Our protagonist sat in his dimly lit room, scrolling through a list on his phone. The screen displayed various names alongside their school points. His eyes darted between figures until a sudden realization struck him like lightning. With a jolt, he jumped up and shouted, "This explains why that white-haired child was so focused on that glasses-wearing boy's speech! It turns out she's actually a loli!"
His gaze fixated on her absurdly high coin balance, and despair washed over him. Tears welled up in his eyes, pouring down like a foundation burst. "I have endured the droning lectures of that demonic class teacher, suffered through endless monotony, and yet... I still fall behind a childlike girl? I demand justice! The Japanese education system is utterly biased!"
He dramatically wiped away his tears, his pride wounded but his determination reignited. With a deep sigh, he trudged to the bathroom, his muffled sobs echoing against the tiles as he showered away his frustration.
Emerging refreshed, yet still brooding, he stepped out of his house, casting a sharp glance toward the school's main network building. "Most likely, the government won't allow this incident to become public knowledge," he murmured to himself, his mind calculating the extent of the cover-up.
His footsteps led him toward a slightly secluded area where he bent down, scooping up a few stones and stuffing them into his pocket. His gaze flickered around suspiciously, his demeanor akin to that of a thief plotting his escape. Under his breath, he whispered, "Today is your last day, black-eyed girl."
With renewed resolve, he navigated toward the tree—the tree—where his perverted aspirations had first been crushed under the weight of an inappropriate hand sign and the merciless judgment of society. His posture carried the grandiosity of a principal about to execute an ant-sized student, earning questioning glances from passersby.
At a nearby corner, a timid-looking boy lurked, gripping a hockey stick with unwavering determination. It was the same boy whose noble quest for freedom of expression had been ruthlessly suppressed by so-called 'friends.' Today, he was ready to reclaim his rights.
As fate would have it, just as our protagonist passed by, the timid boy, fueled by pent-up frustration, swung his hockey stick with all his might. The impact sent the protagonist stumbling, colliding into a nearby girl. Unfortunately for him, she was the same girl whose path he had once crossed near the female bathroom. Memories of that encounter surged back into her mind, igniting her fury. Without hesitation, she brandished her electric shock self-defense device and unleashed its wrath upon him.
Pain seared through his body, his nerves screaming in agony. Faced with the unrelenting force of a demon incarnate, he did what any self-preserving individual would do—beg for mercy. But mercy was nowhere to be found.
Summoning every ounce of sheer desperation, he seized the opportunity when his tormentors were momentarily distracted. Activating his Hussain Bolt mode, he bolted, shattering through a glass wall. Shards embedded themselves into his skin as he crashed into the school's pool area.
Akyanokji, Horikita, Kushida, and the other students, still reeling from the trauma of their teacher's merciless roasting session, watched in stunned silence as water exploded in all directions upon his dramatic descent. The splash drenched Akyanokji and Horikita, leaving them staring blankly at the chaotic mess before them.
Beneath the water, our protagonist drifted momentarily, his body stinging from a combination of electric shocks and lacerations. And yet, even as he floated in pain, one thought remained crystal clear in his mind:
I will have my revenge
Horikita and Ayanokouji, caught off guard by the sudden splash, snapped back to reality. Horikita, with her usual composed but scathing tone, muttered the most cutting insult she could muster: "Moron."
Floating in the pool, our protagonist's eyes twitched before he launched his counterstrike with lightning speed. "You moron! Your whole family's a moron! You b—"
Before he could finish, the insulted words were drowned in the surrounding gasps. Horikita's expression froze, caught between shock and irritation. Ayanokouji, watching with an unreadable expression, sighed internally, thinking, Why am I even here?
Still bobbing in the water, our protagonist's eyes wandered. A group of girls stood at the poolside in swimsuits, flexing their bodies under the sun. His gaze then landed on Horikita's hand, which seemed to be hesitating near Ayanokouji's abs. A realization struck him—So that's why she's biased! It's all because of that list... His eyes narrowed, feeling the injustice of the situation.
A shadow loomed over him. "Haruto-san, you shouldn't say such bad words."
His entire body froze. That voice—it belonged to Kushida, the most dangerous girl in the school.
Like a helpless deer in front of a predator, he tried to swim away, limbs flailing wildly. He splashed, choked on water, sputtered, and somehow managed to reach the pool's edge. His eyes darted toward Ayanokouji, a desperate plea forming in his throat.
With a sudden jolt, he clambered behind Ayanokouji, gripping his shoulders tightly. "Big brother, please save me from Kushida!"
