The cherry blossoms lining the path to Kosei Academy were in full bloom, painting the asphalt in soft shades of pale pink that fluttered lazily in the spring breeze. Petals drifted down like delicate confetti, catching in hair and on shoulders as students made their way toward the gates.
The wide path leading to the main building was packed with students, a lively sea of navy blazers, crisp white shirts, and excited morning chatter. But the moment Renji stepped into view, that sea parted like water before a king.
"It's Kamishiro-sama!"
"He's back! I heard he shot a campaign in Paris over the break."
"Look at him. He walks like he's on a runway even in his uniform."
"Did he get taller again? How is that even fair?"
Whispers trailed behind him like a shimmering wake. Renji kept his gaze straight ahead, offering only polite, minimal nods to the crowd, his expression calm and composed. Inside, however, he was drinking it all in with quiet satisfaction.
'Being the untouchable Prince of the school definitely has its perks,' he thought, the massive ego boost settling warmly in his chest. 'I will never get tired of this.'
In this school, he wasn't just another student. He was a literal celebrity. His professional modelling career, the immense wealth of the Kamishiro family, and his flawless grades made him an almost legendary figure to everyone around him. He was the undisputed 'Prince of Kosei Academy'.
Takumi, walking right beside him, remained completely immune to the gravitational pull of Renji's presence, something that happened every single time they walked onto campus together. "Man, everyone's even more excited today! It must be the spring air!"
"I'm sure that's exactly what it is," Renji replied dryly, highly amused by his friend's terminal density.
They soon reached the main hall, where the bulletin boards displaying the new class assignments were posted. A massive swarm of students pushed and shoved, trying to catch a glimpse of the lists taped across the corkboard.
"Ugh, I can't see a thing!" Takumi complained, jumping up and down uselessly on his tiptoes. "Renji, use your height! What class are we in?"
Renji didn't need to jump or push through anyone. He simply stood near the back of the crowd, his commanding 186-centimeter frame naturally drawing attention. A group of second-year girls noticed him immediately, their cheeks flushing as they quickly stepped aside to create a clear path.
"Please, go ahead, Kamishiro-senpai!" one of them squeaked, her voice high with excitement.
"Ah… Thank you," Renji said with a polite nod and stepped forward.
~~~~~
Class 3-A - Homeroom Teacher: Sado-sensei
Aihara Hina
...
Kamishiro Renji
…
Nishimura Mika
...
Hoshino Takumi
~~~~~
A small smile touched Renji's lips.
'It isn't luck,' Renji thought. 'The developers made sure to write us into the exact same room.'
He had merely verified the game's initial conditions. Most heroines had been locked into Class 3-A for plot convenience.
"We're in Class 3-A," Renji announced, turning back to Takumi and Hina, who had finally caught up through the crowd. "Together."
"Yes!" Takumi cheered, pumping his fist in the air. "The dream team lives on! And look, Hina is with us too! We can copy your notes all year!"
Hina stood a little behind them. She glanced toward the board, then smiled softly at Takumi's excited energy. When her eyes shifted to Renji and their gazes met, her cheeks turned a delicate pink. She quickly looked down, but a small, shy smile lingered on her glossy lips.
'Well… That's a good sign,' Renji thought. 'She's not used to getting compliments from boys, especially with how Takumi treats her normally… and how I originally used to treat her.'
"Let's go," Renji said, leading the way down the familiar corridor. "We don't want to keep our new classmates waiting."
Class 3-A was a bright, airy room with large windows overlooking the manicured courtyard. Kosei Academy was an elite school reserved only for students with top grades or special recommendations.
The question of how Takumi had survived in such a school, given that he usually needed Renji's constant tutoring just to finish basic assignments, had a simple answer in the original story: pure plot armor. Every single year, without fail, Takumi scored exactly the minimum required to not fail.
Renji walked straight to the back of the room and claimed the desk next to the window, the traditional seat of power for any protagonist. He set his leather bag down with a soft thud and leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs casually as he surveyed the room like it already belonged to him.
