The next morning, sunlight slipped through the curtains, and my alarm screamed in my ear until I wanted to smash it.
I dragged myself out of bed. Felt like the mattress was glued to me, trying to pull me back. Yesterday wouldn't leave my head, every thought replaying until my body felt heavier than usual.
Cold water on my face. Messy hair, dark circles. A face that looked like it hadn't slept at all.
Great start.
Uniform on, random leftovers from the fridge shoved down, and off I went for another thrilling episode at the prestigious, unbearable Keika Gakuen.
The halls were the same as always. Too polished. Too loud. Everyone trying too hard.
And in the middle of it, Ayumi Matsuo.
People literally slowed down when she walked by, like the place belonged to her. Teachers smiled for no reason. Students stared like she was some untouchable idol.
Me? I rolled my eyes and kept walking.
Except something else caught me: Yuji.
He was standing by my classroom door, holding two cartons of strawberry milk like some kind of peace offering.
When he spotted me, he grinned.
This guy's nuts. Or too clingy.
"Here. I grabbed two by mistake."
"Do I look like a pink milk guy to you?"
"C'mon. You're not really gonna make me drink both, are you?"
Persistent bastard. I took one and sipped. Not bad.
"Don't get used to it."
"You said that yesterday."
I ignored him, kept my eyes on the window. Sky looked grayer than usual.
---
During break, he showed up again, sitting at my desk like furniture.
"At least the first time, you asked."
"That's because we weren't friends back then."
Friends? Since when?
"Friends? That what you think this is?"
"Well… if you really hated me here, you'd have kicked me out already."
I sighed, rolled my eyes. He wasn't wrong.
And maybe… he was distracting me from the usual crap.
---
Before the last class, we had PE. Dodgeball. First years only.
I always try to fade into the background, but not today. Someone shoved me onto the court.
The whistle blew. Chaos everywhere. Rich kids with too much ego to lose a simple game.
I stuck to my plan: take a hit, walk off, stay invisible. Worked so well no one even threw at me. Meanwhile, Yuji was out there stumbling, somehow dodging everything like an idiot blessed by luck.
Didn't last. Two guys cornered him, each with a ball. Easy prey.
Before I could think, I sprinted forward.
One ball flew — I caught it. My body moved on instinct. Feet planted, hips turned, ball fired back. Out.
The second guy flinched. I snatched another ball off the floor and nailed him in the chest.
Silence.
The whole court froze.
Then the teacher's voice boomed:
"Nice job, Miura! That was a hell of a move!"
Shit. Attention was the last thing I wanted.
Whispers started from the sidelines.
"That's him, right? He used to box…"
"Thought it was just a rumor…"
On the bleachers, I caught Ayumi's gaze. She didn't cheer. Didn't smile. Just stared — cold, dissecting, like she was trying to pin me down on a chart.
It sent a chill through me.
---
After PE, the rest of the day dragged on. Heavy, slow, the kind of day you just know won't end well.
And the worst part was still ahead: tutoring. With who? No clue.
When the final bell rang, I headed to the library with the enthusiasm of someone walking to a firing squad.
Inside, the air conditioner barely worked. The smell of old books mixed with dust. A couple girls studied in groups, some guy snored over an open manga, and the librarian gave me a look like I didn't belong here.
I dropped into a chair and waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Twenty.
Checked my phone. Locked it. Unlocked it. Stared at dust floating in the window light. Even the idiot snoring started to piss me off.
I sighed.
Figures. First class and the idiot's late.
Enough. I grabbed my bag and turned to leave—
"Giving up before even trying?"
Her voice cut the air clean.
Only one person could sound like that.
Ayumi Matsuo.
"You…?"
She crossed her arms, calm as ever.
"I'm your tutor, Ryosuke Miura. Yes, I'm late. Meeting with the coordinator ran over. Surprised?"
I tried to wipe the shock off my face, but couldn't.
"What is this, some kind of joke? The student council president is my tutor?"
"If you'd rather fail, I'll leave right now."
I froze. No comeback.
She walked past me and sat down, precise and elegant, like she belonged at a summit, not in a dusty library with a bitter scholarship student.
"Shall we begin?"
And that's when it hit me: the universe really had it out for me.