Tokyo's morning light sliced through the smog, glinting off school windows and the scuffed chrome of a vending machine by the gate. Elias White leaned against the wall, his six-foot-two frame towering over students in navy blazers. His white skin, paler than his Black father's rich tone but etched with his Japanese mother's sharp angles, caught the sun's glare. Women noticed him—older ones especially, their gazes heavy with a heat that made his cock twitch. He ignored the giggling first-years, eyes on the shop panel: 15 AP, five short of Focus Boost. His grades were a mess, and teachers like Mr. Sato had him pegged as a "gaijin" slacker—code for "lazy foreigner" in Sato's grade-obsessed world, not about his looks.
The courtyard thrummed: students swapping manga, a teacher barking at a kid for a crooked tie, the faint whiff of katsu curry from the cafeteria. Elias's phone buzzed—his mom, strict as Osaka steel, demanding proof he wasn't living on instant noodles. Math notes, relax, he typed, smirking. His parents, divorced and distant, wired money monthly, keeping his one-room apartment running since he was 15. He loved his dad's deep laugh, his mom's iron will, but their split left a scar. Osaka was far, their absence a quiet ache. He was fine alone. Had to be.
Math class was first, and Elias slouched in, his long legs jammed under the desk. Mr. Sato, glasses fogged with disdain, scrawled polynomials on the board. Ms. Emi Tanaka, the younger co-teacher, stood nearby, her fitted blouse and skirt hugging her curves. Early thirties, sharp-eyed, with a calm that made students sit up. Elias hadn't given her much thought until he'd cracked the system's trick: tapping notifications revealed who gave him AP. He needed 5 more points for Focus Boost, and he wasn't expecting her to deliver.
Sato droned on, and Elias's mind drifted, grades tanking as usual. Then Ms. Tanaka moved closer, leaning over to check his notebook. Her perfume—floral, sharp—hit him like a shot. Her hand grazed his shoulder, light but deliberate, her eyes locking on his with a subtle, electric heat. Not flirty, not overt—just enough to make his skin prickle, his dick stir under the desk. She lingered, her lips twitching like she saw something in him she hadn't before.
Chime.
[Affinity gain: +5 AP]
[Total AP: 20]
Elias froze, heart slamming. He tapped the notification, half-expecting a glitch. The panel flickered: Source: Emi Tanaka, 32, math teacher. His jaw dropped. Tanaka? The system was fucking with him. That touch, that look—it wasn't a come-on, but there was heat, buried under her teacherly calm. He glanced up; she was back at the front, adjusting her glasses, cool as ice. But the system didn't lie.
He pulled up the shop panel, the blue glow sharp against the classroom's hum.
[Boundless Intimacy – Shop]
[Focus Boost (20 AP): Temporarily increases mental clarity and memory retention for 12 hours.]
[Purchase? Y/N]
He jabbed Yes mentally. A buzz ripped through his skull, like a hit of something strong. The world snapped into focus—every chalk scratch, every uniform's crease. Elias straightened, his height making the desk look like a toy. He wasn't here for manga crushes or Sato's grudging nods. He needed grades and more AP—hot, fast, no bullshit.
Sato scrawled a quadratic, his voice dripping skepticism. "Anyone?" Elias's hand shot up, numbers clicking like a cracked code.
"White?" Sato barked, his "gaijin" sneer practically audible. "You're volunteering?"
"X equals four or negative one," Elias said, leaning back, arms crossed. His height made the chair creak.
The class lost it. "He's a fucking robot!" a guy shouted, yeeting his eraser like a shuriken. "Hack the mainframe!" a girl yelled, waving her textbook like a protest sign. Aiko Nakamura, the campus belle—flawless hair, flawless smile, pure shoujo fantasy—turned in her front-row seat. She'd never glanced at Elias when his tests bled red. Now her eyes locked on him, soft and intrigued, a hint of flirtation in her tilt. Her stare dripped with trope-y promise, all hopeful and manga-bright.
