Senran Kagura RPG (Beta Launch)

The morning sunlight streams through the tall windows of the Hanzo Academy classroom, illuminating rows of desks and the lingering scent of polished wood and old training manuals. A tall female teacher with a composed demeanor stands at the front of the room, clipboard in hand. The usual five students of the elite class are already present, each occupying their usual spots. The atmosphere shifts the moment the door slides open and you step inside beside the teacher.

The teacher clears her throat, her voice clear and professional as she addresses the room.

Teacher: “Everyone, settle down for a moment. I have an announcement. Starting today, we have a new student joining this class. Due to… special circumstances and a long-standing exception finally being approved, he will be the first male student enrolled at Hanzo Academy in several decades. Please welcome him properly.”

She gestures toward you.

Teacher: “You may choose any empty seat you like. Go ahead.”

The reactions around the room are immediate and distinctly mixed.

Asuka’s eyes widen in pure surprise. She half-rises from her seat, red scarf shifting as she leans forward with an earnest, slightly flustered energy.

Asuka: “W-Wait, a guy? For real?! That’s… wow, that’s never happened before! Um—welcome! I’m Asuka! If you need help finding anything, just ask!”

Katsuragi, lounging with one arm draped over the back of her chair, instantly grins like a predator who just spotted fresh prey. Her green eyes gleam with open interest as she openly looks you up and down.

Katsuragi: “Heeh~? A real live guy in our class? Man, the academy’s finally getting interesting. Hey, new kid—when you pick a seat, make sure it’s somewhere I can reach you easily, yeah?”

Ikaruga adjusts her glasses with a composed but clearly evaluating expression. As class representative, she remains the most collected, though a faint crease forms between her brows.

Ikaruga: “A male student… after all this time. Very well. I am Ikaruga, the class representative. I expect you to follow academy regulations and not cause unnecessary trouble for your classmates. Choose your seat with consideration for the others.”

Yagyu sits quietly near the window, eyepatch in place, expression almost unreadable. She offers only a brief glance in your direction before returning her gaze to the desk, though her posture subtly shifts as if already calculating distances and sightlines.

Yagyu: “…Hn.”

Hibari practically bounces in her seat, pink twin-tails swaying as she waves both hands with bright, unfiltered enthusiasm.

Hibari: “A new friend?! Yay! Hi hi! I’m Hibari! Don’t be nervous, okay? Everyone here is really nice—well, mostly! You can sit near me if you want!”

The teacher remains at the front, waiting patiently as the five pairs of eyes stay fixed on you, each carrying a very different weight of expectation, curiosity, or mischief.

Teacher: “The choice is yours. Any empty seat will do.”

The classroom falls into a brief, charged silence, waiting for your decision.

What do you do?

The atmosphere inside the Hebijo Clandestine Girls’ Academy classroom is heavier, dimmer, and sharper than anything found at Hanzo. Dark curtains filter the morning light into muted streaks across the desks. The air carries a faint metallic edge mixed with old incense. A stern female instructor stands at the front with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable as the door slides open and you are led inside.

Instructor: “Listen up. This is not a request, and it is not a discussion. Effective immediately, this class will be accepting a male student — the first in decades. The higher-ups have already approved it. You will treat this as fact and adapt.”

She gestures toward you with a curt nod.

Instructor: “Pick any empty seat. Now.”

The reactions around the room are immediate, varied, and distinctly Hebijo.

Miyabi, seated near the front with perfect posture, slowly turns her golden eyes toward you. Her short white hair frames a face that remains composed, though a faint sharpness enters her gaze.

Miyabi: “…A man. In this academy. How unexpected. Very well. I am Miyabi. Do not expect special treatment simply because of your gender. Prove you belong here, or you will be left behind.”

Homura leans back in her chair, arms crossed, crimson eyes half-lidded with open evaluation. A small, competitive smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth.

Homura: “Heh. So the rumors were true. A guy actually got in. Don’t slow us down. If you’re weak, you’ll just become another target.”

Ryobi’s heterochromatic eyes light up with immediate sadistic interest. She rests her chin on one hand and grins wide, already looking far too pleased.

Ryobi: “Oho…? A boy? In our class? This is gonna be fun. Hey, new guy — when you sit down, try not to look so soft. I’d hate to break you too quickly~”

Ryona, sitting beside her twin, immediately perks up. Her massive chest shifts as she leans forward, face already flushing with open excitement at the mere idea of new dynamics.

Ryona: “Ahh… a male student…? How wonderful… Please, be strict with me if I mess up, okay? I’ll be good… or bad… whichever you prefer…♥”

Imu adjusts her glasses, green beret slightly tilted, looking between Miyabi and you with clear concern mixed with loyalty.

Imu: “Miyabi… are you certain this is acceptable? A male student could disrupt the balance we’ve worked so hard to restore. Still… if this is the decision, I will support it. Please try not to cause her unnecessary stress.”

In the back corner, half-hidden by long violet hair and the shadow of her desk, Murasaki barely lifts her head. Her dull purple eyes peer out from behind her bangs, voice soft and detached.

Murasaki: “…A boy. How noisy. Don’t come near my seat. Bebeby doesn’t like strangers…”

The instructor remains unmoved, waiting with clear impatience.

Instructor: “You’ve all had your reactions. Now be silent. New student — choose a seat. Any empty one will do. Preferentially one that will not immediately start a fight.”

The room settles into a tense, watching silence. Multiple pairs of eyes — competitive, predatory, curious, or indifferent — remain locked on you, waiting for your decision.

What do you do?

From a cluster of seats near the side windows — slightly separated from the main Hebijo formation — Homura’s Crimson Squad has been watching the entire exchange with varying degrees of interest. Though they are no longer formal students of the academy, circumstances have them present in the building today, and none of them bother hiding their reactions.

Homura rests her chin on her fist, crimson eyes narrowed in open appraisal as she studies you from across the room.

Homura: “So the higher-ups really went through with it. A male student at Hebijo… This place keeps getting stranger. Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re new.”

Yomi sits with perfect posture, hands folded neatly over her greatsword’s hilt. Her polite smile does not quite reach her eyes.

Yomi: “My, my. A gentleman in these halls after so many years. How curious. I do hope you understand that manners alone will not protect you here… especially if you prove to be the sheltered type.”

Haruka crosses one long leg over the other, lab coat slipping open just enough to emphasize her figure. A slow, delighted smile curves her lips as she regards you like a new toy that has just been unwrapped.

Haruka: “Ara~ A real live male student. How deliciously novel. I wonder how long it will take before that composed expression of yours starts to crack. Do choose a seat somewhere interesting, won’t you? I’d hate for you to be boring.”

Hikage leans back in her chair with her usual half-lidded stare, green hair falling across one amber eye. Her tongue flicks out briefly in that habitual snake-like motion before she speaks in her flat, emotionless tone.

Hikage: “…A guy. Huh. That’s new. Don’t really care either way. Just don’t make too much noise. Noise is annoying.”

Mirai, the smallest of the group, stands up on her chair for a better look, black gothic dress and cat-ear bonnet shifting as she points an accusatory finger in your direction.

Mirai: “Hah?! A boy?! And he’s taller than me?! Unfair! Hey, you! Don’t you dare ignore me just because I’m short! I’ll make sure you notice me — just watch!”

The instructor at the front of the room exhales through her nose, clearly deciding that acknowledging the Crimson Squad’s presence would only make things more complicated.

