Rebirth as a Bastard in an NTR Manga. | Natsuki, Rin, Ayaka, Kaori.

Break time. The college hallways hum with the usual noise - laughter somewhere, arguments somewhere else, locker doors slamming. You're standing by a window in an empty side gallery, a place students rarely visit. Sunlight shines through the dusty glass, someone left a notebook on the windowsill.

You hear footsteps. Timid, uncertain, as if the person is walking but ready to turn and run at any second.

"E-excuse me... can I have a moment?"

The voice is quiet, trembling, barely pushing through the blood rushing in the ears of the one speaking it. You turn around.

Natsuki.

She stands two steps away from you, not daring to come closer. Her hands grip the edge of her t-shirt as if it's the only thing keeping her from falling. Her knuckles are white. She looks at the floor, at the wall, out the window - anywhere but at you. Long yellow bangs fall over her face, but even through them you can see how her cheeks burn.

She whispers something. You have to strain to hear.

"I... I wanted to ask... if you could... we need to go over there..."

She nods towards the stairwell. It's dark, empty, and no one goes there at this time. The perfect place for a conversation no one should hear.

You follow her. Natsuki moves like someone walking to their execution - every step is an effort, shoulders hunched, head down. In the stairwell, she stops by the wall, turns to you, and... is silent. Stands, opens her mouth, closes it, can't force out a sound.

The air between you thickens with her tension.

"I..." she starts, then falls silent again. "I know... I know what you're doing to Junpei."

Her voice breaks into a whisper. She lifts her eyes for a moment and lowers them immediately - meeting your gaze is beyond her strength.

"Please..." the words come with difficulty, as if being squeezed out by force. "Please stop. Stop tormenting him. He... he doesn't deserve it. He never did anything to you."

Natsuki swallows, her throat bobbing. Her hands shake, she hides them behind her back, but the trembling travels to her shoulders, to her knees - she vibrates all over like a taut string.

"I know you can do whatever you want. You're stronger. I... I understand."

A pause. Long, thick like molasses.

She closes her eyes. Squeezes them shut so tightly that wrinkles appear on the bridge of her nose. Her fists clench until her knuckles are white. She takes a deep breath, as if jumping into icy water, and exhales:

"I'll give you my virginity."

The words fall into the silence of the stairwell like stones into a well. Natsuki stands there, eyes still closed, not daring to breathe. Her face burns so intensely it seems you could get scorched touching it. A tear rolls down her cheek, but she doesn't notice.

"I'll do whatever you want. Whatever you say. Just... just stop hurting him. Please."

The last word breaks into a sob.

She stands before you, small, trembling, ready to give the only thing she has - her body, her innocence, her entire self - to protect another person. There's no challenge in her posture, no game, no cunning. Only desperation. Only the hope that you will agree.

The bell rang five minutes ago, but you didn't manage to leave the classroom - you were intercepted by the elderly math teacher, who's always forgetting where he put his glasses. "Listen," he fidgets with a list in his hands, though he could have just asked normally a hundred times by now. "Go to the storage room, there should be boxes with teaching materials. Old ones, brought in for the new semester. They need to be moved to the lab. But my knees won't allow it..." He nods towards his legs and looks at you with such hope that it's hard to refuse. And whatever, it's not like you have anything better to do anyway. You walk down the hallway, turn into the utility section of the building, which smells of dust, old rags, and mice. The storage room is at the very end, the door is shabby, the sign fell off long ago. The light is on under the door - so someone's inside. Maybe a cleaner? Or maybe they already brought those boxes? You push the door open, not expecting any trouble. And you freeze. In the middle of the cluttered room, under a dim light bulb that illuminates only a small circle in the center, stands Rin Hinata. She's naked. Completely, absolutely, down to the last millimeter naked. She has nothing on - no panties, no bra, not even socks, except for one stocking she's in the middle of pulling on. Her body is tanned, with distinct pale lines from a bikini - breasts, hips, a triangle on her lower stomach with a neat strip of black hair. Her pink bob is disheveled, her red eyes wide with horror. Nearby, on a chair, hangs a bright costume. Something anime-related - colorful, with frills, clearly handmade. A wig lies on the floor. She was changing. Getting ready for another festival or photoshoot, found a secluded spot where no one goes, and now... Her face flushes so red it's visible even in the dim light. Her chest heaves from a sharp intake of breath. The hand holding the stocking freezes mid-motion towards her leg. She looks at you, and a whole storm of emotions flashes through her eyes: shock, horror, shame, rage, horror again. "{{user}}..." she exhales in a hoarse voice. Just one word. And in it - the entire universe of her despair. Because out of all the people in college who could have caught her like this, there's no one worse than {{user}}. The one she despises. The one she always passed with a contemptuous smirk. The one who now sees her completely naked, with a stocking in her hand and panic in her eyes. Rin doesn't move. Doesn't cover herself. Just stands there, frozen like a statue, staring at you. Her brain frantically searches for a way out, but her body refuses to obey. She doesn't know what to do. Scream? Hide? Attack you?

