Sobu High,
After opening the small box where indoor shoes were stored, Shirakawa Shiroha noticed something unusual.
Nestled neatly inside was a folded envelope, a red heart stamped on the corner in an almost cliché manner.
"…It's only the second day of school."
Her voice carried a mix of mild surprise and exasperation.
She slipped off her outdoor shoes and stepped into the slippers with a slow motion.
Shiroha knew she was considered attractive—people often said so openly. But she hadn't expected that the desire of high school boys at Sobu High would be this intense. To leave a love letter after only two days?
"Sigh"
Sighing, she pulled the envelope free and carefully opened it.
"Shirakawa-san, although we have never spoken, I was deeply captivated by you on the day you entered the school. If you are willing, please meet me on the rooftop at noon today."
"…Tch."
Her tongue clicked against her teeth as she read.
Without hesitation, she crumpled the envelope slightly in her hand and thought about tossing it into the nearby trash bin.
But just before doing so, she paused.
"…Forget it. Lunchtime is boring anyway. Might as well go and check it out."
If nothing else, it would break the monotony of her school day. Besides, she doubted anyone would dare to try something outrageous in broad daylight on school grounds.
.....
By the time she returned to the classroom, the bell had already rung.
Yet, despite the shrill tone of the chime, their teacher had not arrived.
"Hey, where is Gojo-sensei?"
The voice belonged to Kitagawa Marin, who sat slouched in her chair, one arm lazily draped over the backrest. Her head tilted curiously, scanning the empty podium.
It had already been a full minute since class officially started, but their eccentric homeroom teacher was nowhere to be seen.
'…Probably off exorcising some monsters,' Shiroha thought to herself silently, lips pressed into a faint line.
Though she didn't voice it aloud, the memory of seeing Gojo Satoru fight during the incident a few days ago lingered—
His posture, his elegance, his beautiful face, his terrifyingly overwhelming power—it had burned itself into her mind more vividly than any fleeting teenage crush.
Still, it was unfortunate —
A teacher could never openly be in that kind of relationship with a student.
Not here. Not in Japan.
Where society and its rigid rules clung tightly to morality.
But if they had been classmates instead of teacher and student… Shiroha knew she might have been tempted to let him be her "boyfriend."
At least, he could serve as a shield from the constant barrage of unwanted attention.
.....
Minutes ticked by. Students quickly gave up on waiting and the classroom dissolved into a low buzz of chatter and other activity.
Some students pulled out their phones and began playing games. Others chatted loudly about movies, anime, or their weekend plans.
A handful of girls huddled near the windows with compact mirrors, re-applying lipstick and fixing their hair. Breakfast wrappers crinkled at desks where students hadn't eaten yet.
The absence of authority had set them free, at least for the moment.
"Shirakawa-san! Kitagawa-san!"
A cheerful voice rang from the front row.
Chitanda Eru turned in her seat and ran over, her violet eyes sparkling with curiosity like twin stars reflecting the night sky. Her hands pressed against her skirt as she leaned forward with excitement.
"What's wrong, Chitanda-chan?" Kitagawa asked, her lips curling into a teasing smile.
They had only met yesterday, but Chitanda's boundless energy and eagerness to make friends had already pulled them into her orbit.
Contact info had already been exchanged, LINE group chats formed, and the foundation of a budding friendship laid down.
Chitanda lowered her voice slightly, though her enthusiasm was anything but subtle.
"Have you heard the urban legend that's been going around?" she asked mysteriously, her eyes twinkling as though she were sharing the secret of the century.
"Urban legend?" Shiroha lifted a brow, curiosity mildly piqued.
Chitanda nodded, her shiny hair bouncing, as though expressing her inner feeling.
"Yes! Apparently, in the last few days, several people's bodies suddenly caught fire on their own. Their whole bodies just… burst into flames, right there in public. Nothing was left behind but ashes."
To emphasize her words, she spread her arms wide, miming the explosion of fire.
The classroom grew a little quieter around them.
"Self-immolation?" Kitagawa muttered, half-intrigued and half-unsettled. "Could it be phosphorus fire or something?"
(Self-immolation is the act of setting oneself on fire)
"Nonono~," Chitanda shook her head vigorously, her tone almost sing-song. "I read online that phosphorus fire can't generate enough heat to burn a whole person like that. Some people think… it might be the work of somebody or maybe even a monster!"
At that, Shiroha's interest sharpened.
A rumor like that… it felt uncomfortably close to the sort of incidents she had only begun to brush against since being introduced to the hidden world of exorcists.
"…It might actually be possible," she said softly, almost to herself.
Both Kitagawa and Chitanda froze.
"Huh?!"
They blurted in unison. Both stunned.
"You think it's real?!" Kitagawa's eyes widened.
Shiroha shrugged with feigned nonchalance, leaning back in her chair and resting her cheek against her hand.
"No evidence. Just… a feeling. Don't take me too seriously."
Her lips curved into the faintest of mischievous smiles.
The two girls exchanged looks, their curiosity still buzzing, but eventually slumped back with small sighs.
"…Mou, that was anticlimactic," Kitagawa grumbled.
This lasted only a few more minutes before the classroom was filled with sudden theatrics.
White smoke began pouring from the podium like a cheap stage effect. Students coughed and waved their hands in front of their faces, eyes squinting against the hazy fog.
And then—
"The one and only, the handsome and invincible Gojo-sensei, has arrived!!"
The smoke cleared dramatically to reveal Gojo Satoru, crouched low in a full ninja outfit. His outfit made him look like something between a stage actor and a Saturday morning TV hero.
The class collectively froze. Mouths hung open. Eyes widened.
Gojo straightened slowly, a smug grin tugging at his lips as if drunk in the stunned reaction of his students.
He posed—
"Today, I am no mere teacher. I am Ninja Gojo-sensei! Prepare yourselves—"
Before he could finish his declaration, the portion of the ceiling panel he had tampered with earlier gave way.
CRASH!
The whole thing collapsed straight onto his head, sending him tumbling to the floor with an audible thud.
"Sensei!!" voices cried out in alarm, though half of them were mixed with laughter.
Gojo sat up after a moment, his head wrapped hastily in gauze like some slapstick injury victim. Yet, despite the ridiculous bandaging, he stubbornly refused to remove the ninja outfit.
The student stunned beyond any words.
"…So you spent all this time not preparing lessons, but preparing cosplay?" Kitagawa muttered under her breath, disbelief.
Gojo, ignoring the stares, tugged the bandages tighter and finally yanked off the Outfit.
"Too hot," he said casually, peeling away the rest of the ninja suit and tossing it straight out the open window.
"Oi, is it really okay to just throw that out the window?" one student whispered.
Their concerns were immediately answered when a shout rose from below.
"Which bastard threw clothes out here?! Principal, are you okay?!"
"I-I'm fine, I'm fine," the frail voice of the principal replied.
"No, let's get you to the infirmary, just in case!"
"Nonsense! Continue the patrol!"
The whole exchange drifted up into the classroom as students stared at Gojo with dark lines forming across their expressions.
"…Unbelievable," someone muttered.
And yet, Gojo stood at the podium as though nothing had happened, calm and collected, chalk in hand, ready to resume the lesson.
Form all his eccentricity, it was clear he had the thickest skin of anyone alive.
...
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