Ayanokouji, who had been brooding over his own existential crisis, turned toward Kushida and sighed. "Don't scare him like that."
Kushida blinked, tilting her head in mock innocence, while Ayanokouji mentally questioned his life choices once again. The gathered students from Class-D observed the situation in confusion, whispering among themselves. Horikita, arms crossed, muttered with a sarcastic edge, "You're surprisingly humane, Ayanokouji."
But our protagonist, ears sharp as ever, immediately countered. "Horikita is biased! Say it again! Horikita is biased!" His voice rose as he waved his hands dramatically, declaring to the heavens, "She wants to deprive Ayanokouji fans of their birthright!"
At this moment, Hirata, ever the responsible leader, stepped forward, his voice carrying over the chaos. "Guys, we should collectively ask him the reason for this absurd situation."
Turning toward our protagonist, he calmly inquired, "Can you explain what's going on?"
Our protagonist straightened up, clearing his throat. "Those people are bad! They started everything! They took the law into their own hands!" Internally, he cackled—You punks dared to challenge this demon? Now, taste my wrath!
However, as he looked around, it became painfully obvious that no one believed him. The stares, filled with doubt and mild exasperation, cut deeper than a blade. Desperate, he yelled, "See for yourselves! Ask the teacher!"
Yet, before anyone could react, he turned his head and found himself face-to-face with Ayanokouji and Horikita's dull, unimpressed gazes. A chill ran down his spine.
Still trembling from the lingering effects of seeing too many exposed female legs, his last resort kicked in. With an erratic motion, he shoved Horikita toward Ayanokouji. The unexpected push caught Ayanokouji off guard, making him stumble slightly.
As realization dawned on him, his eyes darted toward the one person he didn't want to anger—Kushida.
Her sweet smile remained, but something behind it sent shivers down his spine.
His survival instincts screamed.
Without another word, he bolted, dashing away at full speed, leaving behind a poolside of bewildered classmates and an ominously smiling Kushida.
As our protagonist walked forward, sparks crackled from his water-drenched clothes and hair, drawing shocked gasps from the crowd. Amidst murmured curses, he shamelessly continued, pretending not to hear. However, just as he was about to make a clean escape, he felt a hand firmly press onto his shoulder.
A sudden jolt of electricity coursed through Hirata's body, making him yelp and recoil. He staggered back, eyes wide with disbelief. Recovering quickly, he composed himself and spoke with his usual leader-like demeanor.
"We're organizing a group study session for the upcoming exams," Hirata explained. "You should join us."
Our protagonist's eyes sharpened as he asked warily, "Will that demonic Kushida be there?"
Hirata smirked knowingly before confirming, "Of course."
Without hesitation, the protagonist turned on his heel. "Then I'm not joining."
As he attempted to make a swift getaway, Hirata once again intercepted him. "Wait, wait. If it's just about Kushida, we can arrange for you to not see her. What about now?"
Hearing this, our protagonist's demeanor changed instantly. He clapped a brotherly arm around Hirata's shoulder, grinning. "In that case, let's go to the canteen for lunch!"
Hirata hesitated, furrowing his brows. "We can't waste our points like that—"
"Just do as I say," the protagonist interrupted, his eyes glinting with mischief. "And we'll get a free lunch."
Before Hirata could protest further, he found himself being dragged toward the mall. Confused but unwilling to resist too much, he followed along. As they arrived at an empty alley near the store, the protagonist swiftly scooped up a handful of dirt and smeared it all over Hirata's pristine uniform.
"Wha—what are you doing?!" Hirata stammered, completely bewildered.
"Just trust me," the protagonist whispered, shoving him forward.
As they entered the store, the shopkeeper, who had been casually wiping the counter, froze. His face paled, sweat forming on his brow the moment he recognized the protagonist. Instinctively, he prepared for whatever bizarre scheme was about to unfold.
With wide, innocent eyes, the protagonist approached the counter and pleaded, "Shopkeeper Uncle, look at this poor boy. He was bullied near the school and hasn't eaten. Just ask him."
The shopkeeper hesitated, glancing at Hirata, whose usual confident aura had been replaced by sheer confusion.
Before Hirata could refute, the protagonist swiftly kicked him in the stomach.
"Ugh!" Hirata let out a pained gasp, doubling over.
The protagonist turned back to the shopkeeper, his expression one of pure concern. "See? He's really suffering."
Hirata, now kneeling on the floor, clutched his stomach, his mind unable to process what had just happened.
The shopkeeper, muttering under his breath, sighed in resignation. "Why is it always me…"
Moments later, two free lunches were reluctantly placed on the counter.