The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed with the same monotonous drone that had accompanied countless mission debriefs over Agent Kenji Takahashi's twenty-year career. At forty years old, he'd infiltrated drug cartels, corporate boardrooms, and underground fighting rings. He'd posed as everything from a salaryman to a street musician. But as he stared at the manila folder in front of him, he wondered if his boss had finally lost his mind.
"Let me get this straight," Kenji said, his weathered hands rubbing his temples. "You want me to infiltrate Sakura High School to investigate... what was it again?"
Director Yamamoto, a stern man in his sixties with the demeanor of someone who'd seen too many spy movies, adjusted his glasses. "Operation Teenage Dream. We have credible intelligence that the school is being used as a front for the International Pudding Cartel's newest scheme."
"The International Pudding Cartel." Kenji's voice was flat. "Sir, with all due respect, that sounds like something a five-year-old would make up."
"Don't underestimate them, Takahashi. They've already cornered the market in seventeen countries. Their plan to control the global dessert industry starts with indoctrinating high school students through weaponized custard."
Kenji stared at his superior, waiting for the punchline that never came. "Right. And I'm assuming I'll be going in as a substitute teacher or janitor?"
"Actually," Yamamoto slid another document across the table, "you'll be enrolling as a transfer student."
The room fell silent except for the persistent hum of the lights. Kenji picked up the document—a perfectly legitimate-looking student enrollment form with his photo attached. In the photo, he looked exactly like what he was: a middle-aged man with crow's feet, stubble, and the general expression of someone who'd rather be literally anywhere else.
"Sir," Kenji began carefully, "I'm forty years old. I have gray hair. I grunt when I stand up. I complain about 'kids these days' on a regular basis. No one is going to believe I'm seventeen."
"That's where you're wrong." Yamamoto smiled with the confidence of a man about to reveal his master plan. "Our psychological research indicates that high school students are so absorbed in their own social dynamics that they won't question the presence of an obvious adult. It's called the 'Suspension of Disbelief Phenomenon.'"
"That's not a real thing."
"It is now. We made it up last Tuesday."
Kenji dropped his head into his hands. "This is insane. This is completely, utterly insane."
"You'll be partnered with Agent Sato. She'll be going in as a new English teacher."
"How old is Agent Sato?"
"Twenty-one."
"So let me understand this correctly. The twenty-one-year-old gets to be the teacher, and the forty-year-old has to pretend to be a high school student."
"Exactly! You're getting it now."
Kenji looked up at his boss, searching for any sign that this was an elaborate prank. Finding none, he sighed deeply. "When do I start?"
"Monday. Here's your school uniform."