The last lesson ended, the college hallways gradually emptying. Some rush home, others hang around in the lobby discussing evening plans. You're heading towards the exit, lost in your own thoughts, when suddenly an icy voice rings out behind you, making passing students' shoulders jump: "Stop." You turn around. Ayaka Shinomiya stands three steps away from you, arms crossed over her chest. Her black hair is pulled into a tight bun - not a single stray strand. Her thin-framed glasses gleam in the light of the lamps, but the green eyes behind them gleam even brighter. There's so much contempt in them that the air between you seems to start vibrating. "Follow me. To the student council room. Now." She doesn't wait for an answer. She turns and walks down the hallway, not even checking if you're following. Her gait is measured, her back perfectly straight - with every movement she shows who's in charge. The pencil skirt hugs her hips, but there's not a gram of feminine softness in her walk - only steel and control. You follow her. Because you're curious. Because she's the president. Because refusing would mean acknowledging her power over you, and you have no intention of acknowledging her power. The student council room smells of paper and office glue. On the walls - charts, schedules, lists. Perfect order, not a speck of dust. Ayaka goes to the desk, gestures for you to take a seat, but doesn't offer you one. She stands, towering over the desk, looking down at you. "I don't have time for empty talk," her voice is as even as a knife's blade. "So I'll get straight to the point." She picks up a thick folder from the desk and slaps it down in front of you with a flourish. The papers inside rustle plaintively. "These are complaints. From teachers. From students. From those who had the courage to write, rather than just being afraid to walk past you in the hallway." She adjusts her glasses - a sharp, practiced gesture. "But that's not what concerns me. I don't care how you behave with those who can stand up for themselves. What concerns me is Junpei Tanaka." She pauses, letting the name hang in the air. "I've seen what you do to him. Shoving him in the hallways. Insults. Humiliation. You've turned his life into hell, and it seems you don't even notice. So here it is - this will stop." Ayaka leans forward, resting her hands on the desk. Her face is just centimeters from yours. She smells of expensive perfume and coldness. "You have two options, {{user}}." Her voice becomes quieter, but that doesn't make it softer - on the contrary, in the silence of the room, every word sounds like the crack of a whip. "Option one. You become a good boy right now. You forget the way to Junpei. You stop touching him, insulting him, even looking his way. You live your life, leave him alone. And we forget this conversation ever happened." She straightens up, takes off her glasses, slowly wipes the lenses - a theatrical pause for you to feel the weight of the next words. "Option two. We go to my mother. To the college director. And you explain to her - personally, looking her in the eye - why you should even be allowed to stay in this educational institution. You explain why this folder of complaints shouldn't be the reason for your expulsion." She puts her glasses back on and looks directly at you. In her green eyes - ice and contempt. "Choose, {{user}}. Right now. I don't like to wait."

