Chapter 14 First Day at the Academy꞉ Allies, Rivalries, and Unexpected Wins
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
I walked through the sprawling academy corridors, flanked by Sow-san and Vocal Slut-san, my two permitted bodyguards. The academy’s rules were strict: only two bodyguards could accompany a student. More were allowed in theory, but parading around with a crowd was frowned upon—too disruptive, too intimidating, and frankly, it looked pathetic, like you were scared of your own shadow. Sow-san and Vocal Slut-san would wait in the adjacent room, as bodyguards weren’t allowed inside the classroom. Only male students and the female teacher would be there.
Tomorrow was the big day—my first official day at the academy after completing the transfer paperwork. My stomach churned with a familiar, nervous flutter. *Just normal jitters*, I told myself, but it didn’t help much.
As we navigated the wide hallways, I mulled over what to say for my introduction. When was the last time I’d done something like this? Probably back in my previous life, at some workplace. I vaguely recalled rattling off a spiel about my job and hobbies, safe and forgettable. The response had been polite—clapping, a few smiles. Nothing special.
This time, though, I wasn’t so sure. The classroom would be filled with rivals from other regions, boys who likely wouldn’t roll out the welcome mat for me. *They probably don’t have any warm feelings toward.
I made my way to the teacher’s platform, standing beside the female teacher as she addressed the class. Her voice was crisp, authoritative, slicing through the murmurs. “Good morning, everyone,” she said firmly. “Today, we’re introducing a transfer student. It’s a rare occurrence at our academy, but rest assured, his presence here is not due to any fault of his own. Please offer him guidance if he needs it. Go ahead and introduce yourself.”
I took a breath, steadying my nerves. The room was spacious, the desks arranged like islands in a sea of polished wood, each one equipped with a reclining chair and a side table holding glasses of water or juice. It felt more like a business-class lounge than a classroom. My voice needed to carry to the back, so I projected as best I could. “I’m from Kujukuri Town,” I said simply. “I’ll be here for about six months. Nice to meet you all.”
I bowed slightly, a quick dip of my head, expecting at least a polite clap or murmur of acknowledgment. Instead, silence greeted me, thick and unyielding, like a wall I couldn’t see past.
”Wrong classroom, kid,” a voice cut through the quiet, sharp and mocking.
I turned toward the speaker. A boy with short, messy hair sat with his arms crossed, glaring at me. His eyes, narrowed with disdain, were the same ones that had met mine with displeasure the moment I’d walked in. He looked older, maybe a year or two, his posture radiating the kind of pride that comes with adolescence’s first rebellious surge.
”What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my tone even, though my pulse quickened.
He snorted, leaning back in his chair. “You’re what, third grade at best? This isn’t your playground. Why don’t you scamper back to elementary school and start over?”
The words stung, but I kept my expression neutral. He was trying to bait me, his voice dripping with condescension. I could feel the eyes of the other boys on me, waiting to see how I’d respond. “Kujukuri’s a backwater, huh?” he continued, not waiting for a reply. “Thought we’d get someone impressive, but you’re just a kid.”
”I’m—” I started, but he cut me off.
”Whatever, kid. Turn around and get lost.”
He fell silent, clearly satisfied with his performance. I glanced around the room. The other boys didn’t join in, but they didn’t contradict him either. Their silence spoke volumes—neutral at best, complicit at worst.
I shrugged, letting a faint smile tug at my lips. “I don’t need your permission to be here,” I said casually, meeting his glare.
His eyes narrowed further, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a prolonged stare-down. Instead, I walked to my assigned seat at the back of the classroom, my steps deliberate. I could feel his gaze boring into me, but as I settled into my chair, he seemed to lose interest, turning away with a scoff.
”Dora-san,” the female teacher said sharply, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You will treat our transfer student with respect.”
Dora—the boy who’d spoken—rolled his eyes. “What’s the problem with calling a kid a kid? If I’m wrong, enlighten me, sensei,” he said, his tone mocking the last word.
”It’s not about appearances,” she replied coolly. “A gentleman conducts himself with dignity at all times.”
