Saint's advocate high
Seijin Shien-sha Kōtōgakkō (Saint's Advocate High) was a prestigious institution located in Uji, a serene and iconic city nestled between the Nara and Kyoto prefectures. Surrounded by lush green tea fields and ancient temples, the school boasted a perfect blend of traditional Japanese elegance and modern academic excellence. Its grand iron gates, flanked by cherry blossom trees, opened to reveal a sprawling campus of polished stone pathways, verdant gardens, and imposing academic buildings that whispered tales of brilliance and prestige.
Aki's POV
As I stepped through the gates of Saint's Advocate High School, an exhilarating wave of confidence washed over me. This—this was my new kingdom.
I strolled forward, basking in the grandeur of the campus and imagining my impending reign. The morning sun gilded the pathways, casting my shadow long and regal. But just as I was reveling in my triumph, I saw her.
Emerging from the main hallway like a shadow materializing into existence, she stood there—Maleficent.
(P.S. Akira calls Hana Maleficent, at times.)
Of course, she was already here. Why wouldn't she be? That woman had made it her life's mission to follow me wherever I went.
I dismissed her with a flick of my hair and a muttered, "Pathetic," before turning my attention to my true subjects.
Behind me, a familiar entourage appeared, their faces alight with excitement. They were my loyal fan club executives from middle school—ten devoted followers who'd walk through fire to bask in my light. A few shy ones lingered at the back, likely new recruits. Their hesitant steps betrayed their awe, and I allowed myself a small, satisfied smirk.
However, something unexpected disrupted my perfect morning.
A massive crowd of students surged toward the main courtyard, their frenzied cheers filling the air. The group was far larger than mine, and I immediately felt my pride bristle.
"Who is that?" I asked my personal maid, Kowai, who walked quietly beside me.
She tilted her head slightly, her expression as emotionless as ever. "That is Makoto Murasame. He recently returned from overseas."
M-Makoto Murasame?!
My stomach flipped, though I maintained my composure.
The Makoto I remembered was scrawny and utterly unimpressive. But this man—this towering, broad-shouldered figure striding with effortless charm—was unrecognizable. His piercing blue eyes scanned the crowd with an air of disinterest, his deeper blue hair catching the light like a flowing midnight river.
It really was him.
The same Makoto who abandoned me—the goddess of goodness and virtue—six years ago to chase knowledge in some foreign land. He'd left me, his rightful queen, for the trivial pursuit of education!
I straightened my back, lifting my chin.
It didn't matter.
It was too late for us now. I'd moved on, and he was no longer a factor in my plans.
Still, this aura of his—the way the crowd flocked to him, their adoration palpable—what was he now? A king among students?
Hmph. Whatever he thought he was, it didn't change one undeniable fact. He was just another man, and like all men, he'd fall for me. It was only a matter of time.
As I schemed my wicked plans for Makoto, I noticed something startling—he was walking toward me, from the entrance.
Eh? H-Have my charms already begun their devious work?
I could feel the heat creeping up my cheeks.
Stop blushing, foolish Akira! He'll notice!
Still, I couldn't help the sly grin that tugged at my lips.
He-he-he, what a pity, Makoto. I brought you to your knees with such little resistance. I don't blame you, though. I blame my elegance.
Standing tall, I puffed out my chest, radiating confidence as I prepared to bask in his inevitable surrender. My hair swayed like a golden cascade in the breeze, and my uniform seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. Surely, he would recognize the unparalleled beauty before him.
But then…
He walked right past me.
Just. Like. That.
As though I wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world. As though he couldn't see the goddess of grace standing in all her glory before him.
My jaw dropped in disbelief. What kind of talent does it take to ignore gold in front of you, when you're a beggar?!
(P.S. Makoto is not a beggar)
The audacity! The nerve! I was livid!
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I glared daggers at his retreating figure. How dare he?
Not that I didn't already have plans for him, but this… this insolence needed retribution.
With a sharp inhale, I made a new vow right then and there. I would impress that blind fool, force him to see the brilliance he so carelessly walked past, and get him to kneel in submission.
It was a goal now.
*
Akira had just been snubbed by the new school king, Makoto Murasame.
She, who prided herself as the pinnacle of importance in Japan, was naturally livid. Her temper flared, and she decided, then and there, that she would make him fall for her—even if it was the last thing she ever did.
Akira's POV
Ah, Hana—standing near the hallway—saw it all?!
The thought sent a chill down my spine. How that blind-to-grace bastard ignored me! Of course, Hana would use it against me in the near future. That snake was probably laughing behind her delicate fan right now.
But then, I saw her taking the same approach—making her way toward Makoto with fluttering steps and that innocent smile of hers.
Hmph! Predictable!
Hana had always been infatuated with Makoto. Even back then, when we were children, she adored him to a fault. Unlike me, though, her feelings were pure, bordering on devotion.
As Makoto's long strides carried him closer to her, Hana suddenly cried out, "Oh, my leg!" and collapsed to the ground in an artful tumble.
I narrowed my eyes. There was absolutely nothing she could have tripped on—Hana was simply being Hana. That conniving little actress probably hoped Makoto would swoop in to help her up, where they could then exchange pleasantries and perhaps rekindle old memories.
Tsk! It's clever… but disgusting!
While mentally biting down on my handkerchief in frustration, divine intervention blessed me with an unexpected spectacle.
"HANAAAA!!"
A piercing shriek echoed from the school gates, and just when Makoto actually turned toward Hana, to help her.
That shriek belonged to none other than Oka Kami.
The wiry boy darted toward Hana like a lightning bolt.
Ah, Oka Kami. A name that resonated in our school halls, though not always with admiration. He wasn't particularly tall; his short, curly hair often unkempt, and his demeanor a peculiar mix of quiet awkwardness and unrestrained energy.
In middle school, I had observed his peculiar duality: the first, a subdued, hunched figure who faded into the background with no regard for elegance or poise.
The second, a lively, almost reckless spirit who came alive whenever someone needed help or whenever the topic of sports arose.
And now, here he was, dashing to Hana's side like a knight in slightly scuffed armor.
Oka Kami is also renowned for his inhuman speed. He wasn't just fast; he was too fast, almost as if gravity bent to his will.
While most could manage 100 meters in about 12–15 seconds, Oka Kami could almost rival the world's fastest, record-breaking 9.58 seconds, covering ground as if his feet were skimming the surface of water.
The wind seemed to scream in his wake as he sprinted across the courtyard, reaching Hana in mere moments. His sharp reflexes kicked in, and he caught her by the arm just before she could fully collapse onto the ground.
He-he-he, apparently, Oka Kami had caught Hana's false cry—his absurdly sharp ears proving their worth too—and now he'd come rushing to her rescue.
"ARE YOU OKAY, HANA-SAN? IS ANYTHING BROKEN? BLOOD? WHERE'S THE BLOOD?!" he practically shrieked, his words tumbling out in hysterical concern.
Poor Hana. The beads of cold sweat trailing down her temples betrayed her regret. Ah, how deliciously amusing!
"I-I'm fine, Oka-kun. See? See?" Hana pleaded with a wobbly smile, holding her arms out to show she was entirely unharmed.
But Oka wasn't having it. He brushed off her reassurances, hoisted her effortlessly into his arms, and dashed off toward the nurse's office without a second thought.
By then, Makoto had already walked away, indifferent to the entire commotion. Hana's elaborate plan had crumbled into a heap of ruined dreams. Maybe it's a blessed day, after all.
Truly, the universe favors me. I smirked, though the sting of Makoto's earlier coldness still lingered.
"Kowai!" I called out to my personal maid.
Something has to b done about this "School king."