Walter stepped forward, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he swung the bat with a powerful force, shattering a mirror that had been propped up against the wall. "This is for blaming me for no reason, Colleen!" He yelled out the name of his deceased enemy as he shouted with his lungs.

The force of Walter's swing reverberated through the room, the shattering mirror offering a satisfying crunch of glass and a sharp tinkling sound as it fell to the floor in a cascade of fragments. His shout echoed through the room, filled with a mix of anger, frustration, and a deep-seated need to release the pent-up emotions that had been festering for so long.

The others watched in silence, respecting the intensity of Walter's moment. They understood the weight he carried, the burden of being falsely accused and blamed. In this room, in this act of destruction, he found a way to confront that pain head-on.

"My turn."

Tiffany stepped forward, her own determination evident in her eyes. She selected a vase, the delicate porcelain contrasting sharply with the strength in her grip. With a swift, powerful motion, she sent it crashing to the ground. The shattering of the vase joined the chorus of destruction, a visual representation of the release she felt.

"This is for manipulating me into blaming others, Christina!" 10-year-old Tiffany yelled to no one, her voice filled with a mix of anger and sorrow.

One by one, they took their turns, each person finding their own way to channel their emotions. Veronica, normally poised and composed, took a sledgehammer and swung it at an old piece of furniture with a force that surprised even herself. The loud crash echoed through the room, a testament to the strength she held within.

Lucretia, her usually serene demeanour replaced with a fierce determination, selected a framed painting from the wall. With a powerful thrust, she drove her chosen weapon through the canvas, the sharp sound of tearing fabric adding to the symphony of destruction.

As each member of the group took their turn, they shouted out the names of their past adversaries, giving voice to the pain and anger they had long held within. It was a cathartic experience, a way to confront the ghosts of their pasts and find closure.

The sound was loud and satisfying, the room echoed with the sounds of destruction, a cathartic symphony that seemed to wash away the weight of their pasts.

Samantha, normally composed and reserved, swung a sledgehammer with fierce determination, smashing through a piece of furniture. It was a side of her that few had seen, a raw vulnerability that she allowed herself to express in this controlled environment.

Tiffany, with a fierce glint in her eyes, took a baseball bat to an old television set, each swing a deliberate release of the anger she held towards those who had wronged them.

Even Lucretia, who had always carried herself with a quiet strength, found solace in the act of destruction. She took a moment to select a vase, then sent it crashing to the ground, the shards scattering in all directions.

As the minutes passed, the intensity of their actions began to subside.

One by one, the others followed suit, each finding their own way to unleash their frustrations. The room echoed with the sounds of destruction, a cathartic symphony that seemed to wash away the weight of their pasts

Finally, it was Samantha's turn. She stepped forward, her expression focused and resolute. She selected a stack of papers, remnants of what might have once been an important document. With deliberate force, she tore through them, the sound of ripping paper a satisfying accompaniment to her controlled movements.

"This is for trying to tear my life apart, Josephine!" she declared, her voice firm and unwavering.

They stood together, a united front, each person having faced their own demons and emerged stronger for it. In that moment, the mansion that had once been a symbol of tension and hostility had been transformed into a space of empowerment and healing.

Then, all of their eyes fell on one particular portrait of 8-year-old Ernestine.

It hung on the wall, a haunting reminder of the past. The image captured her icy gaze and calculating smile, frozen in time. It seemed to radiate a malevolent energy, a silent testament to the pain and turmoil she had caused.

Tiffany, her gaze fixed on the portrait, stepped forward, her face a mixture of determination and a touch of irony. She picked up a nearby baseball bat, the weight of it comfortable in her grip. With a swift, powerful swing, she sent the bat crashing into the portrait, shattering the glass that protected it.

"This is for everything you did to Christopher, and to all of us! But above all, what you did to Ranran!" she declared, her voice fierce.

The glass shattered, sending shards tumbling to the floor. The impact seemed to echo through the room, the sound a satisfying culmination of their collective anger and frustration.

Georgina stepped forward, her usually warm demeanour replaced by a fierce determination. She picked up a piece of the shattered glass, her fingers gripping it tightly. With a swift motion, she carved a jagged mark across the painted face, a symbolic act of defiance against the girl who had once held power over them.

