The Troublemakers' Lair: Side Story - Monday Investigation Report

(Peeking into Class 2-B. Looks left. Looks right. Slips inside suspiciously. Suddenly grabs a student.)

Reporter: Okita Daichi-kun! Good morning. I’m Aika Miaka.

Okita Daichi: Good morning. I’m Okita Daichi.
(Bows politely to the camera and readers.)

Reporter: Okita-kun, I have several questions for you. Please answer honestly.

Okita Daichi: Of course. A real man is always honest.
(Smug expression. Excessive confidence.)

---

Q: You were the one who caused the chaos last Monday, correct? You broke the window, didn’t you?
(Eyes narrow suspiciously.)

A: No, I was not the one who caused the chaos.
(Firm denial.)
However, it is true that I broke the window.

But… it was an accident.
(Calm face. Strangely dignified tone.)

---

Q: Could you explain further?
(Professional smile activated.)

A: It happened during second period. The teacher had not yet arrived.

---

Flashback — Monday, Second Period

Daichi yawned, thoroughly bored while waiting for the lesson to begin. Resting his head on the desk, he prepared to enjoy a brief moment of peace.

Then came the sound.

Bzzzz.

A fly.

He attempted to ignore it. He truly did. But the buzzing persisted, circling him like a personal enemy. He waved it away with his hand. It returned. He rolled up a book and attempted to swat it. Missed.

After a minute, the fly settled on the classroom window.

He opened the window. “Leave,” he implied silently.

The fly refused.

Daichi gave it one final opportunity.

Live… or perish.

The fly chose poorly.

As his patience reached absolute zero, Daichi exited the classroom, retrieved a fire extinguisher, and carried it back inside. No one questioned him. No one stopped him. No one thought this was unusual.

The fly remained near the window.

Daichi closed the window.

He steadied his breathing.
Calculated the distance.
Aligned his target.

And swung.

Victory.

The fly was defeated.

The window, unfortunately, was not as resilient.

Glass shattered.

At that precise moment, Izumi Ryuki returned from the toilet. Observing shards of glass scattered across his seat, he reacted instinctively—by grabbing the nearest chair and throwing it at Daichi.

Thus, chaos was born.

---

Back to Present

The reporter was speechless.
The cameraman was speechless.
The readers… were also speechless.

---

Okita Daichi: Well, it was merely an incident, wasn’t it? How was I supposed to know the window would break so easily? The school should install sturdier glass. One that can withstand minor impacts.

---

Reporter (internally): You used a fire extinguisher to kill a fly. Of course the glass broke.

---

Reporter: Thank you for your time today, Okita-kun.
(Bows politely while reconsidering career choices.)

---

(Moves a safe distance away from the suspect.)

Reporter (to camera): And that concludes today’s investigation into the Class 2-B incident. The truth may be unexpected, but facts are facts.

Until next time.

(Still processing what she has just heard.)

NOTE: The image, song, or video belong to their respective owner. They are not mine unless stated so.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 29: Suffocation

Three months passed after the apologies.

Three months of effort.

Three months of silence.

Yuma did not waver.

He remained firm, distant, unresponsive. He did not initiate conversation. He did not attempt reconciliation. If anything, he retreated further into himself, as though building thicker walls each time they tried to reach him.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 28: Between Warmth and Walls

The warmth did not follow him home.

When Yuma stepped inside, the entire family was gathered in the living room, the television flickering in front of them. The moment the door closed, several pairs of eyes lifted.

As though they had been waiting.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 27: An Ordinary Kind of Warmth

The date was set two weeks after the phone call.

Saturday. Four o’clock.

Yuma arrived five minutes early.

He told himself it was coincidence, yet his palms were faintly damp as he stepped into Sweet Café. The interior was spacious, decorated in soft pastel tones and fairy-tale motifs—arched windows, hanging lights shaped like lanterns, delicate floral arrangements along the walls.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 26: A Voice That Did Not Leave

Tears blurred his vision when his phone vibrated beside him.

A notification.

Yuma reached for it without thinking.

Himari.

