The Morning After

A blaring, shrill alarm sliced through Miyuu’s sleep, yanking her violently back to consciousness. She groaned, clutching her pillow tighter as the student device’s screen obnoxiously flashed beside her bed.

“6:30 a.m.! Good morning, Miyuu! Time to start your day!” Chirped a far-too-cheerful automated voice.

She groaned, slapping her hand blindly across the device, searching for the “Dismiss” button. Instead of mercy, the device doubled down, buzzing harder and rattling the nightstand as if laughing at her.

“Who designed this hellish wake-up call?” K.A.T.O.'s voice grumbled from where he was nestled under her blankets. His ears twitched in irritation.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she growled, snatching the device like it was a grenade.

K.A.T.O.’s eyes flickered red. "Want me to melt it? Just say the word."

Her fingers tightened around the offending piece of tech, the thought of chucking it across the room deeply tempting. Before she could make good on her plan to commit first-degree device murder, the door swung open.

Haruki stood there, arms crossed, radiating the exact brand of disapproving authority Miyuu absolutely did not have the mental bandwidth to deal with at 6:30 a.m. His eyes flicked to the device in her hand.

“I wouldn’t,” he said, as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s school property. And if you break it...” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll replace it with one that’s even louder.”

Miyuu glared at him through bleary eyes. “That thing deserves to be shattered into a thousand tiny pieces,” she muttered, flopping back onto the mattress and yanking the blanket over her head in protest.

Haruki, unfortunately, was unmoved. “Get ready. You have ten minutes to make yourself presentable and meet us in the kitchen for breakfast.” he said firmly.

Miyuu’s hands twitched under the covers. “Seriously? You drag me to this hellscape, and now I have to wake up at dawn?” She clutched the blanket tighter, curling into a human burrito. “You couldn’t let me sleep in? Not even one morning?”

After all, she’d been arrested last night, carted off to this nightmare school, and now she was being forced to wake up at this ungodly hour? The audacity of this place—and this guy—was staggering.

“You’ll adjust,” Haruki replied, ignoring her very compelling argument for sleeping in. Without waiting for further complaints, he stepped closer, yanked the blanket off her bed in one swift motion, and grabbed her wrist.

“Come now,” he said evenly, as though manhandling someone at the crack of dawn was perfectly normal. “Don’t test my patience.”

This guy... She’d only known him for about 12 hours, and she already wanted to toss him out a window.

Miyuu yanked her wrist back from his light grip, glaring at him as an irritating tingling sensation lingered where his fingers had brushed her skin. She wasn’t used to people touching her, unless it involved glowing blue lights and handcuffs—and frankly, even that felt less invasive.

“Fine. I’ll get ready,” she snapped, sitting up. “Now get out.”

“Your uniform is in the closet. You’ve got ten minutes, Ms. Tsukishima.”

He turned, and the door clicked shut behind him before she could lob a pillow at his head.

Miyuu let out a long, exaggerated groan, flopping back onto the mattress. “This is my life now,” she muttered to the ceiling. The ceiling, naturally, didn’t care.

After marinating in self-pity for a solid minute, she dragged herself upright, shuffled to the closet and yanked it open. Her father had made sure her personal wardrobe arrived with her—at least one small mercy.

But there it was. The uniform.

A crisp white pleated skirt with gold piping, paired with a structured jacket that hugged the blouse beneath it, a red S.E.E.D logo was embroidered just above the chest pocket. The blouse’s embroidered gold collar peeked out just enough, tied off with a bright red ribbon—a bow on a present nobody asked for. The short sleeves were subtly puffed and knee-high white socks completed the outfit.

“Great,” Miyuu muttered, holding the jacket up up like it might bite her.

She pulled the uniform on with a grimace, expecting it to itch or strangle her on principle. Instead, the fabric was soft, and the fit was perfect. Not that it made it any less humiliating.

With her pigtails secured, she gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror. She looked... fine. Better than last night, at least. Her skin still glowed faintly from the herbal bath Genji had oh-so-graciously prepared. That smug jerk.

