Unveiled Potential

It was already dawn, yet Jiro woke earlier than he anticipated. His alarm was ringing at 6:30 a.m., but he was already awake, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He did not sleep much that night. His father's words were stuck in his head.

It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order. An expectation. But something about it didn't sit right with him. Did he really want to live like that? Fighting constantly, being "above" others?

But deep down, another voice whispered.

"You already started it."

With a sigh, Jiro dragged himself up, running his hand through his messy hair, and pulled himself to the bathroom. There, his reflection stared at him, eyes sharp and dark circles under them like battle scars after a fight with his own mind. He splashed himself with cold water and witnessed the clarity return to his gaze.

Today would be different.

He didn't know how, but he knew it would be.

The streets were alive with the usual morning crowd — students walking in groups, office workers in suits speed-walking to the station, and elderly folks opening up small shops. Jiro moved through it all like a ghost, his eyes distant but his mind sharp.

His Perception Field was humming in the background. It was weak but noticeable. Each step he took, every glimpse by a passing person, each change in air current. It wasn't nagging him this time. It was faint, as if he was tuning in to a sort of sixth sense he now controlled.

"I am getting accustomed to it."

When he was crossing the junction next to the school, an intense feeling, sharp, went through his Perception Field.

A presence.

Someone was watching him.

His eyes flicked sideways. A figure leaned against a lamppost at the edge of the street, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes locked directly on him. It was one of Kyung-Ho's minions — Jin-Soo, a spindly kid with a perpetual scowl and a talent for being loud.

Jiro didn't stop walking, but he kept his eyes on him for a moment longer.

He's alone. Why?

Jiro's steps didn't slow, but his heartbeat picked up. He kept walking toward the school gate, acting as if he hadn't noticed. His Perception Field stretched out, scanning the area. No signs of an ambush. No footsteps approaching him from behind.

He's just watching. For now.

But Jiro knew what this was. It wasn't just Jin-Soo being curious. It was reconnaissance.

Jiro sat in the back row, head down, flipping through his notebook. He wasn't really reading. His mind was still on Jin-Soo. If Jin-Soo was watching him, that meant Kyung-Ho was already making moves. It wasn't a matter of if something would happen. It was a matter of when.

"Yo, Jiro."

He looked up to see Min-Jun, a classmate. Min-Jun was not a friend, but he was also not an enemy. He was just one of those people who existed on the edge of Jiro's world.

"What's up?" Jiro asked, keeping his voice level.

"People are talking, man," Min-Jun said, leaning on Jiro's desk like they'd been close friends forever. "Heard you went toe-to-toe with Kyung-Ho and walked away clean."

Jiro sighed, already tired of this conversation. "Don't believe everything you hear."

Min-Jun smiled. "Yeah, yeah, but rumors don't pop up for no reason, y'know?" He spoke quietly, glancing around the room as if he was letting in some great secret. "Word is, Kyung-Ho's got it out for you now. He's got eyes on you, man. Watch your back."

I already know, Jiro thought. But he nodded to Min-Jun briefly. "Thanks for the warning."

Min-Jun gave him a playful tap on the shoulder before walking away, probably off to spread more "rumors."

Jiro sat back in his chair, eyes closed. They're watching. Of course they are.

His Perception Field stirred, stretching out across the room. Dozens of small threads connected him to every movement, every shift in weight, every glance thrown his way. Most were harmless, just the typical noise of a crowded classroom. But one thread was different.

"There it is again."

The girl from yesterday.

She was staring at him again. Same seat, second row. She was angling her head a little to one side and eyeing him with a sort of surgical intensity. She didn't try to hide it, either. Her stare was not questioning or detached. It was more the gaze of a predator locked on prey.

Jiro stared back at her, too. This time, he didn't blink.

The room's background noise faded away as they locked eyes, like the world had gone quiet just for them. It wasn't a test of intimidation. It was something deeper, something unspoken.

Finally, her lips curved into a small smile. Then, slowly, she turned her eyes toward the teacher, as if the moment had never happened.

Who are you? Jiro thought. What do you know that I don't?

The rooftop was one of the few places in the school where Jiro could be alone. Most students didn't bother going up there, especially since the old stairwell to the roof was practically falling apart.

He leaned against the fence, looking out over the school courtyard below. The air was crisp, cool, and quiet. No one was around.

Or so he thought.

The door behind him creaked open.

His Perception Field snapped to life.

Two presences. One familiar. One not.

"Yo, Han."

Jiro didn't turn around. He knew the voice — Jin-Soo. The guy who had been watching him this morning. The second presence was heavier, larger. Probably one of Kyung-Ho's other crew members.

"Came all the way up here just for me?" Jiro asked, his voice calm but sharp.

"Don't act tough," Jin-Soo sneered, his footsteps echoing as he walked forward. "Kyung-Ho wants a word."

"Then tell him to come himself," Jiro snapped back, looking at them over his shoulder.

Jin-Soo's face twisted in annoyance. "Cocky, huh? You think one lucky fight makes you untouchable?"

The bigger man moved forward, cracking his knuckles. He was the kind of guy built like a tank, his neck as wide as his head.

Jiro sighed, rolling his shoulders. His Perception Field flared, sharper than it had ever been before. Every step, every shift in weight, every change in breathing was now a thread for him to follow.

"Don't do it," Jiro warned.

Tank Guy smirked. "Or what?"

He charged. A mass of muscle and momentum.

But Jiro was faster.

His Perception Field had detected Tank Guy's attack even before it began. Jiro stepped out of the way, turning his body as Tank Guy's fist whizzed through the air where his head just was.

Too slow.

But before Tank Guy could try again, Jiro spun past him, hooked his foot back behind the guy's ankle, and yanked. The big guy's balance went from vertical to horizontal like a house of cards.

Thud!

Tank Guy hit the ground face-first, groaning.

Jin-Soo's eyes went wide. "What the—"

Jiro's gaze snapped to him, and Jin-Soo froze.

"Tell Kyung-Ho something for me," Jiro said, his tone colder than ice. "If he's got a problem, he can handle it himself. No messengers. No dogs."

Jin-Soo's face twitched in a mix of fear and frustration. He yanked Tank Guy up. "You're dead, Han. You hear me? You're dead!"

"Then stop talking and do something about it," Jiro shot back, his eyes like daggers.

Jin-Soo dragged Tank Guy toward the door, casting one last look over his shoulder. "You'll regret this, Han."

He did not budge until the door closed. He turned to face the fence, scanning the horizon as it framed a city skyline beyond the fences. His Perception Field crackled like some alive, finer and clearer than it had ever been. He felt, finally, not a hint of fear. Of Kyung-Ho. Of Jin-Soo. Of any person at all. They could stand around watching him all they wished. He would be prepared.