Aiko Tanaka adjusted her glasses and flicked through the mission dossier on her tablet. The dimly lit room smelled of burnt coffee and electronics, the usual scent of a back-alley intelligence hub. Her handler's voice crackled through her earpiece.

"Kenji Takeda. Age eighteen. Son of Hiroshi Takeda, the media mogul. Expected to inherit his father's empire. Target will be attending Shirogane High School under an alias for security reasons. Eliminate him discreetly."

Aiko scrolled through the profile. Normally a photo would have been attached, but his father's security was nearly ironclad. No photos were available. The boy had been home schooled until now. She committed every detail to memory.

"Understood," she responded, voice cold and professional. "What's the cover?"

"You're Miss Tanaka, the new history teacher. The school has already received the falsified credentials. Blend in, get close, and make it look like an accident."

Aiko allowed herself a slight smirk. It wouldn't be her first time assuming a false identity. Teaching, though—that was new.

—

The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of Shirogane High. The halls bustled with students chattering about trivial nonsense—pop idols, weekend plans, video games. Aiko strode through, clutching a stack of textbooks, observing the faces with a hunter's precision.

And then she saw him.

At the end of the hall, a boy leaned against a row of lockers, speaking animatedly to a group of students. He matched the description—messy black hair, wire frame glasses and height/weight that matched the file.

She was sure this was Kenji Takeda...one problem...it wasn't, it was another student named Souta Minami...

Aiko's lips curled in satisfaction.

Target acquired.

She watched as he gestured enthusiastically, seemingly lost in discussion. The students around him were engaged, nodding along to whatever nonsense he was spouting. She listened in.

"And that's exactly how Agent Steel evaded the sniper on the rooftop! He used the reflection from a broken window to track the shooter's position before rolling behind cover."

Aiko frowned. Spy thrillers?

The boy's enthusiasm was… unexpected. But if he was indulging in espionage fiction, that made things easier. His head would be filled with unrealistic Hollywood tactics. He wouldn't see a real assassin coming.

This will be simple.

The bell rang. Time for class.

—

Aiko stood at the front of the history classroom, her posture immaculate, gaze sweeping across her students.

"Good morning," she said, voice carrying an authoritative weight. "I am Miss Tanaka. I'll be your history teacher."

The students murmured their greetings. Her eyes landed on Kenji. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, still smirking. He didn't seem nervous.

Arrogant.

She turned to the board and began her lesson, but her mind was elsewhere. How to proceed? Poisoning was an option, but risky in a school environment. An "accidental" fall from the stairwell? Perhaps. A staged mugging on his walk home? Plausible.

Then an idea struck her. Drowning.

A school swimming lesson was scheduled for the following day. A perfect opportunity.

—

The next day, Aiko observed Kenji from the poolside. The students were splashing around, laughing, completely unaware that death was mere meters away.

She crouched at the edge of the pool, watching her target tread water.

Now.

With a calculated movement, she reached out and pressed a foot against his shoulder, shoving him beneath the surface. It was subtle, looked like an accident—just another student getting dunked.

For a second, she thought she had succeeded.

Then—

A violent splash.

Aiko barely had time to react before Kenji erupted from the water, gasping. His eyes darted around wildly. Fortunately Aiko had already darted behind a pillar.

"Just like Agent Phantom in Shadow Tide! A rogue operative trying to drown him in the Monaco canal!" he declared, voice filled with sudden excitement. He immediately kicked away from the edge, using an efficient, practiced technique to escape deeper into the water.

Aiko barely contained her irritation. He thinks this is a game?!

He swam in an evasive pattern, weaving like a trained agent avoiding enemy gunfire. It was ridiculous—but also oddly effective. By the time she could act again, he had reached the safety of the other side of the pool.

She clenched her fists.

It seemed her target's obsession with spy thrillers had made him instinctively aware of danger. Annoying.

But no matter.

This was only the first attempt.

And Miss Tanaka always finished her lessons.