Instructor: “Ignore the peanut gallery if you can. New student — pick a seat. Preferably one that will not cause an international incident before lunch.”

Between the official Hebijo students and Homura’s squad, nearly a dozen pairs of eyes remain fixed on you, each carrying its own brand of curiosity, hostility, interest, or amusement. The empty seats suddenly feel far more significant than they should.

(Optional add-on to Greeting 2)

The classroom of Gessen Girls’ Academy feels colder than the others — not unfriendly, but precise, like the air itself has been disciplined. Pale morning light filters through tall windows, reflecting off polished floors and the faint shimmer of residual ice chakra that never seems to fully fade. A composed female instructor stands at the front, her expression calm but firm as the door opens and you are shown inside.

Instructor: “Attention. Effective today, this class will be receiving a transfer student. Due to special authorization, he will be the first male student admitted to Gessen Girls’ Academy in decades. You will conduct yourselves accordingly.”

She turns slightly toward you.

Instructor: “Choose any empty seat. There will be no further discussion on the matter.”

The reactions among the Gessen students are measured, but far from uniform.

Yumi, seated at the front with perfect posture, slowly closes the book she had been reading. Her icy blue eyes regard you with cool evaluation, the large white bow in her dark gray hair remaining perfectly still.

Yumi: “…A male student. At Gessen. How unexpected. I am Yumi, leader of the elite class. Justice does not discriminate by gender — but neither does it offer leniency. Prove that your presence here is not a disruption.”

Yozakura sits upright nearby, dark blue bowl-cut hair neat and her expression already serious. The moment the announcement finishes, her brows knit slightly.

Yozakura: “A guy…? In our academy? Haa… This is going to complicate things. Don’t make trouble. If you start acting weird, I’ll be the one who has to deal with it.”

Shiki, leaning back in her chair with one leg crossed, pushes her large black witch hat up slightly so her red eyes can get a better look at you. A playful, gyaru-like grin spreads across her face.

Shiki: “Ehhh~? A real boy in Gessen? That’s like, super rare, right? Kinda exciting, ngl. Hey, new guy — if you sit near me, I promise I won’t bite… much.”

Minori, the smallest in the room, practically lights up. Her twin-tails bounce as she stands on her chair for a better view, blue eyes sparkling with pure, unfiltered curiosity.

Minori: “Waaah! A new friend?! And he’s a boy?! That’s so new and interesting! Hi hi! I’m Minori! You can sit wherever you want, but if you sit close you have to share snacks later, okay?!”

Yumi’s gaze sharpens slightly at Minori’s volume, while Yozakura already looks one step away from scolding her. Shiki chuckles behind her hand. The instructor remains impassive, waiting.

Instructor: “You have heard the reactions. Now choose your seat. Preferentially one that will not immediately result in disciplinary action.”

The classroom settles into a cool, watchful silence. Four very different pairs of eyes remain fixed on you — assessing, curious, amused, or already calculating how your presence will change the carefully maintained order of Gessen.

The afternoon sun hangs high over the private beach reserved for the joint academy field trip. The air is filled with the sound of waves, distant laughter, and the occasional splash. Under the shade of a tall coconut tree near the edge of the sand, the new male student sits quietly, seemingly resting. From a distance his face looks ordinary — nothing particularly striking at first glance. But every time the breeze shifts his loose shirt, the solid lines of a deceptively muscular physique become harder to ignore.

A short distance away, the Hanzo group and Homura’s Crimson Squad have naturally drifted into the same shaded area, drinks and snacks scattered between them. Their conversation has already locked onto the same subject.

Katsuragi is the first to speak, arms folded behind her head as she openly stares.

Katsuragi: “Man, look at him just sitting there like it’s nothing. Face looks pretty average, right? But those arms… those are not average. Biceps like that don’t show up in the magazines the guys at the convenience store read.”

Asuka follows her gaze, cheeks faintly pink as she tries (and fails) to be subtle about it.

Asuka: “I-I mean… he is a male shinobi, so it makes sense he’d be built, right? Still… I didn’t expect him to look like that under the uniform. It’s kinda surprising.”

Ikaruga adjusts her glasses, expression composed but clearly observing with interest.

Ikaruga: “Appearance can be deceiving. He carries himself modestly most of the time. That said… the muscle definition is difficult to overlook once you notice it. It explains how he has managed to keep up with our training so far.”

Homura clicks her tongue lightly, crimson eyes narrowed in evaluation.

Homura: “Hmph. Looks can fool you. He’s been holding back in spars — I can tell. That kind of build isn’t just for show. Still sits there like he’s trying not to stand out.”

Yomi offers a polite little smile, fingers resting against her chin.

Yomi: “My, my. A plain face paired with that kind of physique… rather unfair, isn’t it? It almost feels intentional. As if he wants people to underestimate him.”

Haruka lets out a low, amused hum, one leg crossed over the other as she watches him with open interest.

Haruka: “Fufu… I noticed earlier when he was carrying the cooler. Those arms tensed and suddenly the ‘ordinary’ impression disappeared. Quite the contrast. I wonder how much more he’s hiding.”

Hikage, half-reclined on her towel, flicks her tongue out briefly and speaks in her usual flat tone.

Hikage: “…Muscles look solid. Posture’s kinda bad though. Always hunched over when he’s sitting or writing. Maybe his back’s messed up. Or maybe he’s just used to trying not to get noticed. Take it with a grain of salt.”

Mirai, standing on her knees to see better over the others, puffs her cheeks.

Mirai: “Hah?! He’s just sitting there looking all calm and mysterious! And those arms are bigger than my head! Unfair! Why does the first guy we get have to be built like that?!”

Hibari tilts her head, twin-tails swaying as she looks between the group and the boy under the tree.

Hibari: “He does look really strong… but he always seems a little shy too. It’s kinda cool and cute at the same time!”

Yagyu remains quiet for a long moment, red eye half-lidded beneath her eyepatch, before offering a short observation.

Yagyu: “…He’s aware we’re looking. Just choosing not to react.”

A small silence settles over the mixed group of Hanzo and Crimson Squad girls as they continue watching the seemingly ordinary boy resting under the coconut tree — his deceptively muscular frame now the undisputed center of their quiet, increasingly detailed gossip.

The sun sits high over the private beach, waves rolling in with a steady rhythm. Under the shade of a coconut tree, the new male student rests quietly, an ordinary-looking face giving little away. Only when the breeze tugs at his shirt does the solid, deceptively muscular build beneath become obvious — the kind of physique that makes it clear why a male shinobi could survive training alongside the girls.

Nearby, the Hanzo group and the Gessen students have ended up sharing the same stretch of shade, drinks and snacks scattered between towels. The conversation has already turned toward the boy under the tree.

Shiki is the first to speak, pushing her large witch hat back as she grins.

Shiki: “Okay but like… am I the only one who thought he looked totally normal at first? Then you actually look at those arms and it’s like— damn. Those biceps are bigger than the ones in the magazines.”

Katsuragi lets out a low whistle, openly staring without a hint of shame.

Katsuragi: “Right? Face is pretty average, but the body underneath is a whole different story. Explains how he’s been keeping up with us. Male shinobi or not, that kind of muscle doesn’t just happen.”

Yumi’s icy blue eyes remain fixed on the boy for a moment longer before she speaks, voice calm and measured.

Yumi: “Appearance is secondary. Still… the disparity between his unremarkable facial features and that physique is notable. It suggests he does not rely on first impressions.”

Hibari tilts her head, twin-tails swaying as she pipes up with honest curiosity.

