The next day.
Tanaka Masao woke up, went through his morning routine, ate breakfast, and then headed to school in his uniform.
The Soubu High uniform was actually quite stylish, though it did little to flatter his portly frame.
His fingers brushed against the arc reactor core hidden beneath his shirt, and a sense of security settled over him. After yesterday's revelation that this was a combined world—a world woven from various anime—a nagging fear had taken root.
What if this wasn't just a slice-of-life setting? If elements of the supernatural or the superpowered lurked in the shadows, he'd be in serious trouble.
Consequently, he'd decided against storing the Mark suit in his system's inventory. Carrying it with him was just smarter, a precaution against any sudden danger that might not give him time to summon it.
—
Masao had crossed over to this world during the final two days of Golden Week, the long string of national holidays in early May.
The weather was mild and pleasant.
As he approached the school gates, the path filled with small clusters of students, all wearing the same navy and white uniform. He mentally reviewed his predecessor's social history.
A full month into the school year, and he had managed to make zero friends. He barely even spoken to anyone.
"Well, that makes my job easier. No one will notice if I act a little differently."
Despite the practical advantage, a faint loneliness tugged at him. In his previous life, he'd never been the most outgoing person, but he'd always had a few companions between classes.
This solitude was a new and unwelcome experience.
—
He reached the school and opened his assigned shoe locker. No secret love letters, and more importantly, his indoor shoes were present and accounted for—clean and undisturbed.
The previous Tanaka Masao had endured bullying in previous schools, often finding his shoes stolen or dirtied.
Here, however, he had adopted a strategy of being invisible, and a month in, it seemed to be working; he was beneath the notice of any potential tormentors and bullies.
After changing his shoes, he made his way to Classroom 1-D.
Soubu High's first year was divided into seven classes, A through F, plus a special J-Class for high-achievers.
Each homeroom held about twenty-five students, making for a relatively small and intimate grade level. The J-Class was where you'd find the elites, like the renowned beauty Yukinoshita Yukino.
And then there was Class F—the unofficial "protagonist class."
According to his memories, most of the key players from "My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU" were clustered there, under the watchful eye of their homeroom teacher, Hiratsuka-sensei.
—
Masao found his seat. It wasn't the classic anime throne—the window seat in the back row—but a more anonymous spot in the middle-back section. Perfect for observing without being observed.
He sat down, pulled out his phone, and pretended to be engrossed in it while secretly scanning the room.
The classroom was a mishmash of established social circles. His gaze drifted over a surprising spectrum of hair colors—vivid reds, sunny blondes, electric blues, and even a few shades of silver and mint green.
'No doubt about it,' he mused internally, 'this is definitely an anime world. The genetics here are... unique.'
But after a quick scan, he was sure there were no major characters from his memories in this class.
While their hair was colourful, everyone's looks were fairly ordinary. A few students were moderately good-looking, but none had that standout "main character" aura.
Satisfied, he returned his attention to his phone.
—
Roughly ten minutes later, the classroom door slid open with a sharp clack.
The gentle buzz of conversation died, as if severed by a knife.
Masao glanced up. A tall, slender girl walked in. Her long, silver hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and she carried an air of cool indifference that screamed "delinquent beauty."
She seemed unbothered by the sudden silence and the stares fixed on her, even lazily covering a yawn as she entered.
One look was all Masao needed. This was a main character. Her presence, her sharp beauty, and her aura set her apart from everyone else in the room.
He quickly matched her to a name from his memories: Kawasaki Saki.
A key character from Oregairu, she didn't have much screen time but was incredibly popular with the fans.
With just a single focused episode, she managed to leave an impression that rivalled Yukino and Yui.
Her appeal was easy to understand.
Beyond her striking looks, she was a kind and responsible girl. She adored her younger sister and shouldered her own financial burdens, working a part-time job to pay for supplementary lessons without straining her family.
She was also skilled at sewing, cooking, and cleaning—the very picture of a gentle, capable, ideal partner
—
Masao watched as she walked toward his section of the classroom. He quickly dropped his eyes back to his phone, feigning ignorance.
Kawasaki Saki stopped at the empty desk directly in front of him. Her gaze swept over him once, cool and dismissive, before she took her seat.
She arranged her things with efficient movements, pulled out a textbook, and began to read with concentration.
As she immersed herself in her book, the frozen atmosphere in the room began to thaw. Conversations resumed, but in hushed tones, as if the entire class was wary of disturbing her.
Masao found himself studying the back of her head, his mind racing.
'Wait, shouldn't Kawasaki Saki be in the protagonist class, Class F? Why is she in my class? And sitting right in front of me? Is this some kind of bonus from the system? Did it tweak the world settings for me? Probably not, but still…'
His logistical confusion was soon overshadowed by more immediate observations.
'She's really beautiful. It's unfair, really. Translating a 2D character design into a living person shouldn't work this well. And her figure... it would make certain other famously under-endowed heroines cry with envy.'
'Also, how does she smell so good? Ever since she sat down, there's been this faint, fresh scent. Is it her shampoo?'
A new thought struck him.
'She's a loner, too. I'm sitting right behind her. That's a strategic advantage. Of course, if I tried to talk to her now, with my looks, I'd probably just get a look that could freeze hell over.' A strange, masochistic thrill ran through him. 'Actually, the thought of that glare is kind of... exciting.'
He mentally shook himself. 'Get a grip. That's a dangerous path.'
His thoughts then took a darker turn, recalling a key plot point from her story.
'In the original, she worked at a sketchy host bar. A place where technically she shouldn't be working at her age. If I were to get evidence of that... I could always pull the "Kawasaki-san, you wouldn't want anyone to know about your job, would you?" line'
A wave of self-disgust followed the thought.
'No. Absolutely not. I'm not that kind of person.'
And so, lost in a whirlwind of half-formed plans, moral quandaries, and simple adolescent awe, Tanaka Masao's first morning of his new school life passed far more quickly than he expected.
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