POV: Sakura Aoyama
The school reacted before she even reached her locker.
Sakura noticed it the moment she stepped through the gates the next morning—not in the way people stared, but in how they didn't. Conversations didn't dip this time.
Laughter didn't soften. Instead, voices continued just a fraction too loudly, as if people wanted her to hear what they were saying.
That was worse.
She walked across the courtyard, long black hair loose today, falling smoothly down her back. The morning light caught it, giving it that faint silver sheen she'd learned people noticed even when they pretended not to. Her uniform was immaculate, posture calm, face unreadable.
Phones were out.
Not hidden.
She saw reflections of herself in black screens, caught the angle of lenses tilting subtly as she passed. A group of first-years near the stairs stopped talking entirely and just watched her walk by.
"She's prettier in person."
"I heard she was with Kurotsuki yesterday."
"No way—outside school?"
Sakura kept walking.
Don't react.
Inside the building, the digital notice board flickered.
_______
REMINDER: SOCIAL MEDIA CONDUCT POLICY WILL BE STRICTLY ENFORCED
_______
She paused.
Just for a second.
That notice hadn't been there yesterday.
She continued toward her locker.
A girl bumped into her shoulder—not hard, not apologetic.
"Sorry," the girl muttered, already smiling at her friends.
Sakura didn't respond.
Her locker door was warm when she touched it, as if someone had leaned against it moments earlier. Inside, her books were exactly where she'd left them.
Except for one thing.
A folded slip of paper lay on top.
She unfolded it.
Smile more. Cameras like it.
Her fingers tightened briefly before she folded the note again and slipped it into her pocket.
Someone behind her laughed.
POV: Ms. Yumi Takahashi (Literature Teacher)
Yumi Takahashi watched Sakura Aoyama enter the classroom and felt the familiar, uncomfortable twist in her stomach.
The girl drew attention without asking for it.
That kind of beauty was dangerous in an environment like this—quiet, composed, difficult to frame as arrogance but impossible to ignore. Students reacted to it instinctively, resentfully.
Yumi saw the way eyes followed Sakura to her seat. Saw the way whispers clustered and dissolved like smoke.
She had seen this before.
Not often.
Those students never lasted peacefully.
When Sakura sat down, she didn't look around. Didn't acknowledge the attention. She opened her book and waited.
Yumi admired that.
She hated herself a little for knowing it wasn't enough.
POV: Sakura Aoyama
Literature class felt heavier today.
Not because of the material, but because everyone was pretending to focus. Ms. Takahashi spoke about symbolism and subtext, her voice steady, gentle, almost soothing.
Sakura listened.
She always listened.
But she could feel it—the way the room's attention kept drifting back to her like gravity.
A note slid across her desk.
She didn't pick it up.
Another followed.
Then another.
Ms. Takahashi paused mid-sentence.
"Please keep personal materials off desks."
The room froze.
Sakura picked up the nearest note and held it up calmly. "May I throw this away?"
Ms. Takahashi hesitated.
"Yes," she said softly.
Sakura stood and walked to the trash bin at the side of the room. She didn't read the note. She dropped it unopened.
That should have ended it.
It didn't.
As she returned to her seat, she felt eyes burning into her back.
Someone whispered, loudly enough to be heard, "She thinks she's above it."
Sakura sat down.
Don't react.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
She didn't check it.
POV: Ren Kurotsuki
Ren had known the fallout would come.
He just hadn't expected it to be this fast.
He leaned back in his seat during ethics class, violet eyes half-lidded as he watched the room respond to Sakura's presence even when she wasn't there. Her name surfaced in fragments, passed like contraband.
"She was trending last night."
"My cousin sent me a screenshot."
"They say the principal's involved."
Ren exhaled slowly.
The academy didn't like uncontrolled narratives.
And Sakura Aoyama had become one overnight.
His phone buzzed.
____
PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE. AFTER THIRD PERIOD.
____
That was sooner than expected.
POV: Sakura Aoyama
She was summoned before lunch.
Not abruptly.
Politely.
A prefect appeared at the classroom door, posture impeccable.
"Aoyama Sakura," he said. "The principal would like to see you."
Would like.
The phrasing didn't fool her.
The room went silent.
Sakura stood, smoothing her skirt once before walking out. Her heartbeat was steady, her face calm.
The walk to the administrative wing felt longer than usual.
Ms. Hanazawa stood outside the office when she arrived, tablet tucked under her arm.
"You may go in," she said.
No reassurance.
No warning.
The office smelled faintly of tea and polished wood.
Principal Shigenobu Kurotsuki stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the campus. He didn't turn immediately when Sakura entered.
"Sit," he said gently.
She did.
"I trust you're settling in," he said again, as if repeating a rehearsed line.
"Yes," Sakura replied.
He turned then.
Up close, his gaze was sharper than she'd realized. Calculating. Curious.
"You were seen yesterday," he continued.
"Outside school grounds."
Sakura didn't deny it. "Yes."
"With another student."
"Yes."
"Photographs circulated."
She met his gaze. "I didn't take them."
"I know," he said mildly. "But attention is not something we assign blame for. Only responsibility."
That word again.
"Do you understand how quickly perception forms?" the principal asked.
"Yes."
"And how difficult it is to undo?"
"Yes."
He studied her for a long moment.
"You are very… composed," he said. "Most students would be flustered."
"I don't see how that helps," Sakura replied calmly.
A faint smile appeared.
"It helps me decide whether you're careless or intentional."
She didn't answer.
"Until matters settle," he continued, "I suggest limiting unnecessary exposure."
"Outside school?" Sakura asked.
"Everywhere," the principal said.
The implication was clear.
You are visible.
Behave accordingly.
"You may go," he said.
She stood, bowed politely, and left.
The door closed softly behind her.
Her phone buzzed the moment she stepped into the hallway.
What did he say?
She didn't reply.
POV: Ren Kurotsuki
Ren received his warning in a different form.
Principal Kurotsuki didn't summon him.
He passed him in the corridor.
"Ren," the principal said casually.
Ren stopped.
"Your influence is expanding," the man continued. "Be mindful of what it attracts."
Ren smiled faintly. "Always."
The principal's gaze sharpened. "Good."
They parted.
Ren exhaled slowly.
This was no longer contained.
POV: Sakura Aoyama
By afternoon, the school had chosen a new approach.
Not confrontation.
Containment.
Students didn't mock her now. They didn't test her openly. Instead, they watched from a distance, measuring, waiting to see how the institution would move.
At lunch, someone saved her a seat.
She didn't sit.
At the rooftop, two girls left when she arrived.
At the gates after school, a group whispered as she passed, eyes bright with curiosity rather than malice.
That was worse.
Her phone vibrated.
She checked it this time.
We need to talk.
She typed back.
At school?
A pause.
No. Somewhere neutral.
She hesitated.
Then replied:
One condition.
Name it.
No pretending this is normal.
Several seconds passed.
I wouldn't insult you like that.
She slipped her phone into her pocket and walked past the gates.
This time, she didn't wait for the crowd to thin.
People watched her go.
And for the first time, Sakura understood something clearly:
Her beauty wasn't just something people noticed.
It was something they reacted to.
And reaction created momentum.
POV: Ren Kurotsuki
Ren watched her leave from the steps, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
The academy had noticed.
The city had noticed.
Now the pressure would come from both sides.
Good.
That was where choices were made.
Ren smiled faintly.
The story had stopped being about control.
Now it was about consequences.
.
.
.
.