”Tch, fine,” Dora muttered, slumping back. “Whatever you say, sensei. I’ll play nice.”
”Good,” the female teacher said, her tone final. “Let’s begin today’s lesson.”
The rustle of textbooks filled the air as she took her place at the platform. I opened my own book, trying to focus, but the atmosphere in the room was heavy. It wasn’t my fault the vibe was off, but it didn’t make it any easier to shake.
”Don’t mind him,” a voice said softly from beside me.
I turned to see a boy with sun-darkened skin and a friendly grin. His eyes sparkled with a kind of easy warmth that felt like a lifeline in this room of guarded glances. “He’s always picking fights,” he continued, his voice low to avoid the female teacher’s notice. “Just his age, y’know? Thinks he’s tough.”
I relaxed a little, grateful for the olive branch. “Thanks,” I said. “And you are…?”
”Oh, my bad,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m Tokumasa, from Nokogiriyama in Tateyama Town. Ever heard of it?”
I nodded, dredging up a faint memory. “Yeah, the stone quarries by the coast, right? Big Buddha statue, ropeway up the mountain?”
Tokumasa’s grin widened. “That’s the one! You know your stuff. Dora’s from some nowhere town too, so he’s got a chip on his shoulder about places like Kujukuri. Thinks they’re all high and mighty. My town’s pretty small too, so I get it.”
”Good to know I’m not alone,” I said, feeling the knot in my chest loosen. “I was starting to think everyone here was like him.”
”Nah, not everyone,” Tokumasa said, his laugh soft but infectious. “You’d burn out fast if that were true.”
We both stifled chuckles, careful not to draw attention. Tokumasa’s expression shifted like a playful puppy’s, one moment curious, the next teasing. It was a relief to find someone who didn’t see me as a threat.
”Anyway, welcome,” he said. “I’d love to chat more, but we should probably cool it before sensei gets mad. Catch you at break?”
”Yeah, sounds good,” I replied, turning my attention back to the front of the room.
the female teacher was already deep into her lecture on quadratic functions, her voice steady as she explained substituting X and Y. Most of the class seemed disengaged—some stared blankly, others fiddled with their pens or snuck glances at their phones. Dora, predictably, was at it again, interrupting with a loud, “Why X and Y? Can’t we use something else?”
I sighed inwardly. This place was freer than I’d expected—less a school, more a loosely supervised gathering of egos. But as I glanced at Tokumasa, who gave me a quick, conspiratorial grin, I felt a spark of hope. Maybe I’d find my place here after all.
the female teacher’s voice droned on, her explanation of substitution weaving through the classroom like a thread I couldn’t quite grasp. “It doesn’t matter if it’s alpha and beta, male and female, or apples and oranges,” she said patiently. “The key is to understand the concept of substitution clearly…”
A wave of nostalgia hit me, sharp and unexpected. The rhythm of her words, the faint scratch of pens on paper—it felt like a memory from another life, a classroom I couldn’t quite place. I shook it off, focusing on the present.
The lessons continued, but the teachers changed with each subject, like pieces on a rotating board. There was no homeroom teacher here, just a parade of female instructors, each with their own style but none commanding the room quite like the female teacher. The exception came during one period when an older male teacher stepped in. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. A few boys sat up straighter, their hands shooting up with questions, their voices eager. It was a stark contrast to the half-hearted attention they gave the female teachers. Dora, predictably, was among those who perked up, his earlier defiance replaced by an almost comical earnestness.
This must be the school’s culture, I thought, a knot of unease tightening in my chest. The boys’ blatant disregard for the female teachers felt like a glimpse into something deeper, a value system I didn’t share. It wasn’t just about ignoring them—it was the casual contempt, the way they leaned back or whispered to each other during lessons. If this was how things worked here, my time at this academy was going to be tougher than I’d thought. I could brush off their attitudes for now, but with Maggot-san’s medical treatment search forcing me to interact with these people, and with a lifetime of navigating clashing ideals ahead, the weight of it felt suffocating. Please, let this be unique to this school, I prayed silently.
