[MONDAY MORNING – SHIROYAMA ACADEMY]
A ripple of excitement coursed through Class 3A the moment two figures entered the classroom.
A girl with fiery crimson eyes and silken silver hair led the way, her mere presence commanding attention. But today, she wasn't the cause of the commotion.
Walking beside her was a young man with ashen-grey hair and deep crimson pupils, though not as bright as Akane's. He exuded an aura both familiar and foreign, his formerly lean frame now honed with defined muscles, his once modest stature slightly taller, and his entire bearing oozing confidence—borderline arrogance.
Many students blinked in confusion, whispering amongst themselves.
"Who's that? A new transfer?"
"Wait… he looks kinda like Masaru, but no way—"
"Hold up, isn't that Akane's cousin or something?"
Despite the murmurs, Masaru ignored the attention, striding toward the back of the class and seating himself where he always had—at his desk.
For a moment, silence hung in the air before a sudden realization hit the students like a brick.
"Wait… Masaru hasn't been in school for over a week… and now this guy is sitting in his seat?"
The confusion was palpable.
And then, breaking the spell, a black-haired girl with piercing jet-black eyes stepped forward, her lips curling into a seductive smirk.
"Well, well, aren't you a sight to behold?" she purred, tilting her head. "I'm Reika Mizuki, one of the top students in Class 3A." She placed a hand on her hip, eyeing him like a hunter sizing up prey. "That seat is already taken, you know. Why don't you sit with me instead?"
She licked her lips, a habit she used to fluster boys into submission.
To her, men were toys—tools to be manipulated and discarded once their entertainment value diminished. Unlike Akane, who commanded respect through her sheer presence, Reika used her charms.
A slow smirk spread across Masaru's face as he met her gaze.
"Same old Reika…"
His crimson eyes gleamed as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.
"I didn't realize you were one of the top students, Reika." His tone was mocking, but lighthearted. Then, his smirk widened. "Or should I say—Man Crusher?"
Reika flinched.
Her act shattered instantly.
The entire class froze, their jaws dropping.
"No way…"
"That voice… is that really—?"
Reika's eyes widened in shock as she staggered back, pointing at him.
"Masaru?! You're actually Masaru?!"
Her outburst shattered the last bits of doubt, sending another wave of chaos through the classroom.
The difference was too jarring.
Yes, his face was similar.
Yes, his voice was the same.
But everything else—his eyes, hair, body, aura—it was as if Masaru had been reborn into someone entirely different.
Just then, a voice as smooth as silk cut through the noise.
"Masaru, meet me after class. Don't be late," Akane said, her tone gentle—far different from her usual cold and domineering demeanor. Then, with a smirk, she added, "Try to get some sleep… you might be awake all night."
Silence.
Dead silence.
And then—
"WHAT?!"
The class erupted into chaos once more.
Her tone was gentle.
Her words were casual, even teasing.
Akane. Shiroyama Academy's Ice Queen. Talking like that. To Masaru.
As if their worlds had flipped upside down.
The boys fumed with jealousy.
The girls gawked in disbelief.
And as if to crush their hopes entirely, Masaru smirked and mockingly saluted her.
"Alright, my lady."
A dark storm of killing intent filled the air.
Among the raging boys, one snapped first—
Gesshoku Engetsu.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and the hot-headed musclehead of the class, he had always held a grudge against Masaru. He had thought of him as a weakling, an eyesore, and the lowest of the low.
But now, this trash had the audacity to talk to Akane like that?
Before Masaru could react, Gesshoku grabbed him by the collar, lifting him slightly off the seat.
"I don't care if you're Masaru or some damn impostor," he growled, his veins bulging with rage. "If you dare talk to Miss Akane again, I'll kill you."
Masaru sighed, staring at him dead in the eyes.
"You'll kindly remove your hand."
His voice was calm, gentle, almost too polite.
But there was something terrifying beneath his words.
A presence.
A weight.
A command.
In an instant, Gesshoku's blood ran cold.
His body betrayed him, stepping back as a shudder ran down his spine.
The moment he realized what had happened, rage replaced fear.
"You bastard!"
He swung a fist straight for Masaru's face—
—only for a sharp voice to stop him mid-swing.
"That's enough, Gesshoku."
The entire class froze.
It wasn't Mugen who spoke.
It wasn't even Akane.
It was—
Renji Kuroya.
The top-ranked male student in Class 3A.
If Akane was the untouchable Queen, Renji was her male counterpart.
Unlike Gesshoku, who was just muscle and rage, Renji was everything a true elite should be.
Smart.
Athletic.
Strategic.
And most importantly—respected and feared.
"Renji—!" Gesshoku turned, his face red with anger. "This bastard—!"
"—No buts," Renji interrupted, his voice calm, composed, and cold.
His sharp gaze shifted to Masaru.
His dark, calculating eyes bore into him like a predator studying its prey.
"Something's changed about him… This isn't the same Masaru we knew."
With a small smirk, Masaru met his gaze, unflinching.
The two locked eyes.
An unspoken challenge had been made.
And thus, a new storm was about to brew.
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