Shiina Mahiru tilted her head slightly, noticing the boy across the street staring. Her calm eyes met Rito's, and for a moment, she simply observed him.
Then, in a soft, almost casual voice, she asked,
"…Is something the matter?"
The question caught Rito off guard. His mouth moved before his brain could catch up.
"Wow… how cruel."
The words slipped out like a reflex, low and surprised, but audible enough.
Mahiru froze. Her steps halted, and for the first time, her perfectly serene expression cracked—not into anger, but into stunned silence. Then her lips curved downward ever so slightly, her voice losing its softness.
"...Cruel?" she repeated, a faint chill undercutting the word.
Her gaze sharpened, no longer the distant, untouchable aura of an angelic school idol, but something far more human. Honest. Cold.
"I rejected him because I wanted to. That's all," she said firmly. "I don't owe him anything. A girl has the right to say no, doesn't she?"
The bluntness of her tone faltered, Rito. He hadn't expected such a sharp, unembellished response. For a second, his reincarnated mind scrambled to make sense of it. 'This isn't the perfect angel… this is the real her.'
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
The air between them felt heavier now, the picturesque morning warped by her piercing honesty. Mahiru's eyes lingered on him, not with hostility, but with a kind of quiet warning—as though daring him to say otherwise.
Rito swallowed, his surprise evident. This wasn't the script he'd expected. The "angel" had just shattered her halo right in front of him.
Mahiru held his gaze for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, then turned away without another word. Her steps were as composed as before, but the air around her felt different now—sharper, stripped of the angelic glow everyone else seemed to worship.
Rito stood there, stunned, watching her retreating figure. The other students passed by, chatting and laughing, but he barely noticed them.
Slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
'So that's her, huh?'
The "Angel of the School," as others called her—polite, flawless, untouchable. But what he had just seen was something no one else probably ever noticed: the bluntness, the honesty, and the faint bite hidden behind her serene mask.
'More human. More real.'
He exhaled, a quiet chuckle escaping despite himself. It was almost funny, like watching an anime scene unfold—except he was inside it, standing in the middle of the street after witnessing the "angel" break character.
In his previous life, maybe he would have been disillusioned or even intimidated. But now, with memories of another world to anchor him, he found it oddly refreshing. Approachable, even.
"She's definitely the main character of her own story," Rito muttered to himself, still smiling as he turned toward the school gates. "And I just got to see the first page of it."
Rito slid the classroom door open, the familiar chatter and shuffle of desks washing over him. For a second, it almost felt normal—until Saruyama's boisterous voice cut through.
"Yo, Rito! You alive, man?" Saruyama slapped his back like they hadn't seen each other in years, grinning from ear to ear. "Heard you were burning up like a hotpot the last few days. What happened? Flu? Curse?"
A few of his other friends chimed in with jokes, and Rito managed a wry smile.
"Yeah… something like that. I'm fine now."
He was about to settle into his seat when his eyes drifted across the room—and froze.
A boy sat quietly near the window, his posture relaxed, a textbook open in front of him but clearly not being read. His expression was calm and neutral, yet there was a subtle weight to it, like someone used to observing from the sidelines rather than standing in the center of attention.
Rito's pulse skipped.
'No way…'
He knew that face. That presence. That ordinary-yet-not-ordinary air.
'Amane Fujimiya…'
The name surfaced instantly from his memories—not as a classmate, but as the main character of The Angel Next Door Spoils Me Rotten.
His gaze flicked from Fujimiya… to the empty desk beside him. The pieces connected in his head, faster than his heart could keep up.
The realization hit like a jolt. He had just seen her outside, in her truest form, the one hidden behind the angelic façade. And now her counterpart, the quiet neighbor who would eventually unravel her walls, was sitting just a few seats away.
Rito gripped the edge of his desk, suppressing a laugh that bubbled up out of sheer disbelief.
'What kind of story am I walking into?'
The door slid open again, and this time, the classroom seemed to brighten in a way that wasn't caused by sunlight.
Haruna Sairenji walked in.
She wasn't flashy. She didn't draw every eye the way Mahiru did, nor did she radiate any otherworldly aura. Yet her very simplicity was what made her beautiful—an air of natural warmth that fit perfectly in this school setting, like she belonged in every corner of it. Her straight, silky hair swayed lightly as she walked, and there was a calmness to her steps that drew Rito's gaze without effort.
For a moment, his breath hitched.
She glanced around the room, eyes passing over familiar faces until—subtly—they landed on him. Rito's seat.
Her expression softened almost imperceptibly, the faintest curve of her lips forming. A smile. Small and gentle, but carrying something that struck deeper than he expected.
