Unveiled Potential

It was a change in the air. Two days since the rooftop thing, Jiro sensed that something had shifted. His Perception Field picked it up before he even reached school gates. It wasn't one or two eyes on him-it was as if the whole school's attention had been directed toward him.

Whispers followed him down the hallway like a second shadow. Students parted as he walked, giving him space he didn't ask for. The usual hustle and bustle of the morning crowd had quieted into hushed murmurs and sideways glances.

"That's him."

"He took down Jin-Soo's crew."

"Did you see what he did to that big guy? One move and BAM!"

His name had become currency in the school's rumor mill, and somehow, it had more value than he'd ever wanted.

Class started like normal, with students chatting and sharing gossip before the teacher arrived. But this time, Jiro noticed how conversations died down as he entered. His Perception Field caught every shift in posture, every quick glance, every hurried whisper.

He sits at the back, eyes forward, but his senses are sharp. Every movement felt deliberate now. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk as he waited for the teacher to arrive.

"Yo, Jiro," Min-Jun called out, turning in his seat with a sly grin. "Big man on campus now, huh?"

"Not interested," Jiro replied with cold but calm voice.

"Oh, come on, man." Min-Jun leaned in, eyes alight with mischief. "Kyung-Ho's crew is still mad, you know. Word is, they're gonna hit you after school."

Jiro didn't respond, but his fingers stopped tapping.

Yeah, I heard they're bringing in Woo-Sik," Min-Jun continued, now clearly enjoying himself. "You know him, right? Big guy. Used to be a boxer or something. I heard he knocked out three seniors last year."

Woo-Sik, huh?

He had heard of him. Everyone had. Woo-Sik was not like Jin-Soo or Tank Guy. Not all talk. If Kyung-Ho was bringing him in, then it meant they were through testing him.

They're coming to finish it.

"Thanks for the heads up," Jiro grunted, eyes still on the front of the class.

"No problem," Min-Jun said, leaning back with a grin. "Not that you'll need it, right?"

Jiro sat on a bench under the shade of a large tree, unwrapping his bento box. His Perception Field reached out like invisible threads, covering the entire courtyard. He could feel them — small movements, shifting gazes.

They're watching.

He used his chopsticks to lift a piece of fried chicken, slowly put it into his mouth, and chewed. Across the courtyard, he could see Kyung-Ho standing at the edge of a group. He wasn't hiding. He was making it known that he was there. Beside him was Woo-Sik, the "boxer."

Woo-Sik was taller than Jiro expected. His shoulders were broad, his stance wide and stable like he was ready to throw a punch at any moment. His gaze swept across the courtyard, but it didn't stay on Jiro for long.

He's not scouting. He's waiting.

They were making it known. After school, it wouldn't be a fight. It would be a message.

So be it.

Jiro didn't look away. If they wanted him to feel pressure, it wouldn't work. He calmly finished his lunch, packed up his bento box, and leaned back on the bench.

He closed his eyes, not to rest, but to focus. His Perception Field grew stronger when he wasn't distracted by sight. He felt every shift in weight, every step on the concrete, every quiet breath of the students around him. They were preparing for war.

The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows on the pavement. The alley next to the school was a known fight spot. Students gathered in small clusters whispering, waiting.

Jiro stood at the center, calm but alert. He knew this was coming. His Perception Field hummed with energy, sharper than ever. His heart was steady, his breathing even.

"Look at you," Kyung-Ho sneered, stepping forward from the crowd. "Acting all calm like you're in control."

Jiro said nothing. He watched. Listened.

"Don't think you're untouchable just 'cause you got lucky with Jin-Soo," Kyung-Ho continued, pacing like a wolf circling its prey. "Woo-Sik's not like them. He's a real fighter. Ain't that right, Woo-Sik?"

The crowd parted, and Woo-Sik stepped forward, cracking his neck. His gaze locked onto Jiro, calm but serious.

"Don't worry," Woo-Sik said, rolling his shoulders. "I'll make it quick."

The crowd murmured in excitement, some pulling out their phones to record.

Jiro's eyes narrowed. He didn't care about the crowd, about Kyung-Ho's posturing, or about Woo-Sik's "reputation." All that mattered now was action.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of Woo-Sik's footsteps echoed louder than the crowd's whispers. He moved with a boxer's rhythm, his stance low and guarded. Every step was calculated, every movement deliberate.

He's a professional.

Jiro stood there, still and watchful, letting his Perception Field do the work. He did not need to guess. Every shift in Woo-Sik's body told him what would come next.

Woo-Sik threw a quick jab, fast but testing. Jiro tilted his head back just enough for it to miss his chin by inches.

The crowd gasped.

"Fast reflexes," Woo-Sik muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Not bad."

He stepped in again, his footwork precise. A one-two combo. Jiro leaned left, ducked right. Every movement was controlled, no wasted effort.

You're too slow.

Woo-Sik's expression changed. He stepped forward, his fists moving like pistons. Each punch was faster, more aggressive. A jab. A cross. A hook. Each one came within a hair's breadth of Jiro's face, but none landed.

The crowd was going wild.

"Yo, is he dodging all of them!?"

"He's not even throwing punches back!"

He's reading him… Kyung-Ho thought, eyes narrowing. *He's reading every move.

Jiro's eyes were fixed on Woo-Sik's foot. It was almost imperceptible, but Woo-Sik shifted his weight to the right just a fraction of an inch. That was the signal. A right hook was coming.

Now.

Jiro moved forward. His body had made the move before his mind told him to. His palm jerked up to block Woo-Sik's arm in time to stop the hook that swooped in. Within the span of one heartbeat, Jiro shifted his hips, his right hand already flying.

Thud!

His palm smacked into Woo-Sik's chest.

Woo-Sik stepped backward, coughing, his balance broken. His eyes went wide in shock.

He saw it… he saw it coming…

Jiro moved forward again. No words. No hesitation. His Perception Field was guiding him like a conductor leading a symphony. Woo-Sik raised his guard, but it was too slow. Jiro's fist hit his ribs like a hammer.

Crack.

Woo-Sik gasped, his knees buckling.

The crowd became silent.

"That's enough," Jiro said, his voice cold but final.

Kyung-Ho took a step forward, his eyes blazing with anger. "You—"

"Don't," Jiro cut him off, his eyes sharp as a blade. "Next time, come at me yourself."

Kyung-Ho clenched his jaw but did not move.

The crowd stared, unsure of what they'd just witnessed. Woo-Sik, the "boxer," was on his knees, clutching his ribs.

Jiro walked past them all, his footsteps slow but steady. He didn't look back. He didn't need to.

His Perception Field told him everything he needed to know.