Lunchtime arrived, a welcome break from the classroom’s tension. The dining hall was a spectacle—vast, with towering ceilings and long tables draped in pristine white cloths, each adorned with ornate candelabras. It looked like a place for banquets, not school lunches.
”Hey, over here!” Tokumasa’s voice carried across the hall, warm and familiar. He waved me over from a table near the edge, his sun-darkened face lit with that same easy grin from earlier. I didn’t hesitate, weaving through the crowd to join him. As I sat, an elderly server appeared, placing two steaming trays before us with practiced grace.
”Man, I’m impressed,” Tokumasa said, striking an exaggerated pose, one hand on his hip, the other pointing at me. “Keeping up with sixth-year lessons like it’s nothing? You’re sharp.”
I gave a small nod, picking up my chopsticks and eyeing the meal. “Thanks. I’ve just studied a lot. My body’s not exactly built for much else,” I said, my focus already shifting to the food. White rice, miso soup, grilled fish, and pickled vegetables—a proper Japanese meal, the kind I’d been craving since Kujukuri’s endless rations. My mouth watered. This is it. My first real meal in this world.
Tokumasa laughed, clearly picking up on my distraction. “Humble, huh? I’m not the sharpest, but I’ve got decent reflexes. Gotta have something to brag about, right? Anyway, dig in before it gets cold.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I dove in, savoring the rice’s soft texture, the tangy bite of the pickles, the delicate flavor of the fish paired with grated daikon. It was heavenly. “This is amazing,” I mumbled between bites, chopsticks moving like they had a mind of their own. “The rice… so good. I can’t stop.”
Tokumasa raised an eyebrow, his expression caught between amusement and confusion. “It’s just food, man. Nothing special.”
But to me, it was everything. Kujukuri had been a wasteland of bland rations, and this—this was the taste of a dream I’d held onto across worlds. I barely registered Tokumasa’s puzzled look as I shoveled another bite, muttering, “So good, so good,” like a broken record. Let him think I’m weird. This daikon-fish-rice combo is unstoppable.
”Dude, you’re kinda intense about this,” Tokumasa said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’re, like, really into your food.”
I paused just long enough to flash an apologetic grin. “Sorry, it’s just… been a while since I had something this good.” My chopsticks were already moving again. Manners were supposed to matter here, but the dining hall’s relaxed vibe let me get away with my enthusiasm. Thank goodness for that.
As we finished eating, I leaned back, sipping tea and finally ready to talk. “So, not everyone’s super into studying, huh?” I asked, curious about the school’s dynamics.
Tokumasa didn’t hesitate, his tone light but honest. “Nah, most people don’t take it seriously. Grades only really matter for picking marriage partners, and even that’s a rigged game.”
He gave me a sympathetic look, and I wondered if he thought I was some starving kid from the sticks. Not entirely wrong, I supposed. “Most guys already have their matches set,” he continued, his voice tinged with something heavier. “It’s all about tea parties and backstabbing to secure your future. Studying? Waste of time. You’re better off sending Imperial Guards to dungeons or building cliques.”
”Sounds intense,” I said, trying to process it. “You in on that too?”
Tokumasa’s lips pursed, his usual cheer dimming. “Yeah. My match is some council member from Ichihara, ten years older. Never met her, don’t even know what she looks like.” He shrugged, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration. “Could be worse. At least I’ve got a match. If you don’t lock one down by graduation, you’re basically a nobody.”
”That’s… rough,” I said, unsure how to respond. The weight of his words settled over me. This world’s rules were harsh, tying worth to status and connections in ways that felt alien.
”Everyone’s in the same boat,” Tokumasa said, his voice quieter now. Then, as if shaking off the mood, he grinned. “But, y’know, my match is technically a step up. Age gap and all, but the town decided it’s the best I could get. Guess it’s what they call a… what’s the term?”
”Age-gap marriage?” I ventured. “Like, the bigger the gap, the better the match?”
He snapped his fingers, pointing at me. “That’s it! You’re quick.”
