The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a pebble tossed into a still lake, instantly breaking the classroom's tranquility.
It came as suddenly as a clap of thunder.
Almost at the same moment, every student's gaze whipped toward him. Several girls sitting in the front row even covered their mouths. Kobayashi, sitting beside Kyosuke, gaped in an exaggerated fashion, his eyes wide as saucers. His expression said, "You're dead."
Of course, Ms. Kinoshita had also turned around, ready to continue the lesson.
The hand holding her chalk paused in midair. Her expression barely changed, but her eyes—which usually held a smile—now gazed over calmly, fixing on the source of the sound like a searchlight: Kyosuke.
Kyosuke's face went scarlet in an instant, redder even than the electric pouches on Pikachu's cheeks. He felt all the blood rush to his head. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and his ears rang so loudly that he could barely hear anything around him.
In a panic, he tried to press the power button and hide the little traitor that had betrayed him at the worst possible moment. But the more flustered he became, the less his fingers would cooperate. Several times, he pressed the smooth shell of the Poké Ball instead.
But it was already too late.
Ms. Kinoshita stopped teaching, and the classroom fell silent enough to hear a pin drop. Even the cicadas occasionally chirping outside seemed to have been frightened into silence by the frozen atmosphere.
Her face showed no obvious emotion. It was impossible to tell whether she was angry or not.
She simply gazed at Kyosuke in silence, then started walking. Her high heels struck the wooden floor with a series of click, click, click sounds.
To Kyosuke, each sound was terrifyingly clear. Every step landed