"And this is for thinking you could control us, manipulate us, and get away with it!" she declared, her voice unwavering.

One by one, they took turns unleashing their pent-up emotions on the portrait. Walter, usually reserved, took a moment to glare at the image before him. With a fierce determination, he picked up a piece of the shattered frame and drove it into the painted face, leaving a mark that matched the fury in his eyes.

"This is for all of the misery you lead those children to do towards us, just to achieve what was blessed in that damn projector!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

Teddy, always a wildcard in the group, approached with a determined look on his face. He reached into his pocket and produced a small vial of paint. With a flourish, he splattered it across the portrait, the vibrant colours standing out starkly against the muted tones of the image. "There, this makes her a bit more 'vibrant', don't you think?"

Laughter rang out at Teddy's unexpected addition, breaking the tension that had settled in the room. It was a brief moment of respite, a release of the remaining tension that had lingered after their cathartic outbursts.

Samantha, her gaze fixed on the now-defaced portrait, felt a strange mix of satisfaction and closure. The once-imposing image of Ernestine was now marred and defiled, a visual representation of their triumph over the shadows of their past.

"Alright, that's enough," Samantha said, her voice carrying a note of finality. "We've made our point."

As they turned away from the ruined portrait, there was a palpable sense of accomplishment in the air. They had faced the ghosts of their pasts and emerged stronger for it.

"Let's go," Lucretia said, her voice steady. "We have work to do, and this is just the beginning."

With a newfound sense of purpose, they left the room, leaving behind the shattered remains of the portrait. The mansion, once a place of tension and hostility, felt different now. It held the echoes of their determination, a silent testament to their resilience.

"I wonder what Ernestine's family relatives gonna think when they see the house trashed out like that?" Samantha snickered.

"They will be surprised, that is for damn sure," Nicolas thinks in amusement.

"Then again, since Ernestine's family come from a family of royals, it may take years for them to even notice." Teddy muses.

"True," Walter chimed in. "By then, they might not even care anymore. Besides, it's not like we'll be coming back here anytime soon."

"I wish I could see how her face looks when she learns that her place is trashed, especially since she was so narcissistic back then." Tiffany thinks.

"But since she is in a mental hospital, she can go nowhere till she turns 17," Walter adds.

"I am glad I disconnected the CCTV earlier before doing this, it felt relieving." Ellis sighed, "I just wish Christopher was alive to see it. And Ranran...such a shame her family moved her to Japan, cause I know she would've loved it."

The group shared a moment of reflection on their absent friends, Christopher and Ranran. They knew that the two of them would have appreciated the symbolic act of reclaiming the space that once held so much tension and fear.

With a final glance at the mansion, they turned to leave, their footsteps echoing in the grand hall. 

...................................................................................................

In an undisclosed mental hospital somewhere in the U.K, the bellow yells of patients echoed through the sterile halls. Among the many occupied rooms, one held a figure that seemed different from the rest.

Ernestine sat in a dimly lit room, her once perfectly coiffed hair now unkempt and tangled. Her clothes, once tailored to perfection, hung loosely on her frame. Her eyes once filled with a calculating glint, now held a vacant, distant look.

A girl who is now the age of 10, a mere shell of the powerful and manipulative force she once was. Her gaze remained fixed on a wall, her mind seemingly far away from the sterile room that held her.

In the silence, broken only by the distant echoes of the hospital, someone called out to her, "Ernestine, there are letters for you."

Ernestine turned her head slowly, her vacant gaze meeting the eyes of the nurse who had addressed her. The nurse held a small stack of envelopes in her hands, offering them to the once-powerful girl with a gentle smile.

The little girl's gaze shifted to the proffered letters, but there was no recognition in her eyes. She took the envelopes mechanically, her fingers moving almost robotically to accept them.

"Thank you," the nurse said softly, her tone kind and patient. "Take your time to read them. If you need any help, just let us know."

Without a word, Ernestine nodded, her attention now fixed on the letters in her hands. The nurse left the room, leaving her alone in the dimly lit space.

For a long while, Ernestine simply sat there, the letters in her lap. She looked down at them, but it was as if they held no meaning for her. Slowly, she picked up one of the envelopes and began to open it, her movements slow and deliberate. As she read the words on the page, her eyes flared.

In the letter, it reads: 'Another of your house is being destroyed.'