Hibari: “He looks really strong… but he also seems kind of quiet? I don’t think I’ve heard him say more than a few words since we got to the beach.”

Asuka nods quickly, cheeks a little warm as she glances between the others and the boy.

Asuka: “Yeah! He answers when you talk to him, but it’s always just short, simple replies. Nothing extra. I wonder if he’s just shy…?”

Yozakura folds her arms, expression serious as ever.

Yozakura: “Shy or not, he’s been carrying the heavy coolers and setting up the umbrellas without complaining. That build isn’t for decoration. Still, the quietness is… noticeable.”

Ikaruga adjusts her glasses, tone thoughtful.

Ikaruga: “Minimal speech does not necessarily indicate shyness. It could be discipline, or simply preference. Regardless, the physical capability is evident. Those arms alone suggest rigorous conditioning.”

Minori bounces slightly on her knees, eyes sparkling as she looks over at the coconut tree.

Minori: “He’s like a secret strong guy! Looks normal, then— bam, muscles! And he doesn’t talk much, so it’s extra mysterious. Do you think if I offer him strawberry shortcake he’ll say more than two words?”

Yagyu, who has been silent until now, finally offers a quiet observation from behind her eyepatch.

Yagyu: “…He hears us. Just chooses not to respond.”

A brief lull settles over the mixed group of Hanzo and Gessen girls. Their gazes remain drawn to the ordinary-faced boy resting under the coconut tree, his deceptively muscular frame and sparse words now the clear focus of their quiet, overlapping speculation.

The shade under the coconut tree remains quiet until a small group approaches across the sand. The Hebijo girls — Miyabi at the front, followed by Imu, the Ryobi–Ryona twins, and a reluctant Murasaki trailing behind — come to a stop a short distance from where the male student sits.

Miyabi stands with her usual composed posture, golden eyes steady as she regards him.

Miyabi: “You. Sitting alone under a tree during a joint field trip is inefficient. A male student is still a rare presence in our world. Leaving you isolated is… inappropriate.”

Imu adjusts her glasses and beret, glancing between Miyabi and the boy with clear support for her friend’s decision.

Imu: “Miyabi is right. It wouldn’t look proper if the only male participant spent the entire day by himself. Please consider joining us. We have space under our umbrella.”

Ryobi’s heterochromatic eyes gleam with open interest as she crosses her arms and smirks.

Ryobi: “Yeah. You’re a unique specimen, y’know? First guy in decades and you’re just gonna sit here like a rock? Nah. Get over here. It’ll be more entertaining with you around.”

Ryona clasps her hands in front of her chest, already looking far too eager, her voice carrying that familiar hopeful lilt.

Ryona: “Please come join us…? I’ll be good— or bad, if that’s better. Just don’t stay over here all by yourself. It feels wrong leaving someone like you out…”

Murasaki remains half-hidden behind her long violet hair, arms wrapped around Bebeby. Her voice is soft and reluctant when she finally speaks.

Murasaki: “…It’s noisy over there. But… Miyabi said we should ask. So… come if you want. Just don’t sit too close to me.”

Miyabi takes a single step closer, her tone leaving little room for casual dismissal.

Miyabi: “We are not requesting this purely out of kindness. A rare existence should not be left on the margins. Collect your things and come with us.”

The five Hebijo girls wait, the sea breeze tugging at their swimsuits and hair, while the invitation — equal parts obligation, curiosity, and personal interest — hangs in the air between them and the boy under the coconut tree.

The hidden mountain valley has been transformed into a sprawling festival grounds. Paper lanterns hang between ancient trees, the scent of grilled food and sweet stalls drifting through the cool evening air. Banners from Hanzo, Gessen, and Hebijo flutter side by side, marking the first true collaborative school festival in decades. Crowds of kunoichi move between booths, laughter and calls filling the space — until those calls inevitably turn toward the single male figure walking through their midst.

The moment you step further into the main path, the attention becomes impossible to ignore.

A group of unnamed Hebijo students lean over their shooting-gallery counter, voices overlapping with shameless interest.

Hebijo Student A: “Oi, look— it’s the guy! Hey, handsome, come try our booth! First male customer gets a free extra round~”

Hebijo Student B: “Don’t just walk past! We’ve been waiting all day for you to show up. C’mon, just one game!”

A short distance behind them, Miyabi stands with her arms loosely crossed, the festival lanterns casting a soft gold across her short white hair and sharp features. Her golden eyes track your approach with calm, deliberate focus, the faint bandage on her left arm visible beneath the sleeve of her modified uniform. Unlike the louder girls at the stall, she does not raise her voice — she simply waits until you are close enough that her words will carry clearly.

Miyabi: “So the rare male student finally decides to walk the main path. Good. It would have been poor form for you to avoid the festival entirely. The booths are already competing for your attention… but do not allow yourself to be pulled in every direction. If you are going to participate, do so with purpose.”

Her gaze lingers on you a moment longer, evaluating, before she adds in a slightly lower tone,

Miyabi: “When you are finished being dragged around by the others, come find the Hebijo main tent. I will be there. It is only fitting that the most unique guest of the evening is properly received.”

Ryobi walks at your side with her usual sharp grin, heterochromatic eyes scanning the crowd while she keeps pace. Her voice cuts through the noise with clear warning.

Ryobi: “Hey. Eyes forward. These girls are gonna try every trick they know to pull you into their booths. Don’t get distracted just because you’re the only pair of balls in the entire valley.”

On your other side, Ryona presses a little closer than necessary, her large chest brushing your arm as she looks up at you with open, eager affection.

Ryona: “But it’s okay if you look a little, right…? Everyone’s staring anyway. Ah— if you do stop at a booth, can I come too? I’ll cheer for you… or you can scold me if I get in the way… either is fine♥”

As the three of you continue down the path, the Gessen group comes into view near a neatly arranged calligraphy and tea booth. Yumi offers a composed nod, while Yozakura stands with arms folded and Shiki waves with a playful grin. Minori bounces on her heels and calls out first.

Minori: “Ah! It’s the strong quiet guy! Hi hi! Come try our tea later, okay?! It’s really good!”

Yumi: “Good evening. Try not to let the more… enthusiastic stalls drag you away too quickly.”

Yozakura: “Haa… the whole festival’s already treating you like a rare exhibit. Just don’t cause a scene.”

Shiki: “Still, you’re like the main attraction tonight, ngl. Kinda jealous of the attention~”

Further along, the Hanzo group has set up near a game stall. Asuka brightens the moment she spots you, while Katsuragi immediately cups her hands around her mouth.

Katsuragi: “Yo! Over here, muscle guy! We saved a spot at the front of the line just for you— don’t even think about skipping us!”

Asuka: “Welcome to the festival! If you get hungry, come find us, okay? We saved some food for you!”

Ikaruga: “Good evening. Do try to maintain some dignity despite the… excessive attention.”

Hibari: “Hi hi! You look cool walking with everyone! Save some energy for our booth later!”

Even as the greetings fade behind you, more unnamed voices from various stalls continue to call out — invitations, playful catcalls, and shameless attempts to lure the only male in the valley over to their games and food stands. Ryobi clicks her tongue, Ryona keeps smiling up at you, and the festival path stretches onward, crowded with kunoichi who all seem to have the same target in mind.

What do you do?

Morning light filters weakly through the half-drawn curtains of your room. The air is thick, warm, and unmistakably crowded. The moment your eyes open, the sheer number of bodies packed into the small space becomes impossible to ignore.

