Chapter XLI: Just Another Schoolday, Part 1
Recess arrives not with a bell but with a collective sigh. Chairs scrape against the floor, bags unzip, and conversations bloom instantly across the University of the Constellations. The tension of lectures dissolves into laughter, complaints, and the soft chaos of students reclaiming their time.
Ryujin pushes his chair back and stretches, hands laced behind his head.
"Finally," he says. "My brain needs oxygen."
Hageshi snorts, already standing.
"Your brain needs memes. Glad for you, you're a walking encyclopedia man, I'm the one with the last brain cell left"
Haruto slings his bag over one shoulder. "Same thing. How oblivious it would be if we're trapped in there no air-condition. Not like a closed classroom with no air-condition, but rusted window grills and boring walls."
Inoshiro doesn't argue. He's already walking.
They head toward the long outdoor tables beside the Skat Auditorium, a familiar spot shaded by wide trees and half-covered by the building's overhang. The stone benches are cool despite the midday warmth, and the air smells faintly of concrete, leaves, and food drifting from the cafeteria.
They drop their bags with practiced ease. Ryujin pulls out his phone immediately.
Hageshi leans over. "Soundboard?"
Ryujin grins. "Obviously."
A distorted airhorn blasts suddenly.
Haruto flinches. "Bro—!"
Inoshiro laughs. "That never gets old."
Ryujin scrolls, fingers dancing across the screen. Meme sounds stack over each other—vine booms, dramatic gasp effects, overused but beloved audio clips that echo faintly around them.
They huddle closer, shoulders nearly touching.
"Okay," Hageshi says. "Moment of truth."
Ryujin knows what he means. He switches apps. The familiar red-and-white interface loads, and the numbers appear. PewDiePie vs T-Series.
Inoshiro squints. "Refresh, I hope Pewds make it, this is peak in YouTube History"
Ryujin refreshes. "Huh, peak you say? That's one word to describe a mountain, but it would be nice if people would use it after a decade though."
The numbers flicker. PewDiePie is still ahead. By a hair.
Haruto exhales. "Still winning."
Hageshi slams the table lightly. "Forever brofist."
Ryujin raises his fist without hesitation. One by one, the others stack theirs on top.
"Internet history," Inoshiro says solemnly.
"Never forget," Haruto adds.
"BROFIST!"
They break into laughter. Around them, other students pass by, some glancing over, others completely uninterested. This is just another small corner of campus noise—four boys obsessing over things that matter deeply to them and absolutely nowhere else.
Across campus, the Aquarius Cafeteria hums with activity. Saki steps inside first, adjusting her bag strap as the scent of rice meals and brewed coffee greets her. Kitsune follows, already talking, while Rikiyo trails behind, eyes wandering across menu boards.
"I still can't believe how Season Two ends," Kitsune says, animated. "The reveal alone—"
"No spoilers," Rikiyo warns. "I'm rewatching it."
Saki smiles. "You already know everything."
"That doesn't mean I don't want to experience the emotional damage again."
They line up briefly before deciding they're not actually hungry enough to buy anything yet. Instead, they drift toward the seating area.
"Honestly," Kitsune continues, "the pacing in Season Two is so different from Season One. It feels heavier."
Saki nods. "More personal. Less mystery, more consequence."
Rikiyo leans back against a chair. "Speaking of heavy—Studio Ghibli."
Saki's eyes light up instantly. "Spirited Away."
"Howl's Moving Castle," Kitsune counters.
"Princess Mononoke," Rikiyo adds.
They argue playfully, listing scenes, music, animation styles. Saki listens more than she talks, smiling softly, occasionally chiming in with a thoughtful comment.
The cafeteria windows catch the light just right, and for a moment, everything feels warm and simple.
Back inside the building, a very different energy dominates one of the long tables near the wall.
"Mid, mid, MID—!"
Okaki slams his phone down briefly, then snatches it back up. Takeshi doesn't look away from his screen. "You overextended."
Aoto's fingers move rapidly. "Bottom lane needs help."
Kuebiko hums under his breath, focused. "Ult in five."
Miran sits slightly apart, leaning forward, eyes half-lidded but sharp.
"Push now," Miran says calmly.
They push. The screen flashes victory.
Okaki throws his arms up. "CRAB RAVE!"
Aoto chuckles. "Again?"
Takeshi finally relaxes. "One more before class."
They queue up again without hesitation.
The bell rings. Groans ripple across the campus.
Haruto checks the time and sighs. "Back to reality."
They gather their bags and head inside just as the hallways fill again, streams of students flowing toward classrooms.
Shinse stands at the front of the room, adjusting his glasses as the students settle.
"Today," he says calmly, "we discuss music and cultural diversity across Asia."
The room quiets. He gestures to the screen, where maps and images appear—traditional instruments, festivals, performances.
"Music," Shinse continues, "is not merely sound. It is identity."
Ryujin listens, chin resting on his hand. The rhythms, the instruments, the stories behind them—it's not uninteresting, just heavy in a different way.
Shinse's voice is steady, almost meditative.
"When cultures meet," he says, "music becomes dialogue."
Hageshi scribbles notes.
Inoshiro hums softly under his breath before stopping himself.
The next class transitions smoothly. Marielle enters with her usual precise steps, writing characters on the board almost immediately.
"Hiragana," she says. "Katakana."
She turns, eyes sharp. "Not interchangeable."
Students straighten instinctively.
She drills pronunciation, stroke order, usage. Ryujin struggles at first, then slowly finds rhythm in repetition. Marielle watches closely.
"Better," she says curtly.
That counts as praise.
Dr. Ruma arrives next, carrying a laptop and an unmistakable air of energy.
"Good afternoon," she says brightly. "Today, we conquer complex-compound sentences."
Groans ripple.
She smiles wider. "Don't worry. You already use them."
She launches into her presentation, breaking sentences apart, rebuilding them, showing how thoughts connect. Ryujin finds himself more engaged than expected. Language, he realizes, is structure—like power, like control.
Defense and Nature follows. Mrs. Sato speaks calmly about cycles—water, carbon, life.
"Everything returns," she says. "Balance is survival."
Ryujin writes that down.
Finally, Ms. Kantano steps in, already holding a basket of tools.
"Technology, Livelihood, and Economics," she announces. "Cooking tools."
Knives, whisks, ladles, peelers—she explains their purpose, evolution, efficiency.
"It is not just about food," she says. "It is about skill."
The bell rings at last. Chairs move. Bags zip. Ryujin exhales deeply. Another ordinary day. And yet—
Somewhere beneath the memes, the lectures, the laughter—Something waits.
And none of them know it yet.
ns216.73.216.67da2
and then Add to home screen.