The letter continued, detailing the events that had transpired at Ernestine's family mansion. It described the shattered mirrors, the broken vases, and the defaced portrait. The words painted a vivid picture of the destruction, a stark contrast to the once-grandeur of the estate.

As Ernestine read, a spark of recognition flickered in her vacant eyes. It was as if a small ember of her former self had been briefly reignited. She traced her fingers over the words on the page, her brows furrowing in a mix of confusion and something else—a glimmer of emotion, perhaps?

Slowly, her eyes hardened in anger, "How dare those children do this to me!?"

The transformation in Ernestine's demeanour was palpable. The spark of recognition had ignited a dormant fire within her, and a surge of emotions washed over her. As she clutched the letter tightly in her hand, her jaw clenched in anger.

"They'll pay for this, they shall pay!" she muttered through gritted teeth, the words escaping her lips in a low growl.

"Quiet down!"

A nurse's stern voice pierced the room, breaking the charged atmosphere. She entered her expression a mix of concern and sternness. "Ernestine, you need to calm down. Getting worked up like this won't do you any good. Also, why are you mad at this time?"

But Ernestine was beyond hearing. She was lost in her own world of seething anger and the need for revenge. In her mind, the image of the shattered mansion played on a loop, each broken piece a fresh wound.

As the nurse tried to reason with her, Ernestine's grip on the letter tightened. Her breathing grew rapid, and her eyes blazed with a ferocity that seemed to come from a place deep within.

"Payback..." she hissed, the word dripping with venom. "How can kids who are destined to be villains dare to behave so insolently towards me?! The destined heroine!?"

The nurse exchanged a worried glance with her colleague. It was clear that Ernestine's mental state had deteriorated even further. They had seen glimpses of this rage before, but it had never been this intense.

"Ernestine, please," the nurse implored, stepping closer, "You need to calm down. This anger won't help you. Let's talk about what's going on."

But Ernestine was beyond reason. Her mind was a tempest of fury, each thought feeding into the flames of her resentment. She clenched her fists, her knuckles white, and her breaths came in ragged bursts.

"They will pay," she growled, her voice filled with a chilling determination. "I won't let them get away with this. They'll regret the day they crossed me. Especially that Kudo Ranran girl!"

"What is wrong this time, is she acting out her delusions again?" A doctor came up to the nurse watching the scene before them.

"Yes," The nurse turned to the doctor, her expression one of concern. "Another person destroyed one of the family property."

"I mean she murdered a boy her age years ago through his abusive mother, did she think people won't lash their anger out by destroying their mansion?" The second nurse scoffed, before pointing at the dishevelled 10-year-old, "She even shamelessly wanted that poor 4-year-old girl's name, the same one who was discovered to be alive when that poor boy was murdered dead years ago, dead. As if she wants to murder her."

The doctor exchanged a troubled glance with the nurse. It was clear that Ernestine's delusions had taken a particularly dark turn. "Why does she hate that child so much?"

"Kept rambling that 'she' is the reason why her future turned out to where it is now. I swear..she must have a poor upbringing to watch so many sci-fi shows and talk gibberish." The first nurse replied.

The doctor sighed, frustration was crossing his face. "Why didn't the stupid judge just throw her in juvenile back then when the murder was committed and sent her here of all places!? Ugh!"

The situation was increasingly distressing, and the staff knew that they needed to act swiftly to prevent any further harm, both to Ernestine and others.

"We'll need additional support," the doctor said, his voice firm. "Get security down here immediately."

As the nurse made the call, the doctor turned his attention back to Ernestine, who was still seething with anger.

"Ernestine," he said, his voice steady, "We're going to do what's best for you. You need to calm down so we can help you. Trust us, please."

But Ernestine's trust had long since eroded. She regarded the medical staff with a mixture of suspicion and contempt, her eyes blazing with a fervent intensity.

"You're all in on it, aren't you?" she hissed, her voice a venomous whisper. "You're all against me, just like them. You want to see me fail, but I won't let you."

The doctor exchanged a worried look with the nurse. It was clear that Ernestine's paranoia and delusions were escalating rapidly.

"Ernestine, we're here to help you," the doctor reiterated, his tone calm but urgent. "But you need to cooperate with us. We can't force you to take the medication, but it's for your own well-being."

