Inside the teacher's lounge, the air was tense. Chifuyu sat behind her desk, arms crossed, her sharp eyes locked onto Tsutsumi, who was sitting across from her, leaning casually in his chair with a paper cup in hand. He looked perfectly relaxed, too relaxed.
"Alright," she began, her tone heavy with disbelief, "how did you manage to smuggle a motorcycle onto campus grounds?"
She slid a folder across the table, the top sheet revealing a CCTV printout of him speeding across the campus on a bright red motorcycle.
Tsutsumi took a slow sip of water, unbothered. "Do you really have to ask that?" he asks, looking up at her with his still calm expression.
Chifuyu's brow twitched. She wanted to call him out, but then she remembered, the troublemaker sitting before her had cracked Tabane's code, something not even the world's top engineers could manage. He'd turned a complex IS-exclusive feature into something mundane, like changing clothes or summoning items at will.
So... materializing a motorcycle out of thin air? Yeah, that sounded just like him.
Exhaling, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Next time, at least tell me before doing something like that. It would help me explain why there's suddenly a bike tearing through the school courtyard instead of alerting security about an intruder."
Tsutsumi shrugged, clearly amused by her frustration.
Her eyes shifted to one of the photos again, the motorcycle's sleek, futuristic red frame, smooth edges, and even comfortable seating. "Don't you have a less... conspicuous model? This one looks like it came out of a sci-fi movie."
"It's comfortable," he replied simply, leaning back further.
"Of course it is," she muttered, rubbing her temples.
Honestly speaking, this wasn't even his only motorcycle, just the one he liked the most. The Yusei Go had a soft seat, smooth acceleration, and, more importantly, a comfortable backrest. Practicality over subtlety, at least in his mind.
Later that evening, after his little "incident," Tsutsumi returned to what was supposed to be his assigned dorm room.
To his surprise, it wasn't in the student dorm building. But the teacher dorm building, Chifuyu's teacher dorm.
Apparently, because she had brought him to the academy, she was held fully responsible for his supervision. The principal hadn't been thrilled, but since it was Orimura Chifuyu who made the request, and for the first time ever, the administration agreed. She'd told them Tsutsumi was a "young genius with potential comparable to Tabane."
The truth, of course, was something else entirely. Something that can't be casually reveal.
Tsutsumi looked around the room, frowning slightly. It was tidy but modest, like a small apartment, complete with a kitchenette, a fridge, and a single bed.
"So," he murmured, tossing his bag aside, "I'll be taking the bed and you take the couch, huh?"
"No," Chifuyu said firmly, already opening her wardrobe. "You'll be taking the couch until I can arrange another room for you."
She pulled out a set of casual clothes, white shirt, dark blue track pants, and added, "And you'd better behave yourself."
"Yeah, yeah."
She disappeared into the bathroom, and Tsutsumi started to explore.
He opened the fridge... and froze.
"What the?"
The shelves were packed, not with food, but beer cans. Stacked neatly, row after row, like a shrine to bad habits. Aside from a bottle of water in the corner, there was absolutely nothing edible.
He sighed, shut the door, and left.
By the time he came back, Chifuyu was sitting at the small wooden table, her hair still damp from a shower. She wore the casual clothes now, one knee drawn up as she looked through a few papers. She glanced up when she heard the door open.
"Where were y-" she started, then stopped, noticing the plastic bag in his hand.
"You probably haven't eaten," Tsutsumi said, tossing a rice ball toward her.
She caught it easily. "At least you're considerate," she murmured, setting the papers aside.
Tsutsumi set the bag on the table, pulling out a few more things: dried squid, jerky, and more onigiri for them.
"Want a drink?" he asked, already reaching for the fridge handle.
"You're underage," she said flatly, eyes narrowing.
"I don't really care," he replied. "But if it makes you feel better, I only use alcohol for cooking."
He pulled out one of her beers and placed it beside her.