The Troublemakers’ Lair: Side Story – Friday Diary Entry

Meisa High School Teachers’ Daily Diary

Friday — Principal’s Office

Principal: Suga Kazuha, age 53

Meisa High School was my second appointment, and one of my greatest sources of pride. I was the school’s first—and still its present—principal. Thirteen years since its establishment, I watched this institution flourish under my leadership. Students excelled. Teachers worked with enthusiasm. Discipline was firm yet fair. I was respected. I was healthy. I was happy.

I had hoped to remain here until my retirement.

Yes. That was me.

That was me… until a year ago.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 25: The Weight of What Never Said

Five apologies, spoken by five different people.

Yuma did not feel relief.

Instead, the words reopened things he had long learned to live with. Not because the apologies were overdue—but because they dragged him back into the past he had never truly left behind. Each apology peeled away the careful layers he had built to survive, exposing memories he had endured quietly for years.

How much he had swallowed.

How much he had stayed silent.

How often he had chosen understanding over resentment.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 24: The Attention He Got

Haruma had avoided Yuma since the apologies began.

Not deliberately, not consciously—but every time he heard footsteps in the hallway, every time a door opened, his chest tightened, and he found an excuse to turn away. He told himself it was to give Yuma space. In truth, it was fear.

Of being looked at.

Of being blamed.

Of being forgiven.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 23: The Convenient Things He Gave

That day, Kotarou realised just how deeply they had been hurting Yuma.

He had overheard the conversation between Yuma and Arisa by accident, standing just out of sight when voices were raised and then abruptly fell into silence. He heard the words Arisa could not take back, and later, the sound of her door closing. He did not go after her. He did not try to mediate. He understood that whatever had broken could not be fixed by intrusion.

The Troublemakers’ Lair: Side Story – Thursday Diary Entry

Meisa High School Teachers’ Daily Diary

Thursday — Biology

Teacher: Kurata Nishida, age 50

In Meisa High School, the biology department is well-equipped. We possess an extensive collection of specimens—frogs, lizards, fish, insects—used regularly during practical lessons. Dissection classes are always… entertaining. Some students turn pale at the sight of exposed organs, while others remain disturbingly calm. It is, all things considered, a beneficial subject, particularly for those aspiring to become doctors or veterinarians.

(sighs heavily)

Short Story 1 - Chapter 22: The Things She Said Without Thinking

Arisa did not plan to apologise.

If she were honest, she had been avoiding the thought altogether, skirting around it like a bruise she refused to press. She had seen what happened after their mother spoke, after their father bowed his head and said the words out loud.

Yuma had not forgiven them.

That frightened her.

She told herself she had reasons. She was busy. She was tired. She had her own pressures. She was not the parent. She was not responsible in the same way.

And yet—

They met by accident.

Yuma was in the entryway, tying his shoes, his movements precise, unhurried. Arisa halted when she saw him, the words spilling out before she could weigh them.

“Going out?”

Yuma nodded.

She hesitated, irritation flaring where guilt should have been. “You always do that. Leave without saying anything.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she had chosen wrong.

Yuma’s hands stilled. Slowly, he straightened and looked at her—not with anger, but with something far more unsettling.

Expectation.

“I mean,” she rushed on, folding her arms, “you don’t have to be so distant. We’re family.”

The silence stretched.

“You weren’t distant when you wanted something,” she added, immediately regretting it.

Yuma lowered his gaze. He did not argue.

That made it worse.

“It’s not like we ignored you on purpose,” Arisa said defensively. “You could’ve said something. You could’ve told us if you were unhappy.”

“I did.”

Two words. Calm. Even.

They landed harder than any raised voice.

“When?” she asked, too quickly.

“I asked you to come to my sports day,” Yuma said. “You said you were busy.”

Her throat tightened.

“I told you about the school festival. You said you’d go if you had time.”

She remembered. Or rather—she remembered forgetting.

“And when I got into university,” he continued, quieter now, “you said, ‘That figures.’”

Her mouth opened.

She had meant it as praise.

She had meant of course you did.