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, and a team of security personnel arrived, ready to assist.

"Doctor, what's the situation?" one of the security officers asked, glancing at the tense scene before them.

"We're dealing with an escalated situation," the doctor explained quickly. "Ernestine is in a highly agitated state, and we need to ensure her safety and the safety of the staff. We may need to use a sedative, but she's resistant."

The security team nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. They positioned themselves strategically around the room, ready to step in if needed.

"Ernestine," the doctor said, his voice measured, "We're here to help you, but we can't allow you to harm yourself or others. Please, let us assist you."

But Ernestine's mind was consumed by her own twisted reality. She regarded the medical staff and security team with a mixture of defiance and desperation.

"You won't get away with this," she spat, her voice a venomous snarl. "I'll make sure of it. Especially you, Kudo Ranran! Christopher may be dead, but you are not! And I will make sure you join him in the afterlife!"

As the tension in the room reached a fever pitch, the medical team and security personnel prepared for whatever course of action would be necessary to ensure Ernestine's safety and the safety of those around her.

...................................................................................................

Meanwhile in Japan at Teitan Elementary School, 6-year-old Takuma could be heard wailing for reasons that can be said. "Please no! Don't take away the birds!"

It was a comical sight, to say the least, after weeks of housing Professor Shibuya's 150-plus exotic birds in Teitan Elementary School, the birds are finally to be relocated from the UK to the United States. And this includes Takuma's latest friend, Hikari, a Harpy Eagle.

The chaos of birds, combined with Takuma's heartfelt protests, created a scene that was both amusing and heartwarming. The other children at Teitan Elementary School gathered around, watching in a mixture of amusement and sympathy.

Takuma clutched Hikari's large talon in his small hand, tears streaming down his face. "Please, you can't take Hikari away! It's the coolest bird in the world!"

"To be fair, Takuma, Hikari had committed too many lunch-related burglaries across the school."Junko pointed out.

Junko's statement earned a chorus of laughter from the gathered children. It was true, that Hikari had a bit of a reputation for swiping unattended lunches, much to the dismay of the students.

Takuma's wails only grew louder, his protests becoming more desperate. "It can't help it! It has a big appetite!" He then confronted the 10-year-old girl, "You only made those calls to speed up the moving away, just so you don't have to confront your fear of birds anymore!"

"And what if I did?" Junko couldn't help but smirk at Takuma's accusation before pointing it out, "Although I admit Ranran did keep her word about moving those birds elsewhere, she could've just simply told me to locate those people who move birds around the world, cause I am more than happy to see it go. Also, I am tired of Ranran constantly using the birds to kill her own homework to avoid doing it, again and again."

"You are cruel, Junko!"

Takuma's heartfelt plea and the ensuing banter between him and Junko only added to the bittersweet atmosphere surrounding the departure of Professor Shibuya's birds. The children had formed unique bonds with the feathered creatures during their time at the school. "How come Ranran get to keep her Peregrine Falcon why I can't!?" Takuma called out.

"Well, her family has this estate in the U.K. that is equipped to look after George The Third," Junko remembered while frowning at her schoolmates, "You on the other hand don't."

Soon, a man came up to Junko to ask, "Hey, girl, about the birds, you said there is a total of 150 plus."

"Yes?"

"But I only counted a total of 140." The man held a clipboard before showing to the 10-year-old girl.

Junko leaned in to inspect the clipboard, her brow furrowing in confusion. "That's strange," she mused, "There should be 150 plus. I'm sure of it."

The man glanced around at the multitude of birds flapping and chirping in the vicinity. "Well, it's possible that some might be hiding or in places we didn't check. They're quite agile, you know."

Junko nodded, understanding the nature of birds all too well. "That's true. They could be in the rafters, or even outside the school building. "

As Junko and the man discussed the logistics of relocating the birds, Takuma continued to clutch onto Hikari, his tears subsiding into sniffles. He cast a longing look at the other children who were bidding farewell to their feathery friends.

"They promised they'd come visit me in America," one girl said, hugging her parrot tightly.

"I'm going to miss our morning conversations," a boy sighed, patting his macaw's head.

Takuma's heart sank at the thought of saying goodbye to Hikari. The harpy eagle had become a dear companion during their time together. They'd shared secrets, played games, and even had a few epic flying races around the schoolyard.

