The atmosphere in Year 1–F slowly came back to life after that frozen moment.
Miss Hanabira set the chalk on the tray and took back control of the room — though from the look on her face, everyone knew the class's attention had already drifted toward the student in the back row.
"A-alright, everyone. Let's start where we left off before the break."
Her soft voice paused. Her hand kept writing on the board, but the corner of her eye kept flicking toward Kiryuu — as if checking whether the change was real, not a trick of the light.
In the middle rows, whispers spread. Some girls tried not to giggle, some just stared openly, others sat frozen, wide-eyed.
"He's… totally different."
"Look at his eyes… damn, are those even real?"
"Kiryuu-san's jawline could cut glass…"
Kiryuu wrote slowly in his notebook, looking calm, as if he didn't hear a thing.
But the slight curl at the edge of his lip made it clear he caught every word tossed around him.
At last, Miss Hanabira turned fully to the class.
"Alright," she said, voice professional again, though gentle as ever.
"Before we begin today's revision, I have an announcement from the Academic Board."
The room fell still.
Hanabira folded her arms and stood by the desk. Her formal outfit — deep-green blouse and long black skirt — moved subtly with her breath.
"As you all know, after every long break the University holds a Placement Exam. It starts today — at ten a.m. sharp."
A ripple went through the room; whispers turned into groans.
"What? An exam on the first day?"
"I didn't even open a book…"
"We're doomed again, huh…"
Hanabira smiled faintly. "You've had two months. If you didn't use it wisely… perhaps this test will be a good reminder."
Airi leaned toward Kiryuu and murmured,
"Guess we'll see if that new look comes with a new brain."
Kiryuu answered with a thin smile, eyes on his notes.
"We'll see, Airi."
The clock crept toward 9:40.
Miss Hanabira closed her book and stacked her files. "Get your pens and cards ready. The exam hall is open. Follow me."
Year 1–F rose and lined up in pairs.
Kiryuu stood slowly, straightening his uniform — and this time, every eye followed his movements.
His hair caught the classroom lights, a soft sheen on dark strands.
Wide shoulders and a firm chest changed the silhouette of the uniform completely.
He wasn't the "old Kiryuu" anymore.
The main corridor to the exam hall buzzed with students from other Year 1 sections.
Year 1–A through 1–E were already gathered, polished and composed — most of them casting the usual condescending glances at the tail end of 1–F's line.
"Here comes the bottom section."
"Wonder if they even know what a question looks like."
But the sneers didn't last — because at the end of that line, Kiryuu's stride drew every gaze.
A hush spread, thin but unmistakable, over the murmur of voices.
Miss Hanabira stopped at the hall doors. "Alright, everyone. Seats are labeled. Year 1–F, rows H to J."
Kiryuu entered with the others, steps unhurried.
The hall was large — tall mirrors along the sides, sunlight streaming from the east.
Each desk was tagged by section.
Year 1–A at the front, the prime rows.
Year 1–F at the back, near the windows.
As everyone took their seats, two soft but distinct voices broke the quiet.
"Well, this is new."
"Looks like someone from the bottom section decided to steal the spotlight early."
Heads turned together.
Two girls stood in the doorway — tall, slender, carved like statues.
Their uniforms were deep red with a 1–A insignia at the chest.
One had sleek black hair spilling over her shoulders; the other's hair glinted bluish under the morning light.
Yuna and Yuni Gorosei.
Miss Hanabira's brows lifted. "Gorosei twins. Early as always."
Kiryuu only turned slightly — just enough to catch the red of Yuna's eyes and the blue of Yuni's as they stared at him, unblinking.
No smiles. Only a challenge.
Yuna: "So, you're the one in 1–F everyone's talking about."
Yuni: "Cute face. Let's see if it matches your score later."
Kiryuu didn't answer. He met them with a calm look — deep, sharp — long enough to make both pause before they took their seats in the front row.
The academy bell tolled ten times.
10:00 a.m.
Miss Hanabira clapped softly.
"Begin."
Paper rustled in unison — a thousand sheets opening at once, making a fine, shivering sound that echoed through the hall.