'She noticed…'
Relief. That was what it looked like. As if seeing him at his desk, healthy and present, lifted a weight off her chest. She didn't stop or speak, simply carried herself to her own seat, but that one fleeting smile was more than enough to ignite a rush in Rito's heart.
His pulse drummed against his ribs.
'Haruna Sairenji…'
In his past life, he had admired her as a character on a screen. But here, in this classroom, as a real girl whose smile was directed at him—it felt entirely different.
Around him, the other classmates poured in, their conversations and laughter blurring into background noise. But Rito's attention lingered, his mind replaying that smile again and again. It was quiet, it was subtle—but to him, it was unforgettable.
"Morning!" Mio's cheerful voice rang out as she entered alongside Risa, the two of them laughing over some private joke that drew curious glances from the boys nearby. Their lively aura filled the room, like sparks dancing through the morning calm.
Behind them came Yui Kotegawa, the class representative, already wearing her usual serious expression. She strode to her desk with practiced poise, eyes sweeping across the classroom as if to ensure order before the teacher even arrived. A few students straightened unconsciously under her gaze, which always carried that sharp don't-you-dare-mess-around quality.
It was a familiar rhythm, a scene Rito had watched countless times in the anime. But now, sitting at his desk as a reincarnated version of himself, it all felt more alive. The chatter, the laughter, the quiet scolding from Yui to a classmate who nearly tripped over a chair—it was less like fiction and more like a slice of reality unfolding right before him.
Saruyama nudged his shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie.
"What are you daydreaming for, Rito? Class is starting soon. Don't go catching a fever again from staring too hard."
Rito grinned slightly, quickly looking away. But even as laughter bubbled around him, his heart refused to calm.
The lunch bell had barely finished ringing when the classroom emptied with a rush of chatter and footsteps. Saruyama waved Rito off with an easy grin.
"Nah, man, I've got mine packed today. You go ahead."
"Alright, suit yourself," Rito replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He didn't feel disappointed—more like curious. It'd been a while since he had walked to the cafeteria alone.
Still, he didn't go unprepared. Tucked in his hand was a small stack of fast-word cards he'd scribbled notes on—short formulas, kanji readings, and quick history bites. His little trick was to nudge his "High School Study" skill upward whenever he had spare time.
By the time he reached the cafeteria, the air was thick with the smell of fried noodles, curry, and freshly baked bread. Students buzzed in groups, lining up and claiming tables with the energy of a marketplace.
Rito bought a plate of fried soba and found a quiet corner seat. He twirled the noodles with his chopsticks, balancing the plate against the edge of his notebook cards, and began flipping through them between bites. It was simple, efficient, and oddly satisfying watching the mastery bar nudge upward in the corner of his mind.
That was when a voice, tinged with a hint of teasing curiosity, cut across the table.
"You're even reading here. Must be a rather good student."
Rito blinked and looked up.
A girl had slid into the seat across from him without hesitation. Long red hair framed her face, flowing naturally past her shoulders, her bangs neat and parted just so. Her amber eyes were sharp and observant, the kind that seemed to weigh every detail of him at once. She wore the same uniform as him, but there was something about her presence—poised yet approachable—that made her stand out.
Itsuki Nakano.
From The Quintessential Quintuplets.
Rito's chopsticks paused mid-air. His mind raced, not because of the shock of recognizing her from another anime, but because of how effortlessly she seemed to belong here, in this world that was already blending fiction and reality.
She tilted her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Well? Or is it just for show?"
"Well, I am not good; that is why I am reading…" Rito replied, lips tugging into a faint, self-deprecating smile. His eyes dipped back to the card in his hand, though it was hard to focus under her gaze.
Itsuki's expression shifted—first a blink of surprise, then something softer. She rested her chin on her hand, elbow on the table, studying him with renewed curiosity.
"…That's different," she said after a pause. "Most people brag when they're caught studying, but you're just admitting it."
Rito rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's the truth. I… don't want to fall behind. Besides, if I keep at it, maybe I'll get better."
A quiet chuckle escaped her. "So you're the type who grinds, huh?"
The word hit differently for him. Grinds. Almost like she was echoing the system in his head. He forced a small laugh, hoping she wouldn't notice his momentary pause.
"Yeah… something like that."
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Still, it's admirable. I know how hard it is to sit down and keep pushing, especially when it feels like you're not getting anywhere."
Her eyes softened as she said that, and Rito felt a flicker of recognition. She wasn't just teasing anymore—she was speaking from her own experience. The effort, the pressure, the quiet frustration of working hard in silence.
For a moment, the cafeteria noise faded into the background. Just him, his half-eaten soba, and this red-haired girl who, out of nowhere, sat across from him and understood something he hadn't even said aloud.
Rito's lips curved slightly. "Guess that makes us the same kind of people then."
Itsuki blinked, then smiled—a real one this time.