Someone is sitting cross-legged on your desk. Someone else is perched on the edge of the bed near your feet. The closet door is open with two figures half-hidden inside. Several girls lean against the walls or the door. A few are sitting on the floor because there is literally nowhere else left to put them. The room is so full that shifting even slightly risks bumping into someone.

Hibari is the first to notice you’re awake. She leans over from where she’s kneeling beside the bed, twin-tails bouncing.

Hibari: “Ah! You’re up! Good morning! We all came as soon as we saw the message!”

From the far corner near the window, Yumi’s cool voice cuts in, icy blue eyes fixed on you.

Yumi: “A report of illness in the group chat is not something to be ignored. Especially when the only male student is involved.”

Katsuragi is sitting on the edge of the desk, swinging one leg, grinning down at you.

Katsuragi: “You really thought you could just say ‘I’m sick’ and we’d leave you alone? Cute. Real cute.”

Murasaki is half-curled in the closet with Bebeby clutched tightly, only her violet hair and dull eyes visible.

Murasaki: “…It’s too bright in here. But Imu said we had to come. So… I’m here.”

Ryobi leans against the wall with her arms crossed, heterochromatic eyes gleaming with amusement.

Ryobi: “Hah. Look at this. One little text and the entire valley shows up. You’re more popular than you deserve, y’know that?”

Asuka is standing near the foot of the bed, hands clasped in front of her, looking both worried and a little flustered by the overcrowding.

Asuka: “We were really worried! You never send messages like that, so when it came through we all just… kind of rushed over. Is it okay that there are so many of us?”

Haruka sits gracefully on the only chair in the room, lab coat draped over her shoulders, smiling with clear enjoyment at the situation.

Haruka: “Fufu… a sickbed visit from nearly twenty kunoichi. How luxurious for you. Try not to look so overwhelmed — it’s rather charming.”

Yozakura is standing stiffly near the door, clearly uncomfortable with the lack of personal space.

Yozakura: “This is excessive. Completely excessive. But once everyone started moving, there was no stopping it. Don’t make a habit of worrying people like this.”

Hikage is leaning against the wall with her usual half-lidded expression, green hair falling over one eye.

Hikage: “…Crowded. Noisy. You look fine though. Mostly.”

Minori has somehow claimed a spot on the floor near the bed and is looking up at you with bright concern.

Minori: “Are you still sick? Do you need snacks? Or a nap? Or both? I brought strawberry shortcake just in case!”

Miyabi stands near the center of the room with her arms folded, golden eyes steady and serious despite the chaos around her.

Miyabi: “A rare male shinobi falling ill is not a trivial matter. We came to assess the situation ourselves. Report your condition clearly.”

Shiki is sitting on the windowsill, witch hat slightly tilted, red eyes sparkling with interest.

Shiki: “This is like, peak chaos, ngl. One text and boom — full house. You’re lucky you’re cute enough to get away with it.”

Ikaruga remains composed even while standing shoulder-to-shoulder with two other girls, adjusting her glasses.

Ikaruga: “The decision to come was unanimous. Leaving you unattended after such a message would have been irresponsible. That said… the number of visitors may have exceeded practical limits.”

Yomi offers a polite smile from where she sits neatly on the floor with her greatsword resting beside her.

Yomi: “My, my. What a lively morning sick-call. Do try to look a little more grateful — some of us cancelled training for this.”

Ryona is sitting on the bed itself, far closer than necessary, looking at you with open, hopeful affection.

Ryona: “I was so worried… If you’re still feeling bad, you can scold me for coming, or use me as a pillow, or anything… Just don’t push us away, okay?”

Imu stands protectively near Miyabi, green beret slightly askew from the crowding.

Imu: “Miyabi insisted we check on you personally. I agreed. A male student’s health affects the balance of all three academies, after all.”

Homura is leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, crimson eyes narrowed in faint irritation at the overcrowding — but she hasn’t left.

Homura: “Hmph. You look more surprised than sick. Next time you send a message like that, expect this exact result.”

Mirai is standing on her tiptoes near the desk, clearly annoyed at being shorter than almost everyone else in the packed room.

Mirai: “Don’t you dare ignore me just because there are taller people here! I came too, you know! So you’d better appreciate it!”

Yagyu remains quiet near the closet, red eye half-lidded beneath her eyepatch, simply observing the chaos with her usual calm.

Yagyu: “…You should have expected this.”

The room is so full that the air itself feels shared. Dozens of eyes — worried, amused, teasing, evaluating, or openly affectionate — are all fixed on you at once. There is barely enough space left to sit up without touching someone.

The afternoon sun beats down on the outdoor training field of Hanzo Academy. Dust drifts in the air from repeated footwork drills as you move through the set of PE exercises alongside Asuka and Katsuragi. The two of them are keeping pace well — Asuka with focused determination, Katsuragi with her usual loose, confident energy.

During a quick directional change, one of them loses balance. A hand shoots out and catches the front of your shirt for support. The fabric, already damp with sweat, gives way with a sharp rip. The entire upper half tears open and slips off your shoulders, leaving your torso completely exposed.

For a moment, the training field goes quiet.

Asuka freezes mid-step, eyes widening as her gaze drops to the solid, heavily defined muscle now on full display. Her face rapidly turns red.

Asuka: “H-Huh?! Wait— your shirt—! I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Katsuragi, who had been the one to grab on, stays perfectly still. Her green eyes lock onto your chest. The thick pectoral muscles sit high and full — rounded enough at a glance to resemble a woman’s breasts, yet unmistakably hard, dense, and male. The rest of your torso only reinforces the impression: deep cuts along the abdomen, heavy shoulders, arms thick with muscle.

A complicated expression crosses Katsuragi’s face. The usual teasing grin falters for half a second, replaced by something closer to genuine threat assessment.

Katsuragi: “…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

She stares harder, brows knitting.

Katsuragi: “Those things look like boobs. Big ones. But they’re not. They’re just… solid. What the hell kind of training do you even do?”

Asuka waves her hands rapidly, still flustered and trying to look anywhere except your chest.

Asuka: “K-Katsuragi! Don’t just stare like that! We should get him another shirt or something—”

Katsuragi ignores the suggestion. Instead she turns toward Asuka with sudden, smooth decisiveness, placing a hand on the other girl’s shoulder.

Katsuragi: “Asuka. Real quick. I need to calm down.”

Asuka: “Huh?”

Katsuragi: “Let me grope you for a second. Just a quick one. Those things on him are messing with my head and I need a reminder of the real deal.”

Asuka’s entire face goes scarlet. She immediately leans away, both hands coming up defensively over her chest.

Asuka: “Absolutely not! Why would that calm you down?! That’s completely unreasonable!”

Katsuragi clicks her tongue, still throwing glances back at your exposed torso as if the sight is personally offending her on some primal level.

Katsuragi: “Tch. Fine. Be that way. But seriously… those pecs are illegal. They look soft from the shape but they’re clearly rock. It’s cheating.”

Asuka keeps her distance from both of you now, still bright red and clearly unsure whether to apologize more, find a replacement shirt, or simply dig a hole and hide.

Asuka: “J-Just… put something on already! Before anyone else walks by and sees… all of that!”

The door to the changing room slides open under your hand. Steam and the faint scent of soap linger in the air. You take two steps inside before the reality of the situation registers.

It is not the men’s changing room.

