Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1540 Flowers
There was an even deeper hint of panic in those eyes, a panic that came from being caught off guard, having all pretenses torn away and exposing the most secret abnormality to the gaze of the person they least wanted to be scrutinized.

He could clearly feel Hiratsuka Shizuna's probing, X-ray-like, penetrating gaze still firmly fixed on his face, like two heavy lead weights pressing on his chest, making it extremely difficult for him to breathe.

He subconsciously made a small movement—not a retreat, but a slight retraction of his shoulder blades and a subtle shift in his center of gravity in his heels. In an instant, his entire body posture switched from a relaxed, "stay-at-home" mode to a more vigilant state that was more conducive to exerting force and responding to sudden impacts.

This tiny yet highly professional instinctive reaction caused Hiratsuka Shizuka's pupils to contract violently once again.

Hiratsuka Shizuka took in his shock, helplessness, and those tiny yet deadly movements of vigilance.

The lie that tried to get away with "going to the toilet" now seems so pale and ridiculous that it has become completely pointless to question it.

She took a deep breath, and the sight of dust motes dancing in the sunlight in the corridor seemed to freeze.

The noise of the surrounding students seemed to be shut out by an invisible barrier, leaving only her and the boy in front of her who was both familiar and extremely unfamiliar.

She forced her voice to regain its composure, but the gravity and an undeniable, unavoidable deep concern weighed down on her like a physical entity.
"Hikigaya."

Her voice was not loud, but exceptionally clear, each syllable striking the frozen air.

Her gaze was like two drawn swords, locked tightly on those unfamiliar eyes, as if trying to pierce through the cold exterior and uncover the truth hidden beneath.

"No matter where you just went,"

She spoke each word clearly, her gaze unwavering, "Regardless of what you just did..."

She paused slightly, as if considering the most accurate wording, and ultimately chose the most direct, and also the most somber, expression:
"I need to know what exactly happened to you?"

Her gaze swept over his seemingly ordinary uniform, yet it seemed to penetrate the fabric to see the possible scars on his body that matched his gaze, or to feel the lingering chill that didn't belong to the campus.

"This change..."

Hiratsuka Shizuka's voice carried an almost painful sense of confirmation as she slowly uttered her final judgment, "...nothing to be underestimated."

The four words “extraordinary” are like four cold pebbles thrown into a dead, silent pool.

This is not a teacher's admonition to a student, but more like a warning from a seasoned warrior to another of his kind who is tainted with a dangerous aura of equal rank but extremely incongruous.

The air seemed to have been completely sucked out, and a heavy silence enveloped the two of them.

Hachiman Hikigaya felt that Shizuka Hiratsuka's gaze was like a tangible chain, pinning him firmly to the spot. There was no anger or blame in that gaze, only a bottomless, heavy inquiry and an irresistible force that seemed to be pulling him back from the edge of some abyss.

His throat went dry, and he tried to avoid that gaze again, only to find that the sharp look seemed to have a sticky quality, leaving him nowhere to hide.

He subconsciously clenched his fist, which was hanging at his side and trembling slightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

In the blurry reflection on the locker, a pair of cold, warrior-like eyes silently met his gaze, silently questioning a question he himself could not answer: What have you become?
Hachiman Hikigaya didn't answer. He suddenly turned and left, almost as if he were breaking free.

The movement was swift and decisive, without warning, carrying an almost resolute air. "Hachiman!"

Hiratsuka Shizuka blurted out almost instinctively, her body leaning forward half a step as she reached out to stop him.

However, in the blink of an eye, an extremely abrupt and pure chill, like an ice cone buried deep in the polar regions for thousands of years, exploded without warning from the direction of the boy's departing figure!

The chill wasn't a physical low temperature, but a raw, visceral sense of death threat that directly targeted her life instincts, instantly piercing through all her thoughts and actions.

It was like an invisible, absolute zero barrier, standing between her and that figure.

Her arm froze in mid-air, her outstretched fingers perhaps only inches from the hem of his uniform, yet unable to extend any further.

An alarm bell, originating from the deepest part of her soul and transcending all rational judgment, rang wildly in her skull, so sharp it almost tore her nerves apart—it was the most primal, unquestionable biological intuition roaring: Chase after her, and you will die!
Touch him and you will be killed!
absurd!

This idea is utterly absurd!
How could one possibly feel such absurd and chilling fear when faced with a student who always looked like a "stray dog" and whose physical skills were mediocre?
A surge of intense self-loathing and anger instantly dispelled the icy chill.

The passionate teacher's sense of duty, his responsibility as an adult, and his inescapable duty to this lost teenager were like molten lava, instantly melting away that shameful shell of ice.

Hachiman Hikigaya, no matter what happened to you, as your teacher, I must bring you back to the right path!
Hachiman Hikigaya was in a state of confusion. He didn't know what to do. His family would definitely notice such an obvious change.

Not knowing how to answer, he chose to run away.

Even though he knew that Hiratsuka Shizuka cared about him.

Meanwhile, Hiratsuka Shizuka returned to her office, but the moment her gaze fell on her desk, she abruptly stopped in her tracks.

That bouquet of flowers stood abruptly atop the mountain of homework notebooks, like a declaration, or perhaps an unsolvable riddle.

The bright red roses, with their petals layered upon each other, are so full they seem to be trying to break free from the calyx. Their intense red contrasts sharply with the dull beige of the surrounding notebooks, creating a sight that is both dazzling and unsettling.

She subconsciously held her breath, feeling a strange dryness and tightness in her throat.

She quickened her pace, her long, slender fingers hesitantly reaching for the bouquet of roses. The slight rustling sound of her fingertips touching the cool wrapping paper was unusually clear in the overly quiet office.

There were no cards or words in the bouquet that could reveal the identity; only the flowers themselves, silently burning, proclaimed their existence.

Her fingers tightened suddenly around the bouquet, the plastic wrapping paper groaning softly in her palm, like her crushed thoughts.

This red is so domineering, so unfamiliar.

In her more than thirty years of life, when did Hiratsuka Shizuka ever have any connection with flowers?

(End of this chapter)