While she, Ren, and Yui didn't attend school, it didn't stop the rest of the world from whispering about what had happened the day before.
Back on campus, a gray-haired woman stood in the faculty meeting center, judgmental eyes cast at her without a word.
Mrs Juri.
She'd been called—along with all the other professors—to an urgent meeting that required "discussion."
Juri stood by herself, just beside the door.
The other professors sat along the walls, at desks and scattered furniture, waiting patiently for the principal to walk in.
Mr Geoda Yamada.
Juri already knew what this was about.
She could tell from the way Watkins' old smile sat slightly more crooked than usual when their eyes met.
The faint murmurs and glances all shifted when the doors to her left finally opened.
Her eyes dimmed.
"Sorry for keeping you all waiting."
His voice.
Some teachers on the far side of the hall straightened as they took their seats.
The tall man—whose presence had already been felt long before he entered—stood at the front, his pearly whites flashing in a bright smile.
"Good morning."
The lecturers nodded in response.
Juri pushed herself off the wall and stepped forward as he spoke.
"As you've heard from the message I sent out, this briefing is meant to be short and informative."
His sharp eyes slid to the already-standing woman before him.
"Mrs Juri."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Mr Yamada."
His smile didn't waver.
"I've received multiple complaints from staff and students in regard to a…"
His eyes narrowed.
"Special…student."
Mrs Juri didn't miss a beat.
"I have no special student."
Watkins chimed in, voice grating. "Mr Geoda's talking about that damned Hybrid girl you insisted on placing in my lectures."
Geoda's eyes flicked to him briefly before returning to Juri.
"…you are aware of the repercussions that come with each lesson you conduct, yes?"
"Yes," she replied flatly.
"And you are aware that we follow updated protocols—not just the newly approved Ayanaki systematic standard, but also your own personal recommendations, correct?"
"Yes."
"Then answer me this. Why is it that, under your instructions, we nearly had an incident just days after bringing in this new student?"
Juri's gaze sharpened.
"Are you implying that this student is the reason my recommendations failed? Or are you suggesting I am incapable of overseeing my own students, Mr Yamada?"
A few teachers shifted uncomfortably.
Geoda's smile thinned.
"What I'm implying…" he began, "is that one of your students, under your professional supervision, nearly took out a third of our major donors."
"If I recall correctly," Juri replied evenly, "not a single hair was harmed on any student—including this 'special' one you all seem so concerned about."
The man's jaw tightened.
The air hummed faintly. A subtle pressure shift made a few teachers straighten unconsciously.
Somewhere in the room, a bolt loosened with a faint clink.
Then—
A breath.
A quiet exhale.
"I see," Geoda said. "So her actions go unnoticed? And what of the others? We are an institution that promises safety and care."
He began pacing.
"We cannot have students fearing for their lives during practical lessons because of an incident that goes unpunished."
"Right…"
"Mrs Juri?" he finished.
Her fingers flexed inside her coat.
"If punishment is what you want," she said, "then I will temporarily suspend the student from practical lessons until further control measures are established."
She stepped forward slightly, her gray irises catching a faint golden shimmer—noticed only by him.
"But if your idea of punishment extends beyond that, then I must disagree with you, Mr Yamada."
Her gaze swept the room.
"I understand that we hold a responsibility to ensure safety and care. You are all qualified professors with respected knowledge at this institution."
Her eyes paused briefly on Watkins.
"That said—"
The air faintly crackled. Golden motes shimmered along the edges of nearby furniture.
Geoda's smile faltered.
"…I will not tolerate unfair treatment toward any student based on their nature."
Her voice sharpened.
"I do not care if Ms Hashinada is a Hybrid, an Essential, Human, or otherwise."
The air tightened.
Her glasses slipped a fraction down her nose.
"I will not tolerate discrimination, prejudice, or uneven treatment toward students who are trying to build a future for themselves."
A scoff came from the left.
A mistake.
The pressure spiked.
Hinges trembled.
Somewhere across campus, students paused mid-conversation as a sharp unease crawled up their spines.
Then—
Stillness.
Geoda was no longer smiling.
Neither was Juri.
A beat passed.
Then the pressure eased.
"…we are teachers," she continued. "It is our responsibility to give our students the best we can, so they can become their best."
She adjusted her glasses.
"And if that means punishing growth for the sake of fear—then I want no part in it."
Geoda's eyes narrowed.
"Juri—"
"Mrs Juri," she corrected.
Her voice no longer negotiated.
"I have taught in twenty institutions over ten years. I have seen students grow and thrive because of methods that do not compromise for comfort."
Her gaze hardened.
"Never once have I encountered such careless disregard for student growth from fellow educators."
Her eyes landed on Watkins.
"That includes you."
Watkins scoffed. "Spare me your self-righteous nonsense! You know that thing is a threat—"
"Woman," Juri cut in sharply.
"And you will refer to her as such."
Silence.
Even Watkins knew when to stop.
Another professor spoke. "We don't know if she's safe. We've never handled a Hybrid before. The stories—"
"Ms Shiori is correct," Geoda added. "We cannot teach what we do not understand."
"Then you will leave that responsibility to me."
That stunned them.
Even Watkins blinked.
"I don't understand," another said. "Why are you so invested in her?"
Juri turned fully.
"It is because I see what you all fail to see."
"Danger," Geoda said.
"Potential," she replied almost immediately.
Murmurs spread.
"And how do you intend to manage that?" Watkins asked. "She nearly killed the class."
"I have trained two of the current Kyotatsu ranks," Juri replied calmly. "They now stand among the Shinobu's elite."
She held his gaze.
"I will not fail her."
"What you're proposing is a gamble," another professor said. "I don't doubt your skill—I doubt the Hybrid."
"An unstable Hybrid could cost us millions," Geoda added. "The Ayanaki will not fund instability."
Then—
"One might say you're doing this out of guilt…for your son."
That landed.
Hard.
Juri didn't respond.
Because maybe…
there was truth in it.
The silence spoke for her.
Murmurs followed.
Judgment.
Until—
"I support Mrs Juri."
All eyes turned.
A young man stepped forward. No older than twenty-four.
Messy blonde hair.
Crooked glasses.
"Mr Graham," Geoda said. "Explain."
He stepped beside Juri.
"Think about the bigger picture."
Geoda frowned. "Go on."
"If she succeeds…if a Hybrid learns control…"
He glanced around.
"…this institution becomes the first to develop a functional system to stabilize them."
The room stilled.
"This would change everything."
A pause.
Geoda muttered calculations beneath his breath.
Names.
Numbers.
Possibilities.
He opened his mouth but hesitated.
Then.
His eyes lit up.
"…and it would be worth millions."
Geoda finished it.
Their eyes met.
The blonde nodded slightly.
"…I see."
His smile returned.
Wider.
Brighter.
"Then the Hybrid's schedule will be adjusted."
"What!?" Watkins snapped. "You'll kill us all—"
"Mr Watkins," Geoda said softly, the air warping faintly. "Let's watch your tone."
Silence.
The old man grumbled back into his seat.
"Very well," Geoda continued. "A specialized program will be developed for Akira Hashinada—focused on growth…"
A pause.
He's eyes gleamed as they narrowed, shining a deep blue.
"…and containment."
No one objected.
His grin widened.
"I trust you, Mrs Juri…to build a new world."
He turned away.
"One where Hybrids are controlled…"
A quiet chuckle just before he left the room.
"…and I profit."
The meeting ended.
The professors slipped out one by one.
And two people remained.
Faced with an impossible task.
Because how do you change the world…
with only one Hybrid?