The next morning, I woke early, prepared for school, and managed half a breakfast. I arrived at the classroom to find Ruyi already at her desk.
"Good morning, Azazel," she said, her composure as unshakable as ever.
"Ya, good morning, Ruyi," I replied, sliding into my seat behind her. "By the way, I was thinking last night... your name is Chinese, right?"
She turned and looked me straight in the eyes, a cryptic smile playing on her lips. "That is... dependent on your choices."
[A Cryptic and Evasive Answer!]
Lol. Wow, she's playing with me.
The homeroom teacher entered, and everyone rushed to their seats. Throughout the day, I found myself having small, easy conversations with Ruyi. A realization dawned on me: in this entire school, she was, functionally, my only friend.
During a lull, I decided to test the waters. "Hey... are we friends now?"
She smiled, a genuine, if slightly teasing, expression. "Why not? You're more interesting than the rest."
Interesting, she says. The word felt like a double-edged sword. It felt like I was nothing but entertainment to her. Who cares? I thought, a plan solidifying in my mind. I'm definitely gonna seduce her. Hook, line, and sinker.
The days bled into weeks. My routine solidified: classes, lunch on the roof, and then the Kendo club. I was no longer just an observer. One of the senior members, a guy named Kenji, called out, "Hey, Azazel! The club captain told me to teach you the basics. You cool with that?"
"Yeah, man," I replied, and so my training began.
When club activities ended, Kenji slapped me on the back. "Hey, a bunch of us are going to karaoke. Wanna come?"
I was hesitant, the solitary path feeling more familiar. But I agreed.
Surprisingly, I had fun. The boisterous energy of the club members was infectious. During a lull between songs, one of the guys, emboldened by cheap beer, asked, "So, what's the deal with you and Ironveil-san? You two always talking."
I took a sip of my drink. "Nothing much to guess. We're just friends."
The guy laughed hard. "How are you so lucky? You just transferred!"
The rest of the group told him to knock it off, and the night continued with laughter and terrible singing. I walked home with a strange, unfamiliar feeling—a sense of belonging.
Three months passed in the blink of an eye.
I had grown used to this new life. I got along well with the "boys" in the Kendo club, my grades were a comfortable average, and I'd even risen to become the 3rd best kendoka in the club. My relationship with Ruyi remained easygoing, a constant, intriguing presence. But a different kind of hunger was growing inside me. I wasn't going to be blunt or clumsy about it. The time for subtlety was over.
One afternoon after class, as we were packing our bags, I saw my chance. I leaned against her desk, looking down at her.
"Yo, Ruyi."
She looked up, her violet eyes curious.
"You and I... start dating. That's something that would pique your curiosity, right?"
She laughed, a clear, melodic sound. But her eyes held a challenge, as if she had been waiting for this all along.
"Alright then, Mister Bad Boy," she said, her voice a low, confident murmur. "Show me why not. Go on, get your best shot."
Our first date was, by all accounts, normal. We went to a coffee shop, browsed the mall, and ended up walking through a park as the sun began to set. Ruyi seemed to readily enjoy it, her calm composure occasionally breaking into a genuine, quiet smile.
As I watched her examine a trinket in a shop window, a thought crossed my mind: Is it really this easy to make her happy? But I quickly dismissed the sentimentality. This wasn't just a date; it was a battle—a subtle, unspoken war between us for the upper hand in affection. And I had no intention of losing.
I walked her home, the city lights starting to flicker on around us. At her doorstep, she turned to me.
"Bye, Azazel. Thank you for today, it was really fun." Her smile in that moment was a beautiful, framed image, one I knew I'd recall later. "I'll see you at school."
"Bye, Ruyi."
The moment her door closed, the persona shifted. I pulled out my phone and scrolled to a specific contact. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered.
"Yo, it's Azazel. Can you hook me up with a sports car?"
There was a pause on the other end. "...Ya, kid. But you got the money for it?"
"Of course I do."
"Alright. Meet me."
I headed straight to the usual spot in Shinjuku. The guy picked me up in a nondescript sedan and drove in silence to a warehouse garage on the city's outskirts. He called out to a burly man wiping his hands with a rag.
"Oi. Where's the car for the kid I told you about?"
The other guy looked me over with a patient, almost bored tone. "Come on, it's in the back."
We walked through a grimy corridor into a vast, brightly lit space. And there they were. A line of different cars, from sleek modern imports to classic JDM legends. It was a garage of ghosts and dreams.
"Alright, kid. Pick one so we can get this deal over with," the first guy said, lighting a cigarette.
My eyes scanned the lineup, but they kept drifting back to one: a low-slung, aggressive silhouette with a custom wide-body kit. A 1973 Datsun 240Z. It looked like a predator from a bygone era.
"I'll take this one," I said, patting its fender. "How much?"
The guy glanced at a clipboard. "Price tag on this is 1,500,000 JPY."
Without a word, I opened my bag and counted out the cash, handing him the thick stack of bills. He looked from the money to my face, his shock evident. He just shook his head, handed me the keys, and muttered, "You're a strange kid."
The guy who drove me said he was sticking around, so I was free to leave. I slid into the driver's seat, the smell of old leather and gasoline filling my lungs. The engine roared to life with a satisfying growl. My destination? Daikoku Parking Area.
Pulling into the famed gathering spot, the vibe was electric. "This place is really vibing." I parked, settled on the hood of my new (old) car, and carefully rolled a joint. As I smoked, I just watched—the tuned cars, the chatter, the night sky. I took out my phone and just chilled, a king on his metallic throne.
Time passed, and eventually, I headed home, the thrill of the drive still coursing through me.
The next morning, it was back to the routine. I walked to school, of course. I wasn't stupid; a high school student driving a car like that in broad daylight was a one-way ticket to suspension. The car was for the night; the student was for the day.
I slid into my seat just before the bell. Ruyi glanced over her shoulder.
"Good morning, Bad Boy."
Wow, so that's my nickname now, I thought, a smirk tugging at my lips.
"Hi, Ruyi. How's it going?"
We fell into our usual, easy conversation until class started. When the lunch bell rang, however, the routine broke. Instead of heading for the roof, I unpacked my lunch at my desk. Ruyi did the same, turning her chair to face me.
The classroom, which was usually a cacophony, fell into a stunned silence. Whispers started to circulate like wildfire.
[The Class Gossip Mill Grinds Into Overdrive!]
Suddenly, the door slid open with a dramatic crash. It was Kenji, his eyes wide as he scanned the room before landing on me.
"Dude! You used to eat on the roof! What's happening here?!" He then noticed Ruyi, and his bravado instantly shifted to a flustered bow. "Ah! I see! Hi, I'm Kenji! Nice to meet you, Ruyi Ironveil! He, uh, he rarely talks about you to us!"
Before he could embarrass himself further, two other club members appeared, grabbing him by the arms and hauling him backward out of the door.
"We'll talk about this later, Azazel!" Kenji's voice echoed down the hall.
Ruyi and I finished our lunch amidst the lingering stares. The afternoon classes dragged on, and when they finally ended, I shouldered my bag and made my way to the one place where, for a few hours, I was just the 3rd best kendoka, and not the "Bad Boy" with a Datsun key burning a hole in his pocket.