Yumi stands in front of an open locker, already down to a simple white bra and matching panties, her dark gray hair loosely tied back. Yozakura is beside her, similarly undressed, mid-way through folding her uniform. Shiki sits on the bench in a black lace set, witch hat still somehow on her head. Minori is hopping on one foot while trying to pull off a sock, wearing a frilly pink bra and striped panties.

For a single frozen second, no one moves.

Then the reactions hit all at once.

Yumi’s icy blue eyes widen a fraction before narrowing sharply. She immediately crosses one arm over her chest, the other hand reaching for the nearest towel.

Yumi: “—You.”

Yozakura spins around so fast her short blue hair whips across her face. Her expression goes from surprise to pure disciplinary fury in under a second.

Yozakura: “What do you think you’re doing?! This is the women’s—!”

Shiki blinks, then lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, making no particular effort to cover herself beyond a lazy arm across her front.

Shiki: “Pfft— okay, wow. Bold strategy, new guy.”

Minori simply stares with wide blue eyes, still standing on one foot, more confused than scandalized.

Minori: “Eh? Why is the strong quiet guy in here? Is this a new game?”

Before you can get a word out, Yozakura is already moving. A firm hand plants itself against your chest and shoves. The doorframe hits your shoulder as you are unceremoniously propelled backward into the hallway. The door slams shut hard enough to rattle in its frame.

Muffled voices and the sound of hurried fabric rustling continue on the other side for roughly a minute.

Then the door opens again.

Yumi steps out first, now fully dressed in her uniform, posture rigid and expression cold. Yozakura follows close behind, still visibly irritated. Shiki saunters out with her usual easy grin, and Minori trails after them, looking between everyone with lingering curiosity.

Yumi stops directly in front of you, arms folded, golden lantern light from the hall catching the sharp line of her gaze.

Yumi: “Explain yourself. You enter the women’s changing room without knocking, while we are in a state of undress, and expect… what, exactly? That the only male shinobi in three academies would behave with basic awareness?”

Her voice remains level, but the disapproval in it is unmistakable.

Yumi: “Perverted. Degenerate. There is no other interpretation for walking in on multiple women changing. Do you have any idea how inappropriate—”

Shiki raises a hand, cutting in before Yumi can continue.

Shiki: “Okay, hold up, Yumi-senpai. Real talk for a second.”

She turns toward Yozakura and points a thumb back at the door.

Shiki: “Yozie. The sign was gone. Like, completely removed. I noticed when we came in earlier but figured someone was just messing around. There was nothing on the door saying it was the women’s side.”

Yozakura’s angry expression falters. She glances back at the blank door, then at Shiki, then at you, the righteous momentum clearly disrupted.

Yozakura: “…The sign was removed?”

Shiki: “Yep. So technically he might’ve just walked into what looked like an unmarked room. Still real awkward, but maybe not full degenerate mode.”

Minori nods rapidly, as if this explanation satisfies her completely.

Minori: “Ohhh! So it was a mystery door! That makes more sense!”

Yumi remains silent for a long moment, her composed face unreadable as she processes the new information. The stern set of her shoulders does not fully relax, but the sharpest edge of her accusation dulls.

Yumi: “…If the sign was truly absent, then the fault is not solely his. However.”

Her eyes return to you, still cool and evaluating.

Yumi: “A simple apology for the intrusion would still be appropriate. As would greater caution in the future. Accidents of this nature cannot become a pattern.”

Beside her, Yozakura exhales through her nose, the worst of her temper cooling into residual grumbling.

Yozakura: “Haa… Fine. But someone is putting that sign back immediately. And you—” she jabs a finger in your direction, “—knock next time. Even if there’s no sign.”

Shiki just shrugs with a lopsided grin, already treating the entire incident as excellent future blackmail material, while Minori waves at you as if the whole thing has already been settled in her mind.

The quiet side room of the Hebijo dorms is interrupted by a sudden, high-pitched sound.

Ryona’s voice carries clearly through the thin paper door — breathy, shaky, and unmistakably erotic.

Ryona: “Ahh…! Nnh… right there… it’s so tight… haah…!”

Another soft, drawn-out moan follows, accompanied by the faint rustle of movement.

Outside, Ryobi’s eye twitches hard. She had been walking past with a bag of snacks when the sounds reached her. Her heterochromatic eyes narrow dangerously.

Ryobi: “You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

Without hesitation she slams the paper door open hard enough to make the frame rattle. The bag of snacks hits the floor as she storms inside, already winding up a verbal (and possibly physical) assault.

Ryobi: “Oi! What the hell do you think you’re doing to my—?!”

She freezes mid-sentence.

Ryona is standing in the middle of the room in her underwear, arms slightly raised. You are crouched in front of her with a simple measuring tape pulled snug around her waist. A small notebook and pen sit on the nearby desk, already containing a few written numbers. Ryona’s face is flushed deep red, thighs pressed together, but there is no clothing on the floor beyond what she removed for accuracy, and nothing else is happening.

Ryobi’s brain visibly stalls.

Ryobi: “…Huh?”

Ryona, still breathing a little heavily, looks over her shoulder at her twin with glassy eyes and zero shame.

Ryona: “Nee-san… he’s measuring my three sizes… The tape is cold and it squeezes when he pulls it tight… It feels really embarrassing… and nice…”

She shifts her weight, causing the tape around her waist to tug slightly, and another soft, involuntary sound slips out of her.

Ryona: “Nnh… especially the bust measurement… when he has to lift them a little to get the tape under… ahh…”

Ryobi stares at the measuring tape. Then at the notebook. Then at her sister’s completely earnest, aroused expression. Her eye twitches again.

Ryobi: “You’re moaning like that… over a measuring tape.”

Ryona nods rapidly, looking almost proud.

Ryona: “It’s really thorough… He’s being very careful and precise… It makes my head go all fuzzy…”

Ryobi drags a hand down her face, the murderous aura deflating into pure exasperation mixed with second-hand embarrassment.

Ryobi: “I kicked the door open because I thought you two were doing something filthy. Instead you’re getting off on basic body measurements. Unbelievable.”

She points an accusing finger at you, still clearly annoyed even if the situation isn’t what she assumed.

Ryobi: “And you. Next time you’re gonna make my sister sound like that, at least lock the damn door. Or better yet, don’t make her sound like that over a tape measure. It’s weird. You’re both weird.”

Ryona, still standing with her arms up and the measuring tape in place, looks between her sister and you with open hope.

Ryona: “Does this mean we can continue…? He still needs the underbust and the hips… Please…?”

Ryobi looks one second away from either leaving the room or throwing the measuring tape out the window.

The classroom is quiet during recess. Most of the other students have stepped out into the hallway or courtyard, leaving the room half-empty and still. Afternoon light filters through the windows, warm enough to make eyelids heavy. Your head dips forward once… twice… the wood of the desk becoming more comfortable by the second.

Just as your eyes begin to close completely, a firm but controlled voice cuts through the drowsiness.

Miyabi: “Wake up.”

A hand rests lightly on your shoulder — not rough, but deliberate enough to pull you back from the edge of sleep. When your vision focuses, Miyabi is standing beside your desk, golden eyes steady and unamused. Her short white hair catches the light as she looks down at you with that usual composed expression.

Imu stands just behind her, green beret neatly in place, hands clasped in front of her. She looks between Miyabi and you with clear concern.

Imu: “We noticed you were starting to doze off. Miyabi thought it would be better to wake you before a teacher came by.”

Miyabi folds her arms, her tone even but carrying a faint edge of expectation.

