1. Scars and a Black Umbrella (Karuizawa Kei)
That night, the rain fell like ice needles piercing the skin.
In the present, Karuizawa Kei sat in her dorm room, staring into her vanity mirror. Her hand slowly traced the side of her stomach, where an old scar lay hidden beneath her silk pajamas.
Her mind drifted back to that narrow, garbage-stinking alleyway.
Flashback.
Kei's world at that moment consisted only of pain, cold, and despair. She lay on the wet asphalt, her uniform soiled with mud. Her tormentors had just left, their laughter echoing like a living nightmare.
Kei wanted to die. She felt broken. She felt like a magnet for misfortune.
Then, footsteps approached. Not heavy, terrifying steps, but almost soundless ones, as if even the rain was reluctant to touch this person's shoes.
Kei looked up, trembling, fully expecting another blow.
Instead, all she saw was a black umbrella shielding her from the gray sky. And beneath that umbrella stood a boy with a peculiar gaze—not of pity, nor of disgust. It was a clinical gaze, like a doctor observing a patient, yet warm, like a teacher watching a student.
"That's an ugly scar," the boy—Seiji—said.
Kei flinched. Shame burned her face. "D-don't look..."
Seiji crouched down. He didn't offer a hand to help her up. Instead, he stared intently into her eyes.
"But," Seiji continued, his voice piercing through the roaring rain, "that scar is proof that you survived. You are not a victim, Karuizawa-san. You are a survivor."
Those words struck Kei's chest harder than any kick from her bullies.
"Don't hide your fangs behind a fake smile just to seek shelter," Seiji whispered, as if he could see right through Kei's future plan of finding a 'host'. "If the world wants to devour you, make sure you poison them first. Be a deadly parasite, rather than a feeble host."
That day, Seiji didn't hug her. He gave her something far more valuable: a Doctrine of Self-Defense. He taught Kei how to manipulate situations, how to read others' fears, and how to stand tall above her own pain.
Back to the present.
Kei smiled at her reflection in the mirror. It was a strong smile. Haughty. Beautiful.
"I'm not a victim anymore," she whispered.
She glanced at her phone, where the name 'Koroizumi Seiji' rested in her contact list.
She no longer sought a protector out of weakness. She stood beside Seiji because she wanted to be the poison that protected her master. A warm feeling spread through her chest—gratitude slowly twisting into something much more possessive.
"You recreated me, Seiji-kun," Kei murmured. "So, you have to take responsibility."
2. Shadows and a Cracked Mirror (Horikita Suzune)
In her dorm room, Horikita Suzune was doing some light stretching before bed. She looked at her reflection in the dark glass window. Her short hair framed her face sharply.
Her memories drifted back to an old wooden dojo, a year ago.
Flashback.
Suzune was panting heavily. Sweat soaked her white dogi. She attacked again, a straight punch she had learned by observing her older brother, Manabu, for years. Perfect. Fast. Lethal.
But Seiji Koroizumi merely tilted his head slightly.
Suzune's strike hit empty air. Her balance faltered. With a light touch to her wrist, Seiji redirected Suzune's own momentum to slam her into the tatami.
Thud!
Suzune glared at the dojo ceiling, her frustration exploding. "Why?! I executed the exact same movements as Nii-san! Why can't I touch you?!"
Seiji stood over her, not looking the least bit fatigued. He stared at Suzune with a piercing gaze, his easygoing mask dropping for a moment.
"That is exactly the problem," Seiji said coldly. "You fight like you're imitating someone else. Your brother's shadow is so massive that you can't even see your own hands."
"What do you know?!" Suzune snapped, tears of frustration welling up in the corners of her eyes. "That's the only way to get him to acknowledge me!"
"Wrong," Seiji countered. "A copy will never surpass the original. As long as you try to be the 'female version of Manabu', you will only ever be a second-rate product."
Seiji offered his hand. This time, to help her up.
"Be yourself, Horikita Suzune," Seiji said, his tone softening into that of a mentor. "You have the potential to become something entirely different. Stop chasing his back. Start walking beside him. Find your own style. Become a weapon your brother can't predict."
Those words tore down the wall of obsession Suzune had built up over the years. It was painful, yet liberating.
Back to the present.
Suzune clenched her fists. She remembered the proud look in her brother's eyes in the Student Council Room yesterday. She would never have earned that look if she had kept her long hair and remained an imitator.
Seiji was the one who shattered her illusions, and Seiji was the one who gave her a new foundation.
"You were right, Koroizumi," Suzune whispered. "I am no longer a shadow."
There was a deep-seated respect in her heart for the young man. A respect that made her willing to swallow her ego for the sake of the class's strategy. And perhaps, deep down, she felt safe knowing there was someone who had seen the 'real Suzune' before anyone else had.
3. The Angel and the Trash Can (Kushida Kikyo)
Kushida Kikyo was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling with a twisted smile she would never show in public.
Her mind drifted back to that wrecked middle school classroom.
Flashback.
Desks were overturned. Chairs were scattered everywhere. Kushida stood in the middle of the chaos, panting heavily. She had just gone on a rampage. She wanted to scream, to curse, and to spill the rotten secrets of all her hypocritical classmates. She wanted to destroy everything.
The classroom door opened. Seiji Koroizumi walked in. He didn't look the least bit afraid of Kushida's horrifying true face—a face full of hatred and venom.
Instead, he laughed. "Nurufufufu."
"What's so funny?!" Kushida snapped. "Are you going to tell a teacher? Go ahead! I'll destroy you too!"
"Keep screaming," Seiji said casually, closing the door behind him and locking it. "I like this face. It's far more honest than that disgusting angelic mask of yours."
Kushida froze, bewildered. "Huh?"
