Oshi had just walked me inside the building. The place was alive with noise — chatter bouncing off walls, footsteps echoing down polished halls, the faint scent of cafeteria food drifting through the air.
He guided me first to the cafeteria, where dozens of students sat in tight groups, laughing, gossiping, and shoveling food into their mouths like they hadn't eaten in days. The smell of curry rice and fried noodles filled the air. Oshi pointed across the room awkwardly. "That's where everyone usually eats," he explained, adjusting his bag strap.
We continued down another hallway. The sound of squeaking shoes and bouncing basketballs led us to the gym — a huge, gleaming space that looked more like a professional arena than a school facility. The place echoed with voices and the rhythmic sound of a volleyball being spiked.
"Wow…" I muttered, honestly impressed.
Finally, Oshi brought me back through a quieter corridor, the one leading to the classroom I was already familiar with from the previous loop. The walls were lined with student posters, club notices, and a few faded warnings about "no fighting on school grounds" — which, given the students here, seemed more like a polite suggestion than an actual rule.
I turned to Oshi, trying to lighten the mood with a grin. "Which class are you in?"
"I— I'm in classroom 1-A. What about you?" he replied nervously, his voice trembling just a little.
"Really!? Me too!" I said, pretending to act surprised.
Oshi's lips curled into a faint smile, probably the first one I'd seen on him.
"Oh shoot, I have to use the washroom," I added quickly, pretending to be casual. "I'll just meet you in class."
"Oh… okay." His words stumbled out, quiet and unsure.
I paused mid-step, turned back, and said, "Let's be friends," with a grin plastered on my face.
His eyes widened slightly, as if no one had ever said that to him before. "Oh… sure," he mumbled, waving awkwardly as I walked away.
I hurried toward the washrooms. The sound of my shoes tapping against the floor echoed through the hallway. When I pushed open the door, the smell of cigarette smoke instantly filled my nose.
There were four people inside — three guys and a girl. The thick haze of smoke swirled lazily around the flickering fluorescent light above.
One of the guys was a bulky, tattooed mess of arrogance — the kind of guy who thought being bigger meant being stronger. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, ashes falling onto the floor.
Then there was the girl — striking red hair that stood out like fire, leaning against the tiled wall. Her uniform was unbuttoned just a bit too low, her posture screaming confidence or carelessness — maybe both. The other two guys looked like the usual goons, standing a little behind the big guy like obedient shadows.
"This is the boys' washroom. Why the hell is there a girl here?" I thought. "Whatever."
I slipped into one of the stalls, unzipped, and let loose a waterfall.
"Ahh…" I sighed. "Pissing after holding it in might just be the best feeling a human can experience."
After finishing, I flushed and stepped out, feeling a bit lighter — figuratively and literally. But before I could take two steps, something hot and sharp hit the back of my neck.
I winced, reaching up to touch it. Burned.
When I turned, the fat guy was smirking, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Hey, you! Mind getting us a drink?" His tone dripped with arrogance.
I stared at him blankly for a second, then smirked. "Get it yourself, fatass."
The room went silent for a beat.
His grin evaporated, replaced by a look of pure rage. "Watch your tongue," he said coldly. "You might just lose it."
I turned to the sink, washing my hands as calmly as possible. "You gonna eat that too?" I said under my breath.
He stomped closer — each step made the tiles vibrate slightly beneath my shoes. The mirror above the sink rattled.
"Damn," I muttered. "How fat can you be to make a mirror shake when you walk?"
His reflection appeared behind me. I could see his arm pulling back, preparing a punch.
I ducked just as his fist flew over my head, missing by inches. The air whooshed past me. I spun around on instinct and threw a sharp uppercut right into his chin.
The impact cracked like a whip. His eyes went wide for a split second before his whole body crumpled to the floor.
I straightened my back, brushing off my hands. "Arrogance will get you nowhere," I said coolly, walking out of the bathroom like it was just another Tuesday.
As soon as I stepped into the hallway, though, I dropped the act. I grabbed my fist, which was now red and throbbing, and silently screamed through clenched teeth. "Ow, ow, ow, ow—dammit that hurts!"
Trying to keep my cool, I walked toward the classroom doors. But just as I reached them, I froze.
A hard slap landed on my back.
"Gah—!"
I turned to find the same bald teacher from earlier grinning at me. "You're the new transfer student, correct?"
I faked a smile. "I sure am."
He opened the classroom door and gestured me in. "Come on, let's introduce you to everyone."
As I stepped inside, a hundred curious eyes turned to me. The room buzzed with whispers.
"This is our new student," the teacher announced. "Treat him well."
I gave a short bow and walked toward my assigned seat — right beside Oshi. As I sat down, I shot him two big thumbs up and a ridiculous grin. I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, almost like a suppressed laugh.
"It's working," I thought. "I won't let anyone die this time."
Later that day, lunch arrived in a flash. The classroom was buzzing with noise — chairs scraping, laughter, the smell of bentos filling the air. Some students left for the cafeteria; others stayed behind, already unpacking their homemade meals.
I rested my arms on the desk, letting out a long sigh. "Here comes the second problem," I thought.
"During the last loop, Oshi got bullied. Then I had to fight Kio. Then that gang nonsense happened. How do I stop that chain from repeating? Think, think!"
Then it hit me — a simple but effective idea.
I turned toward Oshi. He had just opened his homemade bento, steam rising from neatly packed rice and egg rolls. I hadn't seen this part before — in the last loop, I'd been too busy fighting.
"Hey man, can I ask you for a favor?"
He blinked and turned toward me. "What is it?" he asked softly.
"Could you walk me to the convenience store? I don't wanna go to the cafeteria. Pleaseeeee!" I said, putting on my best puppy-dog eyes.
He sighed. "...I guess."
My eyes sparkled like a kid on Christmas morning. "Thanks, man! I really appreciate it."
We both got up, slipping past other students — the delinquents, the loud girls with too much makeup, the groups gossiping near the door — and headed down the hall.
Outside, the air was crisp and bright. The city sounds mixed with birds and distant laughter. We walked through the school gates and down the familiar road until the convenience store came into view.
Just like before, I grabbed two yakisoba breads — one for now, one for later. I bit into one, half of it sticking out of my mouth as I tried to pay with one hand.
Oshi giggled quietly beside me, watching me struggle not to choke on it.