As the man and Junko continued their bird count, Takuma's eyes wandered to the sky, where he knew Hikari would soon be soaring across oceans to a new home. He whispered a promise, "I'll never forget you, Hikari. And I'll visit you in America one day."

With a final, heartfelt hug, Takuma reluctantly released Hikari's talon. The majestic bird spread its wings and took off, gliding gracefully into the distance of another person. The other children watched in awe and respect, a collective farewell to a dear friend.

Then, Junko had an idea, "That's right! I should get Ranran to use that device she used the other day on that private Jet to gather the rest of the missing birds!"

"That's a brilliant idea, Junko!" Takuma's face lit up with hope. "If anyone can find and gather all the birds, it's Ranran."

With that, Junko swiftly pulled out her phone and dialled Ranran's number. After a few rings, the call was picked up.

"Hello?" Shinichi's voice came through the line.

"Shinichi?" Junko made sure to check the caller ID to show it was Ranran, before pressing, "Why did you answer Ranran's phone?"

"Ah, she left with Mouri earlier for something urgent," Shinichi replied.

"Urgent? Like what?"

Before Shinichi could reply, they could hear a loud scream within the school.

Junko's heart leapt into her throat at the sound of the scream. She quickly motioned for Takuma to stay close as she darted in the direction of the commotion.

As she rounded a corner, she was met with the sight of a panicked Ishibashi Mamiko, Teitan Elementary school's recent pariah, as they were startled by the sight of exotic birds flapping their wings against the 6-year-old. "GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF!"

"Apologize to me at once for throwing banana skin to make me fall, then record me without permission and upload the video at the anonymous confession sight!" The angry long brown-haired brunette Mouri Ran demanded Mamiko as the birds continued to attack Mamiko, while Ranran who stood next to Ran had a device in her hand, staring at Mamiko indifferently.

"What on earth is going on?" Junko asked no one in particular, her voice steady.

Even Takuma was shocked to witness this sight.

The chaos unfolding before them was nothing short of surreal. Birds flapped and squawked, Mamiko shrieked in terror, and Ranran and Mouri Ran stood tall, holding Mamiko accountable for her actions.

Takuma's eyes widened, taking in the spectacle. "Well, there you have it...the missing birds."

Junko nodded, her mind racing to process the situation. It seemed like a fitting and almost poetic form of karma, the birds defending themselves against the person who had caused them so much distress.

"Again, I can't go by a day without someone screaming since the birds-woah, is that Mamiko getting attacked by a bunch of birds?" 9-year-old Emiko soon joined them, once more surprised to see such a sight.

"That seems to be the case," Junko replied, her voice tinged with both surprise and a touch of satisfaction. "With all of the crap she had put Ran through, especially onto others, this is the best form of karma."

Takuma watched the spectacle with a mixture of concern for Mamiko's safety and a sense of vindication for the birds. "I guess Mamiko had nothing but a bird-brain when it came to Ranran, ha ha, get it? Bird brain?"

Emiko stifled a giggle at Takuma's pun, while Junko couldn't help but crack a smile. Even in the midst of chaos, Takuma's humour provided a moment of levity.

Meanwhile, the situation with Mamiko was escalating. The birds, clearly agitated, continued to flutter around her, their wings creating a whirlwind of feathers. Ranran held the device in her hand, seemingly in control of the avian onslaught.

"Mamiko, I am going to ask you nicely," Ranran's voice was firm, her gaze unwavering. "Apologize as I instructed you, or else-"

"F you! I will never-kyaaaaaah!!!!!"

Mamiko's defiant words were cut off by a sudden flurry of feathers and wings. The birds, spurred on by Ranran's device, swarmed around her with renewed vigor. It was a chaotic whirlwind of feathers and squawks, an avian tempest that seemed to have a mind of its own.

The little girl's screams filled the air as she tried in vain to shield herself from the relentless assault. Her attempts to fight back were futile, the birds too numerous and too determined. It didn't help that more and more children were fishing out their smartphones to film it. Soon, Shinichi joined them after hearing the screams, and it was an unusual sight for the 6-year-old apprentice.

"I need to film this, our family is going to be shocked to see this video,"  Shinichi quickly raised his phone to capture the surreal moment, a mix of shock and amusement on his face.