I smiled faintly, but the conversation left a bitter taste. The dining hall buzzed around us—younger boys from lower grades clustered together, likely from the same regions, while the fancier tables were dominated by well-dressed students, probably from Ichihara. Sow-san and Vocal Slut-san lingered at the edges, allowed in the hall but forbidden from joining me. Eating alone felt lonelier than I’d expected, but Tokumasa’s presence was a small comfort.
This place is a maze of politics and pride, I thought, glancing at the glittering candelabras. But at least I’ve got one ally. For now, that’s enough.
I grinned, a little embarrassed by his enthusiasm. Apparently, I’d hit the mark. A marriage for status—here, it wasn’t just climbing the social ladder; it was the whole game. From what Tokumasa said, aiming for an older, high-status woman was the way to secure a powerful match, a deal brokered by the town’s bigwigs to boost their region’s standing. Men were less people and more assets, traded like cards in a high-stakes game of patronage.
It was a cold system, but Tokumasa didn’t seem too broken up about it. His expressions flipped like pages in a book—cheerful one moment, resigned the next, always lively. It was hard not to find him entertaining.
”Enough about me,” he said, leaning forward with a curious glint. “What about you? Got a marriage lined up? Any big plans for the future?”
I hesitated, chopsticks still in hand. “Uh… nothing, really. No matches, no plans. But I’m not too scared of women, so I figure I’ll manage somehow.”
At least, I hope so, I thought. Honestly, I hadn’t given marriage a single thought until now. In this world, women seemed to respect men for the most part, so I wasn’t worried about being pushed around by some overbearing wife. Still, the idea of marriage felt like a distant problem, one I wasn’t ready to tackle.
Tokumasa’s words painted a clearer picture: elementary school here doubled as a marriage market. By the third term of fifth year, your achievements locked in your future. I’d shown up late to the party, a last-minute guest at an arranged meeting where everyone else had already paired off. Eat good food, keep my head down, and get through this, I told myself. That’d be enough.
”Seriously?” Tokumasa’s eyes widened, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You’re really not scared of women?”
”Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, though his reaction threw me off. What are we even talking about now? I must’ve looked confused because he glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice.
”I mean, your Imperial Guards…” He nodded toward the wall where Sow-san and Vocal Slut-san stood, silent and still, alongside two women I assumed were his bodyguards. They were like statues, blending into the background, their presence carefully unobtrusive. Even Vocal Slut-san, usually so lively, was quiet as a moth clinging to the wall. Imperial Guards weren’t supposed to distract their masters or draw attention.
I tilted my head. “I don’t hate them, if that’s what you mean. Is there some rumor about me going around?”
Was he shocked I didn’t have a match lined up? Or was it my lack of fear toward women? I needed to know how I was being seen here—it’d make navigating this place easier. I kept my feelings about women close to my chest, a mystery I wasn’t keen on unraveling for anyone. Better to let others talk first.
Tokumasa leaned back, studying me. “It’s just… kinda surprising you’re not afraid of them,” he said, almost admiringly. “There’s talk around school about you. They say you’re some kid who got screwed over by women, a victim of their schemes. Most thought it was just a misogynistic rumor spread by guys like Dora. I didn’t buy it either until I met you.”
”Really?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I made it to school, didn’t I?”
”That’s the mystery,” he replied, his voice dropping. “If I’d been locked in a machine for years, I’d probably never want to see a woman again. But you? You’re just… fine with it.”
”Maybe,” I admitted, my tone careful. So that’s why the stares felt so heavy. The other boys’ guarded looks, the mix of pity and suspicion—it made sense now. They didn’t all despise me like Dora, but they saw me as a curiosity, maybe even a tragedy. A guy wronged by women, yet here I was, unbothered.
”How do you do it?” Tokumasa pressed, his curiosity genuine. “You don’t seem like the type to swear revenge, but… are you secretly furious deep down?”
I laughed softly. “I’m kind of a celebrity, huh?” His comment about my Imperial Guards’ names caught my attention. “And yeah, their names aren’t exactly my choice. People seem to think I picked them.”
Tokumasa’s expression turned sympathetic, but I waved it off. “I’m not angry,” I said honestly. “Really.”