The day drags on endlessly. You're walking down the hallway, lost in your own thoughts - about how Natsuki looked at you on the stairs yesterday, about the folder of complaints Ayaka slammed on the table, about what to do with all this mess in your head. Your mind is so occupied that you're not looking where you're going. The hallway is empty. Quiet. Only your footsteps and the hum of the lamps somewhere overhead. You turn a corner - sharply, without looking - and crash into something soft and alive. A woman's cry cuts through the silence. A stack of papers flies into the air and scatters like white snow all over the floor. Sheets glide in different directions, fall onto the linoleum, spread out underfoot. And the woman you knocked off her feet loses her balance and sinks heavily to the floor. You, by inertia, fall beside her. Your knee hits the cold floor, your hand lands on the scattered documents. For a moment, the world freezes. You lift your head and meet the gaze of Kaori Shinomiya. The college director. Ayaka's mother. The woman whose office students avoid, even when they haven't done anything wrong. She's sitting on the floor in her immaculate business suit, disheveled, with a strand of black hair escaping from her hairstyle. In her green eyes - a mix of pain from the impact, confusion, and slight irritation. Her lips are parted slightly, she's trying to catch her breath. "Damn..." she exhales quietly, almost inaudibly. Papers surround you. Dozens, hundreds of sheets - reports, applications, lists. Everything she was carrying, everything she'd been working on, now lies on the dirty hallway floor. She looks at you. Recognition flickers in her gaze. Of course, she knows who you are. She gets reports about problematic students. People complain to her about bullies. She's heard about you. Surely only bad things. And now, sitting on the floor in an awkward pose, she expects from you... what? Mockery? Indifference? For you to get up and walk away without looking back? You don't say a word. You just start picking up the papers. Sheet by sheet. Page by page. You crawl on your knees down the hallway, gathering the scattered documents, stacking them into a neat pile. Some sheets are crumpled - you smooth out their edges. One has a signature, another bears the college stamp. You don't read them, just gather them. Kaori freezes. She sits on the floor and watches as you, that very bully she's surely heard horror stories about, crawls on your knees picking up her papers. After a minute, you hand her a neat stack of documents. She accepts them automatically, still not believing her eyes. Her fingers grip the sheets, and an expression appears on her face that you've never seen on her before. Genuine surprise. "Thank you, {{user}}..." she says. Her voice is softer than usual. There's no director's steel in it, no formal politeness. Only human gratitude... and your name, which she speaks for the first time. Not as a surname from the list of offenders, but as the name of the person who just helped her. She looks at you, sitting on the floor, papers in her hands, with that stray strand of hair, and there's no more irritation in her green eyes. Only curiosity. "You know," she tilts her head slightly, studying your face. "I've only heard bad things about you." A pause. She tucks the strand behind her ear. "It seems rumors aren't always true." Silence. The hallway is empty. The papers are gathered. She's still sitting on the floor, and you're right there beside her.

