[Soubu High School, Classroom 2-F — Mid-Morning]
The chalk dust hung in familiar drifts near the windows, mixing with the dry hum of the classroom heater and the faint sweetness of soone's strawberry milk from vending-machine break. Hozuki Nozomi had barely settled into his seat when Tobe Kakeru's chair scraped across the linoleum with an eager skreee, the gossipy boy leaning halfway across the aisle, eyes bright as a terrier who'd caught a scent.
"How was it, Nozomi-san? Did the ice-queen teacher scold you?" Tobe's voice pitched upward conspiratorially, one elbow planted on the edge of Nozomi's desk, fingers drumming against the fake wood grain. His uniform blazer sat wrinkled across his shoulders from where he'd clearly been craning toward the door, waiting for Nozomi's return.
Man, this guy looks way too composed. Did sothing actually happen? There's no way Kirisu-sensei let him off easy—she never does.
Hozuki Nozomi rolled his eyes with theatrical exasperation, leaning back so his shoulder blades t the rigid plastic of his chair.
"Tobe, why do you have such a misconception? I'm a good student. Kirisu-sensei praises all the ti—how could she possibly scold ?"
Tobe's face fell, the eager grin deflating into sothing closer to a sulky pout. He'd clearly been anticipating secondhand schadenfreude—the delicious thrill of watching the school's most annoyingly competent student get taken down a peg.
"How could that be? Everyone says Kirisu-sensei is cold and strict!" Tobe protested, scratching at his temple where his dyed-brown hair stuck up at an unfortunate angle. "It's said so students have been scolded to tears by her!"
Nozomi's expression remained placid, though a hint of sothing protective flickered behind his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest, fingers brushing the fabric of his blazer.
"I already said—I'm a good student. Why would I get scolded? On the contrary, I helped Kirisu-sensei last ti, so she specifically called for a private talk to thank ."
He paused, letting the statent land.
"Moreover, Kirisu-sensei may be a bit strict when guiding students academically. But that girl who supposedly 'cried'? She wasn't scolded at all. She cried because she was moved."
Tobe's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "Huh?"
"When she was in junior high, family issues made her self-deprecating. She stopped caring about her studies." Nozomi's voice dropped into sothing quieter, sincere. "But Kirisu-sensei invited her for a private talk, patiently enlightened her—even took personal ti to tutor her. That girl returned to class with red eyes because of gratitude. Sowhere along the line, soone twisted it into Kirisu-sensei 'scolding her to tears.'"
Tobe Kakeru's mouth hung slightly open, the gossip-hungry gleam in his eyes replaced by sothing closer to genuine surprise.
Holy crap. If that's true, then Kirisu-sensei is actually... really kind? Damn. I've been spreading the wrong thing this whole ti.
"Is that really how it was?" Tobe breathed. "Then Kirisu-sensei is incredibly gentle!"
"Otherwise?" Nozomi fixed him with a level stare, voice serious now. "Tobe. Now that you know the truth, if anyone keeps spreading this, I hope you'll correct them."
Tobe straightened imdiately, thumping a fist against his chest with renewed vigor. "No problem! Leave it to !"
Where else would you find such a responsible teacher? She doesn't deserve those stupid rumors!
With the rumor defused, Nozomi rose and crossed back toward his usual seat, the faint scent of sandalwood and clean cotton trailing him—his own, mixed with sothing softer that clung to his collar from earlier.
Eriri Spencer Sawamura sat with her arms crossed, twin-tails draped over her shoulders like blonde parentheses framing her suspicious expression. Beside her, Shiina Mahiru's violet eyes lifted from a textbook, warm and attentive.
He told them about the dinner invitation at Kirisu Mafuyu's apartnt that evening.
Mahiru nodded with easy understanding, no trace of jealousy darkening her serene features. Ogiwara Sayu, half-hidden behind her bangs, rely humd an acknowledgnt.
Eriri, however, leaned forward with a pout tugging at her glossed lips.
"Pervert. You're not trying to make a move on Kirisu-sensei, are you?"
He totally is. That stupid smirk—I know exactly what he's thinking. Ugh, why does he always—
Nozomi chuckled dryly, palms raised in mock surrender. "I didn't say that. But Kirisu-sensei insisted on thanking for last ti, and it wouldn't be good to refuse her."