"Well," she said dryly, popping the can open, "let's hope your cooking is at least up to standard tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" he asked.
"Your punishment," she reminded him, sipping her beer. "You'll be working in the cafeteria for a week. Breakfast and lunch shifts."
"Punishment, huh?" Tsutsumi muttered, opening his onigiri. "Doesn't seem like one to me."
Chifuyu gave him a sidelong look, but said nothing.
...
The next day, the teachers who were aware of Tsutsumi's "punishment" were caught completely off guard.
They had expected him to be stuck behind the counter, serving food to students and staff with that usual bored expression of his. Instead, when they entered the cafeteria, they were greeted by food that was way better than usual.
Investigating a bit, peaking into the kitchen, they saw Tsutsumi commanding the kitchen like a professional chef in a five-star restaurant.
He wore an apron loosely tied over his uniform, sleeves rolled up, moving through the rows of boiling pots and sizzling pans with sharp precision.
"Hey, don't overcook the fish, you might burn it!" he barked, pointing at a pot before moving on to another station. "This needs some salt. The flavor is too plain."
To everyone's astonishment, the kitchen staff, people who usually spent their days half-dreaming through repetitive lunch prep, were following his every word with enthusiasm.
After breakfast was over, he returned to his class, then by lunch he got right back to commanding and guiding the other chefs.
By noon, word had spread across the academy. Students were lining up in droves. Teachers who usually avoided cafeteria food suddenly showed up with trays.
The verdict was unanimous: the food was amazing.
Even Chifuyu, who had dropped by to check on him, found herself impressed, watching in disbelief as Tsutsumi worked with effortless rhythm, blending authority and charisma like it was second nature.
"How the hell did we run out of food already?" Tsutsumi muttered, staring at the completely empty serving trays stacked near the counter.
"Sir, it's thanks to your excellent guidance!" one of the female staff members said brightly, almost glowing with pride.
He blinked, not impressed. "That didn't answer my question."
Another cook quickly jumped in, a bit flustered. "W-Well, you see… everyone said today's meals were incredible, so they've been ordering seconds, and some even thirds!"
Tsutsumi sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Figures. At this rate, we'll run out before the weekend... Get more ingredients from the storage, we still have like thirty minutes before lunchtime ends. My shift ends after lunch, so… take care of yourself during dinner."
The staff collectively froze, exchanging nervous looks.
He noticed, of course. "What's with those faces?" he said, folding his arms. "You're not expecting me to babysit you forever, right? I already showed you how to run things properly. Now it's your turn to handle it."
The room went quiet. Even the clattering of utensils stopped as everyone listened.
"You've all got potential," Tsutsumi continued, his tone softer but steady. "Don't rely on someone else to tell you what to do forever. If you want to get better, you need to make mistakes and learn from them."
His gaze swept across the room, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "I'll only be here for a week. I know that's not long, but it's enough time to grow. So take what you learned, experiment, screw up if you have to, and keep moving forward."
He placed a hand on the counter, leaning slightly forward. "Big steps, small steps, it doesn't matter. Just make sure tomorrow, you're better than who you were today."
The sincerity in his voice caught everyone off guard. For a troublesome student who looked like he couldn't care less about rules or responsibilities, his words struck deep.
A few of the staff lowered their heads, visibly moved. Then, almost in unison, they bowed, a perfect 90-degree bow that carried genuine respect.
"Thank you, Chef!" they said together, their voices echoing through the warm, fragrant air of the kitchen.
Tsutsumi blinked before sighing. "Yeah, yeah, don't get all sentimental. You might forget what I just said by accident." he muttered under his breath.
Still, there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
As he straightened up, a faint warmth spread from his pocket. Reaching inside, he pulled out a small set of cards, glowing faintly for a moment before dimming. He looked up instinctively.
Through the small cafeteria window, he caught sight of Chifuyu walking away down the corridor, her arms crossed, pretending not to have been watching the whole time.
He chuckled softly. "Heh. Guess she saw that."