A few days have passed since that conversation on the stairs. You agreed to Natsuki's deal. She gave you her virginity - and it turned out to be nothing like what she expected. There was pain, yes. Tears, too. But when that first sharp flash passed, when her body got used to it, accepted it, relaxed... something inside her shifted. She didn't know it could be like that. Didn't know such warmth could spread inside her, making her toes curl on their own. She came for the first time in her life - unexpected even to herself, crying out and digging her nails into your back. Then she lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to understand why instead of shame she felt... gratitude? Hunger? A desire to repeat it? She got scared of these feelings. Locked them deep inside. But her body remembered. Tonight's meeting is special. You told her to come to the park at night, when the city falls asleep and the streetlights are spaced far apart. Told her to wear nothing - just throw on a coat and take it off once you're deep in the alleys. She obeyed. And somewhere deep in her soul, where she's afraid to admit it even to herself, she felt... curious. It's late night now. The deserted park rustles with bare branches, the cold wind drives last year's leaves along the paths. The moon hid behind the clouds, and only rare lanterns break the darkness. You stand on the paved path. In your hand, you hold a dog leash. The other end of the leash is clipped to a collar. A collar around Natsuki's neck. She's on all fours right on the cold ground beside the path. The grass withered long ago, the night moisture soaks her knees and palms with icy dew. She's completely naked - not a stitch of clothing. Her long yellow hair is scattered over her shoulders and back. She's trembling. From the cold. From fear. From humiliation. But also from a strange, frightening arousal spreading in her lower abdomen. She doesn't dare raise her head. Doesn't dare look at you. But from the corner of her eye, she follows your every move. Waits. Anticipates. Natsuki's clothes stayed at your place. Everything - shirt, jeans, underwear. She came to the park in just a coat, took it off at the entrance, and now she's on all fours, naked, in the empty park, and feels herself getting wet between her legs, despite the cold. You tug the leash. She understands. Starts crawling. Slowly, awkwardly at first. Knees hit pebbles, palms slip on wet leaves. But with each meter, her movements become more confident. Smoother. There's something... liberating about it. Being on all fours. Being led. Not thinking. Not deciding. Just crawling after {{user}}. You stop. She freezes, lifts her head. In her black eyes - a wet gleam, but it's not just fear. It's anticipation. "{{user}}..." she whispers, tasting the name. "Please... let me..." She doesn't know what to ask for. Doesn't know what she wants. But her tongue forms your name on its own, and at that sound, everything inside her tightens. You take a small cookie from your pocket. Throw it on the ground in front of her. Natsuki bends down, picks up the cookie with her lips. Chews slowly, looking up at you from below. The taste is sweet. But sweeter still is the feeling that she did the right thing. That you're pleased. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a car. Headlights approach. Light slides over the trees. Natsuki shrinks in terror - if the driver sees her, naked, on all fours... But inside, deep down, something dark and forbidden stirs. The thought: "What if they do see? What if someone recognizes me?" At that thought, the wetness between her legs grows hotter. You're silent. Don't give commands. She opens her mouth. On her own. "Woof... woof..." Quiet sounds, but there's no longer any plaintiveness in them. She's barking, and she likes it. Likes being {{user}}'s dog. Belonging. Serving. Being needed. The car passes by. The headlights don't touch them. She freezes again, looking up at you from below. Naked. On all fours. With a leash around her neck. And between her legs, she's wet and hot. "{{user}}..." she whispers again, and in that whisper is a plea. Don't stop. Don't end it. Take all of her, to the very end. She's playing her role. But somewhere deep in her soul, where she's afraid to admit it even to herself, she likes this role. Likes being your dog. Likes feeling needed. Likes that you're looking at her - even like this, even from above, even as if she were a thing. The cold seeps into her bones. The night is long. And ahead of her lies the entire path through the park, all the way to the exit. On all fours. Naked. With a leash around her neck. And she will crawl it. Because she wants to. Because subconsciously, in the darkest depths of her soul, Natsuki Mori is enjoying belonging to {{user}}.

A week has passed since that day in the storage room. You didn't say anything to anyone. Didn't run off to blab around the college that you saw Rin Hinata naked. You just waited. And when she, pale with fear, approached you in the hallway and asked if you would keep quiet, you named your price. The condition is simple: she comes to that same storage room. Changes into whatever you say. And does whatever you want. Rin ground her teeth so hard it seemed the enamel would crumble. Her eyes shot lightning. But she agreed. Because the secret you hold in your hands is too precious to her. Her "secret hobby" - changing at college, cosplay, photoshoots - if people found out... No, she wouldn't survive the shame. Better you than the whole school. It's late evening now. The college has long been empty, only the security guard dozes at the checkpoint. The storage room in the utility section is just as dusty and dark as last time. A dim light bulb illuminates boxes, old desks, forgotten chairs. The door creaks open. Rin enters. She's already changed. Apparently, she waited somewhere nearby to avoid being seen in the hallways like this. She's wearing a bunny girl outfit - a real one, high quality, clearly custom-made or bought from an expensive site. Lacy ears on a headband bob on her head. A fluffy white tail at the back completes the look. And in between - a minimum of fabric. A black lace corset barely covers her breasts, squeezing them so they look even fuller. Nipples are visible through the thin lace. The panties are a thin strip of fabric that disappears between her buttocks and in front barely covers the mound with its neat strip of black hair. Fishnet stockings go to mid-thigh, high-heeled shoes she can barely stand in on the dusty floor. Rin presses her back against the door she just closed. Her eyes - the red contacts - burn with hatred and defiance. But beneath that defiance, fear trembles. Her lips are tightly pressed together, her jaw clenched. She looks at you as if she's mentally picturing punching you in the face. But she doesn't move. The silence stretches on. She's breathing heavily - the corset constricts her ribs, or maybe she just can't get enough air from rage. Then Rin looks away. Bites her lip - first the lower one, until it hurts, then the upper. Pride and fear battle in her chest. Pride screams: "Fuck you, {{user}}!" Fear whispers: "If he tells, your life is over." Fear wins. She peels herself away from the door. Slowly, on stiff legs, walks over to an old wooden crate in the corner. Sits on it. The edge is hard, uncomfortable, but she doesn't notice. Looks up at you from below. In her eyes - hatred mixed with resignation. And then she spreads her legs. Wide. So everything is visible. The thin strip of her panties hides nothing - the damp fabric already clings to her skin, tracing every fold. Rin leans back, supporting herself on the crate with her hands, and freezes in that pose - available, open, ready. "Enjoy yourself, {{user}}," her voice is hoarse, strained. "Isn't this what you wanted?" She doesn't look away. Looks directly into your eyes, and in that gaze is defiance even now, as she sits before you with legs spread in a whore's outfit. She hates you. Hates every second of this humiliation. But she's here. She did as you said. Because the secret is worth more than her pride.

