The morning was cold—first day of college cold.
Sanji dragged himself down the stairs toward the kitchen, eyes half-open, looking exactly like someone who spent the whole night awake. His dad was already cooking breakfast, the smell filling the room.
"Morning," Sanji muttered as he dropped into a chair at the dining table.
His dad took one look at Sanji's face and sighed.
"You know, you're destroying your system staying up like that."
Sanji glared at him with his zombified expression.
"Old man, I told you I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"I'm not worried about you," his dad said, flipping an egg. "It'd be stupid to worry about someone who can take care of himself. I just don't want a corpse lying in my kitchen."
Sanji groaned, grabbed the cup of coffee on the table, and took a long sip.
He snatched a piece of toast and headed back upstairs to get ready for school.
Sanji closed his bedroom door behind him and tossed the toast onto his desk. His room was a mess—open notebooks scattered everywhere, half-finished assignments, and a pile of clothes he promised himself he would fold "tomorrow"… four days ago.
He grabbed his uniform shirt from the back of his chair and tried to smooth out the wrinkles with his hands.
"Great," he muttered. "First day of college and I already look like I fought a washing machine."
He stopped in front of the mirror. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair sticking up in random directions. He sighed and ran his fingers through it until it looked slightly less chaotic.
While he buttoned his shirt, his mind drifted—not to his classes, not to the schedule he barely reviewed, but to the one rumor he'd heard about his department:
A new transfer student from another city. A girl everyone kept talking about.
He shook his head.
"Focus, Sanji. You're not here for drama. You're here to survive."
He tossed his bag over his shoulder, grabbed the last bite of toast, and headed out of his room. As he walked downstairs, his dad called from the kitchen:
"Don't fall asleep in class!"
"No promises!" Sanji yelled back.
He stepped outside, locking the door behind him. The morning air was cold but refreshing, waking him up more than the coffee did. Students were already walking down the street in groups, chatting and laughing.
Sanji put his hands in his pockets and started walking toward the college gates.
Sanji walked through the college gates, still half-asleep, still regretting the all-nighter. Students rushed past him, but he only noticed one thing:
A girl standing near the notice board, adjusting her hair as the wind blew it across her face.
Sanji froze mid-step.
His brain: Wake up, idiot. Wake up. WAKE UP.
He straightened his shirt, fixed his hair with the speed of someone suddenly resurrected, and—despite being sleep-deprived two minutes ago—walked toward her like he'd had eight hours of sleep and a confidence upgrade.
He cleared his throat softly.
"Um… excuse me, miss…" His voice suddenly became smooth, almost too smooth.
The girl looked up, surprised.
Sanji instantly felt his heart launch out of his chest.
Beautiful.
No—gorgeous. Stunning. Mirac—
"Are you okay?" she asked, noticing the way he froze again.
Sanji snapped out of it.
"A-Ah, yes! Absolutely! I am—perfectly fine!"
He bowed slightly, hand on his chest.
"My name is Sanji. First year. And possibly, your humble servant."
Her eyebrow went up. "Your what?"
He blinked. "Uh—I mean—helper! Sorry. Long night."
She laughed a little, and Sanji looked like he'd just been blessed by the heavens.
She pointed at the board. "Do you know where Lecture Hall B3 is?"
Sanji's eyes sparkled.
"Yes! Of course! Allow me to escort you, my lady."
She squinted. "Do you even know where it is?"
"…No," he admitted immediately.
She burst into laughter again, and Sanji stood there helplessly… but smiling like an idiot.
Classic him.