Kaein's POV
I didn't plan to end up pretending to be a high schooler. Especially not after years of killing things that were sky and evil making me more used to demons than humans. But I didn't have much of a choice and the corpse didn't care much for irony, so here I was, sitting in front of a pile of ugly school uniforms like my life depended on choosing between two shades of navy.
Shion held one up to her chest. "You think this fits me?"
"It fits you like bad karma," I said.
She squinted at me. "You just hate that I'll look better in it than you."
"Impossible," I said. "This thing could make a god look like a janitor."
The uniforms were standard Seiran High issue: cheap polyester, buttons already loose, and a faint smell of disinfectant that somehow managed to insult my entire bloodline. Shion buttoned hers up halfway and checked herself in the mirror, flexing like she was in some teenage sports movie.
"Wow," she said. "I feel my IQ dropping."
I snorted. "Give it a minute. It'll hit the floor soon."
She grinned at me through the mirror. "You're just mad because the tie makes your neck look long."
"Keep talking," I said, "and I'll strangle you with it."
It was stupid, but for a few minutes, it actually felt normal. Two idiots trying on school clothes, not demon hunters about to infiltrate a feeding ground. Well, sarcastically.
Then Daichi walked in, holding a tablet. "Alright, children," he said. "You ready for your fake academic lives?"
Shion saluted. "Yes, dad." and I laughed cuz he was actually talking like some dad.
Daichi ignored her and sat down. "So, tiny problem. You two weren't exactly registered in time or maybe at all."
I frowned. "Meaning?"
"Meaning the school database is locked. Admission lists were finalized last week."
"Great," I said. "Guess we can go home."
Shion stretched her arms, and Takeshi rolled his eyes. "Well, mission failed. I'll miss the smell of cafeteria mystery meat."
Daichi gave us both a flat look. "I didn't say it was impossible. I said it was locked. And I like unlocking things."
Shion clapped her hands. "Our very own criminal."
"I prefer 'digital artist,'" Daichi said, typing something fast. "Now shut up while I commit several felonies for the sake of your undercover cosplay."
I leaned against the table, watching him type. Lines of code flashed across the screen, half of which looked like he was summoning demons instead of tracking them.
"Are you sure this is legal?" I asked.
He didn't even look up. "Define legal."
"That's what I thought."
The sound of his keyboard filled the room, broken only by the occasional curse when something didn't go through.
"Denied again," he muttered. "God, who runs this school's firewall, the military?"
"Maybe the demons," Shion said.
Takeshi groaned. "Ha. Hilarious."
Five minutes later, another string of curses. "Okay, second attempt failed. System flagged me."
I smirked. "Guess you're losing your touch."
He shot me a look. "Say that again when your entire existence depends on whether I can get you enrolled in fake algebra."
Shion leaned over him. "You need me to distract you with moral support?"
"No," Daichi said. "I need you to breathe somewhere else."
The tension built for a while Daichi muttering, Shion pacing, me trying not to think about how much I didn't want to go. Then Daichi suddenly stopped typing. The screen blinked green.
He leaned back and grinned. "Boom. You're officially transfer students from Ishida Academy. New records, student IDs, transcripts. Even added some fake disciplinary notes to make it believable."
Shion blinked. "You made us look like troublemakers?"
"Of course," Daichi said. "You two look too well-behaved otherwise."
I laughed. "Yeah, real angel energy here."
Daichi handed us each a small envelope. "IDs, schedules, and some forged recommendation letters from a headmaster that doesn't exist. Try not to get expelled too fast."
"Appreciate the confidence," I said.
He stood, stretching his arms. "You're leaving in two hours. Bus station east side. And try not to look like you just crawled out of a war zone. Blend in."
"Blend in," Shion repeated. "Right. Because nothing screams 'normal' like two new students who can kill demons with their bare hands."
Daichi smirked. "Wear a cap. Maybe glasses. Nobody questions nerds."
We looked at each other. Then at the mirror.
Shion put on a baseball cap backwards. "How do I look?"
"Like a failed rapper," I said.
She pointed at my glasses. "And you look like a depressed librarian."
"Perfect," Daichi said. "Exactly the vibe. You'll fit right in."
By the time we got back to the briefing room, my parents had already left for another mission. That suited me fine. My father's lectures on "composure and protocol" could last hours, and my mother's version of encouragement usually involved thinly veiled threats.
Shion dropped into a chair. "So this is really happening."
"Looks like it," I said.
"You think we'll find one of those demons there?"
I hesitated. "Probably."
She studied me for a second. "You've been weird since the meeting."
"I'm always weird," I said.
"Yeah, but this is different. Like you're thinking too much."
I didn't answer. I couldn't tell her even though I knew she suspected it was about him. The way Renjiro's face had burned itself into my thoughts since that night. The heat of his hand on mine, the quiet tone he used when he said my name.
Instead I said, "I just hate pretending."
"Good thing you're bad at it," Shion said, smiling a little.
I threw a paper ball at him. She dodged easily.
"Anyway," she said, standing. "Let's go blend in with the youth."
***
We arrived at Seiran High early the next morning. The sun was barely out, but the courtyard was already filling up with students. Backpacks, loud voices, that weird mix of of different scents.
I adjusted my cap and tried not to look like I wanted to set the place on fire.
Shion nudged me. "Relax. You look like you're about to mug someone."
"Thanks for the pep talk."
We walked through the gates together, handing our fake documents to the gate guard. He didn't even look at them closely. Typical. Humans never looked when it mattered.
Inside, the corridors were full of lockers, posters for clubs, and that endless hum of chatter.
A woman who looked like the homeroom teacher met us at the entrance to Class 3-B. She was tall, with her hair tied back so tight it looked painful.
"Ah, the new transfer students," she said. "Come in."
Her tone was polite enough, but her eyes scanned us like she was taking inventory. I wondered if she'd notice the faint scar on my wrist or the way Shion's reflexes were a little too sharp.
We followed her inside. The moment we stepped in, the room went quiet. Every head turned. You'd think we were celebrities, not random transfers.
The teacher smiled wide. "Class, these are your new classmates. They've transferred here due to relocation."
I bowed slightly, just like we practiced. "Nice to meet you."
Shion added, "Please take care of us."
A few students murmured greetings. Someone in the back whispered something that made the front row giggle. Great start.
The teacher pointed. "You two can sit near the back. There's an empty desk right there ." she said pointing
My eyes followed the direction of her hand and then I saw him.
He was sitting near the window, hair slightly longer than before, wearing the same uniform as everyone else but somehow making it look wrong on purpose. His hand rested on the desk, fingers tapping lightly, like he was lost in his own rhythm. The morning light caught the edge of his jaw, and my stomach twisted.
I stopped walking.
He hadn't looked up yet. He was staring out the window, calm.
Shion glanced back at me giving me the what-the-
actual-fuck-stare, bitch hated him so much and I could tell from when we first rescued him, and we both froze.
Renjiro was here.
At this school.
In this class.