Sato grunted, "Correct," but his glare screamed fluke. Ms. Tanaka's lips twitched, her gaze flicking to Elias—brief, but with that same quiet heat. No chime, but he felt it, his body tightening. He scribbled notes, heart still racing from her AP.
Takumi, beside him, whispered, "You good? You look like Sato caught you jerking off under the desk."
"Fine," Elias muttered, smirking. Focus Boost was a cheat code—equations stuck, details popped, even Aiko's stare hit like a spotlight. Tanaka's AP, though? That was a wild card.
At lunch, Elias and Takumi sprawled on a bench by the gym, the concrete rough under their navy trousers. Takumi waved his chopsticks, ranting about a new fighting game. "You'd get wrecked—too busy dodging Sato's death stares." They'd been friends since Elias yanked Takumi from bullies as kids, back when Takumi's parents thought Elias was bad news. They warmed up when Takumi came home bruise-free, textbooks intact. The school cracked down once, but the bullies crept back after a month. Elias made sure they stayed gone.
"Sato's just pissed I'm not flunking," Elias said, biting a squashed onigiri. Aiko walked by with her friends, her laugh like a chime. She slowed, her eyes on Elias, bold now, a flirty edge in her smile. Her friends giggled, whispering rom-com nonsense.
"Dude," Takumi said, rice flying. "Aiko Nakamura's checking you out. The fucking queen. You hitting that?"
"Nah," Elias said, shrugging. Aiko was the trope—perfect, expecting love letters and starry confessions. He'd be her friend, maybe fuck her if it stayed quick and easy, but no way he was playing her baka hero. Older women, like Yumi at the shop, gave him what he needed: raw, hot, high AP, no drama. Aiko could keep her manga dreams.
After school, Elias ditched Takumi's arcade invite and hit the corner shop. The door squeaked its polite cough. Yumi Kato was behind the counter, her tight sweater hugging her curves, less polished than Aiko but radiating raw, fuck-me confidence. Late thirties, short hair tucked behind one ear, her smile a spark that hit him low. "Back for more… art, Elias White?"
He leaned on the counter, his height forcing a tilt. "Gotta stay cultured." His white skin caught the dim light, his father's deep tone in his voice softened by his mother's sharp cadence. It threw people off, and he loved it.
She slid a magazine over, her fingers brushing his—slow, deliberate, a pulse of heat. Her eyes held his, hungry, promising. His cock stirred, body tightening as he leaned closer.
Chime.
[Affinity gain: +10 AP]
[Total AP: 10]
Elias tapped the notification: Source: Yumi Kato, 38, shop clerk. No shock there. "You're gonna bankrupt me," she said, her voice husky, dripping sex. "Careful, tall guy."
"Trouble's my game," Elias shot back, grin sharp. Her laugh was low, real, and it hit him like a drug. Yumi wasn't Aiko's flawless beauty, but her raw edge was hotter, perfect for what he needed: AP and a quick fuck, not a three-year love saga.
Outside, the city thrummed: neon flickering, a bike's whine, rain-scented asphalt. The panel glowed: 10 AP. Older women hit harder—Yumi's +10, Tanaka's +5. Aiko gave nothing, but she was circling, hooked on his new smarts. He'd keep her at friend-level, maybe a fling if it stayed light. Serious? Fuck that. He wasn't here for manga romance. He had points to chase and a life to hack.
Back at his apartment, the lock stuck until he shouldered it open. The tiny space—futon, desk, kettle—felt sharper under Focus Boost's clarity. His mom's strict voice, his dad's warm chuckle, echoed, but Osaka was far, their divorce a wall. They'd left him at 15 with cash and a key, love wrapped in absence. He loved them back, but the ache was old. He was fine alone.
He pulled up the shop panel, eyeing Calm Presence (30 AP) and Keen Observation (40 AP). Focus Boost sharpened every creak, every streetlamp flicker. Tanaka's AP still rattled him—her gaze had heat, buried under teacherly calm. Yumi was easier, all in. Aiko? Noise. He wasn't her baka hero, waiting years for love. He had points to chase and a life to fuck his way through