Chapter 3

Ding-ling-ling~

The school bell rang. The teacher at the podium slowly gathered his lesson plans and prepared to leave.

At public schools, as long as students weren't causing major trouble, teachers wouldn't interfere—or rather, they didn't want to. This wasn't the strict era of 30 years ago, when slaps and canes maintained discipline. These days, even speaking too harshly could get a teacher reported by angry parents. And if they were recorded while doing so, it could cost them their job on the spot.

As a result, most teachers treated the job as just that—a job. Still, for students who showed real initiative…

"Mr. Enoshima, I had a few questions about today's lesson."

Nao Iai quickly followed the teacher out, notebook in hand.

"This question here—should it be solved like this?"

The teacher paused, glanced at her neat handwriting, and pointed out the key mistake. They might not care much about classroom drama, but when it came to earnest students, they were still willing to help.

After all, most teachers once dreamed of shaping young minds—before bureaucracy and burnout wore them down.

Meanwhile, Souta Kiryuu had already packed up and was walking out of the classroom.

As he passed two bruised classmates who were quietly sorting their books, Souta gave them a brief glance.

That Yamamoto guy—skipped all day?

Outside, he looked up at the building's clock. 3:30 PM. Normally, most students would head to their club activities—part training, part socializing.

Of course, there was always the largest club in public schools:

The Going-Home Club.

"Yaho~ Souta-kun~!"

Just as he reached the school gates, a cheerful voice called out behind him.

A short-haired girl waved energetically and jogged over to Souta, completely ignoring the glances of students heading home.

No wonder the "old me" had made so many enemies, Souta thought.

"Tenyo-san," he greeted, turning around as she caught up.

"Shall we go together?"

"Of course~!"

The girl barely hit 160 cm, with petite features and boundless energy. Her short black hair was tied in a tiny braid. That aura of liveliness had earned Souta quite a few glares.

Tch. Being handsome is a crime.

"Let's go."

Under countless barely-hidden hostile stares, the two walked side by side—not heading home together, but toward the subway.

"Hey, Souta," Tenyo started chirping. "Today in class, guess what happened..."

On the train, she animatedly recounted her day like a cheerful bird. Souta just smiled and responded with the occasional "Oh," "Nice," or "Really?"

He didn't dislike her.

After all, anyone who let down their guard around him was a friend in his book.

"Next stop: Nippori Station. Passengers disembarking, please prepare."

"That's us, Tenyo-san."

"Souta-kun, call me Ei!"

"Okay, Tenyo-san~"

"..."

Taito Ward. Royal Sakura Girls' Academy.

Ten minutes later, they arrived.

Unlike their public school in Adachi Ward, Royal Sakura was a private girls' school with over a century of tradition. Whether it was the campus environment, faculty, or discipline, it was on a different level.

Simply put: it was a school for the elite.

"Ichiha! Over here!"

At the typically quiet school gates, Tenyo Ei waved enthusiastically at a cool-looking girl approaching them.

She wore the Royal Sakura uniform. Her long, jet-black hair was sleek and glossy, her features elegant—but her demeanor distant. Holding her bag in front of her, she walked with perfect posture, as if measured by a ruler.

Even though this wasn't the first time Souta had seen her, the phrase still popped into his mind:

"Flower atop the high peak."

She fit the title perfectly.

"Ei," the elegant girl said softly.

As her gaze met Souta's, her icy expression melted into a sincere smile.

"And you must be Souta. Thank you for looking after Ei."

She bowed slightly. Souta waved it off.

"We just happened to be heading the same way."

"Exactly! And if anything, I'm the one looking after him," Ei declared, hands on hips.

Come on, that was the old me. This is a new era.

"You're late," came a crisp voice.

Souta turned toward the sound, dropping his hand from his temple.

"Sora."

Another girl from Royal Sakura walked over.

Petite, with pale skin and twin tails tied with white ribbons, she looked almost doll-like—adorable and sweet. Yet when her eyes landed on Souta, her expression turned stormy.

No—more accurately, when she glanced at Tenyo Ei, a flicker of hostility flashed in her eyes.

"Sorry, I was late," Souta said.

In truth, he wasn't. Since he didn't attend any clubs, he'd gotten here just as most students were finishing up. But to her, he always apologized with a gentle smile.

Sora Kiryuu—his sister.

Parents gone. A sister. A house. A classic transmigration setup.

"Well then, Tenyo-san, Ichiha-san—see you."

"Bye, Souta!" Ei waved happily.

The cool girl—Ichiha Nagisa—grabbed her hand and led her to a black luxury car waiting at the curb.

Souta didn't recognize the make, but the car oozed old money.

No, they weren't even trying to hide it. A middle-aged chauffeur in a suit and sunglasses opened the car door for them.

A full-on rich family.

"Hmph," Sora huffed beside him.

"What are you staring at? That world has nothing to do with us."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Souta caught up to her after a few quick steps.

"Sora, if you like—"

"I don't."

"I'm hungry. Let's go home."

Meanwhile, in Adachi Ward. In a certain garage...

"Rikawa-aniki, please, I can't take this insult lying down!"

Yamamoto—who had been punched out in the bathroom that morning—was bowing deeply to a bald man in a tank top, revealing tattooed arms.

"You're saying... his parents are dead? He just inherited a big sum?"

The bald man stroked his jaw.

"That's right!" Yamamoto nodded vigorously. "Souta Kiryuu's parents died in a car crash a month ago during an overseas trip. Now it's just him and his sister."

"If aniki makes a move, that money is ours!"

Yamamoto knew well—if you wanted these street thugs to help, you had to cough up real Fukuzawa Yukichi.

Sure, the new 10,000 yen bills had Shibusawa Eiichi, but habits died hard.

"Hmm..."

The man—Rikawa—didn't respond immediately, still stroking his chin.

Yamamoto started sweating under the silence.

Finally, Rikawa spoke.

"You recognize me as your aniki. So of course, I've got your back. We of the Fanged Fang Gang don't take this lying down."

"Yes! Thank you, Rikawa-aniki!"

Rikawa was just a low-ranking thug—barely affiliated—but to a school bully like Yamamoto, he was a real gangster.

"Lead the way, Yamamoto."

The bald man waved his hand, and two other thugs—buzzcuts, shady clothes—stood up from their motorcycles.

A kid with no parents, no relatives, and a fat compensation package?

A gift from the gods.