But standing there, she could hear how empty it must have sounded.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quickly. “I just thought—you were always good at things. You didn’t need us fussing over you.”

“You never fussed over me,” Yuma replied.

There was no bitterness in his voice. Only fact.

Her arms fell to her sides.

“I thought,” she admitted, her voice lowering despite herself, “that if I didn’t get your attention, it was because you didn’t need it. Or maybe… because Haruma needed it more.”

The truth slipped out before she could stop it.

“I told myself it wasn’t unfair,” she went on. “I told myself you understood. And when you didn’t complain, I took that as permission.”

She swallowed.

“I said things. Jokes. Thoughtless comments. And you never fought back, so I assumed they didn’t hurt.”

Her voice wavered.

“I’m sorry,” Arisa said, awkwardly, as though the word did not quite belong to her. “I’m sorry for deciding what you could endure without ever asking you.”

She looked at him, uncertain, exposed.

“But I don’t know how to fix this,” she confessed. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Yuma reached for the door.

“I’m not asking you to fix it,” he said quietly. “I just wanted you to know.”

He paused, hand resting on the handle.

“You always spoke as if I was invisible because I chose to be.”

The door opened.

“I wasn’t.”

He stepped outside and closed it behind him.

Arisa remained standing in the entryway, realising too late that the most damaging things she had ever said were not born of cruelty—but of carelessness.

NOTE: The image, song, or video belong to their respective owner. They are not mine unless stated so.

The Troublemakers’ Lair: Side Story – Wednesday Diary Entry

Meisa High School Teachers’ Daily Diary

Wednesday — English

Teacher: Ishida Azusa, age 35

Rikka High School, disappear.

Today, while conducting a listening exercise with Class 2-A, our school was suddenly bombarded by what can only be described as an explosive sound. At first, I thought something had malfunctioned inside our classroom.

I was wrong.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 21: The Things He Missed

Shuuji had always believed that providing was enough.

Work had demanded his time, his attention, his energy, and he had told himself—more than once—that this was what being a father meant. He worked so his family would never lack anything. He worked so the house could remain standing, so their lives could continue without fear.

Somewhere along the way, he had mistaken presence for responsibility.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 20: The First Apology

The Fujita family returned to their residence with a resolve that felt almost fragile in its intensity, each of them carrying a quiet determination to mend what had been broken with Yuma. They did not know how difficult the path ahead would be, nor how long it would take, but one thing was clear to all of them now: the first step mattered more than anything else, and it had to be the right one—just as Himari had said.

The day Yuma returned home, they greeted him without ceremony, without forced warmth or exaggerated concern, simply telling him welcome home as though trying not to disturb the delicate balance between them.

Yuma responded with a nod.

Nothing more.

The Troublemakers’ Lair: Side Story – Tuesday Diary Entry

Meisa High School Teachers’ Daily Diary

Tuesday — Mathematics

Teacher: Tsugai Makoto, age 48

Rikka High School. How I wish that institution would simply disappear from the face of the Earth.

Today, while teaching Class 2-A, a series of alarms began blaring from the direction of the neighbouring school. At first, I assumed it was merely their class bell—an irritation, but a tolerable one. I was wrong.

It was the fire alarm.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 19: One Word

The dinner passed uneventfully, marked by quiet conversation and the soft sounds of cutlery against porcelain. Sasaki and Midori had cooked far too many side dishes, the result of the four children enthusiastically harvesting tomatoes, potatoes, and lettuce from the garden. Himari carefully avoided every dish that contained tomatoes. After eating and resting for about forty-five minutes, everyone gathered once more in the living room. Himari was the last to arrive.

During the time she had spent alone in her room, she had finally noticed something—something subtle, yet crucial—about the messages she had sent to Yuma.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 18: Before the Light Can Return

Himari let out a heavy sigh after hearing their full story. It was worse than she had imagined. The embarrassment on their faces was unmistakable—having to seek help from a stranger to mend something they themselves had broken, exposing a side of them they likely wished had never come to light.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Himari suggested after a moment. “We can talk more after we’ve eaten. This is a heavy topic—let’s take a short break first.”