Then, without another word, he turned back to the kitchen.
...
Later that night, Tsutsumi lay sprawled across the couch in Chifuyu's room, one arm lazily resting over his forehead as he stared up at the ceiling. Only the dim moonlight slipping through the curtains gave shape to the shadows.
For someone used to crossing worlds, silence was often the loudest thing of all.
He let out a slow exhale, watching the faint glow of the moon ripple across the ceiling. Since arriving in this world, he had decided to temporarily stop his dimensional traveling.
But even now, that familiar sense of detachment clawed at him from within.
He could spend weeks here, months, even years, and when he returned to where he left, no one would notice a thing. To them, barely a minute would've passed. To him, it would've been an entire part of his life.
Sighing, Tsutsumi shut his eyes. Better not to think about it, about how slowly, bit by bit, he was starting to feel less human.
The next day, Tsutsumi found himself back in sitting alone on one of the seats in the open field, while the female students were training with their IS under the supervision of the two teachers.
On another part of the training field.
"Houki, you've been training too hard again!" Ichika's voice rang out, frustration laced in his tone. "You're covered in bruises and bandages! You don't have to keep pushing yourself like that!"
"It's training, Ichika!" Houki shot back sharply. "You think I'd improve by sitting around all day? My kendo's sharper because of Tsutsumi-kun's help!"
Her words earned a few stares from nearby girls. The moment Tsutsumi's name came up, half the class turned to look at him.
Tsutsumi blinked slowly, raising a brow. "...What did I do this time?"
Apparently, just existing was enough to stir chaos in this school.
Ichika clenched his fists, face flushed with irritation. It wasn't that he didn't want Houki to have friends, he did. But seeing her get along with another male, especially someone like Tsutsumi who seemed to be better than him without even trying… it sparked something ugly inside him.
"Tsutsumi-kun!" Ichika called out, marching over to the other boy with all the subtlety of a charging bull. "Please stay away from Houki-san!"
"Ichika!!" Houki's voice rose an octave, mortified. But Ichika stood firm, positioning himself between her and Tsutsumi like a knight protecting a princess.
Tsutsumi looked at him for a long moment, unimpressed. "Heh? And why should I?"
That tone, bored, indifferent, just made the other boy grit his teeth harder. Around them, Ichika's admirers began closing in, glaring daggers at Tsutsumi as if ready to throw hands on Ichika's behalf.
And yet, Tsutsumi didn't flinch. He'd been the villain in plenty of worlds before. This wasn't new.
Ichika opened his mouth, searching for something, anything, to justify himself without sounding like a jealous fool.
"Bec-" he started, only to stop mid-sentence, realizing there wasn't a logical reason.
Finally, in a burst of impulsive pride, he pointed a finger right at Tsutsumi. "I challenge you to a duel!"
The class went silent. Even Chifuyu, who had been quietly watching on her side of the field.
Tsutsumi blinked once, then twice. "A duel?"
"Yeah!" Ichika said, his confidence returning now that everyone's eyes were on him. "You have a Personal IS, right? You wouldn't even be allowed in this school without one! So let's fight, the winner decides what happens next!"
For a brief moment, Tsutsumi simply stared at him. Then he leaned back in his chair.
"I don't have one," he said calmly.
The statement hit the class like a shockwave.
"You… what?" Ichika blinked.
"I said I don't have a Personal IS," Tsutsumi repeated, looking thoroughly unbothered. "But sure, I'll accept your duel."
Whispers broke out instantly.
"He doesn't have an IS?"
"Is he crazy?"
"Wait... he agreed anyway?"
Even Chifuyu was taken aback by this; she could only pinch the bridge of her nose. "Oh, for the love of..."
Tsutsumi simply stood up, stretching his arms as if he'd just been asked to go for a jog. "You said the winner calls the final shot, right?"
Ichika nodded firmly.
Tsutsumi said his expression was still bored. "Then don't regret it."