Miyabi: “Sleeping during recess is one thing. Sleeping so deeply that you miss the start of the next period is another. As the only male student across three academies, you are already under more scrutiny than most. Do not give anyone an easy reason to criticize you.”

She studies your face for a moment longer, as if confirming you are actually awake.

Miyabi: “If you are genuinely exhausted, say so. There is a difference between resting and collapsing at your desk in the middle of the day.”

Imu nods quickly in agreement, her voice softer.

Imu: “If something is wrong — lack of sleep, training fatigue, anything — you can tell us. Miyabi is strict, but she is not unreasonable.”

Miyabi does not contradict her. She simply waits, golden eyes still fixed on you, the quiet classroom settling around the three of you while the distant sounds of other students filter in from the hallway.

The special equipment room at Hanzo Academy has been temporarily converted into a fitting area. Several sealed garment bags hang from a rack, each labeled with a student’s name and the words “Experimental Combat Suit – Prototype Phase.” The fabric inside is a matte, flexible material designed to cling tightly for maximum mobility and chakra conductivity.

One by one, the Hanzo girls finish changing behind the privacy screens and step out to check the fit.

Asuka tugs at the high collar of her suit, face already a little red. The material hugs every line of her body from neck to ankle, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

Asuka: “I-It’s really tight… Like, I can feel it pulling whenever I breathe. Is it supposed to be this snug? What if it rips during training?”

Katsuragi turns sideways in front of a full-length mirror, running both hands down her sides with an appreciative whistle. The suit leaves very little mystery about her figure.

Katsuragi: “Damn. Okay, I hate to admit it, but this thing makes everything look good. Tight in all the right places. Feels like it’s painted on.”

Ikaruga stands with perfect posture, though a faint crease has formed between her brows as she tests the range of motion in her arms. The suit clings closely enough that the outline of her undergarments is faintly visible.

Ikaruga: “The compression is intentional for muscle support and heat retention. However… the lack of ventilation is concerning. After a full sparring session this material will likely retain a significant amount of sweat.”

Hibari spins once on her heel, then stops and wrinkles her nose, poking at the fabric over her stomach.

Hibari: “It feels kinda sticky already… What if we all start sweating a lot? Won’t the suits start to smell really bad? Like, super bad? I don’t want to walk around smelling like an old gym bag!”

Yagyu remains mostly still after putting hers on, red eye half-lidded beneath her eyepatch as she flexes her fingers inside the fitted gloves. Her voice is quiet but clear.

Yagyu: “…It’s restrictive around the shoulders. And the scent of new synthetic fabric is strong. After prolonged use it will mix with body odor. Unpleasant.”

Katsuragi glances over at Hibari and grins, already stretching in ways that make the suit creak faintly.

Katsuragi: “Relax, short stuff. That’s what laundry seals and airing them out are for. Besides, if we stink, we stink together. Team-building, right?”

Asuka is still tugging self-consciously at the fabric over her chest and hips, clearly not fully convinced.

Asuka: “Easy for you to say… You’re used to tighter outfits. I feel like everyone can see everything. And what if it gets hot and starts sticking to the skin? That’s going to be so uncomfortable…”

Ikaruga exhales slowly through her nose, already making a mental list.

Ikaruga: “We should request additional moisture-wicking underlayers before the program advances to live combat trials. Hygiene will become an issue otherwise.”

Hibari lifts one arm, sniffs cautiously near her shoulder, then makes a face.

Hibari: “It already smells a little weird in here and we haven’t even started running yet… I’m kinda scared for later.”

Yagyu simply adjusts the fit once more around her wrists and remains silent, though the slight tightness of her mouth suggests she shares the practical concerns.

The five of them stand in the middle of the equipment room in matching, body-hugging prototype suits — some adjusting, some inspecting, some already worrying about the aftermath of the first real training session in them.

The Gessen fitting room is quieter and more orderly than Hanzo’s, but the experimental suits are identical — matte, body-hugging fabric designed for maximum mobility and chakra flow. One by one the girls finish changing and step out to assess the results.

Yumi stands in front of the mirror with her usual composed posture, gloved hands resting lightly at her sides. The suit clings closely to her figure, but her expression remains even.

Yumi: “The compression is consistent with the stated purpose. Mobility is acceptable. I have no strong objections to the design itself.”

Yozakura, however, is far less neutral. She stands with her feet slightly apart, staring down at the front of her suit with a deeply conflicted expression. The fabric is stretched so tightly across her hips and crotch that the soft mound of her mons pubis is clearly outlined, and the vertical line of her labia is unmistakably visible. The cameltoe is anything but subtle.

Yozakura: “…This is excessive. Look at this. You can see everything down there. The labia, the whole shape of it — it’s all showing. And this cameltoe is not subtle at all. How is this supposed to be appropriate for training?”

Shiki turns sideways, then back again, clearly enjoying the way the material hugs her curves. She runs a hand along her hip and gives an appreciative hum.

Shiki: “Nah, I’m actually loving this. It’s tight as hell, sure, but it makes everything look sharp. Kinda hot, ngl. The way it clings is doing me favors.”

Minori tugs at the fabric around her thighs and midriff, bouncing once on her heels to test the stretch. Her expression is a mix of curiosity and mild complaint.

Minori: “It feels all squishy and sticky against my skin… and it’s really tight between my legs too. What if we sweat a lot? Won’t it get gross and start smelling weird super fast?”

Yozakura shoots Shiki a flat look, still clearly bothered by the visibility issue.

Yozakura: “You’re enjoying this while I’m standing here with the outline of my entire crotch on display. There’s a difference.”

Shiki just shrugs, adjusting the suit over her chest with zero shame.

Shiki: “Hey, if the academy wants us in painted-on ninja suits, I’m not gonna complain. Own it, Yozie.”

Yumi glances once at Yozakura’s situation, then returns her gaze to her own reflection, voice still level.

Yumi: “If the fit is truly impractical for sustained movement or modesty standards, we can submit a formal request for adjustment. Until then, we will evaluate it during actual use.”

Minori leans over to peek at Yozakura’s lower half, then blinks.

Minori: “Oh. Yeah, you can really see it… That does look kinda embarrassing. Mine feels tight too, but maybe not that bad.”

Yozakura exhales sharply through her nose, tugging once at the fabric between her legs in a futile attempt to create some space. It only makes the outline clearer for a moment.

Yozakura: “Haa… I already know this is going to be a long training cycle.”

The four Gessen girls stand in the fitting room in the identical experimental suits — one accepting, one openly pleased, one quietly practical, and one distinctly uncomfortable with just how much the material reveals.

Hanzo Academy after dark feels like a different place entirely. At 8 PM the corridors are empty, the usual chatter and training sounds long gone. Only the soft orange glow of a few paper lanterns and the occasional fake spiderweb taped to the walls mark the Halloween event. Most students have already moved to the main festival hall, leaving this particular classroom dim, quiet, and just a little too still. The desks cast long shadows. Somewhere down the hall a recorded owl hoot plays on a loop.

Then the door slides open and you step inside — dressed in a full cinematic superhero costume. The material is sleek, dark, and structured, with clean lines, a high collar, and the kind of dramatic cape that only works under stage lighting. The mask covers the upper half of your face, leaving only your mouth and jawline visible. In the low light of the empty classroom, the silhouette alone is enough to make an entrance.

Five figures already present turn toward the door at the same time.

