"Finally…" I sighed, relief heavy in my voice as the last bell rang, its chime echoing through the halls and classrooms.
School was over. It was so suffocating, I didn't think I could last more than a month here—let alone an entire semester.
"Students, time's up! Now, let's see what you've all painted," Miss Enma Harumi, our art teacher, announced with a clap of her hands, a bright, excited smile lighting up her face.
I set down the paintbrush in my hand, placing it on the… stool? Was it called a stool? I wasn't sure. The plate thing where you put the colors—whatever it was called—went right beside it.
Miss Enma made her way from student to student, judging each painting in turn, carefully studying their work and offering feedback—what they could improve, mistakes to avoid, and techniques to enhance their skills.
Finally, it was my turn.
She stopped beside me, her gaze lingering on the canvas for a few moments before saying, "It's decent. You're actually the first one who painted a human—everyone else went for inanimate objects. That said, there's still room for improvement in your color scheme, lighting, and tonal balance."
"I see… I'll try to keep that in mind," I replied.
"Though," she tilted her head slightly, "why did you paint one hand in front and one behind the back?"
"I can't draw hands," I admitted. It was a problem I'd faced in my previous life too, back when I took art classes for about three months before quitting. I could manage one hand well enough, but drawing the second one was always painfully difficult for me.
"Hm…" She nodded thoughtfully. "That's a very common issue for many artists. With enough practice and time—if you stay dedicated to art—you can probably draw hands just fine. Even I had that problem for a while." She then tilted her head and added, "One last question: why did you decide to paint a woman instead of a man?"
"Huh? Why do you ask that?"
"Well, I'm curious if there's a specific reason—maybe an artistic choice, or something else. It's art, after all."
"Nah, I just like women," I said plainly.
She raised her brows, then gave a small smile. "Boys… always the same." After that, she moved on to inspect the remaining paintings.
Once she was done, we all left the classroom and began to trickle out of the school grounds. Well… those who hadn't joined a club did. The rest had to stick around for another hour or two for their club activities.
Fortunately, joining a club wasn't compulsory—just "highly encouraged," since it was supposedly an important part of education or whatever. Honestly, I used to think it was mandatory, given how in anime, manga, and novels with a high school setting, practically every character was in a club.
I'd already turned down more club invitations today than I could count—same as yesterday. I wasn't going to join any. Why waste extra hours on pointless activities?
Of course, that decision came with its own price. In this school—or any other—being in a club was considered the norm. Those who didn't join were treated like they didn't exist—a kind of mild social exile. For the average student, that would be torture. For me? I couldn't care less. Still, it did mean that the number of students heading straight home after class was a rare, dwindling group.
The evening sky began to darken, heavy clouds casting their shadows overhead. The wind blew hard, carrying the scent of rain, while lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the distance.
"Seriously… I didn't even bring my umbrella. I should've checked the weather report," I muttered with a sigh. Then I smirked and added, "Fortunately, I've got a driver and a car—so screw you, rain." I flipped the sky my middle finger as I walked toward my car, parked near the gate where my driver was waiting, holding an umbrella with perfect posture.
Now, you might ask—why bother getting into a car at all? Doesn't it have mirrors too? And aren't I not exactly a fan of those? Well, the thing is, car mirrors aren't the same as the ones in a house or above a bathroom sink. They're different—safer.
I slid into the back seat. The driver started the engine, and we began to roll forward—until I suddenly said, "Hold on a moment."
My eyes had fallen on a girl standing at the building's entrance. She had a black ponytail, wore glasses, and carried a sad expression.
I knew her. Rin Hoshinova—a minor character, but also a magical girl.
And if you don't know what a magical girl is, let me enlighten you: they're frilly-dressed teenage girls who fight monsters and save the day. Except… not here. Not in this world. Unlike the typical sugary, lighthearted series where heroines are pure-hearted champions of justice, this world was different. Everything—and everyone—was dark, edgy, and at least a little messed up in the head.
There was a reason for that. Most magical girls here already had… questionable thoughts—twisted by bad experiences that scarred their minds. Then, when they gained their powers, those powers erased whatever restraints they had left. And for those already born broken—psychos from the start—magic didn't just unleash them, it gave them control.
Rin fell into the former category. I didn't know much about her story; the source material barely gave her any screentime, and I never bothered to dig through obscure fan wikis for her biography. The only thing I did know was this—had she not died at the end of Season One, she might have become the most powerful magical girl of her generation.
"Driver, give me the umbrella," I said. Without question, he handed it to me. I flipped the latch, opened it, and stepped out just as the wind grew stronger. A flash of lightning lit the sky, and a moment later, the rain began to fall.
I walked toward her, slow but steady.
There was something I wanted to try with her—an idea that had just come to me.
I was going to be her first friend… and make a few small changes here and there for my own benefit.
And no, I'm not a hypocrite.
I said I wouldn't get tangled up in the drama the main characters have to deal with. I never said anything about the minor ones.
If I can find a way to use minor characters, then I gladly will—and exploit them as much as I can. Thankfully, I've watched enough anime and read enough manga to know how to manipulate someone, especially a woman.
Women are far easier to sway than men—at least, normal women are—for they are creatures of emotion.