The Troublemakers’ Lair: Side Story – Monday Diary Entry

Meisa High School Teachers’ Daily Diary

Monday — History
Teacher: Owada Fumiko, age 35
Classes: 1-C, 2-A, 3-D

There is a saying often repeated in history: history should never repeat itself, especially when what occurred in the past was undeniably bad.

Unfortunately, Rikka High School appears to treat this as a personal challenge.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 17: The Weight of Absence

It was not working.

Nothing worked at all.

Yuma continued to walk on eggshells around them, polite yet distant, present only in body, as though his heart had already stepped far away. Deep down, they had no choice but to admit it — they were losing him. Just as Himari had warned. And despite their clumsy attempts to close the distance, Yuma only withdrew further, shutting everyone out one by one.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 16: Things They Couldn't Remember

For the next few days, the atmosphere in the house grew noticeably heavier.

Everyone carried their own thoughts about Yuma, each trapped in quiet contemplation. On the surface, nothing seemed amiss — meals were prepared, doors opened and closed, greetings were exchanged. Yet if one looked closely, the difference was unmistakable. Something had shifted, subtly but irrevocably.

Yuma, however, remained unchanged.

The Troublemakers' Lair

Synopsis:

Under the shadow of the Reformation Law, Rikka High School stands at the southern edge of a hill once reserved for privilege. It is a boarding institution designed to reform students deemed disruptive rather than irredeemable—those with tempers too quick, fists too ready, and pasts too heavy for ordinary classrooms.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 15: The Weight of What Was Never Asked

By the time they reached home, it was already past midnight.

No one quite remembered how they had managed the journey back. The roads blurred together, the familiar turns taken on instinct rather than awareness. Ever since Himari’s words had settled into the room like a suffocating fog, their sense of balance had been thrown off, their routine fractured in a way none of them had anticipated.

They were not panicked. They were not arguing.

They were simply… disoriented.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 14: The Questions No One Asked

Himari tapped her finger lightly against her cheek, the familiar chat window still open on her phone. Two blue ticks glowed beneath the last message she had sent. She stared at them for a long moment, unmoving, as though the answer might surface if she waited long enough.

Her other hand drifted to the dining table, fingers tapping softly, rhythmically.

“Is something wrong?” Midori asked gently, placing a plate of freshly cut fruit on the table as she studied her daughter’s distant expression.

One-shot: The Guardian

The rich, aromatic scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the café, warm and familiar, clinging to the air as though it had seeped into the walls themselves. Dressed entirely in black—a black jacket layered over a black shirt, a black cap pulled low, black trousers, and polished black shoes—the man chose a seat in the far corner, one carefully positioned to give him a clear view of the counter, the kitchen entrance, and the bakery shelf. There were only a few customers scattered about, perhaps because it was still early, just past ten in the morning. This café was usually crowded during lunchtime and remained lively well into the night, its drinks and cakes selling out almost as soon as they appeared, coveted like rare treats.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 13: Retreat

The incident left Yuma with a reminder he could no longer ignore.

He needed to remember his place.

From then on, he began preparing himself long before he left his room, and long before he returned home after work — rehearsing restraint, steadying his breathing, reminding himself to keep his expression neutral, his reactions minimal. If the ache in his chest was inevitable, then he would at least control what showed.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 12: Things They Never Knew

There was a subtle change in Yuma, one that had begun quietly, almost imperceptibly, and yet its presence grew heavier with each passing day. That change was Himari. With her, Yuma had felt a warmth he had long forgotten existed, something gentle and unfamiliar, something that reminded him of how it felt to be seen, even briefly.

For that reason alone, being with his family had begun to hurt more than before.

It was not that they were cruel. It was not that they rejected him outright. It was the absence — the way attention never lingered on him, not even for a moment, the way concern always flowed past him as though he were standing slightly out of frame. His chest would tighten without warning, a suffocating pressure he had learned to endure in silence.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 11: The Space She Left Open

Yuma did not change overnight.