"Apologize."

"Never."

As Mamiko's screams echoed through the school, it became clear that her defiance had only escalated the situation. The birds showed no signs of relenting, their wings flapping furiously as they circled around her, even as she was being clawed by the birds with blood.

Ranran's expression remained unyielding, her determination unwavering in the face of Mamiko's defiance. She pressed a button on the device, sending a signal that seemed to resonate with the birds. Their movements became more coordinated, their attacks more focused.

Mamiko's screams grew louder, her cries of pain and fear piercing the air. It was a harrowing sight, the chaotic dance of feathers and claws. More scratches appeared on Mamiko's face and arms, a testament to the ferocity of the avian onslaught. The other children watched in a mix of shock and disbelief, unable to tear their eyes away from the surreal scene.

Junko's eyes wide with concern, turned to Takuma and Shinichi. "Shouldn't we do something? This is getting out of hand."

"Don't bother," Shinichi called it off.

"But Mamiko is getting hurt-"

"You wouldn't be saying that if Ranran had died upon getting stabbed by her last month, right?" Shinichi side-glance at Junko sternly, "If so, zip it!"

Junko's eyes widened in realization before shutting her lips.

"Mamiko, this doesn't have to continue," Mouri Ran's voice was unwavering. "Apologize, and this can end."

"Over my dead body-kyaaaah!" Her cries of pain and fear continued to fill the air, a heartbreaking chorus that echoed through the school.

"There is a saying among girls that a person's beauty is the most precious thing in the world. The longer you delay, the more scars you will receive from the colourful flock. And I know that you are prideful when it comes to your looks, Mamiko," Ranran calmly speaks with indifference, while Mamiko continues to screech, "Apologize to Mouri, and then all of this will go away. Otherwise, I can't promise you not giving you scars that are so permanent, that plastic surgery can never make it go away."

"You demon!"

"Oh? So you running towards me with a knife ain't demon-like behaviour, but me using the birds happens to be? I am a girl too, you know? And I do recall you attempting to aim the knife towards my face, so it only seems fair that I do the same to you, no?"

The children, unable to do anything but watch in stunned horror, could hardly believe what was unfolding before them.

Ranran's words were delivered with an eerie calmness, her gaze steady and unwavering. The device in her hand seemed to be the source of her control over the birds, and she wielded it with a calculated precision. The birds, spurred on by the signal from the device, continued their relentless assault. It was a surreal and horrifying spectacle, one that none of them would likely forget.

As Mamiko's struggles continued, her once-pristine appearance was marred by scratches and blood. It was a stark contrast to the girl who had once held a position of power and manipulation within the school.

"You will pay for this, Kudo Ranran! You and all of your little friends!" Mamiko spat out the words, her voice hoarse from her screams.

"No, you will the be one who has to pay for all of the things you did to us, since in the first place: we don't owe you a thing." Ranran's expression remained unmoved, her gaze fixed on Mamiko. She held her ground, the device in her hand a symbol of her control over the avian onslaught.

As the minutes stretched on, it became clear that Mamiko's resistance was waning. The pain and fear in her eyes were palpable, a stark contrast to the defiance she had shown earlier.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mamiko's voice cracked. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! Please make them stop!"

".....and?" Ranran prompted her to continue.

"And that I am an obsessive mentally ill girl who obsessed with Shinichi like a shameless girl with no morals," Mamiko's voice trembled as she continued, her words rushed and desperate. "So please, just make them stop!"

".....and?" Ranran insists she coughed up the rest.

"I am sorry for being a shameless b**ch to everyone in school."

"What does the word b**ch mean?" Other children who are witnessing all of this exchanged gazes among themselves, questioning the meaning before Takuma suggests, "Just Google it."

".......and?" Ranran demanded more.

"Jesus Christ! I apologized! Ain't it enough?"

"It doesn't tills I say so," Ranran coldly replied, "Continue the words I instructed you to say, otherwise, if even you end up in the hospital to treat those injuries, I won't hesitate to bring the birds over despite hospital bans on animals."

"You!"

"So say it!"

Mamiko's face turned ashen with terror as she was surrounded by the flapping wings and sharp beaks of the birds. Her screams pierced the air, echoing down the halls of Teitan Elementary.