He blinked, clearly skeptical. “You’re serious?”
”Yeah.” I paused, weighing how much to share. Honesty felt like the best play—it fit the image I wanted to project here. “The person I’d be mad at… they’re gone. It’s over. I’d rather focus on what’s ahead than dwell on it.”
Tokumasa’s face tightened, a mix of shock and pity. “That’s… rough.”
I shrugged. “It’s in the past. I’m trying to move forward.” The good guy strategy, I reminded myself. People warm up to someone who looks ahead, not back. Sure, it contradicted some of what I’d said in Kujukuri, but rumors travel slow, and right now, I needed to focus on surviving this school.
We sipped our tea in silence for a moment, the clink of dishes around us filling the air. Then Tokumasa’s eyes lit up, like he’d just remembered something. “Oh, hey, a little welcome gift,” he said, reaching for his ear. With a soft clink, he unhooked a small, metallic stud and placed it on the table.
”Thanks,” I said, picking it up. “What’s this?”
”Mushroom growing kit,” he grinned. “Tateyama specialty. The guys here think it’s lame, but I like it.”
It looked like a tiny, golden bead, no bigger than five millimeters, glinting in the dining hall’s light. A mushroom kit? I raised an eyebrow but followed his lead. “Water it,” he said, his grin widening. “You’ll see.”
I dripped a single drop from my glass onto the bead. It quivered, then—impossibly—a small mushroom sprouted from its surface. A brown-capped shimeji, maybe two centimeters tall, grew before my eyes. When it reached full size, it popped off the bead with a soft clink and rolled onto the table.
”What the—?” I stared, dumbfounded. “How does that even work?”
”Tastes pretty good, too,” Tokumasa said, clearly enjoying my reaction.
I leaned closer, inspecting the mushroom. It looked ordinary now, like it hadn’t just grown from a metal bead. This world’s full of weird stuff, I thought, remembering Kujukuri’s transforming sand. That, at least, I could halfway explain—some natural material storing light, like phosphorescent paint back on Earth. But this? This was beyond science, beyond anything I could wrap my head around.
”You’re loving this, aren’t you?” I said, glancing at Tokumasa, who was practically beaming.
”First time someone’s actually been impressed!” he laughed. “Most people just roll their eyes.”
I shook my head, still staring at the mushroom. “You win this round. Next time, I’ll bring something weird from Kujukuri to even the score.”
”Deal!” he said, his grin infectious. “Can’t wait to see what you’ve got.”
The dining hall’s chatter hummed around us, but for a moment, it was just me, Tokumasa, and a tiny, impossible mushroom. One ally, one weird gift, I thought. Maybe this place won’t be so bad after all.
Tokumasa’s infectious grin lingered in my mind, making the strange mushroom kit feel like a small spark of excitement. Maybe this school wasn’t so bad after all. If someone like him could make a place like this feel lively, there might be more to it than rivalries and rumors.
The afternoon lessons passed in a blur, a mix of math and history that felt oddly familiar yet distant. By the time the final bell rang—around three o’clock, earlier than I’d expected—the day dissolved into a free-for-all dismissal. No formal closing, just students scattering like leaves in the wind. Elementary school vibes, I guess.
As I gathered my things, a few classmates approached, their questions circling the same tired topic: the rumors about me. They wanted to confirm the story of the boy locked in a machine for years, now miraculously attending school. I answered vaguely, repeating the same lines about Kujukuri and my transfer. Their curiosity fizzled out quickly, their eyes glazing over once they realized I wasn’t a threat. Not a rival, not worth their time, I thought. The school’s major events—marriage matches, status games—were already decided, and I was just a latecomer, irrelevant to their hierarchy.
”Man, you’re tiny,” one boy said, smirking. “Really in the final grade?”
”Yup,” I replied, keeping my tone light despite the repetition. It was like an assembly line of judgment—each guy poking at the same points, their questions laced with condescension. They didn’t talk much to each other, either, probably because they weren’t exactly friends. The competitive air kept them at arm’s length.