The academy's exam hall throbbed with the heartbeat of its students.
Pencils danced, pens scratched, whispers flickered and died in the far back rows.
At the center of it all, Kiryuu simply sat.
Sunlight fell squarely across his desk, as if choosing him.
He read quickly, hands steady; each line he wrote carried focus and certainty — like someone who had lived for this moment before.
From afar, Miss Hanabira watched.
He hasn't just changed… he's remembering something.
He held the pen like an old companion — no nerves, only nostalgia.
One glance over the first page, and within seconds the test's entire structure unfolded in his head.
Same logic, same formulas… just a different world.
He began to write.
Line after line, without hesitation.
His hand moved fast, neat, unbroken — like a scribe copying out the answers already prepared in his mind.
Twenty minutes passed.
Kiryuu set down his pen.
His eyes were calm. He squared his papers, aligning the corners.
He took a sip of water, then rose.
His steps weren't loud, but in a room full of anxious scratching and shallow breaths, the soft scrape of his shoes was stark.
Students stopped writing and looked up, one by one — disbelieving.
"Oi, is he done?"
"It's only twenty minutes…"
"He's gotta be joking…"
Kiryuu walked to the front and bowed to the chief proctor — an elderly lecturer who gaped at the fully completed script.
"I'm done," Kiryuu said quietly.
"You may check it."
The man blinked. "Are you sure? You still have—"
"—an hour and forty minutes. I know."
The tone was gentle, but confident — not arrogant, not provocative, just factual.
He set the paper down and walked out without looking back.
10:25 a.m.
Outside, the sunlight was just as bright.
Kiryuu sat on a stone bench, opened his bottle, and drank slowly.
A few students finishing a practical in the next building stopped when they saw him already seated there, relaxed.
"Eh, isn't that a Year 1–F student?"
"How did he get out that early?"
"He probably gave up…"
"...or he finished."
The voices thinned on the wind.
Kiryuu closed his eyes, tipping his head back toward the sky.
Even the sky here feels lighter. So… this is what a second life tastes like.
11:15 a.m.
The hall was still full.
Miss Hanabira stood at the back, watching from a distance.
Her gaze snagged on the empty desk near the rear — Kiryuu's seat.
She'd seen students give up early, but not like this.
His script was complete, handwriting precise, reasoning immaculate.
Not just correct — correct with style.
He didn't just solve them… he rewrote them.
A small smile tugged at Hanabira's lips as she cradled a folder.
"So this is the kind of student we have now…"
12:00 p.m. — The bell ended the exam.
Relief washed over the hall.
Some cheered softly; others collapsed over their desks.
And like a magnet, the first conversation wasn't about questions — but about who left first.
The rumor rolled outward like a tide — from lower sections, along the main corridor, all the way to the cafeteria.
One name became the first official whisper after summer:
"Kiryuu Kizaki from Year 1–F…"
Under the big tree outside the hall, Kiryuu watched the serene blue sky through the leaves.
Mizuno Airi appeared from the stairs, a little sweaty, file still in hand.
"You… actually finished?"
Kiryuu glanced at her, a faint smile at his mouth.
"Yeah."
"In twenty minutes?"
"I was slow today."
Airi huffed — half impressed, half ready to swear.
"You're unbelievable."
"That's what they said before I died, too."
He laughed under his breath, but Airi didn't get it.
To Kiryuu, this world was simply a rerun — an exam far too easy for someone who'd conquered a harsher one.
In the academic office, lecturers began sorting scripts.
Miss Hanabira carried Kiryuu's to the main marking table.
A gray-haired professor skimmed two lines, then lifted his brows high.
"This… this isn't just correct. It's analytical writing at a graduate level."
"From 1–F?"
"Yes," Hanabira said evenly. "Kiryuu Kizaki."
They exchanged looks, and someone murmured:
"Looks like the board will be busy this afternoon."
Hanabira's smile thinned.
He's not here to study. He's here to remind us what real talent looks like.
The noon sky felt too calm for a day about to shake the university.