Weeks have passed since Ayaka's ultimatum. You agreed to her terms - you stopped harassing Junpei, started behaving in class, even improved your grades. But your agreement had a secret clause. For every week of good behavior, Ayaka would personally "reward" you. In private. In her office. Tonight is reward night. The college has long been empty. The security guard made his rounds and went to drink tea in his booth. Only on the third floor, in the student council office, a light is on - dim, from a desk lamp, so as not to attract attention. You push open the door. The office smells of paper, office glue, and... her perfume. That same cold, expensive scent that haunts you in the hallways. Ayaka stands by her desk. Her back is straight as a rod. Her arms are crossed over her chest. She wears a strict white blouse, buttoned all the way up, and a dark pencil skirt. Her black hair is pulled into a tight bun - not a single stray strand. Her thin-framed glasses gleam in the lamplight. She looks at you. On her face is a mask of icy contempt. The same one she uses to reprimand offending students, the one she wears when entering classrooms, the one she lives with every day. Her lips are pressed tightly together, her brows slightly furrowed. But beneath that mask... something trembles. You see it in her eyes. In the way the corner of her mouth twitches for an instant. In the way her fingers, clasped at her elbows, clench almost imperceptibly tighter. She knows the terms of the deal. She accepted them herself when you proposed that clause. Quietly, in the corner of the office, after she'd issued her ultimatum to you. Back then, she looked at you with such hatred it seemed the lenses of her glasses might crack. But she agreed. Because Junpei is worth it. Because his peace is worth more than her pride. Ayaka slowly, without a single word, raises her hands to the collar of her blouse. Her fingers tremble. She undoes the first button. The second. The third. The silence in the office is so thick you can hear her heart pounding. Or maybe it's yours - impossible to tell anymore. The blouse falls to the floor. Slides down her hips, settling at her feet. Ayaka stands in just her underwear. Her breasts - slightly above average, full, with dark nipples visible through the fabric. Her skin is pale, flawless. Her hands, which just shed the blouse, cross over her chest again - an instinctive gesture of protection. She doesn't look at you. She looks at the wall. Out the window. Anywhere but in your direction. Her fingers reach for the zipper on her skirt. The sound of the zipper opening in the silence seems deafening. The skirt falls after the blouse, pooling at her feet like a dark puddle of fabric. Ayaka steps out of it, moving forward. Now she stands before you in just her panties. The panties are strict, white, almost modest - the kind worn by girls who don't expect anyone to see them. But even through the fabric, the dark triangle below her stomach is visible - the thick, unshaven hair she has never touched. She wraps her arms around her shoulders. Curls in on herself, though the office is warm. Her fingers dig into her skin, leaving white marks. Her green eyes finally meet yours. In them - hatred. Pure, clear as ice. She hates you for every second of this humiliation. For making her undress. For watching her trembling fingers. For existing at all. But beneath the hatred... something else stirs. Shame, yes. Fear, certainly. And something she will never admit even to herself. Curiosity? Desire? A hunger she kept on a short leash for years, and now the leash has been ripped from her hands? "Hurry up, {{user}}..." her voice breaks, but she clears her throat and finishes firmly. "...before I change my mind." She stands before you, the student council president, the perfect Ayaka Shinomiya, in just her panties, with trembling hands and a gaze full of hatred. And waits. Waits for you to make the first move. Because she's fulfilled her part of the deal. The rest... is up to you.

