Sora staggered through the halls of Sobu High School. Only five minutes remained before the final bell— the limit to avoid being reprimanded by the disciplinary committee and the P.E. teacher. For any second-year student, being late on the very first day of school was a recipe for trouble. For Sora, who was almost never late, this was an irritating exception.
All throughout his first year, he had built a solid reputation for punctuality, so much so that the members of the disciplinary committee had long since given up trying to catch him slipping. And precisely because of that, this mistake felt all the more glaring.
As soon as he reached the main courtyard, Sora headed straight to the notice board, where the class lists for the second years were posted. Sobu had the custom of reshuffling students every new school year, mixing the classes to "encourage socialization." For some, it was an opportunity to meet new people; for others, a pure ordeal.
Since it was nearly time for the first class, most students had already checked their assignments and gone off to their rooms. The area in front of the board was almost empty, allowing Sora to scan the papers without having to fight for space.
There were ten classes in the second year, from A to J. Class J, however, was special: reserved only for children of wealthy families or foreign transfer students, it was exempt from the yearly reshuffling. That left Sora with the chance of ending up in any of the other nine.
He ran his eyes down each list until he found what he was looking for: Class F.
"Class F, huh… Looks like I won't be in the same room as Nozaki and the others this year," Sora muttered under his breath, his tone a mixture of disappointment and resignation.
Even so, before he turned away, his eyes stopped on one particular name: Miura Yumiko. Sora's gaze lingered a few seconds longer than he cared to admit. With a faint sigh, he shook his head as if to drive off unnecessary thoughts, then walked toward his new classroom.
---
When he reached the door, he could already hear the chatter of his classmates inside. He hesitated for a moment but didn't have time to dwell on it.
"You really never change, Tachibana."
The firm, slightly irritated voice made him lift his eyes. Standing there in her white lab coat, long hair flowing loose, was Shizuka Hiratsuka. Her fists were clenched as she glared at him.
"You were waiting to walk in with me, weren't you? To avoid drawing attention for being late."
Sora shrugged indifferently. "The bell just rang. Technically, I'm not late."
Hiratsuka took a deep breath, restraining the urge to scold him more harshly. But it was the first day of school, and too many students were watching… not the best time to show impatience.
"Then, if you'll excuse me, sensei. I'll head to my seat." Sora spoke calmly as he walked forward, unhurried but steady.
There was only one empty desk, by the window. As he sat down, a friendly voice greeted him from beside it:
"Hey, Tachibana. Let's get along from here on, alright?"
It was a blond boy with gentle features and an easy smile: Hayato Hayama, the very picture of a popular student.
"Sure," Sora replied curtly, cold and disinterested.
Hayama, however, didn't seem bothered. He kept his smile and turned his attention to the front, waiting for class to begin.
Sora had known him since their first year. He'd never had any intention of getting close to him or his circle of friends. To Sora, Hayama was just another familiar face, someone to treat with the same indifference he gave to so many others.
Even so, as he settled into his seat, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of nostalgia. He remembered what it was like being with Nozaki— the eccentric classmate who, despite being a shoujo mangaka, understood so little about girls' hearts. Those days had been chaotic, but in their own way, simpler and more fun.
Sora let out a discreet sigh and relaxed into his chair. While Hiratsuka began her speech, his eyes wandered briefly toward a blonde girl across the room before he surrendered to boredom and rested his head on his folded arms.
The teacher's deadly glare didn't faze him. Among the staff, there was already an unspoken consensus: let Sora sleep if he wanted. He wasn't just any student—he was the school's athletic prodigy. The previous year, he had won the Kanto regional tennis tournament and even made the podium at the national championship. The principal treated him like a treasure, and everyone knew it.
Sobu, which had never boasted a particularly strong sports program, was placing all its bets on Sora's talent. The intensity of his training was known even to the teachers. Hiratsuka, despite her strict demeanor, had long given up on trying to rein him in.
"Tachibana! Don't forget to go to the auditorium after class!" she barked, almost growling. "Hayama, make sure he goes."
"Understood, sensei," Hayama replied casually.
Hiratsuka exhaled slowly and returned to her usual tone. "Before the opening ceremony, we need to elect a class representative. Any volunteers?"
Silence blanketed the room. Not a single hand went up. With no patience for the stalemate, Hiratsuka flipped through the attendance list and arbitrarily called a name.
A pale boy with glasses stood awkwardly, clearly startled. It wasn't the first time Hiratsuka had forced him into the role—she had done the same thing in their first year.
"Good. Then start the roll call. And no need to call Tachibana's name. I'm sure everyone here already knows him."
One by one, names were called, and voices answered.
"Hayama Hayato."
"Hikigaya Hachiman."
"Kawasaki Saki."
"Miura Yumiko."
Hiratsuka narrowed her eyes as she scanned the students' faces. Problems. Too many problems. That was the feeling gnawing at her gut.
She was almost certain the principal had done this on purpose—gathering in this room the most peculiar, rebellious, or troublesome students.
The road ahead looked long and full of obstacles. And deep down, Hiratsuka already knew: these kids were going to give her endless headaches.
Sometimes, Hiratsuka was far too perceptive for her own good.
---
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."