The gates of Yamada High School stood ahead like some sacred portal, polished metal gleaming in the morning sun. A few students milled around, adjusting uniforms, waving to friends, clutching first-day timetables with varying degrees of panic. It was the sort of chaotic buzz only possible on the first day—half excitement, half dread, all underslept.
Ren Fujiwara, hands tucked confidently in his pockets, surveyed the scene like a lion sizing up a new savannah.
"This," he said, slowing his pace for dramatic effect, "is where history begins."
Akari didn't break stride. "You say that like it's not a public high school and you're not holding a bag with your name embroidered on it in cursive."
Ren glanced down at the monogram on his satchel. "It adds character."
"It adds unnecessary embroidery."
They reached the front courtyard, and Ren tilted his head slightly, letting the breeze catch his hair at just the right angle. He could already feel eyes beginning to land on him—some curious, some impressed, some indifferent but possibly convertible.
He nodded once to a cluster of girls chatting near the main bulletin board. One of them blinked, did a double take, and whispered something to her friend.
Akari caught it and rolled her eyes. "You've been here thirty seconds and already activated someone's internal monologue."
Ren turned to her, grin spreading. "It's a gift."
Akari sighed but said nothing. She was used to this—*Ren the phenomenon*. The way he carried himself like he'd been personally invited to grace the school halls. It would've been unbearable if he didn't occasionally do genuinely stupid things, like try to pull a door marked *push* for an awkward five seconds too long. Which he just did.
"Seriously?" she deadpanned.
"I was testing its resistance," he replied smoothly, slipping through like nothing happened.
The main hallway buzzed with activity. Students moved in hesitant clumps, consulting printed schedules and comparing homerooms. Ren checked his own with a flick of his phone.
"1-A," he announced.
"Same," Akari said, glancing at hers. "Huh. I guess the universe thought you needed a babysitter."
"I prefer 'co-star.'"
They walked toward their classroom, passing lockers and cork boards still pinned with crooked club posters. The hallway smelled faintly of floor wax, new books, and stress. A pair of teachers stood by the faculty office, one sipping coffee, the other holding a clipboard like it contained national secrets.
As they reached Room 1-A, the sound of chairs scraping and casual chatter poured into the hallway. Ren stepped in first—his entrance measured, chin lifted slightly, the light hitting his hair just so. He didn't say anything. He didn't *need* to. He simply walked to the middle row and sat down, one leg crossed over the other, calm as a cat in a sunbeam.
Akari followed, more interested in finding a window seat than making an impression. She dropped into the desk next to his and exhaled. The seat was warm from the sun. That was a win.
A few seconds later, a student leaned across the aisle toward Ren.
"Hey," he said. "You're new, right? What middle school were you from?"
Ren offered a smile that belonged on a poster for a skincare brand. "Asahi Prep. I'm Ren Fujiwara."
"Ah, makes sense," the guy said. "You've got that whole…top of the class, 'I know what I'm doing' vibe."
"Well, I do."
Akari snorted quietly and turned to the window before anyone saw her smile.
The student turned to her. "You too? New?"
"Not really," Akari said. "Just flew under the radar."
"Ah," he said. "You guys related or…?"
Before Akari could answer, Ren interjected. "She's my childhood friend."
He said it so easily, like it explained everything.
The guy nodded. "Lucky. It's nice to know someone on the first day."
Ren glanced at Akari. "She keeps me humble."
"I try," she muttered, pulling out a pen and spinning it between her fingers.
Their homeroom teacher entered shortly after—a woman in her early thirties with glasses, short hair, and the kind of walk that suggested she was already tired of everyone's nonsense despite it being the *first day*. She introduced herself as Ms. Hoshino, welcomed them, and began calling roll with machine-like precision.
Names ticked by. People murmured acknowledgments. A few heads popped up here and there, sneaking glances at Ren.
When his name was called, he gave a slight nod.
"Present," he said, voice perfectly modulated for classroom acoustics.
Akari mimicked his tone under her breath. "Present," she whispered, like a mocking echo.
He shot her a look. She raised an eyebrow. Truce.
As the teacher launched into a speech about conduct and expectations, Akari let her mind drift slightly, not completely, but enough to coast. Ren sat beside her, posture perfect, probably pretending to care deeply while silently wondering how long it would take for the entire class to love him.
He probably had internal statistics. Charts. A timeline.
She hated how well she could imagine that.
---
After homeroom ended, they were handed maps of the school and shuffled toward the gym for an opening ceremony. Ren walked beside her, arms loose at his sides, scanning every hallway like a monarch surveying his territory.
"You're calculating something in that brain of yours," Akari said.
"Just taking stock."
"Of?"
"Lighting angles. Vantage points. Hallway acoustics. If I'm going to win over the school, I need to know my terrain."
"Unbelievable."
"Impeccably believable."
They reached the gym and filed inside with the rest of their class. Chairs were lined up in rows, each marked with a homeroom label. Akari found their seats. Ren adjusted his collar. A few girls across the aisle whispered and peeked at him through their bangs.
He caught one of them looking and offered the slightest smile. She turned bright red and looked away like she'd seen the sun.
Akari leaned over and whispered, "If you start blowing kisses, I'm changing seats."
"I don't *blow* kisses," Ren whispered back. "I *radiate* charm."
"Radiate anything near me and I'll push you off your chair."
"Noted."
The principal began the opening address, droning on about responsibility and honor and making the most of their high school years. Akari listened with one ear. Ren's knee bounced slightly, like he had better things to be doing than sitting through speeches.
Which, to be fair, he probably believed.
After what felt like hours, the ceremony ended. They were dismissed in groups to return to their classrooms and meet their core subject teachers.
On their way out, Ren let out a small breath of relief. "Finally. I thought I was going to asphyxiate on vague inspirational quotes."
"You survived," Akari said. "Your ego's intact."
"It always is."
They walked back through the hallway, this time surrounded by louder voices, more confident steps, people already beginning to settle into cliques. Some students veered toward Ren, clearly curious. He greeted them with relaxed confidence but didn't linger.
He stayed beside Akari.
Which surprised her a little.
He could've floated off, basked in admiration, let himself be absorbed into some fast-forming circle. But he didn't.
Instead, he just bumped her shoulder lightly and said, "So, first impressions?"
She considered the school for a second. "Big. Noisy. Predictable."
"And me?"
"You're *you*. Predictably predictable."
He grinned. "Perfect."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched.
This was their rhythm. Him, the overconfident storm. Her, the steady line. And whether she liked it or not—and she *mostly* didn't—walking beside him made everything feel a little less chaotic.