She turned to K.A.T.O.’s stuffed animal form in the corner, poking him lightly. “Back to the node, buddy,” she murmured. His ears twitched once before his eyes dimmed, and his presence shifted back to her wrist. The stuffed fox slumped lifelessly onto the bed.

Now dressed, mildly annoyed, and already done with the day, she took one last glance at the uniform and sighed.

 She grabbed her pink utility sling bag from the foot of the bed. She slipped her student device inside, the magnetic clasp snapping into place with a crisp click as the bag settled snugly across her shoulder.

Good luck out there, princess. K.A.T.O. whispered through their neural link. Breakfast with the enemy—what a way to start your day.

Gee, thanks, K.A.T.O. she shot back, dragging her feet toward the door.

.

The hum of cleaning bots filled the manor, she could hear the faint clink of dishes from somewhere up ahead. Miyuu strolled toward the noise, trailing her fingers along the walls as she walked. Everything in this place looked like it had been obsessively sanitized.

Every surface in the kitchen glowed with holographic displays cycling through nutritional data, calorie counts, and personalized meal plans.

Standing at the centre of it all was yet another pretty boy. This one had jet-black hair, and icy blue eyes partially obscured by thin-framed glasses. His expression revealed about as much emotion as a textbook on quantum mechanics.

He glanced up as Miyuu entered, and the first words out of his mouth confirmed it: he was another uptight perfectionist. “You’re finally awake.”

His tone was clipped, disapproving. As if punctuality wasn’t just a virtue but a requirement for existence, and she’d already failed.

Miyuu rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter. “Maybe if the alarm wasn’t set to ‘screeching banshee,’ I’d have been more willing to get up.”

The boy arched a brow—clearly unimpressed. “Excuses won’t get you far here.” He turned back to the kitchen interface.

Robotic arms whirred to life in response, they placed a bowl of miso soup and rice onto the counter.

K.A.T.O.’s voice buzzed through her neural link. Be careful. This one’s got a stick up his—

Shhh! Miyuu snapped internally, her lips twitching as she fought to keep a straight face. If she laughed now, she’d probably get lectured on "appropriate breakfast etiquette" or whatever these student council types cared about.

The boy—because of course, he hadn’t introduced himself yet—didn’t seem to notice the silent exchange, his attention fixed on the perfectly portioned meal. “Eat quickly,” he said. “You have a busy day ahead.”

He gave her a pointed look, the kind that said he wasn’t used to repeating himself. “Sit. Breakfast is ready.”

Miyuu wrinkled her nose, eyeing the neatly arranged miso soup and rice like it was a personal attack. “No thanks. Where’s the chocolate-banana cereal in this fancy place? You know, the crunchy joy of sugary bites that comes with a free toy in the box?”

He didn’t even blink. “This is what your body needs.” He gestured toward a glowing holographic chart hovering over the counter. It was a grim display of her vitals, complete with color-coded graphs and an “optimized nutrition plan” tailored just for her. “Eat. It’s not up for debate.”

Miyuu crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “I think we need to set some boundaries.”

His gaze sharpened, and she felt the full weight of it. The intensity in his eyes made her stomach knot. “When I speak,” he said, his voice low, “you listen.”

A chill slid down her spine, but she refused to flinch. She glared at the so-called “breakfast” in front of her. Eating—and being able to taste—was in her opinion, the best thing humanity had to offer.

This? This was a hate crime against her.

Her thoughts spiralled. What was the point of taste buds if all they were going to do was suffer through bland, “scientifically optimized” meals? And the way he was staring her down—like he wouldn’t hesitate to strap her to a chair and force-feed her vitamins if she so much as rolled her eyes—made her blood boil.

Fine. Maybe a tiny part of her was nervous at how serious he seemed. But mostly, she just wanted to punt him across the room for committing this culinary offense.

She scoffed, grabbing the bowl with more force than necessary. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge, and for a wild second, she considered dumping its contents over his head. Instead, with a huff, she shoved the bowl across the counter.