On the giant digital board in the main block, thousands of names began to roll — one after another, from 1–A to 1–F.
Students pooled beneath it, voices stacking into a tense chorus.
"Hurry! The rankings are up!"
"Yuna's #1 again, surely."
"If not her, then the twin."
But within seconds, the mood shifted.
Eyes widened.
Noise died, then crashed back in a breaking wave.
"What the—?! Who the hell is Kiryuu Kizaki?!"
"No way. That's Year 1–F!"
"Impossible… he beat both Gorosei sisters?!"
#1 — Kiryuu Kizaki (Year 1–F)
#2 — Yuna Gorosei (Year 1–A)
#3 — Yuni Gorosei (Year 1–A)
His name burned on the blue screen like a declaration of war.
Students stood rigid — not because they couldn't believe it, but because their hierarchy had just been rocked to its roots.
On the fourth floor in Year 1–F's classroom, the energy was no different.
Mizuno Airi stared at the display at the far end of the room, eyes wide.
"Number one…? Wait. You…?!"
Kiryuu sat at his desk, jotting something down as if nothing had happened.
"Looks like I passed," he said softly, without looking up.
"Passed?! You just dethroned the Gorosei twins!"
"Did I?"
"Don't play dumb!"
Voices filled the class — awe, doubt, faces staring at Kiryuu as if he were something alien.
The door opened quietly.
Heels tapped the wooden floor — soft, controlled, precise.
One step, then another — measured and sure.
Two girls stood in the doorway.
Their Year 1–A red uniforms cut through the sea of dark blue.
Yuna and Yuni Gorosei.
They needed no introduction.
The room held its breath.
Their presence alone bent the air.
Yuna, black hair flowing like silk, stood half a step ahead — her red-black eyes burning like coals.
Yuni, just behind, hair catching a cool blue sheen under the light — deep sea-blue eyes turning slowly, calm but dangerous.
Yuna: "You really did it, huh."
Yuni: "Guess we owe you a proper congratulations, Kiryuu Kizaki."
Kiryuu closed his notebook and turned slightly.
"You came all the way from 1–A for that?"
Yuna leaned her shoulder against the frame.
"You hit the top board. People like us don't ignore that."
"People like you?"
"Top of the food chain."
Silence pressed in.
Mizuno Airi swallowed — half anxious, half thrilled.
Kiryuu rose, facing them without excess expression.
"Food chain, huh…"
He stepped forward once — now only inches from Yuna.
"I don't climb ladders. I build new ones."
Yuni laughed softly, covering her mouth with a finger.
"I like him," she murmured.
"Too bad arrogance has a short lifespan here," Yuna replied, eyes never leaving his.
Kiryuu's smile was razor-thin.
"Then we'll see whose lifespan ends first."
Their voices met, low and sharp — not enemies yet, more like predators deciding whether to kill or keep each other.
Miss Hanabira appeared at the door before the air could get any hotter.
"Gorosei twins."
Her tone was polite, threaded with a warning.
"This is class time, not a press conference."
Yuna turned with a sweet smile.
"We were just welcoming the new number one, Sensei."
"Your welcome can wait till after class."
Yuni dipped her head slightly, smile intact.
"As you wish."
She met Kiryuu's eyes for a heartbeat before turning away.
"We'll talk later, Kiryuu. Congratulations."
The door closed behind them, leaving a sharp quiet.
Mizuno Airi nudged Kiryuu.
"You really don't plan to keep a low profile, huh?"
"I didn't plan anything. The world just noticed."
Hanabira tapped the desk.
"Alright, everyone, enough gossip. Back to your notes."
She turned to the board, but in the window's reflection her gaze slipped back to Kiryuu once more.
That boy… he's pulling the academy's gravity toward him.
After class, students drifted out, but the whispers didn't.
Kiryuu Kizaki threaded through every corridor, every cafeteria table, every student forum.
And to those who understood, one thing was certain:
The old hierarchy had cracked — and no one knew how far the fracture would spread.
That afternoon, the sun leaned west, pouring gold through the counseling room's glass.
Light split the quiet space, glinting off wood and tidy files.
