The interior of the gymnasium was vast, smelling of floor wax and the nervous sweat of hundreds of teenagers.
The banners hanging from the high rafters were crisp and authoritative, bearing the emblem of the Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School.
Ichigo, Tatsuki, and Orihime followed the floor markings until they reached the designated area for Class 1-C. Even here, the atmosphere felt different from Class A or B.
The students around them looked sharper, more aggressive, or—in some cases—distinctly more dangerous.
Ichigo was busy adjusting his collar, feeling out of place in the stiff blazer, when a firm tap landed on his shoulder.
He turned, his brow furrowing into a defensive line, but his eyes widened when he saw the face staring back at him.
Standing there was a boy with long, magenta-tinged hair and a smirk that looked like it had been carved out of pure malice.
His eyes were cold, calculating, and lacked even a hint of the "first-day jitters" everyone else was sporting.
"Yo, Ichigo. I wasn't expecting to see you here," Kakeru Ryuen said, his voice a low, gravelly drawl. "It seems like we'll be classmates from now on."
Ichigo's posture shifted instinctively, his feet centering his weight.
The memory of their last encounter flashed through his mind: a rain-slicked alleyway, the sound of breaking bones, and Ryuen's refusal to stay down even after his face was unrecognizable.
"Ryuen," Ichigo said, his voice flat. "I thought you'd be in a juvenile detention center, not a government-funded elite school."
Ryuen didn't take offense. Instead, he let out a dry chuckle and turned his gaze to the two girls.
"Oh, Tatsuki and Orihime are here too. This is great. We have the strongest woman and the smartest woman in our middle school all gathered here. It's like a pathetic little reunion."
"Kakeru-kun, hi~!" Orihime chirped, waving a small hand with a bright smile that seemed to completely ignore the dark history between them.
Tatsuki, however, didn't share Orihime's oblivious grace. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing into slits. "Can you not call us by our names? We're not that close, Kakeru Ryuen. In fact, I'm pretty sure the last time we spoke, you were being loaded into an ambulance."
Ryuen's smirk widened, though a flicker of genuine irritation crossed his eyes. "We already exchanged fists, didn't we? In my book, that counts as being close."
"Exchanged fists?" Tatsuki rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Last I checked, you just took my punches like a punching bag. It was more like a training session where the bag occasionally tried to trip me."
And that was the truth. Ryuen calling her the strongest woman isn't an exaggeration, she really was that strong.
Even Ichigo, who had beaten him until he was hospitalized, was no match for her in terms of skill.
The air around Ryuen suddenly turned cold. He took a half-step forward, his hands deep in his pockets, but his shoulders tensing.
"I'm not the same as I was back then, Arisawa. I've learned a lot about how the world actually works since you and Kurosaki handed me those bruises. Want to find out if I've improved?"
The challenge was palpable. A few nearby students from Class C began to drift away, sensing a fight was about to break out before the opening ceremony even started.
"Alright!" Orihime stepped between them, her hands raised like a soft barrier. "Fighting is bad! It's just the first day of school, and we all have such nice new uniforms. It would be a shame to get blood on them, right?"
She looked at Ryuen with a smile so bright and genuinely innocent that even the so-called king of Karakura delinquents seemed momentarily stunned.
He stared at her for a long beat, searching for a hint of mockery, but found only the terrifyingly pure kindness of Inoue Orihime.
Ryuen snorted, shaking his head as he broke eye contact. "You're still a freak, Inoue."
He turned on his heel, strolling toward the very front of the Class C line as if he already owned the space. "Keep your guard up, Ichigo. Although we are in the same class, I wouldn't hesitate to crush you."
Ichigo watched him go, his hand tightening into a fist. "He still hasn't changed. If anything, he's gotten worse. He's got that look in his eyes... like he's looking for something to burn."
"Let him be, he's a sore loser." Tatsuki snorted, crossing her arms.
"Come one, don't be like that Tatsuki-chan~" Orihime smiled at her, poking her shoulders, "It's only the first day, no need to act all grumpy."
Just then, lights in the gymnasium dimmed, and the low chatter of the student body died down instantly.
A solitary figure stepped onto the podium, the spotlight catching the sharp lines of his uniform and the cold, analytical glint of his glasses.
He didn't need a microphone to command the room. His presence alone was heavy, pressing down on the freshmen like a physical weight.
"I am Horikita Manabu, the Student Council President," he began. His voice was steady, devoid of the usual fluff found in high school welcome speeches.
"This school was established by the Japanese government with a singular purpose: to cultivate the future leaders of this country. Since its founding, we have maintained a one-hundred percent employment and university admission rate. This is not a coincidence. It is the result of a system designed to separate the wheat from the chaff."
Ichigo felt a chill. He remembered what Orihime had said on the bus about "weeding the garden".
"You will find that this school operates on a strict principle of meritocracy," Manabu continued, his gaze sweeping over the rows of students like a judge. "Your value here is determined by your abilities—not just your academic scores, but your character, your discipline, and your ability to contribute to the collective. In this environment, excellence is rewarded, and mediocrity is... addressed."
He paused, and for a split second, Ichigo felt like those cold eyes landed directly on him.
"The school will provide you with everything you need to succeed. But remember: the 'guarantee' of this school is not a gift. It is a prize that must be earned every single day. If you cannot meet the standards of the Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School, you have no place here."
As the President stepped down, the silence in the gym remained for several seconds.
The weight of his words had effectively sucked the "celebratory" air out of the room.
"He's not joking," Tatsuki whispered, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. "That guy... he looks like he'd expel his own sister if she got a B-minus."
"...," Orihime murmured something, her expression unusually pensive. "Strict meritocracy...."
Ichigo looked toward the front of the line, where Ryuen stood. The delinquent wasn't looking at the President; he was looking at the other students, his eyes scanning them as if he were looking for weaknesses to exploit.
Then, Ichigo's gaze drifted toward Class D.
He saw a boy with brown hair and a blank expression who seemed almost bored by the President's threats, and a girl with long black hair who bore a striking resemblance to the President himself—though her face was clouded with a mix of frustration and longing.
"Meritocracy, huh?" Ichigo muttered to himself.
He thought about his father, his friends, and the reason he was here. He wasn't a "leader," and he certainly wasn't "elite."
He was just a guy who wanted to protect his people.
But as he looked at the cold, calculating faces of the faculty and the predatory grin of Ryuen, Ichigo realized that simply "getting by" wasn't going to be an option.
In this school, you either climbed to the top or you were stepped on by those who did.
"Tatsuki, Inoue," Ichigo said, his voice regaining its usual grit. "Whatever happens here, we stick together. I don't care about 'merit' or 'employment rates.' We're graduating together. All three of us."
Tatsuki smirked, punching her palm. "You bet."
Orihime beamed, grabbing both of their sleeves. "And we'll make lots of friends! Even if they're a little scary like Kakeru-kun!"
Ichigo sighed, watching as the students started to leave to go there own classrooms.
He checked the time from the phone provided by the school, and found that th
ere are still more than half an hour before today's homeroom officially starts.
'There is still enough time.'