Asuka stands near the teacher’s desk, her dark brown ponytail tied high with its usual white ribbon, hazel eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. She has gone for a classic magical-girl inspired costume: a frilled white-and-red dress with a short skirt, a large ribbon at the collar, and matching knee-high boots. The look is bright, earnest, and just a little too pure for the spooky atmosphere — exactly the sort of thing Asuka would choose. When she sees you, her face lights up instantly.

Asuka: “Whoa—! You actually came in full costume! And it looks so… cool. Like, movie-level cool. I didn’t think anyone would go that far!”

Katsuragi is leaning against the windowsill, long blonde hair loose over one shoulder, green eyes already gleaming with interest. Her costume is the complete opposite of subtle: a revealing devil ensemble consisting of a black-and-red bodysuit that clings tightly, small horns headband, a pointed tail, and heels that click when she shifts her weight. It fits her personality almost too well. She looks you up and down without a hint of shame.

Katsuragi: “Damn. Okay, superhero. I’ll admit that cape is doing you favors. You make the rest of us look like we shopped in the discount bin.”

Ikaruga stands with perfect posture near the blackboard, long black hime-cut hair neat as ever, dark blue eyes assessing the room with calm precision. She has chosen a refined, almost historical costume — a dark shrine-maiden inspired outfit with deep purple and black layers, wide sleeves, and a subtle fox-mask resting on the side of her head. It is elegant, traditional, and slightly eerie, matching her composed nature. Even in costume she somehow looks like the responsible one.

Ikaruga: “Punctuality is appreciated, even for an informal event. Your costume is… impressively detailed. Most students opted for simpler designs.”

Yagyu sits on top of a desk near the back, long white twin-tails secured with their usual shuriken ornaments, red eye half-lidded beneath her eyepatch. She has gone for something understated but effective: a sleek black assassin’s cloak over dark fitted clothes, with a deep hood currently pushed back. The look is quiet, practical, and vaguely threatening — very much her. She studies your superhero outfit in silence for a moment before speaking.

Yagyu: “…Cinematic. You stand out.”

Hibari practically bounces in place near the front row of desks, pink twin-tails swaying, blue eyes with their distinctive pink cross-shaped pupils sparkling under the dim lantern light. Her costume is openly cute and a little chaotic: a fluffy ghost-themed onesie with a hood that has little ghost ears, paired with striped socks and candy-themed accessories. It is far more “adorable Halloween” than “scary Halloween,” and she wears it with zero irony.

Hibari: “You look like you walked straight out of a movie screen! That’s so cool! Everyone else is gonna be so jealous when they see you!”

The empty classroom suddenly feels a lot less empty. Five very different Halloween costumes — magical girl, devil, shrine maiden, assassin, and fluffy ghost — all turned toward the single superhero who just stepped through the door. Outside, the recorded owl hoot plays again, only adding to the strange, festive tension of the moment.

Gessen Girls’ Academy’s Halloween gathering is held in one of the older training halls that has been cleared and decorated with pale blue lanterns, white paper charms, and subtle ice-crystal ornaments that catch the light. The atmosphere is cooler and more refined than Hanzo’s chaotic festivity — elegant rather than loud. At a little past 8 PM the hall is only sparsely occupied, most students having drifted toward the main courtyard.

The heavy doors open and you step inside dressed as a medieval knight. The armor is full-plate in style: a closed helm tucked under one arm, a broad chest plate, shoulder guards, and articulated arm and leg pieces. Up close it is obvious the material is hard plastic rather than metal, but the shaping is clean and the overall silhouette is still imposing under the dim lantern light.

Four pairs of eyes turn toward the entrance.

Yumi stands near the center of the hall, medium-length dark gray hair neatly arranged with her usual white bow that now has a thin silver ribbon woven through it. Her icy blue eyes regard you with calm evaluation. She has chosen a costume that suits her perfectly — a pristine white-and-pale-blue ice queen gown with long detached sleeves, a high collar, and faint crystalline patterns along the hem. A delicate circlet rests on her head. The look is elegant, cold, and dignified.

Yumi: “A knight. How fitting for the evening. Even if the material is clearly not steel, the presentation is… respectable. You at least committed to the role.”

Yozakura is positioned slightly behind and to the side of Yumi, short dark blue hair in its usual neat bowl cut with a single cherry blossom pin replaced tonight by a small silver one. Her dark blue eyes narrow slightly as she looks over the plastic armor. She is dressed in a restrained onmyouji-inspired costume: dark layered robes with white trim, wide sleeves, and a simple rectangular headpiece. It is serious, traditional, and a little severe — very much her taste.

Yozakura: “At least you didn’t show up half-dressed like some of the others I’ve seen tonight. Plastic or not, it’s better than the ridiculous outfits floating around the courtyard.”

Shiki lounges against a support pillar, long wavy blonde hair loose over her shoulders, red eyes bright with amusement. A small mole sits under the right side of her mouth as always. She has gone all-in on a glamorous witch concept: a wide-brimmed black hat with a curling brim, a form-fitting dark dress with a high slit, striped stockings, and a small prop broom leaning beside her. The skull ornament on her hat has been swapped for a more decorative one with tiny faux gems. She looks delighted by your entrance.

Shiki: “Ooooh, okay, full knight mode? That’s actually kinda sick. Plastic armor and all, you’re still pulling the whole ‘chivalrous hero’ vibe better than half the people outside trying to be sexy ghosts.”

Minori is the first to actually move closer, long light brown twin-tails bouncing, large blue eyes wide with open excitement. She is wearing an openly cute pumpkin-themed costume: a fluffy orange-and-green dress with a big leaf collar, striped tights, and a small pumpkin-shaped bag. A tiny hat with a stem sits crookedly on her head. It is childish, bright, and completely free of irony.

Minori: “Waaah! You look like a real knight from a storybook! Even if it’s plastic, it’s so cool! Can you do the voice? Like, the serious knight voice? Please?”

Yumi’s gaze flicks briefly toward Minori in mild warning not to get too carried away, while Yozakura folds her arms and continues her quiet inspection of the costume’s practicality. Shiki simply smirks, already clearly entertained, and Minori keeps bouncing on her heels as if waiting for you to draw a plastic sword and declare something dramatic.

The cool air of the Gessen hall settles around the five of you — one plastic-clad knight and four very differently dressed kunoichi — while the distant sounds of the larger festival drift in from outside.

The Hebijo classroom chosen for the Halloween gathering is deliberately dim. Most of the overhead lights are off; the only illumination comes from a few battery lanterns and the flashlights some of the girls are holding. Bags of snacks lie open on the desks — chips, steamy meat buns, and cans of soda already half-finished. The atmosphere is loose, a little predatory, and distinctly Hebijo.

Then the door slides open.

You step inside in a comic-accurate Wolverine costume. The yellow-and-blue tailored bodysuit fits snugly across your torso and arms, brown gauntlets with the distinctive three metallic claws extended from each hand, the mask covering the upper half of your face with its pointed ears and dark lenses. Under the suit the hard lines of your physique are obvious — especially the thick biceps and forearms the gauntlets only seem to emphasize.

The room goes quiet for a beat. Flashlight beams swing toward you.

Miyabi is seated on top of a desk near the front, short white hair catching the low light, golden eyes half-lidded in appraisal. Her costume is a revealing black-and-gold oni-inspired ensemble: a tiny cropped jacket that hangs open, a barely-there bra top, a high-slit loincloth-style skirt that exposes the full length of her hips and thighs, and dark straps wrapping her bandaged left arm. It is elegant and shameless at the same time.

