How to Not Be Aya Takahashi

The sun peeked through the curtains like a nosy neighbor. Birds chirped. The city outside yawned awake.

Inside Aya Takahashi’s bedroom, Rei was mid-squat in front of the mirror, frowning at her pajama-clad reflection.

“So… this is a school uniform, huh?” She tugged at the plaid skirt and poked her blazer like it was a foreign artifact. “How do you breathe in this thing? It’s like wrapping myself in disappointment.”

From the back of her mind came the voice of the actual Aya, already exasperated and very awake.

“Rei. Listen carefully. This is important. I need you to act normal today. Like me. No fights. No jumping over desks. No shouting at teachers. No—”

Rei picked up a piece of melon bread from Aya’s desk drawer, bit into it, and spoke with her mouth full.

“I got this. How hard can school be?”

“SO HARD! You can’t threaten anyone! You can’t suplex people! Also… please don’t talk to Rika.”

Rei paused. “Rika?”

“The class rep. She’s terrifying. Looks innocent. Pure evil. Don’t engage.”

Rei cracked her knuckles and smirked.

“Engaging. Got it.”

“REI, NO.”

Later that morning…

Aya Takahashi—or rather, Rei in Aya’s body—walked through the school gates like she owned the pavement.

Students stared.

Aya was usually quiet. Polite. Practically invisible. Today, she marched in with confident strides, blazer unbuttoned, a melon bread in one hand, and a “try me” glint in her eyes.

Someone whispered, “Was that… Aya?”

“She’s… smiling. And standing up straight?!”

“She just told the gym teacher to ‘walk faster, grandpa.’”

Rei yawned as she entered class and dropped into her seat. She stretched her arms and leaned back like she was settling into a mecha cockpit. Heads turned. Murmurs spread.

Then came the unmistakable sound of footsteps with villain energy: Rika.

“Good morning, Aya,” Rika said sweetly, brushing imaginary dust from her pristine uniform. “You’re looking… different today.”

Rei cocked her head. “Good morning to you, too, budget anime antagonist.”

The class gasped.

“REI, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO HER?!” Aya screamed in her head.

“She started it,” Rei said with a shrug.

Rika blinked. Her smile faltered for the briefest moment.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I know your type,” Rei said, resting her chin on her hand. “You act sweet, but your soul probably runs on drama and spreadsheets. Relax. I’m not in the mood for boss fights today.”

Silence.

Then someone in the back snorted. A few stifled giggles rippled through the class. Someone actually clapped.

Rika’s eye twitched.

Rei winked.

During lunch…

Normally, Aya would eat alone on the roof or in the library. Rei, however, had drawn a crowd.

Three classmates had pulled their desks over.

“Yo, Takahashi,” said Jun, the soccer club ace. “Didn’t know you were this cool. Where’ve you been hiding?”

Rei raised an eyebrow. “In a body with social anxiety and questionable posture, apparently.”

Jun blinked. “Huh?”

“Just say ‘I’ve been working on myself,’” Aya hissed in her mind.

“Right, yeah,” Rei said with a mouthful of curry bread. “I’ve been… self-upgrading.”

Jun laughed. “Well, whatever it is, it’s working. You should sit with us more often.”

Rei shrugged. “Sure. As long as no one tries to bully me. I bite.”

Back in Aya’s apocalyptic world…

Aya ducked behind a fallen beam, avoiding a drone patrol, rubbing her temples.

“This is a disaster. My rep’s ruined. You turned me into an actual delinquent in one day.”

“Correction,” Rei said, kicking her feet up in Aya’s classroom. “I turned you into a cool delinquent. You’re welcome.”

Aya groaned. “What happens when people actually expect me to be social tomorrow?! Or ask me to hang out?!”

“Then you do it. Embrace it. Or I can take over permanently. I’m really vibing with these lunches.”

“REI, NO.”

And so, while the real Aya ran for her life from a mutated subway crab beast in a ruined world, Rei was the surprise hit of Class 2-B, casually rewriting the school social hierarchy while double-fisting melon bread.

High school had never been so dangerous.

For either of them.