Takumi burst in a moment later, tossing his bag onto the desk directly in front of Renji. "Renji! You saved me a spot! You know me too well!"
"Well, someone has to keep you from snoring during history class," Renji quipped, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
The classroom buzzed with the nervous, electric energy of the first day. Students introduced themselves, formed little cliques, and sized one another up.
Then the door slid open with a loud bang.
The chatter died instantly.
A girl walked in. Or rather, she strutted in.
She was Nishimura Mika, another heroine of the game.
If Hina was the comforting girl-next-door type, Mika was a neon sign blazing in the middle of a quiet library. She was the school's resident gyaru and self-proclaimed social idol, a splash of chaotic, vibrant colour against the sea of drab navy uniforms.
Her hair was a shocking, bleached platinum blonde, curled into perfect gravity-defying ringlets that bounced with every confident step. Her face was a work of art: heavily but expertly made up, with long false lashes and bright purple contact lenses that gave her an exotic, almost feline gaze.
Her uniform was a masterclass in deliberate rule-breaking. The pleated skirt had been hiked up dangerously high, revealing long, tanned, beautifully toned thighs that naturally drew every eye in the room. Her white dress shirt was unbuttoned low enough to clearly hint at the deep, inviting cleavage created by a push-up bra, turning her D-cup chest into something explosive and undeniably eye-catching.
She radiated a devil aura that made the boys stare openly and the girls whisper behind their hands. But Renji watched her with the sharp eye of a true connoisseur.
'10/10 character design,' he thought approvingly. 'I mentally applaud her utter disregard for the dress code.'
She scanned the room, her purple eyes quickly landing on Takumi. A mischievous, predatory grin spread across her glossy lips. In the original game, this was her classic dynamic: she teased Takumi relentlessly because his innocent, flustered panic was the only genuine reaction she could pull from the male population. For everyone else, reactions ranged from ignoring her entirely to lustful stares, fearful glances, or open disgust, as if they had already decided she was some kind of vile, cheap girl purely from the way she dressed.
"Well, well," she drawled, her voice a practiced mix of husky and sweet as she sauntered over to Takumi's desk. "If it isn't Taku-chi. Looks like I'm stuck with the virgin-kun again this year."
Takumi froze, his spine going rigid. His face turned the colour of a ripe tomato. "M-Mika-san! Don't call me that! And I'm not… I mean… I am but…"
"Aw, you're stuttering already?" Mika laughed, leaning over his desk. The movement was deliberate, giving him a direct, tantalizing view down the open front of her shirt. "You're so easy, Taku-chi. It's really a cute reaction."
Takumi shrieked and covered his eyes with both hands. "Too close! Too close! Personal space, Mika-san!"
The class erupted into quiet giggles. Mika beamed, clearly feeding off the attention. She dropped into the empty desk to Takumi's left and kicked her feet up onto the metal bar of his chair, asserting a playful, physical dominance over his space.
"Relax," she teased, poking his cheek with a long, manicured nail. "I won't bite. Unless you want me to?"
Takumi looked like he wanted to melt straight into the floorboards. He twisted around in his seat, shooting Renji a desperate, pleading look. 'Renji! Help me! She's attacking me!'
Mika caught the glance and shifted her purple gaze to Renji, her expression turning challenging. "Oh? And here's the prince. Are you going to defend your boyfriend, Kamishiro-kun?"
"Good morning, Nishimura-san," Renji said without taking the bait, his voice polite yet carrying a smooth, effortless confidence. "I think Takumi is just overwhelmed by your… energy this early in the morning."
Mika blinked. Renji hadn't scolded her like she expected. He hadn't sighed and told her to act proper, the way he always had whenever she teased Takumi in the past.
"How boring," she muttered, her playful grin faltering as she turned away and pulled out her phone.
Renji watched her carefully and noticed the way she instantly closed herself off the moment she didn't get the reaction she wanted.
'She puts on this entire act just because she wants real interactions,' Renji shook his head internally. 'She wants people to see past the flashy outer appearance and actually try to talk with her. She wants a partner, not an audience.'
