The rhythmic chime of the alarm cut through the stillness of the morning. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, carving golden paths across the floor and gradually banishing the shadows from the corners of the room. A stray beam landed directly across Rin Kuga's closed eyelids, persistent and warm.
Rin stirred, his eyes bleary as he drifted back from a deep, dreamless sleep. The previous night's excursions—two separate clashes that had tested both his limits and the absolute authority of the Zi-O II power—had left him with a strange sense of fulfillment. Protecting the city was a duty, yes, but there was an undeniable, primal satisfaction in being the one who stood above the chaos.
At least it's the weekend, he mused, reaching blindly for his phone.
He suppressed a yawn and stretched, his shirt riding up to reveal the lean, hardened contours of his midsection. Every muscle was defined with the precision of a statue, a byproduct of the Ohma power constantly refining his physical vessel. Had any of the girls from school been there to witness the display, the sight likely would have left them breathless.
He tapped the screen to check the time, but the clock was buried under a stack of notifications.
Mai Sakurajima. She had sent several messages in quick succession. Rin raised an eyebrow, a faint, amused hum vibrating in his chest. Well, someone's being proactive.
He couldn't help but shake his head. If the legion of boys who worshipped the national idol from afar knew she was blowing up his phone while the sun was barely up, they'd likely fall on their own swords out of pure envy.
His fingers danced across the screen, entering his passcode and opening the Line chat.
Mai Sakurajima:Good morning.Mai Sakurajima:Meet me in front of the school station at noon. I have questions. A lot of them.Mai Sakurajima:And don't you dare be late. I'd hope a man like you knows better than to keep a lady waiting on a date.
Rin let out a short, sharp laugh. It was quintessential Sakurajima—assertive, slightly bossy, and shielded by a layer of professional confidence. She was sliding back into the persona of the "National Senior," the untouchable star.
But Rin Kuga wasn't Sakuta Azusagawa. He had no intention of being the underdog in this particular dynamic. A King didn't follow a schedule set by his subjects, no matter how famous or beautiful they were.
His thumbs flew over the digital keyboard, the haptic clicks echoing in the quiet room.
Rin Kuga:Is that how you ask someone for their time, Sakurajima-senpai?Rin Kuga:If that's the tone of this meeting, I'm afraid my schedule just became remarkably full.
He hit send and tossed the phone onto the sheets, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. There was a certain pleasure in dismantling the ego of a woman who was used to the world revolving around her. She was brilliant, stunning, and talented, but to the Sovereign of Time, she was currently just a girl being a bit too demanding.
Across the city in a high-end apartment, Mai Sakurajima was in the middle of her morning routine. She had already picked out her outfit for the noon "meeting," her vanity covered in high-end cosmetics.
The ping of her phone made her pause, eyebrow pencil hovering just inches from her face. She set the pencil down and reached for the device, her bunny-eared case catching the light.
As she read Rin's reply, her jaw tightened. A flash of genuine shock crossed her face, followed by a twitch of her lips. This was a first. No man had ever dared to ghost her, let alone explicitly reject an invitation from her.
Her pride stung, but as she stared at the screen, a realization began to settle in. She leaned back, exhaling a long, slow breath. Rin Kuga didn't care about her fame or her beauty. He had looked at her invitation and seen a demand, not a request.
He's right, she realized, her irritation softening into a quiet, frustrated respect. I was being arrogant.
She bit her lip, her fingers hovering over the screen as she began to type a second, much more carefully worded message.