The Cat and The Mouse

Quick heads up:
() = Takuya Kaze's inner monologue

Walking through the school hallway, one inevitably encounters every kind of student imaginable.

Those who walk with stiff backs and eyes glued to textbooks, as if their futures might crumble the moment they look away. Those who burst with energy, loudly advertising their club activities to anyone unfortunate enough to pass by. Those who fade into the scenery, existing merely as background noise in the bustling corridors.

And then...

There are those students.

The ones that irritate Takuya Kaze the most.

The so-called low-standard, troublesome brats from the lower-track classes.

“You wanna hear a joke? What do you call fake pasta?”
“An impasta! Hahaha!”

“Hahaha...!”

Takuya-kun pauses briefly outside the classroom door and casts a sideways glance through the window. His lips curl into a faint, contemptuous smirk.

The homeroom teacher is standing right there — right there — yet the students continue chatting loudly, laughing without restraint, not even attempting to hide their lack of respect. Their voices trample over the lesson as if the teacher were nothing more than a decorative object.

No discipline. No awareness. No shame. Useless scumbags.

No wonder they’re ranked at the bottom academically.

(Zombies.)

In the most traditional sense, zombies are slow, mindless creatures. Dull, empty-headed, and utterly-ignored by the world. And yet, what makes them dangerous is not their stupidity, but their behavior: They only acknowledge their own kind. If you try to get too close, and they’ll lash out without reason, biting anything that doesn’t belong.

(They laughed at the same timing, nodded at the same jokes, complained about the same exams. If one of them vanished tomorrow, nothing would change. The hallway would sound exactly the same, exactly.)

Satisfied with his assessment, Takuya-kun turns away and strides toward his destination:

Class 3-A.

At Unkai Private Academy, students are ruthlessly categorized according to academic performance, divided neatly from Class A to Class F. The system is simple: A is heaven, F is hell. And Class A — his class — is where the so-called elite gather.

Takuya-kun stops in front of the door and knocks.

“Excuse me,” he says calmly. “May I come in, Izumi-sensei?”

(Well, I guess it's better if I can call her Izumi-sexy...)

The teacher turns her gaze toward him, her eyes sharp and unimpressed.

“I told you to run in the hallway as punishment for sleeping during my lesson,” she says. “So why do you look so proud of yourself?”

(Because I am proud.)

During his punishment, he had managed to sneak a few glances at several cute kouhai passing by. Some of them — how should he put it — were surprisingly well-developed, especially their "oppai", for their age. Certainly more impressive than the zombie girls rotting away in this classroom.

Takuya-kun bows deeply, his expression flawlessly crafted.

“I sincerely apologize for my insolent behavior earlier. I humbly ask for your forgiveness and request another opportunity to prove myself as a diligent and respectable student.”

(Checkmate! And perfect! No slang, no abbreviations, and not even a hint of casual tone. No teacher can reject an apology this textbook-perfect!)

Izumi-sensei sighs.

“Just get inside already. I have an important announcement. You’re wasting time.”

(If anything, I’m the one benefiting — this is far more stimulating than sitting in class, isn't it?)

Takuya-kun steps in and walks toward his seat.

The classroom is arranged into seven rows with five seats each. His seat — third row, first column — is strategically ideal. Just far enough from the teacher’s constant surveillance, yet close enough to appear attentive.

Unfortunately, the student sitting beside him ruins everything.

Masakami Kento.

Top of the class. Star of the basketball team. Tall, athletic, charismatic, and infuriatingly handsome.

The kind of guy teachers adore (teacher's pet), classmates (except me) admire, and girls (ass-kissers) orbit like moths drawn to a flame.

Sitting next to him should be considered a blessing.

But the major problem?

Zombie girls swarm him nonstop.

Their incessant praise, giggling, and blatant attempts at flirtation assault Takuya-kun’s ears without mercy.

(At this rate, my cochlea is going to shatter.)

Though, occasionally, he subtly extends his elbow just a little further than necessary. If lady luck is on his side, he might “accidentally” bump into something really soft.

The teacher clears her throat loudly.

“Quiet.”

The classroom settles.

“I have a paramount announcement to make. Starting today, we have a transfer student.”

She gestures toward the door.