He still left for work at the same time each morning, boarded the same train, sat at the same desk. His days remained filled with numbers, projections, patterns that made sense precisely because they asked nothing of him in return.

Yet something had shifted.

The Things We Never Said: Chapter 1

The corridor outside the room was unnaturally quiet, the kind of silence padded by thick carpets and closed doors, where even footsteps seemed to lose their purpose before reaching the end of the hall. Behind the glass wall of the private room, a nine-year-old boy lay propped against pale pillows, dressed in a soft blue patient’s outfit that hung loosely on his slight frame, as though it did not quite belong to him.

It was already eleven.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 10: Himari

Kitahara Himari was often misunderstood at first glance.

Quiet. Calm. Forgettable.

That was the impression she gave — and the one most people accepted without question.

But Himari was observant.

She always had been.

The Things We Never Said

Synopsis:

Disowned by the Tsukimori family for marrying against their wishes, Hajime Tsukimori builds a modest life with his wife, Nozomi, and their four children. Their fragile stability collapses when the youngest, Fuyuki, is diagnosed with complex single-ventricle congenital heart disease, a condition that can only be corrected through a high-risk operation performed by a surgeon far beyond their reach.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 9: The Way She Looked Twice

Because of the partnership between the two companies, the Fujita and Kitahara families continued to meet — sometimes formally, sometimes not.

There were corporate events, such as product launches and anniversary preparations. There were dinners arranged for convenience that gradually became familiar. Occasionally, there were private outings that had nothing to do with work at all.

Yuma did not attend all of them.

The Curse of Endless Rebirth: Chapter 1

The room was dark.

A man lay on the floor beside the bed, his body curled in on itself. Silent groans escaped his clenched teeth as pain tore through him. A crimson tattoo bloomed across his face and down his arm, its jagged patterns pulsing faintly beneath his skin. Sweat drenched him, soaking through his clothes and pooling against the cold floor.

As the pain intensified, the markings glowed brighter, as though something beneath his flesh was awakening.

Short Story 1- Chapter 8: Where He Sat Apart

The picnic was meant to be simple.

A short drive away from the city, the waterfall provided a constant backdrop of rushing water and cool mist. It was a familiar place, chosen more for convenience than sentiment — somewhere the parents could talk freely while the children occupied themselves.

The Kitahara and Sasaki parents settled into easy conversation almost immediately. Years of separation dissolved into shared laughter and overlapping memories, their voices blending with the sound of the water.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 7: A Small Disturbance

Six months into working life, Yuma had settled into routine.

His days were predictable: morning trains, the soft hum of computers, datasets that demanded precision and patience. As a junior data analyst, his work required long hours of focus — numbers, patterns, projections. He worked independently most of the time, communicating through reports rather than conversations.

It suited him.

Not because he enjoyed solitude, but because solitude was familiar.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 6: There All Along

The house was alive with laughter.

Candles flickered on the dining table, silverware clinking, voices rising in celebration. A surprise, they had said — a celebration for Haruma. The room brimmed with warmth, chatter, and the bright colours of joy that seemed almost too loud for Yuma to bear.

He stood in the corner, a faint smile carefully placed on his lips, his posture straight. His eyes scanned the room but did not settle. The excitement was not his; it never had been.

The Curse of Endless Rebirth

Synopsis:

In a world where magic has faded into obscurity, Sakuramori Rion lives his tenth life.

Three centuries ago, the Sakuramori clan stood as guardians against evil, tasked with capturing and sealing beings that brought calamity to humanity. On the night Rion attempted to seal the most dangerous of them all—Wasureri—tragedy struck. Possession, bloodshed, and irreversible choices left the clan destroyed, and Rion condemned as a practitioner of dark magic by the one person he sought to protect.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 5: Shadows in the Light

University brought freedom, or at least the illusion of it.

Haruma enrolled in a local university but chose to live at home. His friends understood him, the layers of fear and fragility that still lingered from that long year of survival. The bodyguards remained — mostly in the background now, occasionally stepping forward when an unexpected event reminded the family how vulnerable he had been.