Mamiko's face contorted with a mixture of pain, anger, and desperation. She understood the gravity of the situation, understood that her defiance had brought her to the brink. With trembling breaths, she forced out the words, each one a bitter pill to swallow.

"I'm sorry for being a bch," she repeated, her voice strained. "I'm sorry for being a bch."

Ranran's gaze remained unyielding, her cold stare fixed on Mamiko. She held the power to end this, to put an end to the avian onslaught that had brought Mamiko to her knees. But she would not do so until she heard the words she demanded.

Mamiko's voice grew hoarse as she repeated the apology, each word a painful admission of her wrongdoing. It was a humbling moment, a stark reminder of the consequences that awaited those who used their power to harm others.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ranran nodded. With a final press of the button on her device, she signalled the birds to retreat. They did so, their wings settling until they were still once more.

The sudden calm was a stark contrast to the chaos that had reigned moments before. Mamiko stood, her breaths ragged, her body trembling. She was a starkly different figure from the girl who had once held sway over the school.

Remaining impassive as she observed the chaos with a calculated detachment, Ranran looked down at the girl before her, "Once a vermin, always a vermin."

"How dare you!?" Mamiko's face contorted with a mixture of pain, anger, and desperation. "I am going to get my Okaasan to sue-"

"Our family?" Ranran mocked her words, before challenging her, "You can do so, but then...the moment the court learns about your mother's questionable career, adding all of the things you did are documented well, you and your brother end up getting taken away by child services would do us just fine. That way, we won't be seeing you anymore."

Mamiko's face twisted with rage, her eyes blazing with fury. She had been pushed to her limit, and the threat Ranran had just made seemed to be the final straw.

"You little brat! You think you can threaten me like this?" Mamiko's voice was shrill, her composure completely shattered. "You'll regret this, Kudo Ranran! You and Tantei Association shall one day be closed down with my own hands!"

As the other children watched in tense silence, it was clear that this confrontation had forever changed the dynamic at Teitan Elementary School. Mamiko, once the feared manipulator, had been brought to her knees by a force even she couldn't control.

Junko, Takuma, and Shinichi exchanged glances, a mixture of relief and satisfaction washing over them. They knew that this was a pivotal moment, a turning point in their battle against Mamiko's reign of terror.

"It's funny the way you threaten people is so pathetic, come on, Ran, let's go." With a final, withering look, Ranran turned and walked away with Ran, leaving the humiliated Mamiko behind.

As the kids murmured among themselves about what had transpired, "This is a showdown worth watching." Takuma crossed his arms in amusement, before shifting his gaze around to notice, "Huh....why Michio isn't with you, Junko?"

"Eh? Now that you mentioned it...." Junko's eyes scanned the surroundings, a furrow forming on her brows. "He must have vanished again to go to this secret place."

"A secret place?" Shinichi exchanged gazes with the other members before asking, "As in where?"

"No clue," Junko sighed with a slump, "Whenever I ask, he says it is a place where he has his lunch."

"Could be a new girlfriend he hasn't told us about," Takuma joked.

And this was enough for Junko to karate him with the leg, which he easily dodges.

.................................................................................

"Rising Sun Roasts" is a charming coffee stand nestled in the heart of Tokyo, Japan. Located along a bustling street, it exudes an inviting atmosphere that beckons both locals and tourists alike. The stand is known for its dedication to the art of coffee brewing, offering a curated selection of premium, single-origin beans sourced from across Japan and the world.

The stand is a cozy haven, with a minimalist design that incorporates elements of traditional Japanese aesthetics. Its baristas are well-trained in the delicate process of pour-over and siphon brewing, ensuring each cup is a work of art.

And it is probably for that reason, 10-year-old Majima Michio enjoyed coming here.

Here happens to be the only place where Michio felt a sense of tranquillity. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the gentle sounds of beans being ground and water being poured. The stand's warm wooden accents and soft lighting created a calming ambience that was a stark contrast to the bustling city streets outside.

Michio often found himself perched on one of the stools along the counter, watching with fascination as the baristas worked their magic. They moved with a grace that spoke of years of practice, their hands steady as they carefully prepared each cup. It was an art form in itself, one that Michio greatly admired.

As he sipped his carefully crafted cup of coffee, Michio would often take out his homework to finish it.