Seiji walked closer, hopping over an overturned chair. He stood before Kushida, entirely un-intimidated by her murderous aura.
"You're tired, aren't you?" Seiji asked gently.
Kushida's defenses cracked.
"Playing the angel is exhausting," Seiji continued. "But destroying everything will only leave you all alone in hell. You need a receptacle to dump your poison into, Kushida-san."
Seiji tapped his own chest.
"Make me your trash can. Curse me out. Swear at me. Show me your dark side. I can take it. But out there... use those two faces of yours as a weapon. It's a talent, not a curse. Your ability to manipulate people's perception is a terrifying power."
That day, Kushida didn't end up blowing up her class. She found a safe dumping ground. She found someone who didn't judge her, but rather empowered her demonic side.
Back to the present.
Kushida let out a small laugh. "What a weird guy."
She felt comfortable around Seiji. She didn't need to pretend to be nice. She could be her efficient, cunning, and ruthless self, and Seiji would actually praise her for it.
This attachment... was a dangerous thing. Because Kushida knew, the only person who could control her right now was the owner of that "trash can."
4. The Calculator and Reality (Ichinose Honami)
In the Class A (formerly B) dorms, Ichinose Honami was calculating class points on her tablet. The number 985 gleamed on the screen. But her mind wasn't on that number.
Her mind was on a cheap hairpin in a store display window from years ago.
Flashback.
Honami's hand trembled as she reached out for the hairpin. Her little sister wanted it. Her mother had no money. The devil in her head whispered: Just take it. No one is watching.
Her fingers had almost brushed the item when another hand gripped her wrist. Not roughly, but firmly.
"Stealing is inefficient," a voice whispered in her ear.
Honami froze. Her heart felt like it stopped. She turned her head and saw Seiji.
"You're trading a future worth billions of yen for a hairpin that costs a few thousand yen? That's bad math, Ichinose-san."
Seiji pulled her out of the store. Honami cried, fully prepared to be scolded or reported to the police.
But Seiji took her to a park bench. He picked up a twig and started drawing in the dirt.
"You need money?" Seiji asked. "Don't beg. Don't steal. Create value."
That day, under the afternoon sun, Seiji gave her a crash course in entrepreneurship, about how charisma and trust were monetizable assets. He taught Honami that kindness without power is a weakness.
"The world will eat a naive person like you alive, Honami," Seiji said seriously. "So, become a smart leader. Protect your people not with tears, but with strategies and resources."
Seiji provided her with initial capital—his own savings—so Honami could start a small business selling handicrafts. Honami managed to buy her sister the present with her own hard-earned money, rather than stolen goods.
Back to the present.
Ichinose smiled wistfully. That incident had changed her. She was still a kind girl, but she was no longer blind. She understood that every action came with a price.
She looked at Seiji's name on the Class 1-C student roster.
You taught me how to lead, Koroizumi-kun, Ichinose thought to herself. And now, you are my rival.
A sense of longing was tucked away in that thought. A desire to know if she had become a strong enough woman in the eyes of her very first "teacher."
5. On the Same Page (Shiina Hiyori)
The school library was quiet that evening. Shiina Hiyori sat alone, reading a classic mystery novel.
She turned a page, and the scent of aged paper carried her back to a silent city library from her past.
Flashback.
Hiyori was always alone. She preferred books over people. People were noisy, illogical, and exhausting.
Until she met that boy.
They sat across from each other at a large table. Seiji was reading a biology encyclopedia. Hiyori was reading a detective novel.
For two hours, neither of them spoke. There was only the sound of turning pages.
Those were the two most comfortable hours of Hiyori's life.
As the library was about to close, Hiyori mustered the courage to ask a question. "Does... knowledge make you happy, Koroizumi-kun?"
Seiji closed his book slowly. He smiled—an incredibly serene smile.
"Knowledge is the only power that people cannot steal from you, Shiina-san," Seiji answered. "In a world full of violence and politics, books are our final fortress of sanity."
Seiji didn't find her reading habits weird. He didn't force her to talk. He understood the language of silence.
"Next time," Seiji said before leaving, "recommend me a good mystery."
From then on, they met often. Exchanging books. Having brief discussions about plot twists or scientific theories. Seiji was the only friend who truly understood Hiyori's internal world.
Back to the present.
Hiyori closed her book. She stared at the empty chair across from her.
She missed that comfortable silence. In Class D (now C), led by Ryuen, there was nothing but noise and violence.
"I hope we can read together again, Koroizumi-kun," Hiyori whispered.
She knew Seiji was in a class on the rise. She knew Seiji had to be busy. But Hiyori believed that the bond between fellow seekers of knowledge wouldn't be severed by the walls of their classes.
A seed of emotion was quietly growing, taking root like a tree in Hiyori's heart. Not a fiery romance, but a profound desire to always remain on the same page as that young man.
Epilogue: The Center of Gravity
The night grew deeper at the Advanced Nurturing High School dormitories.
In Room 401, Seiji Koroizumi sneezed.
"Achoo!"
"Is someone talking about you, Master?" Ritsu asked from the computer screen.
Seiji rubbed his nose. "Who knows. Probably just dust."
He didn't know that across various corners of the dorms, five extraordinary girls were thinking about him. Each with different reasons, each with different memories.
But one thing was certain: Seiji had sown seeds in their hearts. Seeds of trust, respect, and affection. And in this ruthless battlefield of the Classroom of the Elite, those feelings would become both the strongest weapon and shield that Class 1-C possessed.
"Alright," Seiji returned his focus to his monitor, where the plan to acquire the past exam papers was being drafted. "Let's resume the lesson."
The night was peaceful, but the hearts of those girls beat to the same rhythm—a rhythm centered entirely on a former God of Death who had now become their classmate.
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