The first bell hadn't even rung, and Renji Takasora was already late.
The classroom buzzed with quiet morning chatter, desks clattering, and sunlight slipping through the windows in slanted golden lines. Students filtered in, some yawning, some swapping gossip, others cramming for pop quizzes they were sure would never come.
Then the door slid open.
"Ah, good morning~," Renji drawled, stepping in with the laziness of a cat who had just rolled off a warm windowsill. His shirt was untucked, tie loose, and the corner of his schoolbag looked like it had been gnawed on by a small animal—or possibly just Renji forgetting it on a vending machine again.
"Renji, you're late. Again."
A sharp voice cut through the room.
Seated near the front was Aika Fujimoto, the class rep. Her bob-cut black hair framed her face with military precision, and her glasses caught the morning sun just enough to add dramatic flair to her scowl. She wore her uniform like a badge of honor—everything crisp and by-the-book.
"Late? Impossible," Renji grinned, walking to his seat by the window. "I arrived precisely when I meant to."
"You sound like an old wizard," muttered Toru Hayasaka, his best friend since elementary school. Toru sat at the desk in front of Renji—he was lanky, wore earphones even when the teacher was talking, and had a head of brown, slightly curly hair that refused to be combed flat. "Though, to be fair, the last time you were early was never."
"I'm fashionably late. There's a difference."
"Sure there is," Aika huffed, flipping open her attendance book. "You're on cleaning duty today, by the way."
"See?" Renji said, laying his head on his desk. "Punished for living my truth."
The classroom door opened again, this time more quietly.
Sayuri Nakano walked in—a soft-spoken girl with shoulder-length, pale brown hair and unusually pale skin. She always carried a small navy-blue sketchbook. Sayuri didn't talk much, but when she did, it was always with purpose. She took the seat beside Renji without a word, giving him a nod that he returned with a lazy wave.
"She likes you," Toru whispered immediately, grinning.
Renji raised an eyebrow. "She nodded. That's just standard humanity."
"She doesn't nod at me."
"That's because you keep trying to see her drawings without asking."
"Fair."
As the teacher entered and homeroom began, Renji tuned out the announcements, his gaze drifting out the window. A soft breeze blew through the trees lining the courtyard. Students below were laughing, waving, living.
Normal. This was the good life.
Then, like a needle pricking the skin of a balloon, a voice echoed in his mind.
"Your reflexes were slower this morning."
Renji blinked slowly. Not now.
"That dog you nearly tripped over. You didn't hear it bark because you weren't paying attention. That's sloppy."
"It's a miracle your legs still work."
Renji closed his eyes and sighed inwardly.
"And late again. Consistency in mediocrity is still mediocrity."
Kairo.
The voice was sharp, cold, and painfully articulate. Like having a drill sergeant living in the basement of your brain. Kairo was him—but not. He didn't speak unless necessary. Unfortunately, Kairo seemed to think everything was "necessary."
Renji thought back with irritation.
"Maybe I don't want to be a human machine like you."
"And yet you rely on me when your 'freedom' fails."
"You live in my head. Show some gratitude."
"And you live because of mine."
Toru poked Renji with the eraser end of his pencil. "You're zoning out again. Teacher's calling on you."
"Eh?" Renji sat up straight.
"Mr. Takasora," the teacher said, "kindly share with us what you think the theme of today's reading is."
Renji blinked. On the board was a quote from some 20th-century novel about war and regret.
Without hesitation, he replied:
"That even peace demands a sacrifice—it just chooses different weapons."
The class fell quiet. The teacher raised an eyebrow. Even Aika looked impressed.
Toru turned around, whispering, "You didn't even read it, did you?"
Renji leaned back, giving his trademark grin. "Maybe I'm just smarter than I look."
"You're welcome," Kairo murmured.