Michio's presence at "Rising Sun Roasts" had become a familiar sight to the baristas. They appreciated the young boy's quiet appreciation for the craft of coffee-making. He had a certain aura of calmness about him, a rare quality in a city that often moved at a frenetic pace.

The barista, a friendly young man smiled as he noticed his contented expression. "Doing your homework again, Michio?" he inquired.

He nodded, returning the smile. "I have to finish it before submitting it tomorrow."

The barista's smile widened. "Diligent as always, I see. Nowadays kids like you just simply wander around to play Arcade games and stuff."

Michio chuckled softly. "Well, I like coming here. It's peaceful, and the coffee helps me focus."

"That's great to hear," the barista said, pouring steaming water over a bed of coffee grounds with practised precision. "By the way, that girl I keep seeing you talk with around this time of the day, if she your girlfriend?"

Michio's cheeks tinged with a faint shade of pink at the question. He shook his head, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Oh no, she's just a friend."

"School friend?"

"Ah no, she and I studied under different schools."

"Ah, is that so?" The barista nodded, a knowing glint in his eye.

"It's true!" Michio insists bashfully.

The barista chuckled. "Alright, alright, no need to get defensive. Just making conversation."

Michio took another sip of his coffee, the warmth spreading through him. He glanced around the stand, noticing the quiet hum of conversations and the occasional rustle of a newspaper. It was a comforting backdrop to his studying. "But you two seem quite close, and she is quite into you from the looks of it." The barista admitted.

"Ah no, you got it wrong," Michio once more dismisses the barista as he laughs, "I am definitely not within her league of boys that she would date, that is for sure."

The barista raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Michio's response. "You seem quite sure about that."

"I mean..." Michio's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink before shaking his head at the barista, "I am too average for her, the boys she sees are way better than me in a lot of ways."

The barista listened to Michio's words with a thoughtful expression, then offered a kind smile. "You know, Michio, you shouldn't sell yourself short."

"Eh?"

"You have qualities that make you special, even if they might not be immediately obvious," the barista continued, his tone gentle. "One day when you meet that person who sees all of that, then it wouldn't matter."

Michio considered the barista's words, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

............................................

The first time Michio found out Adeline was a regular was that day.

Once more, in a desperate attempt to flee and hide from the clingy 10-year-old Junko, he ran and ran after school had ended, leading him in front of this coffee stand, "Rising Sun Roasts".

As he approached the stand, he was taken by the tranquil atmosphere that enveloped the space. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, and the soft chatter of patrons provided a comforting backdrop to the scene. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of the schoolyard he had just left behind.

Michio stepped up to the counter, glancing at the menu board. At the moment, he is the only customer around. The barista, noticing the young boy, gave him a warm smile. "Hello there! What can I get you today?"

Michio's eyes scanned the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. "A hot chocolate, please."

"Coming right up!" The barista got to work, expertly preparing the order. The sound of milk frothing and the clinking of cups filled the air, adding to the cosy ambience of the stand.

As Michio waited, he couldn't help but take in the details of the place. The warm wooden tones, the minimalist design, and the intricate equipment used by the barista all contributed to the sense of craftsmanship and care that went into every cup.

When the barista placed the steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of him, Michio's eyes lit up with delight. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome! Enjoy," the barista said with a smile.

Michio took a careful sip, relishing the rich, velvety taste of the hot chocolate. It warmed him from the inside out, providing a sense of comfort and calm. As he sat at the counter, engrossed in the warmth of his drink, he asked the barista, "This shop had just opened?"

The barista nodded, leaning on the counter with a friendly smile. "Yes, it's been open for a few months now. We're still relatively new, but we've been getting some regular customers who seem to enjoy the space."

Michio looked around, appreciating the serene atmosphere. "It's really nice here. Peaceful."

"We're glad you think so," the barista replied, before noticing Michio was sweating, "Have you been running a marathon?"

Michio, still catching his breath, nodded. "Something like that. Just trying to... get some distance."

The barista chuckled. "Well, you've found a good place to catch your breath. Take your time and enjoy your drink."

The little boy nodded in gratitude, taking another sip of his hot chocolate. As he sat there, he couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over him. It was as if the tranquillity of the coffee stand had the power to soothe his racing thoughts.

Ah right, I still have homework to complete.