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Chapter 8
"Actually, chasing girls is all about attitude and patience."
"It's simple. You have to do it step by step. Don't rush."
"Uh… tell me more."
"To win a girl's heart, it's all about consistency. As long as you're willing to spend time and effort—taking her out for good food, remembering special days, preparing thoughtful gifts—eventually, she'll notice."
Sobu High School, Class 2-F.
Ryuo Tenshin was whispering with the two students at the next table.
Totsuka Saika and Hikigaya Hachiman leaned in, carefully listening as if Ryuo was revealing some ancient secret. They weren't sure if his words would actually help, but it certainly sounded like advice worth remembering. If nothing else, repeating it to others would make them look like they knew what they were talking about.
Totsuka, notebook in hand, looked at Ryuo eagerly.
"Ryuo, we're talking about choosing gifts, so then what…?"
Ryuo smirked. "Then? Then you'll understand what it means to pull the Joker card—and get thrown back to Gotham. The kind even Batman wouldn't bother with."
Hachiman: "…"
Totsuka: "…"
On the podium, Hiratsuka Shizuka stood with chalk in hand, writing on the blackboard. Today's lesson was Classical Japanese Literature, and she was highlighting the main points with her usual intensity.
As the "strongest woman in Chiba" and the "tiger of Sobu High," Hiratsuka's classes always carried an intimidating aura. Even Tobe, who usually never paid attention, was sitting quietly and pretending to listen.
Suddenly—
"Ryuo, you bastard…"
A scuffle broke out in the corner of the classroom. Hachiman's face twisted in frustration as he muttered, glaring at Ryuo.
Hiratsuka's chalk froze mid-stroke. Her smile disappeared, her hand clenched into a fist. Slowly, she turned her head toward the corner, her sharp gaze falling on Ryuo and Hachiman.
The rest of the class suppressed their laughter. All eyes shifted toward the corner, waiting for the explosion.
"Respect is mutual," Hiratsuka said coldly, her heels clicking against the floor as she turned. "If you don't respect me, then don't expect me to be polite."
Ryuo thought for a moment… and immediately sold out his friend.
"Sensei, it was Hikigaya. He wasn't paying attention and couldn't answer the question."
"Oi, what?!" Hachiman looked bewildered.
Hiratsuka narrowed her eyes, first at Hachiman, then back at Ryuo, who sat confidently with arms crossed. She tapped the blackboard.
"Hikigaya. Translate this passage."
Hachiman scrambled to his feet, staring at the lines of classical text. His lips moved as he mumbled awkwardly:
"Year… flower… old man… uh… this…?"
Silence. The class erupted into laughter.
Hiratsuka didn't even pretend to expect an answer. She turned her gaze back to Ryuo.
"Fine. Ryuo, you do it instead."
Hachiman slumped back down in relief, smirking at Ryuo as if to say good luck with that.
Ryuo ignored him. Standing up, he read the lines carefully. Too easy. The passage was a classic piece—familiar to anyone who'd studied ahead.
"Year after year, the flowers remain the same, yet people change with time. The poet laments the fleeting nature of youth, urging a young maiden to pity the aged, for what she is now, he once was. What he is now, she will one day become."
He continued smoothly, elaborating with a confidence that silenced the room:
"This poem reminds us that beauty and youth are temporary, and that time reduces us all to the same fate. The poet isn't just speaking to one woman, but to society as a whole—urging compassion for others, because one day, we too will share their hardships."
Hachiman's jaw dropped. No way. He can actually pull this off?
Even Hiratsuka paused, then clapped her hands once, smiling faintly.
"Well done. That was richer and more precise than the answer key. Ryuo, sit down. Hikigaya—come to the office after class."
"Thank you, Sensei! As expected, your wisdom shines brighter than the sun!" Ryuo replied, sliding back into his seat with exaggerated gratitude.
Hachiman glared at him, muttering through clenched teeth:
"Ryuo… damn you!"
Ryuo smirked, victorious.