Soon, the homeroom teacher finally arrived, a tired-looking man who clearly didn't have the energy to deal with Mika's skirt length on the first day, and thus, the morning officially began.
Throughout the morning lessons, Takumi suffered. Mika poked him relentlessly with her mechanical pencil, leaned dangerously close into his space, and whispered scandalous rumours into his ear just to watch his face turn red. She was merciless in her teasing.
But Renji noticed the pattern. Every single time Takumi reacted with nothing but pure fear or exaggerated embarrassment, Mika's smile would falter for the briefest moment. She looked quietly disappointed as she wanted a genuine back-and-forth, not a helpless victim.
When the lunch bell finally rang, Takumi bolted from his seat as if it were actively on fire.
"I'm going to the cafeteria! Melon bread! Be right back!" he shouted, fleeing the room to escape the sexual tension he was far too immature to handle.
Mika sighed loudly and slumped back in her chair. The mischievous spark entirely left her purple eyes. She looked around the now-quiet classroom. All her usual flashy friends were assigned to Class 3-C, so here she was, sitting completely alone in a room full of cliques.
She scrolled aimlessly on her phone, her long acrylic nails clicking loudly against the glass screen. Her shoulders were hunched defensively.
Renji stood up slowly. For a moment he simply glanced around the classroom, his eyes drifting across the empty desks until they settled on Mika. The quiet felt heavier around her than anywhere else.
He picked up his sleek, black lacquered bento box and walked over with casual, unhurried steps. He stopped at the empty desk directly in front of hers and leaned his hip lightly against its edge, keeping a comfortable distance.
"Nishimura-san," he said quietly, his tone the same polite one most people were used to from him.
Mika looked up, visibly startled. Her guard went up instantly, her eyes narrowing. "What? Here to lecture me about the dress code or something, Mr. Prince?"
"I'm not on the Student Council," Renji reminded her smoothly. "So, no."
He paused for a brief second, his gaze drifting down to her hands, which were still tightly clutching her smartphone.
"I just noticed your nails," he said. The observation came out naturally, sounding almost like a casual afterthought.
Mika blinked, glancing down at her own hands. They were long acrylics painted with an incredibly intricate galaxy-themed gradient — deep blues flawlessly fading into rich violets, speckled with tiny, hand-painted silver stars.
"What about them?" she asked defensively, pulling her hands back slightly. "Are you gonna say they're too long, or too flashy for school?"
"No," Renji said. He leaned in just slightly, focusing his full attention on her. "You do know that I do professional modelling, right? So, whenever I see things related to fashion, makeup, or styling, I just have a bad habit of evaluating the aesthetics."
"What I want to say is that the detail is really impressive. That gradient… it matches your purple contact lenses perfectly. It's an incredibly cohesive look."
Mika froze. Her mouth opened slightly.
People usually commented on the length —"How do you even type with those?" — or the bright colours — "Too bright".
No one had ever noticed the careful colour coordination or even considered that she might put that much thought into her daily appearance.
"You… noticed that?" she asked, her voice suddenly losing its usual brash, teasing edge.
"Like I said, occupational hazard. It's hard not to notice," Renji said softly. "As someone who spends half his work-life sitting in makeup chairs, I know exactly how hard it is to blend colours like that flawlessly. It must have taken hours, right?"
Mika stared at him.
"It… yeah. It took three hours," she admitted, looking down at her nails with a sudden, uncharacteristic shyness under his focused gaze. "But most people just think it's a massive waste of time. Or that I'm just trying to look cheap and flashy for attention."
"Most people don't pay attention to the real thing," Renji said softly, his voice dropping to a lower, grounded register that seemed to vibrate gently in the quiet space between them. "They see the flashiness, not the art."
He pushed off the desk, picking his bento box back up and straightening his blazer.
"Anyways, if you'll excuse me, I should go and catch Takumi before he buys expired bread… again. Enjoy your lunch, Nishimura-san."
And with that, he walked away.
Meanwhile, a faint, but very real smile bloomed on her lips.