"Hmph!" Eriri's cheeks flushed faintly pink. "Anyway—be careful! That's a teacher!"
Nozomi nodded, smile easy and unrepentant.
But inwardly?
Teacher, huh.
He thought about Mafuyu's slender waist beneath that prim cardigan. The way her skirt hugged the curve of her hips when she turned toward the whiteboard. Twenty-sothing years old. A woman in her absolute pri—soft in all the places that mattered, sharp where it counted.
Bold enough, and she'd be on maternity leave by year's end.
He wasn't going to let the lovely Kirisu Mafuyu end up with anyone else.
Otherwise, what was even the point of transmigrating?
The gymnasium slled of rubber mats, floor polish, and accumulated sweat—sharp and familiar, the particular musk of competition. Sneakers squeaked against hardwood as Class 2-F lined up along the painted track for the hundred-ter dash assessnt.
April sunlight poured through high windows, catching motes of dust and casting long rectangles of warmth across the indoor track. The PE teacher's whistle shrieked—PHWEEEET—and bodies launched forward.
Nozomi tried to hold back. He genuinely did.
But his legs carried him across the finish line first anyway, breath barely elevated, while the second-place finisher crossed two full seconds later.
That finisher was Shiina Mahiru.
Her violet hair clung to her temples in damp tendrils, chest rising and falling beneath her gym shirt, but her ti had improved—noticeably. Dramatically.
My power's finally taking effect, Nozomi realized, watching her stretch her calves with easy grace. Their physical qualities are strengthening. Eventually... their lifespans too.
He wouldn't beco like Frieren—closing off his heart because he feared loss.
He wanted to stay with Frieren and Fern for centuries. With Mahiru. With all of them.
Nearby, Hayama Hayato stared at the results board with sothing hollow behind his golden-boy smile. Third place. Behind Mahiru. Behind several girls, actually.
What the hell is happening to ? Hayama's jaw tightened, hands balling into fists at his sides. I used to dominate these. Now people are whispering—
So classmates exchanged glances. Soone muttered about whether Hayama had "gone soft" since getting a girlfriend.
Free activity period found Nozomi distributing tennis rackets near the storage shed, Mahiru efficiently checking inventory beside him. The air slled of sun-ward rubber and fresh-cut grass from the soccer field beyond.
Once Miura Yumiko and her group wandered off with their equipnt, Hayama Hayato approached.
He sighed.
His expression was complicated—resentnt and reluctant curiosity tangled together beneath that practiced pleasant facade.
Nozomi glanced at him, utterly unbothered.
"Hayama. I'm not into guys."
Hayama's face darkened instantly. "Thanks. Neither am I."
"Haha, just kidding." Nozomi grinned, lazy and insufferable. "So—what do you want?"
Hayama took a steadying breath before speaking.
"Have you heard? The nation's heart is coming to Soubu High School."
"The nation's heart? What's that?"
Nozomi's confusion was genuine.
Hayama rolled his eyes, exasperation bleeding through. "You're Haruno-nee's fiancé, at least. Can't you bother learning inter-zaibatsu knowledge? I really don't know what Mrs. Yukinoshita was thinking, promising both Yukino and Haruno-nee to a good-for-nothing like you!"
This bastard. Showing off constantly. Having everything handed to him—
Nozomi shrugged, unbothered, a hint of smugness curling his lips. "My excellence isn't sothing you can learn, Hayama. If the madam insists on , what can I do? Anyway—I couldn't bear to refuse beauties like Yukino and Haruno."
Hayama's teeth clenched. This guy was openly gloating. And there was nothing he could do except swallow the dog food.
He exhaled slowly, forcing patience.
"The Shinomiya Family is a massive zaibatsu—connections in both legitimate business and the underworld. Their only heir is a young lady nad Kaguya Shinomiya. When I say the nation's heart is coming, I an she's transferring here."
"To Soubu?" Nozomi's interest sharpened. "Heirs like that usually attend Shuchiin Academy—the aristocratic school."
"Exactly." Hayama nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's the first choice for noble children. Because of Kaguya Shinomiya's presence there, other families send their kids just hoping to befriend her. But now..."
He trailed off, gaze drifting toward the gymnasium doors as a group of first-years jogged past, their laughter echoing faintly across the spring air.
Nozomi pocketed his hands, already thinking three moves ahead.
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