Prolouge:
The room is loud.
Laughter. Music. The clink of glasses. A soft song playing somewhere I can't place.
I can barely hear any of it. My heart's pounding too loud. I'm standing at the altar, hands slightly shaking, suit too tight, and the air thick with something I can't name.
Nerves?
Fear?
Or maybe… a memory I haven't fully remembered yet.
My eyes lift.
And she walks in. Veil over her face. Dress flowing like it's made of silence.
The crowd shifts, but I only see her.
She moves slowly, deliberately. Like she's sure.
Like she's known all along that this moment was hers.
My chest tightens. Not from nerves.
From recognition.
From that quiet, familiar ache that's been following me for years.
It's her.
I don't say it out loud. I don't have to.
Because when she reaches me, she leans in close, close enough that no one else can hear,
And whispers,
"Your Such a Rascal."
I look into her eyes.
And in that instant,
I remember everything.
*
Chapter 1: The Unexpected Encounter
Monday morning.
The day every student dreads, no matter the year, the major, or the fake optimism.
And you best believe I'm no exception.
Waking up at 7 a.m. should be illegal. Like, universally banned. Especially when your body feels like it was hit by an isekai truck.
My alarm blared through the room, blasting the high school DxD second opening at full volume.
Which, yes, is totally out of line.
But weirdly effective.
Can't stay in a bad mood when your ears are being seduced by anime metal.
I lay there for the full song, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like a corpse with WIFI.
Then I finally rolled out of bed, dragging myself to the bathroom like a man about to face war.
I brushed my teeth while glaring into the mirror like it owed me money.
My hair was a mess, long, but not quite enough to look cool. More like I gave up halfway to having a style.
"Ugh. I'm a mess." I muttered, foaming at the mouth like a toothpaste zombie.
"I need a haircut. Or a personality."
After scarfing down some instant toast and nuked coffee, I stepped into the hallway. But I didn't head for class just yet.
First, I have to deal with her.
I turned to the door across from mine.
Took a breath.
And slammed my palm against it, like I was trying to press skip on a raid shadow legends ad on YouTube.
"YO, SAKI, TIME TO WAKE UP!"
There was a brief pause.
Then, through the door, in a voice dripping with sugary sarcasm and way too much energy for 7 a.m.
"I'm awake, Oni-chaaaan!!"
God, please help me.
That was Saki Kannazuki, the younger sister by one year of Souta Kannazuki. Aka my sister.
The cheerful, high-energy, anime-loving gremlin that somehow shared my DNA.
She was everything I wasn't: bubbly, social, confident, terminally online, and very, very into making my morning difficult.
She also used the High School DxD opening as her alarm, the third one. Because in her words, "It slaps harder."
Her room?
Not a room
A shrine more like.
A fully immersive, potentially cursed anime-convention shrine.
Posters, figures, body pillows, and manga stacked like bricks. It smelled like strawberry air freshener and emotional instability.
But I couldn't complain.
She was happy.
Weird. But happy.
And despite her teasing, her fake anime accents. And her tendency to greet delivery drivers with "Nyaa!" Or "Wakta Sensei." She always had my back.
Even if she'd never admit it without charging me for the emotional damage.
After Saki's dramatic "Onii-chaaaan~" echo faded back into the chaos of her anime-filled lair, I let out a breath, stepped into the front hallway, and grabbed the mailbox key off the hook.
Mail run. A daily ritual. Usually pointless.
Bills. Ads. Maybe a takeaway menu or a coupon for a dentist that doesn't exist.
But today?
Only one envelope.
One stupid, mocking envelope.
NOTICE: RENT DUE
"Shit…" I muttered.
The first of the month. Judgment Day.
My fingers tightened around the paper as if squeezing it would make the number on it go away.
You'd think by now I'd be used to this.
Our situation wasn't new; it's just… complicated.
Mom passed away the day my sister was born.
I was one. She was a newborn.
Grandparents took us in. Dad? Never showed. Didn't even call.
Rumor has it, he dipped the second he heard Mom was pregnant again.
Whatever. Screw him.
Our grandparents raised us right, even if they smothered us a bit.
But last year, Saki and I convinced them to let us move closer to campus.
New city. Shared apartment. Full independence.
Saki played the angel card; those big, watery eyes of hers should be illegal, and I promised to find a job and cover our rent if they helped out for the first few months.
That was two months ago.
Now?
I'm broke.
No job.
Bank accounts are on life support.
And rent is due today.
"I need to find something. Fast," I muttered, stuffing the letter into my hoodie pocket like it was radioactive.
Right on cue, I heard the soft click of her door opening behind me.
"Onii-chan, stressing out already? And you haven't even had your second coffee."
I turned, and there she was.
Saki.
Fully dressed in her crisp college uniform, hair tied back with a dark ribbon, lip gloss subtle but present, carrying herself like a perfect honor student.
