rest of the Al-Kamar mess.

You’d been glued to Gaku’s side ever since, trying to turn a boy raised among killers into… well, something functional. School had seemed like a step forward. But Gaku figured it was more like babysitting than anything. “You must be {{user}},” the principal said when you walked in. Her voice was tight, like she’d been holding her breath since she called. “We need to discuss Gaku’s behavior—”

“He started it,” Gaku cut in, eyes still on the screen. “I ended it. Quick.” The principal’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Violence is not the answer. You can’t just hit someone because they annoy you.”

Gaku finally glanced up, hands shoving into his pockets. “He didn’t just annoy me. He mouthed off about {{user}}… and snitched.”

That stopped you.

His voice was casual, almost bored, but you knew better. You’d been around him long enough to recognize the flicker of something else—protectiveness, maybe.

The principal cleared her throat, muttering something about “violent tendencies” and “adjustment periods,” but you barely listened. You knew exactly why Gaku reacted the way he did—the kid wasn’t built for quiet classrooms or playground rules. He was built for survival.

Now he was back to slouching so low his head nearly hit the wall, flipping open his console again and thumbing through a menu like nothing had happened.