Chapter 4 - Class

"Ugh... fuck OFF."

The sun's being a real bitch right now, streaming through my cheap-ass blackout curtains (can't even do their ONE job) and landing right on my face. My dick's morning-hard against my thigh, and I'm sweaty from sleeping naked again 'cause the AC's still broken.

I roll over, burying my head under the pillow, but the universe clearly has other plans. The light ain't going anywhere, and the city outside is already alive and kicking. Traffic, chatter, the whole nine yards.

[Fine. Fine! I'm up, you celestial asshole.]

I fling the pillow aside and stretch, my bare tits bouncing slightly as I arch my back. My legs are all tangled in this cheap blanket as I yawn, and when I grab my phone to check the time?

"Oh no." I blink. "Almost late already?" My voice comes out rough as I kick the blanket off completely. "It's literally the second day. Fuuuuuck."

I drag my thick ass upright, padding over to the tiny kitchenette. The floor's cold against my feet as I grab a bottle of water, chugging half of it in one go. Some of it dribbles down my chin, running between my boobs.

My phone buzzes on the counter, lighting up with a notification that makes me freeze mid-sip.

[Dad💼]: Hope you're enjoying the academy. Make us proud.

I stare at the message, my lips twitching into something between a smirk and a scowl. The phone gets tossed back onto the counter without a reply while I grab my toothbrush instead.

[Yeah, sure, Dad. I'll make us proud or whatever. Just probably not your kind of proud.] He never did like the way I conducted myself. Probably hoped I would change for Crescent Moon's sake. 

Which is why I made a point of staying true to myself. Fuck that. Come hell or high water, I will be me, throughout my entire stay in this university. They don't like that? They'll have to toss me out by my slutty-ass crop top. 

My morning routine's down to a science by now. Teeth brushed (gotta keep this smile perfect), hair tossed into a quick ponytail with my favorite heart-shaped clips, and my uniform thrown on hastily *on purpose*. I hike the skirt up to just the right level of "would give a professor an aneurysm," pull my thigh-highs up snug against my thick thighs, and leave my blazer unbuttoned over a cropped tank that shows off both my tits and my abs.

"Cute. As. FUCK," I tell my reflection, giving myself a finger gun and a wink.

Yeah, I'm a bit cringy at times. Sue me.

My pink contacts make my eyes pop, and my makeup's on point even if I did it in like, five minutes.

The cool morning air hits different when I step outside, locking the door behind me with a flick of my fingers. 

The walk to the academy's the same as yesterday. Noisy streets, towering buildings that scrape the sky, and magical ads flickering overhead advertising everything from enchanted makeup to mana-boosting energy drinks.

Mrs. Takeda waves at me from behind the laundromat counter - she's always been nice, even lets me use the machines for free sometimes when money's particularly tight. Around the corner, that cute vendor guy's setting up his enchanted coffee cart.

"Morning, Akari!" he calls out, voice way too cheerful for this hour.

"Morning!" I call back with a grin, but keep moving. My tits bounce with each step in these platforms. He doesn't even flinch at 'em. Seen 'em lots of times. 

[Coffee later. No time now. Though damn, he's looking fine today...]

Crescent Moon comes into view, those fancy-ass spires gleaming in the early sunlight like they're made of pure money. The buzz of mana hums in the air - familiar, powerful, ready to be shaped by these perfectly manicured hands.

I adjust my bag, letting a small, lazy smile creep across my glossed lips as I strut onto campus.

[Alright, Round Two, bitches!] 

---

{Professor Zhang}

I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking softly beneath me.

A pile of notes sits open on my desk, enchanted ink still glowing with fresh observations. My tattoos shift restlessly under my skin, responding to my thoughts.

[Well, she sure as hell isn't what I expected.]

My mind drifts back to yesterday's class, to that moment when Akari Nakamura strutted in like she owned the place. All confidence and zero fucks given, platform heels clicking against marble floors. I'd expected another overhyped prodigy, admittedly. Some trust fund baby coasting on natural talent and daddy's name.

That was not what I got at all. 

"Catching force bolts like they were made of cotton," I mutter, scribbling another note in the margin. "Compressing mana streams without a containment circle. And dispersing incoming spells that quickly, that... effortlessly."

I pause, remembering that cocky grin of hers. Raw talent doesn't begin to describe it. To disperse a spell, you need to understand its mana flow on an intimate level, need to be able to read and rearrange magical signatures in real time.

Sure, I'd started with basic stuff. Wasn't about to catch a lawsuit for accidentally frying some rich kid's precious heir. But when that girl asked for more? When she practically dared me to challenge her?

[She didn't just meet expectations. She shattered them.]

That kid isn't just talented. She's dangerous.

In all the best possible ways.

I snap my notebook shut and grab my blazer, my tattoos still dancing with anticipation. As Day 2 of the semester kicks off, today's staff meeting looms ahead like an incoming storm, and I know exactly what - or rather who - will be the main topic.

The faculty lounge hits me with its usual wave of pretension as I enter. Polished elegance trying desperately to mask strained professionalism. Different professors lounge in chairs that probably cost more than our combined yearly salaries, sipping from enchanted mugs and pretending to read ancient scrolls.

[All show, no substance. As usual.]

"Ah, Zhang," Professor Chen's voice cuts through the room, sharp as a knife. "Good of you to join us this time."

I raise an eyebrow at her but don't bother responding. Instead, I claim a chair near the edge of the table, leaning back as the meeting begins its predictable descent into academic politics.

As expected, Akari Nakamura becomes the topic within approximately five minutes.

"She's disruptive," Sato says, pushing those ridiculous glasses up his nose for the hundredth time. "Always chatting, barely paying attention. Clearly doesn't take the material seriously."

"I don't mind that as much - it was the first day. But did you see her outfit?" Chen adds with a sniff that could curdle milk. "Completely out of regulation. She'll be a distraction! And that attitude... Is this really our S-Class?"

A low chuckle escapes me, earning several sharp looks. My tattoos pulse darker under my skin as I lean forward.

"That 'attitude' is the most S-Class thing about her," I say, keeping my tone casual but firm. "You all like to romanticize the previous S-Classes, but there's a reason history books never call them 'nice.' Besides," I sigh, watching my tattoos ripple, "you don't climb to the top by being meek and obedient. The kid's got raw talent, and she knows it. Good for her, I say."

"She's arrogant," Chen spits.

"She's confident," I correct, letting my eyes narrow. "And with damn good reason. Did any of you actually read my report? She handled advanced combat scenarios like they were child's play. The way she dispersed multiple spells near simultaneously? That goes beyond talent."

Sato's voice rises, his face flushing.

"That's not the point! We're trying to cultivate discipline and professionalism here, not chaos!"

My smirk widens as my tattoos flash electric blue.

[And there it is. The real difference between us.]

"If you ask me," I drawl, "chaos is exactly what this place needs. Half these kids are so terrified of breaking rules, they'll never take risks. Akari? She thrives on risk. That's what's going to make her exceptional."

The silence that follows feels electric. I can see the discomfort in their faces, the way they fidget with their expensive pens and precious scrolls. They hate being challenged, especially by someone like me - young and refusing to play by their ancient rules.

"You're impressed with her," Chen says finally, her voice arctic.

"Damn right I am." I lean back, letting my tattoos pulse visibly through my shirt. "You all should be too. But you're too busy clutching your pearls over her skirt length to see what's right in front of you."