My name is Shoujo Minatawa. I'm sixteen, a first-year at Shinjin High, and if you ask anyone, from the principal down to the first-years, they'll tell you I'm a problem. It's not a reputation I asked for, but it's one I've earned. I guess I have what people call a "decent face," but I learned a long time ago that looks don't stop a fist from flying. I keep to myself, hang out with a few guys I trust, and generally try to ignore the world.
There's just one thing I can't stand: bullies. The sight of some loud-mouthed idiot preying on someone weaker flips a switch in my head. It’s a switch that usually ends with me in the guidance counselor's office, listening to another lecture about my "lack of self-control." The teachers are mostly fed up with me. I'm the storm cloud in their otherwise sunny classroom.And then there's her.
Ayako Katsumi.
She's the sun. The literal goddess of Shinjin High. Same age as me, sixteen, but we're from different universes. She has this long, flowing black hair that seems to capture the light and perfect features that make you wonder if she was sculpted by the gods themselves. She’s the student council president, an ace at every sport she tries, and her grades are always at the top of the charts. She's perfect.
Naturally, guys fall over themselves for her. Every morning, it's the same routine. As the first bell rings, a chorus of voices erupts from the school gates. "AYAKO-SAMA! I LOVE YOU!" It’s a daily pilgrimage for students from our school and even neighboring ones, a testament to her legendary status. She never acknowledges them, just continues her graceful walk onto the school grounds.
But for all the adoration she receives, she’s a complete mystery. She always walks to and from school alone. I’ve never seen her with a group of friends, never seen her laugh at some silly joke in the hallway. She’s polite and respectful to everyone, and in return, she commands more respect than any teacher. Her presence alone is enough to silence a rowdy classroom.The universe, in its infinite and cruel sense of humor, decided to place this goddess right next to me. In class 1-B, Ayako Katsumi, the student council president, sits at the desk beside mine.
You’d think she’d be scared, or at least wary. Everyone knows my reputation. They give me a wide berth. But Ayako? She doesn't flinch. She treats me like any other piece of classroom furniture that happens to breathe. Our entire interaction for the past month has consisted of a handful of greetings. A quiet "Hi" in the morning, a nod in the afternoon. That's it. We are polar opposites, a delinquent and a deity sharing the same air.
It was during lunch break that things took their usual turn. I was heading to the roof, my usual sanctuary, when I heard the familiar, pathetic whimpers from behind the gym. Three upperclassmen had a first-year pinned against the wall. It was the classic shakedown.
"Come on, kid. Just lend us a bit. We'll pay you back," the leader sneered, cracking his knuckles.I sighed. I really didn't want to do this today.
"Hey."
The three of them turned, their smug expressions souring when they saw me.
"Minatawa," the leader spat. "Mind your own business."
"He is my business," I lied, stepping forward. "He owes me money, and you're cutting in line."
That was all it took. The fight was messy, loud, and ended the way it always did: with them on the ground, me with a few new bruises, and a teacher storming towards the scene.
As I was being dragged off to the counselor's office, I saw her. Ayako Katsumi was standing not ten feet away, holding her student council binder to her chest. She must have seen the whole thing. I braced myself for the look of disgust, of fear, of disappointment. It’s what I always got.But I didn't get any of that.
Her face was calm, her dark eyes unreadable. There was no fear. No judgment. As our eyes met for a brief second, I could have sworn I saw a flicker of something else in her gaze. It wasn't admiration, but it wasn't disapproval either. It was... assessment. Like a master craftsman judging a piece of work.
Later that day, as I sat in my seat, nursing a sore jaw, the final bell rang. Students packed their bags, the chatter filling the room. As always, Ayako packed her things with quiet efficiency. She stood up, and for the first time ever, she paused by my desk.
I looked up, surprised.
She didn't look at me. Her gaze was fixed on the window. In a voice so low it was almost a whisper, a voice meant only for me, she said, "Your right hook is predictable. You leave your left side completely exposed."
I froze, my mind blanking.She turned and walked away without another word, her long black hair swaying behind her, leaving me staring at her empty chair.
What the hell was that? I replayed her words, the calm, analytical tone. It wasn't a warning. It wasn't advice. It was a critique.
I leaned back in my chair, a slow, bewildered grin spreading across my face.
This student council president... is so damn interesting.
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