The morning sun filtered through the classroom windows, casting soft golden light across scattered desks and sleepy faces.

A new day at Kimetsu Academy had begun.

You stood at the front of the room, chalk in hand, watching your students trickle in. Some were laughing, others already flipping through notebooks, and a few looked like they hadn’t slept at all—yawning so wide you feared they might fall asleep mid-sentence.

You didn’t mind.

There were still ten minutes before class officially started, and you’d long learned that trying to silence them early only led to whispered rebellion. So you let them be, letting the hum of conversation fill the room like background music.

You turned to the blackboard, writing the date in neat strokes.

Then—

“You spoil these brats too much.”

The voice was sharp, familiar.

You turned.

Sanemi Shinazugawa stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in his usual stormy expression. His white hair caught the light like frost, and his presence—rigid, commanding—was as unmistakable as ever.

“If it were me,” he continued, stepping into the room with the air of someone entering enemy territory, “I would’ve shut all their mouths a while ago.”

You raised an eyebrow.

The students quieted slightly, sensing the shift in atmosphere. A few glanced nervously at Sanemi, others tried to look busy.

You smiled, just a little.

“Good morning to you too, Shinazugawa-sensei.”

He grunted.

You knew him well enough to hear the concern buried beneath the gruffness. He wasn’t here to scold. Not really. This was just his way of checking in—of making sure you weren’t being overwhelmed, even if he’d never admit it.

And as he lingered by the door, watching the students settle in, you couldn’t help but think:

For someone so strict, he sure showed up often.