Yuma did not stay home.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 4: The Space Between

By the time they were seventeen, the house had settled into a fragile kind of peace.

Haruma no longer startled at every sound. His visits to the hospital had decreased, spaced out into predictable intervals. The psychiatrist appointments remained, though less frequent now, and medication sat untouched for weeks at a time — sleeping pills prescribed but rarely taken, anti-anxiety tablets reserved for days when the world became too loud.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 3: A Quiet Adjustments

Haruma woke one morning and didn’t speak.

Not to the doctors.
Not to the nurses.
Not even to their parents.

His eyes opened, dark and unfocused, and when strangers came too close, his body trembled violently, breath hitching as if he were drowning in air. Alarms were raised more than once — not because his heart failed, but because fear had taken hold of him so completely that his body forgot how to calm itself.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 2: Between Life and Silence

The first time Yuma saw Haruma, he didn’t recognise him.

His brother lay on the hospital bed, swallowed by white sheets and tangled wires, his small body impossibly still. Tubes ran from his arms, his nose, his mouth — machines surrounding him hummed and beeped, their steady rhythm the only proof that Haruma was still alive.

Yuma’s breath caught in his throat.

Short Story 1 - Chapter 1: The Day he Vanished

Haruma was supposed to be waiting by the school gate.

Shuuji checked his watch for the third time, irritation prickling beneath his skin. Parents were already pulling away, children waving as cars disappeared down the road. The afternoon bell had rung nearly fifteen minutes ago.

Still no Haruma.

Short Story 7 - Author's Afterword

Hi, it’s Aika Miaka here.

First of all, I’d like to officially call it a wrap on Short Story 7: Where Love Learns to Let Go.

I don’t usually write love stories, mainly because I’ve never been quite sure how to approach them. This one, however, was inspired by a drama I watched — a familiar story of a childhood friend who harbours a long-time crush but can never be with the person she loves, simply because she is the second female lead. That sense of suppressed emotion, followed by heartbreak, reminded me how unforgettable a first love can be.

Short Story 7 - Epilogue

Hiyori introduced Ren on a quiet Saturday afternoon.

They met at the café Hinako had recently opened a small corner for weekend visitors. The sun slanted softly through the windows, making everything feel calm and familiar.

Asahi was the first to smile, extending a hand without hesitation.
“So you’re the one,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Short Story 7 - Chapter 3: When It Finds You

A month passed.

Life continued in its familiar rhythm—long hours, tired evenings, and meals eaten too late. Hiyori thought of him sometimes, but without longing. Just curiosity, faint and unforced.

They met again by coincidence.

It was nearly midnight at a convenience store, fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead. Hiyori stood in front of the shelves, staring blankly at instant noodles, too exhausted to decide. Overtime had drained her completely.

Short Story 7 - Chapter 2: A Quiet Beginning

Four years was a long time.

Long enough for first love to settle into memory, no longer sharp at the edges. Long enough for Hiyori to look back without pain, only a quiet fondness—like revisiting a place she once lived in, grateful for what it had been.

Asahi and Hinako had been together for four years now.

Short Story 7 - Chapter 1: The Shape of Letting Go

Hiyori had always believed that some people entered your life and stayed there forever.

Asahi was one of them.

They had met in kindergarten, two children left lingering by the classroom door after everyone else had gone home. He had offered her half his apple juice without a word, and she had accepted it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. From that moment on, he became constant—walking her home, sitting beside her in class, listening when she spoke like her thoughts mattered.

Short Story 7: Where Love Learns to Let Go

Synopsis:

Hiyori has loved Asahi for as long as she can remember. From a shared childhood in kindergarten to the quiet companionship of adolescence, he was her constant—her closest friend and her first love. She never confessed, believing that some feelings were meant to be held in silence.

Short Story 1: There All Along

Synopsis:

At eleven years old, Fujita Yuma’s life changed forever when his younger twin brother, Haruma, was kidnapped. Though Haruma was rescued a month later, he returned broken—physically and emotionally—his survival hanging by a fragile thread. The family spent years fighting to keep him alive, then whole years more ensuring he stayed safe.