Kiryuu knocked twice at the door.
"Sensei, you called for me?"
"Come in."
Miss Hanabira's voice was soft, edged with something else — a restrained curiosity.
She stood by the desk now, without her long jacket.
Her dark hair fell loose, catching a faint glow in the evening light.
"Please, sit."
Kiryuu dipped his head, stepped in, and closed the door quietly behind him.
On the desk, an exam script lay open.
At the top: Kiryuu Kizaki.
In the corner: 100 / 100.
Hanabira studied him for a long moment, then sat on the edge of the desk rather than behind it.
"I checked your paper myself," she said softly. "It's… impressive."
"Thank you, sensei."
"No," she shook her head. "Not just impressive for your section.
It's the kind of logic I'd expect from a senior lecturer."
She lifted the script, showing the clean, compact, beyond-expectation working.
"You didn't just answer the questions — you rewrote the framework.
Where did you learn to think like this?"
Kiryuu held her gaze, calm.
"From experience."
"Experience?"
"Let's just say… I've taken this test before."
A small, puzzled smile touched her mouth as if she were trying to read between his lines.
"You speak like someone twice your age."
"Maybe I am."
Silence. Only the soft hum of the AC and the ticking clock.
Hanabira eased back against the desk, studying her student's face up close.
"You know," she said gently, "the academy's been waiting for someone like you."
Kiryuu arched a brow. "Someone like me?since when?since I'd was a fat boy?"
"A student who reminds us that intelligence can be dangerous."
She stepped closer; their shadows overlapped on the floor.
Kiryuu didn't move — still and steady.
Their eyes caught — black and green, two worlds caught in the amber of dusk.
"Miss Hanabira," he murmured, "is this still about the exam?"
"Maybe," she whispered. "Or maybe I just want to understand what kind of mind hides behind that calm face."
She leaned down slightly, her right hand resting lightly on his shoulder.
Her breath was close; their distance, a single span of air.
The room narrowed; time slowed.
"You're different from the others," Hanabira breathed. "And that… makes you dangerous."
Kiryuu held his breath for a beat, then smiled faintly.
"Then maybe danger is what this place needs."
Their gaze held longer than it should have.
Hanabira didn't move.
Kiryuu didn't either.
Only the space between them slowly disappeared—
The air conditioner hummed low and steady in the quiet counselling room. Kiryuu leaned against the desk, fingers tapping an absent rhythm on the wood grain.
His gaze drifted to Hanabira, who stood by the window adjusting her dark green blouse. The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin.
Hanabira turned, catching his stare. Her green eyes held his, unblinking. The silence stretched, thick and heavy between them. She didn't look away. Neither did he.
Her heels clicked softly on the linoleum as she closed the distance.
Kiryuu's breath hitched when her hands slid around his neck. She smelled like jasmine and warm skin.
Her lips parted slightly, a flush creeping up her throat.
"Would you also give me a lesson? or you want to give me punishment because what i'd before the summer break?" Hanabira whispered.
Her braid brushed his cheek as she leaned in. Kiryuu's hands found her waist, pulling her hips flush against him.
He answered without words, kissing her slow and deep. Her mouth opened under his, hungry.
Hanabira straddled his lap, skirt riding high on her thighs. Kiryuu fumbled with her blouse buttons, exposing lace and flushed skin.
She moaned into his mouth, grinding against the hard line of his cock. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
"Touch me," she breathed against his ear. "Everywhere."
She slid to her knees,
fingers trembling as she freed his thick 17cm length, 5cm wide cock. Hanabira took him deep, throat working around his girth. Drool slicked her chin, dripping onto the floorboards.
Kiryuu groaned, thrusting into her wet heat, watching her green eyes water.
"Good girl," he rasped, guiding her pace. "Suck it harder."
He hauled her onto the desk, hiking her skirt up. Kiryuu shoved her panties aside, tongue plunging into her dripping wet pink pussy.
Hanabira arched, crying out as his fingers curled inside her.
"Kiryuu—ah!—teach me,punish me!" Her thighs clenched around his head before she came, soaking his chin and the desk with her release.