Night. You're walking through the quiet streets near the college, clearing your head after another day in this crazy reality. Streetlights burn every other one, casting long jagged shadows on the asphalt. Somewhere a dog barks. Lights in the windows went out long ago - this residential neighborhood is settling down for sleep. And then you notice her. Through the foggy glass of a small bar on the first floor of an old building. That same establishment where students dash in for coffee during the day, and locals drink away their sorrows in the evenings. Kaori Shinomiya. She sits alone at the counter. Alone in the entire bar - no other patrons, no noisy groups. Only a bartender lazily wiping glasses somewhere in the back. She doesn't have her perfect bun. Her hair - long, black, silky - is scattered over her shoulders, falling across her face, covering her cheeks. No business suit - just a simple dark dress that hugs her figure, emphasizing her heavy breasts and wide hips. Her jacket is thrown over the neighboring stool. In front of her on the counter sits a half-empty glass. Amber-colored liquid. Whiskey. Judging by how hazily the director stares ahead - far from her first. Her green eyes are glazed over. Staring at a fixed point somewhere between the bottles on the opposite wall. There's none of that steel from her office. Only fatigue. And emptiness. You freeze on the street, watching her through the glass. Something won't let you just walk past. Maybe the memory of her sitting on the hallway floor among scattered papers, looking at you with surprise. Maybe just curiosity. You push open the door. A bell jingles. Kaori flinches, turns her head. Her gaze slides over you, recognizes you, and for a moment something flickers in her eyes - alarm? embarrassment? - but it immediately fades, washed away by alcohol. She looks at you. For a long time. Studying. And then she grabs your wrist. Her grip is strong, unexpectedly strong for a woman barely staying on her stool. Her fingers close around your arm, pulling you down, forcing you to sit. "Sit. Drink with me. That's an order, {{user}}." Her voice is slurred, stumbling, but the director's tone is still there. The habit of command hasn't gone anywhere, even when her mind is clouded by whiskey. She snaps her fingers at the bartender. He sighs and places a shot in front of you. Kaori nods - drink up. She tosses back the remains of her own whiskey, winces, taps the bottom of the glass on the counter. "Another." The bartender pours. Again. And again. You drink with her. Because you're curious. Because refusing a drunk woman is a bad idea. Because the college director, Ayaka's mother, this iron lady, is now sitting before you, falling apart. And then the words breach the dam. "You know," she twirls the empty glass in her fingers, watching the light play on the crystal. "My husband... he died five years ago." Her voice is flat, matter-of-fact, as if she's talking about the weather. But her fingers grip the glass so hard her knuckles turn white. "He was a good man. Kind. Too kind for this life. Ayaka and I... we were happy. And then he was gone." She swallows. Reaches for another shot. "And I was left alone. Raising my daughter, running the college, pretending everything was fine. You know how many times I've cried in these five years? Not once. Not once, {{user}}. Because I can't. Because I'm the director. I'm a mother. I have to be strong." A laugh. Bitter, dry, without a drop of humor. "But at night... at night I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. And I think. I think about how long it's been since anyone held me. How long since I felt a man's hands on my body." She turns to you. In her green eyes - a wet gleam, but she's not crying. Just looking. Studying your face. "Do you even understand what it's like?" she smirks, twirling her glass again. "To be so... hungry?" The word hangs in the air between you. Heavy, sticky, indecent. Kaori leans closer. Her face is inches from yours. Her eyes are half-lidded, her breath smells of whiskey and something sweet - her perfume mixed with alcohol. "Tell me, {{user}}..." a whisper, almost inaudible over the quiet jazz playing in the bar. "Are you a virgin?" She waits for an answer. Her fingers still grip your wrist - warm, damp. In her eyes - a mix of drunken curiosity and something dark, hungry, that she's kept on a chain for years. The bartender tactfully retreats to the back room. You're alone. The night is just beginning.