Don't be fooled.
That girl?
She's 50% chaos, 50% anime quotes, and 100% manipulator when she wants something.
"You're unusually put together today," I said, eyeing her up and down.
"What's the occasion? Or did a hot senpai finally notice you?"
She rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Nope. But a girl can dream, right?" she grinned, then poked me in the chest. "You, on the other hand, look like someone who lost a fight with his pillow."
"That's because I did."
"Did you at least win?"
"Nope. Pillow's undefeated."
She laughed, a quick, melodic sound that didn't match the depressing envelope in my pocket.
"Anyway," she added, adjusting her bag strap, "you better get serious about that job hunt, Onii-chan. I'm not paying rent with anime merch."
"You sure? You could probably trade one of your body pillows for a security deposit."
"Touch them and die."
Classic Saki.
She spun on her heel and headed for the door. Before she stepped out, she gave me a lazy wave over her shoulder.
"You'll figure it out. You always do. Even if you look like hell doing it."
And just like that, she was gone.
"Yeah, sure, you might think that, but damn, it's hard to find a job," I muttered.
But no matter how long I sulked and cried to find a job, sitting in the apartment wasn't going to help.
I guess this is it. First day of college.
Kyoto University.
The place I never thought I'd end up.
Somehow, the universe decided to stop hating me for five minutes, and I slipped through the admissions crack.
I stepped off the train and started the walk to campus, headphones in, heart pounding.
As I got closer, students started spawning around me like some kind of slice-of-life MMO.
Groups of friends laughing. Couples holding hands. People with actual social energy.
And me?
Solo queue.
One of my personal goals for the semester was simple:
Make one friend.
Not five. Not a whole circle.
Just… one. Someone who might say "yo" when I walk past.
"How hard could that be?" I'd asked myself last night, staring at the ceiling like an idiot.
Turns out:
Very.
People everywhere.
Crowds at every gate.
Everyone knew where they were going.
Everyone belonged.
Meanwhile, I was just trying not to get crushed by a group of cosplay club girls wielding foam swords.
"I swear, Saki would thrive in this place," I muttered.
She would've already made twenty friends, joined six clubs, and found a way to get invited to someone's wedding.
Me?
I was just trying not to get in anyone's—
SLAM.
My foot slipped.
The world tilted.
My bag went flying.
And suddenly, I was on the ground.
More specifically: on someone.
"Oh shi—!"
I looked up.
Or… down?
I was face-first against something soft. Warm. And—
"Are you enjoying yourself?" a voice said flatly above me.
I froze.
Turned my head just enough to look up.
She was staring down at me. Sharp violet eyes. Cold. Flat. Judging me like I just committed a crime.
I scrambled off her like I'd stepped on a landmine.
"I-I'm so sorry! I slipped! I didn't see you and—my foot just—"
"Uh-huh," she said, brushing dust off her uniform, completely unfazed. "Next time, watch where you're walking. Or buy me dinner first."
Wait. What?
She walked past me without another word. Cool. Collected. The picture of icy indifference.
I sat there on the floor for a second, rethinking my entire existence.
"...Did I just get sexually harassed and roasted in the same breath?"
Someone in the distance clapped slowly. I don't even know if it was sarcastic.
I scratched the back of my head as she walked past me and disappeared into the school building.
Like I hadn't just plummeted face-first into her chest two minutes ago.
At least the rest of the trip to class went smoothly.
No more accidental collisions.
No more secondhand embarrassment.
No more woman-shaped airbags.
I wish I could say the nerves chilled out, but they only got worse the closer I got to the classroom.
Is my teacher going to be a psycho? Will I make any friends? Can I survive without failing out by November?
My brain wouldn't shut up.
I reached the door.
Sunlight hit me straight in the eyes like karma had a sense of humor.
I stepped inside, blinking past the glare, and looked around.
The classroom was packed.
Dozens of students, buzzing with first-day energy.
And at the very back?
Four girls.
No, four goddamn visual glitches in reality.
One Blonde with a small pin in her hair.
Another blonde that was just all natural.
A Redhead who looked exactly like Reis freaking Gremory.
A her, the black haired girl who was just as drop-dead gorgeous as the rest of them
While the rest of the room looked like it was rendered in default settings, these four were dialled up to max.
Flawless skin. Movie-scene hair. Legs crossed like models in a fashion ad.
They looked like they didn't belong in a school. Or a country. Or this dimension.
One of them, blonde, lace red top, already twirling her pen like a weapon, caught me staring and smirked.
I quickly looked away.
And that's when I saw her.
Middle seat. Black hair. Violet eyes.
Calm. Composed. Cold.
And terrifyingly beautiful.
Her uniform was perfect. Not a wrinkle, not a strand of hair out of place.
She sat with that too-clean posture, like someone born to judge people from across the room.
Then it hit me.
Oh no.
It was her.