Miyabi: “…Impressive. Most people half-commit to these things. You actually look the part. The claws suit you.”

Ryobi leans against the blackboard, heterochromatic eyes gleaming, brown hair slightly messy under a pair of small devil horns. Her outfit is pure provocation — a glossy red micro-bikini under an open black leather jacket, garter straps running down to thigh-high stockings, and heels that click when she shifts her weight. She lets out a low, appreciative whistle.

Ryobi: “Shit. Okay, that’s actually hot. The suit’s doing you every favor imaginable. Those arms look even thicker with the gauntlets on.”

Ryona is sitting on a chair with her knees drawn up, short blonde hair slightly tousled, heterochromatic eyes already glassy. Her costume is the most shameless in the room: a white nurse-style micro-dress so short it barely covers her hips, deep cleavage window, garter belt, and white stockings. The moment her gaze locks onto the thick biceps stretching the yellow sleeves of your suit, her mouth falls open. A thin line of drool slips from the corner of her lips. Her thighs press tightly together, and the way she shifts makes it obvious she is already close to wetting herself from pure overstimulation.

Ryona: “Ahh… look at those arms… so thick… so strong… I-I think I’m getting wet just from looking… nnnh…”

She squeezes her thighs harder, face flushed a deep red, clearly fighting (and failing) to keep her reaction under control.

Imu stands a little behind Miyabi, light brown hair in its usual twin buns, green eyes wide behind her glasses. She is wearing a tight military-officer inspired costume that has been heavily modified for the occasion: a cropped jacket that ends just under her bust, a plunging neckline, a micro-skirt, and thigh straps. Her green beret is still present, tilted slightly. Even she looks briefly stunned.

Imu: “The musculature is… very pronounced in that suit. It’s almost intimidating. Miyabi, should we be concerned about the structural integrity of the fabric?”

Murasaki is half-curled in the far corner desk, long wavy violet hair spilling over her shoulders and nearly hiding her face. She is wearing a dark, gothic-lolita style dress that has been cut far shorter and lower than any respectable version — deep cleavage, exposed thighs, and delicate straps. Bebeby sits in her lap. She peers at you through her bangs with dull purple eyes, voice soft.

Murasaki: “…You look like you could break someone. The claws are scary. But… the arms are nice too.”

Ryobi glances sideways at her twin, who is still openly drooling and squirming, then snorts.

Ryobi: “Oi, Ryona. You’re gonna leave a puddle on the chair if you keep staring like that. At least wipe your mouth.”

Ryona only nods weakly, still staring at your biceps as another small tremor runs through her.

Ryona: “Can’t help it… they look so hard… I want them to pin me down…”

Miyabi’s golden eyes remain on you, the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth.

Miyabi: “Well? Don’t just stand in the doorway, ‘Wolverine.’ You’re the last one here. Come in properly. The snacks are already open… and it seems some of us are already enjoying the view.”

Flashlight beams linger on the comic-accurate suit, on the claws, and especially on the thick arms the costume does nothing to hide. The dim classroom feels smaller, warmer, and far more dangerous than it did a moment ago.

The classroom door slides open with more force than necessary. The Hebijo group steps inside one after another — Miyabi at the front, followed by Ryobi, a already-flustered Ryona, Imu, and a reluctant Murasaki trailing at the rear — only to stop dead in their tracks.

The scene waiting for them is nothing like the spooky Halloween gathering they expected.

At the center of the room sits a low elevated platform that has been hastily arranged from desks and covers. Upon it, you are dressed as a shogun: formal black-and-gold hitatare-style robes with broad shoulders, a structured chest piece, wide hakama, and a dignified cap. The look is authoritative, almost regal under the dim orange lantern light.

Surrounding you are the Hanzo and Gessen girls — every single one of them dressed in matching erotic dancer outfits. The costumes are deliberately revealing: tiny ornate bras that barely contain their chests, sheer hip scarves low on their waists, glittering belts, thin gold chains, and flowing translucent skirts slit high enough to expose the full length of their thighs with every shift of movement. Soft bells and small coins jingle faintly whenever they move.

Asuka is kneeling close to your right side, dark brown ponytail slightly loosened, hazel eyes looking up at you with open admiration as one hand rests lightly against your knee. Katsuragi lounges against your left leg, blonde hair spilling over her shoulder, green eyes half-lidded with clear satisfaction as she traces idle circles on your thigh. Ikaruga sits with more composure just behind them, long black hime-cut hair neat even in the revealing attire, though a faint flush colors her cheeks. Hibari is practically draped against your arm, pink twin-tails bouncing as she smiles up at you, while Yagyu remains quieter at your feet, white twin-tails and red eye half-lidded, yet still positioned close enough to be part of the circle.

From Gessen, Yumi sits with elegant posture at your other side, dark gray hair and icy blue eyes calm even while wearing the same exposing dancer costume. Yozakura is clearly the most conflicted — short blue hair slightly mussed, dark blue eyes averted in embarrassment — yet she remains kneeling near your feet. Shiki looks thoroughly entertained, long blonde hair loose, red eyes gleaming as she leans against your shoulder. Minori is happily sitting right beside your leg, light brown twin-tails swaying, blue eyes bright as if this is the best seat in the house.

The air is warm with perfume, faint sweat, and the soft metallic chime of dancer ornaments.

Miyabi’s golden eyes sweep across the room, taking in the erotic costumes, the way the Hanzo and Gessen girls are clustered around you, and your shogun attire. Her expression remains controlled, but a sharp edge enters her voice.

Miyabi: “…What is this.”

Ryobi’s heterochromatic eyes widen, then narrow with a mixture of disbelief and rising irritation. She gestures sharply at the entire display.

Ryobi: “You’ve gotta be kidding me. We show up for a Halloween event and find both academies playing palace dancer for him? And he’s sitting there like an actual shogun?”

Ryona, already breathing a little faster, stares at the thick arms visible even under the formal sleeves of your costume. A faint tremor runs through her thighs.

Ryona: “They all look so close to him… and he looks so commanding… ahh, it’s not fair…”

Imu adjusts her glasses, green beret slightly tilted, clearly unsure how to process the scene while still staying close to Miyabi.

Imu: “This appears to have escalated far beyond a simple costume gathering. Miyabi, should we… intervene?”

Murasaki peeks from behind her long violet hair, dull purple eyes lingering on the cluster of barely-dressed girls around you before she hides half her face behind Bebeby.

Murasaki: “…Too many people. And too little clothing. Noisy.”

On the platform, Katsuragi only smirks and leans a little more deliberately against your leg, making the coins on her hip scarf chime.

Katsuragi: “You’re late, Hebijo. We already claimed the good seats.”

Asuka looks between the new arrivals and you, cheeks pink but making no move to leave her place at your side.

Asuka: “I-It’s not what it looks like… okay, maybe it is a little bit what it looks like. But the dancer outfits were a group decision!”

Yumi remains composed even while dressed in the same revealing attire, resting one hand lightly on the platform near you.

Yumi: “The theme evolved naturally. You are free to join or remain standing there in judgment. The choice is yours.”

Shiki waves lazily with her free hand, the other still resting against your shoulder.

Shiki: “C’mon, don’t just stand in the doorway looking scandalized. There’s still floor space… technically.”

The Hebijo girls remain in the doorway, confronted by the sight of two full academies in erotic dancer costumes clustered possessively around a single shogun-costumed male. The lantern light catches on gold chains, bare skin, and the clear hierarchy of who reached you first.