The bowl screeched against the surface, the sound loud and grating as it skidded to a halt just before teetering off the edge. Her eyes snapped to his, locking onto his unflinching stare. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him, daring him to stop her.

For a moment, the room hung in tense silence, her defiance colliding with his authority like a car crash in slow motion. If he thought she was going to play along without putting up a fight, he had another thing coming.

Suddenly, a sharp smack landed on her butt, the sound echoing louder in her head than it probably had in the room. Miyuu froze mid-step, her brain short-circuiting in disbelief. What. Just. Happened?

He had moved so quickly. Was he trained in the arts of ninjutsu?

K.A.T.O. erupted into laughter in her neural link, his voice wheezing like he could barely breathe. Oh, that was priceless! Did he just spank you?

Shut up! she snapped inwardly, her face flushed red as a mix of rage and mortification turned her into a human-shaped bonfire.

The culprit, stood entirely unbothered, like he hadn’t just committed one of the most egregious acts of disrespect in Miyuu’s personal history. He remained cool, as if this was just business as usual. “Sit down,” he said flatly.

Grinding her teeth, Miyuu lowered herself into the chair. radiating the kind of murderous intent that could make flowers wilt and birds drop out of the sky. If looks could kill, this guy would’ve needed a priest, a burial plot, and a eulogy.

From the doorway, Haruki leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed and lips twitching with barely concealed amusement. “Ah, I see you’ve met our vice president, Shirogane Kaito.”

K.A.T.O.’s voice buzzed in her mind again, still choking on laughter. Vice president, aye? Well, I’d say this guy’s got a lot of... cheek.

Miyuu’s head snapped toward Haruki, her pupils narrowing into razor-sharp slits as she locked onto him. Her lips curled back slightly, baring teeth that, if given the chance, might’ve sunk into him. “Kaito,” she repeated under her breath. She filed the name away, already planning her revenge.

Kaito handed her a pair of chopsticks. Miyuu snatched them from his hand with more force than necessary, muttering curses under her breath. She let out a dramatic sigh, one that probably could’ve powered a wind turbine, and grudgingly started eating.

When she finished, Kaito’s hand landed lightly on her head, his fingers ruffling her hair with a touch so gentle it threw her completely off balance. The warmth of it lingered, both comforting and wildly irritating.

Her scowl deepened but her cheeks betrayed her by flushing hotly. She squirmed in her seat as if physical movement could shake off the weird, unfamiliar sensation bubbling inside her. Don’t blush, idiot, she scolded herself, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Good job,” Kaito murmured, his voice softer than she expected, almost… affectionate?

The words hit her harder than they should have, stirring memories she’d buried so deep she’d practically forgotten they existed. Her father, in one of his rare moments of actually noticing her. His voice, just as soft. The way it left her feeling vulnerable and unsettled. Like now.

Kaito cleared his throat abruptly and adjusted his glasses, his whole demeanour snapping back into its standard no-nonsense mode. Reboot successful, Miyuu thought sourly.

“Now that breakfast is finished,” he said briskly, as if the past thirty seconds of emotional whiplash hadn’t happened, “we have a meeting with the Dean.”

Miyuu groaned, tugging irritably at the hem of her uniform. “I still don’t see why I have to wear this ridiculous outfit.”

From his vantage point against the doorframe, Haruki, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange, let a faint smile curl at the corners of his lips. “But it looks lovely on you,” he remarked.

Kaito gave a small, businesslike nod. “It suits you.”

Miyuu clenched her fists, resisting the urge to lob her chopsticks at both of them. Lovely? Suits me? She bit down on the inside of her cheek again, this time to stop herself from yelling.

The president gestured toward the door. “Come on. We’ll walk with you. Can’t have you running off, now, can we?”

K.A.T.O.’s voice buzzed cheerfully in her mind with his unhelpful commentary. Don’t worry, princess. We’ve got this. Besides, this morning’s been way more entertaining than I expected.

Shut it, she snapped internally.

With a scowl, she trailed behind the two student council members.

This is going to be a long day, she thought.