Still, I wasn’t just a punching bag. I reached out to a few classmates myself, curious about their deal. Talking to guys was easy enough—no need to tiptoe around their bodyguards, just casual classmate vibes. They came from different regions, each with their own flair. Unlike Tokumasa’s rugged, almost wild style, these guys were polished—some in sharp Western suits, others in sleek kimonos, all dripping with accessories that screamed status. Like Tokumasa’s mushroom kit, they wore mystical objects, each one a badge of pride. I couldn’t tell what half of them did, but the excess was the point.
”Maybe I should wear something from Kujukuri,” I muttered, half to myself.
The guy I’d been talking to—a lanky kid with a silver chain dangling from his wrist—snorted. “Yeah, good luck. Most of us are decked out in gifts from women. You didn’t know that?”
I shrugged, playing it off. “News to me.”
He smirked, clearly enjoying the chance to school me. “Everyone’s showing off their fiancées or dungeon loot from their Imperial Guards. That’s the game. And, uh, no offense, but you’re way behind. Six years in, the rankings are set. You’re not catching up.”
Heard it a million times already, I thought, suppressing an eye-roll. I wasn’t here to climb their stupid mountain of status. If anything, I’d rather charm a girl than one-up these guys. Still, the pity in their eyes stung—they saw me as the bottom rung, too small, too plain, too late to matter. A sympathy case, not a threat.
Even younger students swung by our classroom, flexing their own status before “releasing” me like I was some fish too small to keep. Catch and release, huh? Exhausting, but I played along, treating it like practice for navigating this school’s warped social code.
As I headed down the hallway toward the exit, someone grabbed my arm. “Hey,” a familiar voice snapped.
I recognized it instantly—Dora, the rebellious jerk from this morning’s introduction. I kept walking, brushing past him.
”Hey, wait,” he growled, his tone sharper now.
Here we go. He sounded ready for a fight, and I wasn’t in the mood. Ignoring him felt right, but I stopped anyway, turning slowly. “What? Got something to say?”
”Why’d you ignore me?” he demanded, arms crossed.
”Didn’t notice you,” I said, forcing a casual shrug. “Sorry.”
He snorted, his expression sour. “Whatever.”
Dora stepped closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Heard you hate women. That your pathetic physique’s their fault. Perfect. Join my crew.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”
”You’re in a bad spot, right? No faction, no status,” he said, like it was obvious. “I don’t bow to their oppression. A victim like you could help my cause.”
”Hold up,” I said, raising a hand. “What do you mean, ‘join your crew’?”
He sighed, exasperated. “You really don’t get it? It’s basic. Weak guys like you join a stronger guy’s faction for protection. You pay tribute, I look out for you. Normally, I wouldn’t bother, but your sob story’s got people’s sympathy. Be grateful I’m offering.”
I tilted my head, processing. This guy’s straight out of an isekai bully playbook. He wanted a minion, and I was the perfect target—pitiful, powerless, an easy recruit. “Not interested,” I said flatly. “And what’s this about ‘women’s oppression’?”
Dora’s eyes narrowed. “You’re clueless, aren’t you? Women run everything here. Men are just property—fashion accessories or tools for their desires. You know that, right?”
”Nope,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “News to me.”
”How do you not know?” he shouted, his voice echoing down the hall. My ignorance clearly pissed him off, which was almost funny. Wasn’t he banking on me being clueless to make me an easy mark?
”Look, I’m not into your anti-woman crusade,” I said, turning to leave. “See ya.”
”Hold it!” Dora snapped, and suddenly, five of his Imperial Guards stepped forward, blocking my path. Their faces were blank, almost lifeless, with dark circles under their eyes like they hadn’t slept in days. No emotion, just obedience.
I glanced at Sow-san and Vocal Slut-san, signaling them to stay back with a quick look. No need to escalate this yet.
”Scared of women, right?” Dora sneered, a triumphant smirk curling his lips. “Bet they terrify you.”
”Not really,” I said, meeting his gaze.
