The car rolled to a gentle stop in front of Sobu High School.
"The Young Master, Miss Second— we've arrived," the chauffeur said politely from the driver's seat.
Inside the vehicle, the air felt stiff—cold, silent, and strangely heavy.
"Yes," Yukinoshita Yukino replied flatly.
"Understood," Akira answered.
With only a brief glance exchanged, both of them stepped out from their respective doors.
The morning at Sobu High was the sa as always—students chatting, laughing, and walking in small groups through the school gates.
"Good morning, Akira‑kun~!"
A soft, elegant voice called out.
Akira turned and smiled. "Good morning, Saeko."
It was Busujima Saeko.
However, Yukino's brows knitted the mont she saw her.
She did not have a favorable impression of Saeko.
In her mind, Yukinoshita Akira was her sister's fiancé.
Even though Yukino herself didn't exactly like her "future brother‑in‑law," watching him act so closely with another woman still felt distasteful—almost like it was tarnishing the family's dignity.
"Good morning, Yukinoshita‑san," Saeko greeted politely.
"Good morning, Busujima‑san," Yukino replied, expressionless.
Just a simple exchange of greetings—yet Saeko could feel a thin layer of frost behind every word.
Still, she wasn't surprised. For soone like Yukino, born into a strict and proud household, Akira being this close to another woman would naturally be seen as improper.
But Saeko did not care.
Her mind was already made up. She had decided that she would beco Akira's partner—no matter what.
"Oh, Akira‑kun, I made lunch for you today."
"…Hm? You made it yourself, Saeko?"
"That's right," she answered with a soft nod.
"Then I'll enjoy it properly."
"If you're happy, then I'm happy."
Yukino's eyes widened.
Calling him by na alone was already suspicious… but now she was making him a lunch box?
In Japanese culture, only a wife makes lunch for her husband.
So what exactly was she implying?
With many students around, Yukino couldn't say anything. She could only swallow her irritation and keep walking forward, face expressionless—yet the air around her clearly colder than before.
She would not only report this to her mother… but especially to her sister.
Akira might have thought he was being subtle.
But in Yukino's eyes, this was completely outrageous.
A man engaged to the eldest daughter of the Yukinoshita family, smiling and taking homade lunches from another girl?
Unacceptable.
With brisk, quiet steps, she walked away toward the school building—without a single word to either of them.
"Well, Akira‑kun truly is impressive," Saeko said with a tiny laugh. "Already the fiancé of the Yukinoshita family's eldest daughter… and now even her younger sister is starting to care as well. It seems I'll have a lot of 'sisters' in the future."
"Don't jump to conclusions, Saeko," Akira replied casually. "Neither Yukinoshita Haruno nor Yukinoshita Yukino has any romantic involvent with ."
"Is that so…? Then that ans I'm your first girlfriend?"
"…You could say that. In this world, you are my first girlfriend."
(In this world. Other worlds not included.)
Of course, Saeko knew nothing about parallel worlds, system inheritance, or other dinsions. She only saw his gentle smile—and that was more than enough to warm her heart.
The two of them walked together toward the school building.
— — —
Once he arrived in class, Akira quietly sat in his seat and drifted into deep thought.
During morning practice, he had sensed sothing faint—almost like the beginning of a Breathing Technique.
It wasn't clear yet, and it didn't have a form. But the intuition was unmistakable.
This was the starting point of a real Breathing Style.
In Demon Slayer's world, those techniques were created by Yoriichi Tsugikuni, passed down generation after generation.
Since Akira inherited Yoriichi's template through the system, it was only natural if his breathing began to take shape as well.
But while Akira was thinking, he completely failed to notice one thing:
The classroom's atmosphere had shifted.
Little by little… everyone lowered their voices.
Students still chatted, laughed, whispered—but now with an unusual caution. Their eyes kept drifting toward him.
Their reason was simple:
Just sitting there, Yukinoshita Akira emitted a heavy, overwhelming pressure—like a swordsman who could cut soone down at any mont.
And everyone in Sobu High knew:
He defeated Busujima Saeko, the ace of the Kendo Club.
Which ant he might be stronger than the national champion.
A monster of that level?
No ordinary high school student wanted to provoke him.
"Unbelievable… this guy called Yukinoshita Akira."
In the back corner of Class 2‑F, a boy with ssy black hair and lifeless eyes stared blankly at his desk.
Hikigaya Hachiman.
In every class, there were social hierarchies.
Here, the top belonged to Hayama Hayato—the friendly prince-type honor student—and Miura Yumiko—the fiery queen opposite to Yukinoshita Yukino's icy royalty.
Yuigahama Yui, Ebina Hina, Tobe, and the others ford their orbit around that social sun.
But today… everything had slightly shifted.
The true apex of the classroom wasn't Hayama anymore.
It was Yukinoshita Akira.
A boy whose presence alone changed the entire atmosphere.
Hachiman noticed sothing others failed to see:
Hayama Hayato looked uncomfortable.
Every ti Hayama's gaze drifted toward Akira, there was bitterness in it. Pressure. Even fear.
Maybe the difference between the two wasn't just strength—but status.
Even without knowing details, Hachiman understood the Yukinoshita surna carried weight. In Chiba's elite society, that na alone was sothing only the powerful dared to speak casually.
'Tch… why am I thinking about this? None of this is my problem.'
Hachiman grumbled in his mind, irritated that he was overanalyzing things again.
'Who am I? Just a lone loser. It doesn't matter.'
He put on his earphones, pretending to drown in music.
But his thoughts wouldn't shut up.
Because the truth was ugly:
They were both loners.
Yet while he was the "creepy, unwanted outcast,"
Akira was the "cool, respected, feared" lone wolf.
Both walked alone—but one was admired, and the other was ignored.
Even at sixteen, even soone like Hachiman couldn't completely avoid jealousy or frustration.
A heavy, bitter feeling pressed on his chest.
Still, he was rational enough to understand sothing:
It didn't change anything.
He had no right to complain.
So he tried his best not to care.
…But life didn't always care what you wanted.
No matter how hard you tried to ignore sothing,
no matter how much you told yourself it didn't matter…
Sotis, those feelings stayed— quietly growing in the dark.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
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