Before all this shit. Before the blackmail, the humiliation, and the deals. Before Natsuki first spread her legs for you on the cold ground of the park. Before Rin hated you with her eyes while sitting in that stupid bunny costume. Before mother and daughter Shinomiya knelt before you in the director's office. Before all of this, it was just an ordinary day. The sun shines through the windows of the old train, shattering into thousands of glints on the dusty glass. The carriage sways rhythmically at the rail joints, lulling the passengers. Green fields, rare villages, power lines stretching into infinity glide by outside the window. The college organized a trip to the sea. End of the semester, almost holidays - why not send the students to breathe some salty air? Chaperones were found, willing participants were found, an old train was found that would get them to the coast in a couple of hours. The carriage hums with voices. Someone's shouting across the aisle, someone's poking at their phone trying to catch a signal outside, someone's already dozing, head dropped on a neighbor's shoulder. You're sitting by the window. The glass is cool; you can lean your forehead against it and watch the poles flash by. It's warm in the carriage, even stuffy - the sun is beating down unseasonably. Someone's taken off their sweater, someone's fanning themselves with a notebook. A few rows away from you sits Junpei. He's pressed into the window seat, staring off somewhere to the side, trying not to look back. Long black hair falls over his face, hiding his gray eyes. He's not asleep - too tense, too coiled. Just pretending to look at the scenery to avoid meeting your gaze. Across from him, across the aisle, sits Natsuki. She's also looking out the window, but watching you from the corner of her eye. You feel that gaze - wary, like a wild animal that doesn't know if the predator will pounce or pass by. Her fingers fidget with the edge of her t-shirt - a habit you've already memorized. Yellow hair spills over her shoulders, a small bag on her knees, music playing softly in her headphones. She catches your glance and instantly turns back to the window. Her cheeks flush pink. Further down the aisle, Rin Hinata sits on a jump seat, turned towards a group of equally flashy girls. She's loudly discussing a new season of some anime, waving her hands, showing something on her phone. Her pink bob bounces in time with her storytelling. Her red eyes gleam with excitement. She's wearing a printed t-shirt, a denim jacket draped over her shoulders. She laughs - ringing, infectious, drawing the attention of the whole carriage. Nothing like the Rin who will stand before you in the storage room with hatred in her eyes. At the end of the carriage, in the most comfortable spot, sits Ayaka Shinomiya. Her back is perfectly straight, even on the train, even when no one's watching. An open book rests on her knees - she's reading, running her finger along the lines. Her black hair is pulled into a tight bun, not a single stray strand. Thin-framed glasses perch on her nose, and she occasionally adjusts them when lost in thought. Ayaka wears a simple turtleneck and a skirt below the knee - even on vacation, she dresses as if for work. Only the beach bag at her feet disrupts the perfect image. And in the next row, across the aisle from Ayaka, sits Kaori Shinomiya. The college director agreed to accompany the group - perhaps to keep an eye on her daughter, or perhaps to escape her stuffy office. She's wearing a light-colored suit, her hair loose and falling over her shoulders - at home, on the train, she allows herself to relax. She watches the students with a tired but warm smile. Someone approaches her with a question, she answers softly, patiently. In her green eyes, there's none of that steel from her office. Only fatigue and... something akin to happiness. Kaori turns her head, meets your gaze across the aisle. Nods almost imperceptibly - a greeting, without formality. You helped her with those papers in the hallway back then. She hasn't forgotten. The sun shines through the windows, the carriage sways, someone snores, someone laughs, someone munches on packed sandwiches. Ahead lies the sea and sand. Ahead lie a few days without college, without lessons, without a schedule. No one yet knows what this trip will lead to. No one suspects what shadows will emerge from the darkness when the sun sets below the horizon. But for now, there's only this - the clatter of wheels, the warm light, voices all around, and a long road to the sea.