His smirk widened, like he’d caught me in a lie. I stepped toward one of his guards, a pale woman with sharp features, and gently grabbed her arm. “Hey,” I said softly, giving her a small smile.
”Uh… w-what…?” she stammered, her emotionless mask cracking as her eyes darted between me and her arm. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks.
I tugged her forward, closer to Dora, who flinched and took a step back. “See? Not scary,” I said, my voice calm but pointed. “You’re the one freaking out.”
”Stop it!” Dora yelped, dodging as I tried to guide his guard’s hand toward him. “Don’t touch me! I’ll be tainted by her… her desires!”
I raised an eyebrow. Tainted? His guard was stunning—fair skin, delicate features, the kind of woman I’d have tripped over myself to date in my past life. Treating her like something filthy? That was unforgivable.
”Look at her!” Dora shouted, pointing. “You grabbed her, and now she’s all… worked up!”
I glanced at the guard. Her eyes flicked nervously between me and her arm, her cheeks still pink. “Um… I-I…” she mumbled, clearly flustered.
Worked up? Buddy, if anyone’s blushing here, it’s me, I thought, fighting the urge to laugh. If status weren’t an issue, I’d be tempted to flirt for real. “You’re scared of your own Imperial Guard,” I said, letting go of her arm and stepping closer to Dora. “That’s pathetic. No way I’m joining your little club.”
Dora stumbled back, his bravado crumbling. “You… you’ll regret this!” he sputtered, but I was already walking away, Sow-san and Vocal Slut-san falling in step behind me.
What a clown, I thought, the hallway stretching out before me. This school was a minefield, but I’d faced worse. For now, I’d keep my head down, make allies like Tokumasa, and figure out how to survive this bizarre world—one weird mushroom and one bully at a time.
As I thought so, I stood my ground, savoring the smooth warmth of the older sister’s arm under my fingers, her flustered expression only adding to the moment. Dora’s face twisted with frustration, turning red as he glared at me.
”You’ll regret this!” he shouted, his voice echoing down the hallway. “You just blew your only shot!”
He stomped the floor, his anger practically vibrating. “And you!” he snapped at his Imperial Guard. “Stop acting all worked up! We’re leaving! You’ll pay for this, kid!”
With a final huff, Dora stormed off, his shoulders hunched like a storm cloud. I watched him go, irritation simmering in my chest. What’s his deal? Treating a beautiful woman like she’s some kind of plague—it was infuriating. I can’t stand guys like that in this world.
”Are you alright, young master?” Sow-san’s voice was soft, laced with concern as she stepped closer. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t intervene.”
”What a jerk,” I muttered, glancing at her and Vocal Slut-san. “Are all guys here like that?”
Sow-san hesitated, her expression apologetic. “It’s… not uncommon for men to be wary of women. It’s just their age, I suppose. But the fact that he spoke to you at all suggests some level of interest, however rough.”
That’s normal? I thought, incredulous. No way.
”It’s a phase,” she continued gently. “They’re at an age where they push back against women. He’ll likely settle down in time.”
I sighed, exhaustion creeping in. “Whatever. I’m just… tired.”
My frustration had nowhere to go. While guys like Dora were busy avoiding women, I was the opposite—constantly wondering how to get closer to them. And here I am, stuck replaying that guard’s soft arm in my head tonight, I thought bitterly. Maggot-san was gone, and my attempts to charm Trash-san with my innocent act had crashed and burned. Anything beyond a kiss was a pipe dream.
As I trudged toward the dorms, my mood sour, I couldn’t shake the image of Dora’s parting glance. He’d turned back once, his lips curling into a sly, malicious grin, like he’d already set something in motion. Just sour grapes, right? I hoped so, but a knot of unease tightened in my gut.
In the end, my instincts were spot-on. But, against all odds, Dora’s scheme turned out to be the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Thanks to him, I stumbled into the ultimate prize—a perfect, living “meat onahole.”
Notes:
• Dora – Antagonistic, older-looking male student with short hair, from an unnamed rural town.
• Tokumasa – Friendly male student from Nokogiriyama, Tateyama Town. Sun-darkened skin, approachable.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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