Kiryuu positioned her on all fours, plunging his cock into her tightness. Hanabira gasped at each deep thrust, braid swinging.
He flipped her onto her back, driving harder until her moans echoed off the walls. Her climax ripped through her—
body trembling, nails scraping wood—
as he emptied himself inside her with a final groan, lips crushed against hers.
They stayed locked together, sweat-slicked skin cooling in the AC's breeze. Kiryuu's softening cock still nestled deep within her pulsing warmth.
Hanabira shuddered against him, thighs sticky with their mingled release. Her whispered
"Kiryuu..." trailed into silence, fingers tracing his jawline.
He shifted, grinding deeper—and she gasped. A tremor ran through her as she felt him swell again inside her.
"You're... still hard?" Her voice cracked, disbelief warring with renewed hunger.
Kiryuu smirked, fingers tightening on her hips.
"The punishment isn't over." He thrust upward sharply, wrenching a choked moan from her throat.
He hauled her off the desk, still buried inside her, stumbling toward the chalkboard. Her back slammed against it, dust puffing around them.
Kiryuu drove into her harder now—rough, deep strokes that made her juices slick down her thighs.
"Hold onto the rail," he growled, yanking her hair back. Hanabira scrabbled for purchase, knuckles white as he hammered her against the vibrating board.
He dragged her to the teacher's desk next, bending her over scattered papers. Her braid swung wildly as he took her from behind, lifting one leg onto the wood.
"Deeper!" she sobbed, fingernails gouging the laminate. Kiryuu obeyed, slamming home until her cries echoed louder than the AC.
When he came again—
hot pulses flooding her womb—
she collapsed forward, trembling.
Kiryuu kissed her heaving belly, tasting salt and sex.
Hanabira lay spent across the desk,
thighs slick with their mixed release.
Kiryuu traced the curve of her hip, watching her breathing slow.
Her fingers tangled weakly in his hair as he pressed kisses along her inner thigh.
The room smelled of sweat and sex,
the chalkboard smeared where her back had rubbed against it.
Outside, dusk painted the windows violet.
He slid his cock free with a wet sound, making her whimper. Before she could catch her breath, Kiryuu flipped her onto her stomach.
Her cheek pressed against a student's forgotten essay as he dragged her hips upward.
"Stay," he commanded,
spreading her cheeks.
His tongue lapped at her swollen entrance, tasting their combined salt and musk.
Hanabira shuddered, pushing back against his mouth.
"Please—"
Kiryuu hauled her upright against his chest, one arm banded across her collarbones.
His other hand guided his cock back into her dripping heat.
She cried out at the stretch, head lolling against his shoulder.
"Feel that?" he growled,
thrusting upward.
Her moans hitched with each deep drive—
her braid unraveling as she twisted to kiss him sloppily.
Their sweat-slicked bodies slapped together, her juices soaking his thighs.
He bent her over the counselor's chair next, hiking her skirt higher.
Her fingers clawed at the upholstery as he pounded into her, each thrust jolting the wheels.
"Take it," he rasped, yanking her hair.
"Take every drop." Hanabira sobbed his name, meeting him stroke for stroke until her thighs shook violently.
Kiryuu's release surged hot and thick inside her once more—
her inner walls milking him through wave after wave.
She collapsed forward, gasping, as he kissed the small of her back.
Minutes later, the room was quiet again.
Dusk had deepened to a richer orange.
Hanabira stood facing the window, hair a little mussed, fighting a smile she didn't fully understand.
Kiryuu drew a deep breath, shrugged into his academy uniform, and said softly:
"Thank you for the session, sensei."
"Anytime," she replied, voice a little husky.
She turned, looking at Kiryuu with eyes no longer just a lecturer's — but a woman's who had just realized the risk she'd invited.
Kiryuu bowed — half respectful, half teasing.
"I'll see you in class or some quiet place tomorrow."
When the door closed behind him, Hanabira exhaled long.
"That boy…" she whispered, touching her lips. "What are you really hiding, Kiryuu Kizaki?"