A girl enters.

Her steps are measured and graceful, her posture elegant. She walks with a confidence that demands attention, as though she were walking down a runway rather than into a classroom.

Stopping at the front, she turns and bows deeply.

“I am Sato Itsuki,” she says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

Her voice is calm and self-assured. Combined with her refined appearance, it’s immediately clear — this girl stands out.

Judging by the class’s reaction, she may very well become the prettiest girl here.

Takuya-kun doesn’t bother looking up.

(Another zombie, huh?)

The girl looks at him for a really long time.

...

(There was no reason for her to look at me. No merit. No advantage. I wasn’t offended by that fact — on the contrary, it was comforting. Things without value don’t create expectations, and expectations are just disappointments waiting for their turn.)

Suddenly, the girl raises her hand and points directly toward him.

“I want to sit there, Sensei.”

Izumi-sensei pauses, blinks, then nods.

“If that’s the case… Takuya-kun, please move to the empty seat in the back.”

(Just as I expected, she's looking at Masakami-kun.)

Izumi-sensei winks playfully at him.

(This sexy teacher... How can I possibly say a "no" now?)

“Takuya-kun, huh…?” the girl murmurs quietly, repeating his name as if committing it to memory.

(What a picky zombie. Then again, who wouldn’t want to sit next to Masakami-kun? I can't really blame her for that.)

Takuya-kun stands up —

“No.”

The girl’s voice interrupts him.

“I meant… I want to sit beside Takuya-kun.”

The classroom freezes.

Not a single sound remains.

Whispers erupt moments later.

“What’s wrong with her?”
“She rejected Masakami-kun?”
“And chose that delusional, pseudo-intellectual loner?”

(I can hear every word, you know. But seriously — why me?)

Izumi-sensei smirks knowingly and gently pats the girl’s head.

“Enjoy your time with him,” she whispers. “That Takuya-kid is… unpredictable, yet surprisingly easy to read.”

Turning to the class, she continues:

“Masakami-kun, could you move to the seat behind? Your height suits it better.”

“Of course, Sensei.”

Masakami-kun complies without complaint, his perfect demeanor intact.

Sato Itsuki places her bag down but pauses before sitting. She leans toward Takuya-kun instead.

“Good morning, Takuya-kun.”

(Don’t do this in public, you quirky zombie.)

Takuya-kun feigns indifference, pretends to read the textbooks, shows no interest to her.

She leans even closer, almost kisses his cheek.

“Good morning, Takuya-kun.”

“…G-Good morning,” he snaps before the girl makes another bold move. “Satisfied?” he leans backwards to make more distance between them.

“Yes.”

A faint smile appears as she finally sits back down.

(I can’t win against her. Maybe she’s not a zombie after all… She's a cat, and I am the mouse...)

Classes continue as usual.

During recess, Sato-san doesn’t talk to anyone. She reads novels quietly at her desk.

So does Takuya-kun, though he will go out to buy some food to eat in the canteen, but still, alone.

Loners recognize loners.

The bell rings as the school ends.

Takuya-kun packs up and ready to leave immediately. Indeed, he doesn't have any friends to wait for, unlike Masakami-kun who hangs out everyday with his "fans".

While at the door...

“Takuya-kun.”

A familiar sound. A chill runs down his spine. He turns back slowly, it's the Sato-girl again.

“What now?” He asks impatiently, with intolerance of delay.

She raises her right hand and waves.

“Goodbye, Takuya-kun.”

"Huh? I don't have time to play —"

“Goodbye.” She intercepts before he utters his final word.

...

(Awkward silence, I hate this.)

"Fine. Goodbye..." For lack of alternatives, he has to answer her.

She smiles.

And leaves before Takuya-kun.

Takuya-kun stands there for a moment.

(I really don’t understand her at all…)

And leaves after Sato-san.

(But seriously, why would she talk to me? She treats me so different... Perchance, she has feelings for me?)

As the thought crosses his mind, he immediately slaps himself, hard enough for him to wake up from his delusion.

(Don't overthink it, she's the same as others... Interest without reason is an error, and errors eventually correct themselves. In fact, most people weren’t alive — they were simply reacting to their surroundings, and that's what zombies do.)

...

End of Chapter