The crowd was seconds away from total disorder. Some students were halfway out of their seats, others whisper-yelling to their friends, phones already in hands.
And then, cutting through all of it like a cleaver—
"SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!"
The command didn't come from the mic.
It didn't need to.
Hime-senpai blazer off, red armband crisp on her left sleeve, stood near the edge of the stage like a general surveying the battlefield.
"Condition's not safe for announcements if you all keep acting like you've never heard big news before!"
Silence fell like a dropped curtain. Dozens of heads turned toward her, stunned.
"Y'all heard the principal just fine. Now stop screamin' like you found a cockroach in your shoe and listen properly!"
Sumiji-senpai didn't even blink... he just gave a tiny approving nod. Bossun-senpai scratched the back of his head, clearly fighting a smile and maybe nervousness in there too.
Uzui-senpai didn't look up from his laptop, but his fingers paused briefly, maybe in acknowledgment.
Behind them, Yonagi-senpai folded her hands in front of her quietly, posture straight. And Chiyoko-senpai, still poised and unreadable, adjusted the mic with serene grace.
"Thank you, Hime," she said, her tone smooth and reassuring. "Let's allow the principal to continue."
Hime-senpai stepped back, still fuming but silent now arms crossed.
Near the back, I sat still.
Tomoya leaned toward me, voice low. "She scares me. She really scares me."
I gave him a small smile. "Well… to lead the disciplinary committee in a school like this, you kinda have to be, you know… the mom of the entire student body."
Tomoya exhaled beside me. "I mean… yeah. After seeing Suimei for four weeks, that kind of makes sense now."
The entire auditorium had gone silent under her glare.
The principal stepped forward again, completely calm, like he was enjoying the aftermath of the chaos. His presence was collected, hands loosely clasped behind him.
"Thank you, Onizuka," he said with a slight nod. "Now, let us continue."
He faced the students, his gaze steady.
"I know many of you are still wondering why Natsuki Ren? Why was a first-year student chosen for a core position in the student council? And why without following the usual process? No prior involvement, no committee roles, not even a class representative."
The principal gave a small smile. "Given the unusual nature of this decision, let me explain a little further. These are extraordinary circumstances."
He gestured behind him. "In just three weeks, Natsuki Ren has contributed in ways that have directly improved the school's efficiency. To elaborate, I'll have Kazuyoshi present the data."
Uzui-senpai stepped forward, his laptop already open in one hand. His voice was calm, flat, and precise.
"Natsuki Ren contributed to streamlining the club trial period," Uzui-senpai said, eyes on the screen. "Compared to last year's data, chaos reports during tryouts have dropped by 7%. For a single student to influence this across multiple clubs, is statistically remarkable."
A few murmurs rippled across the auditorium.
Uzui-senpai continued. "Additionally, surveys collected from club leaders show a clear shift in atmosphere. Words such as 'more positive,' 'orderly,' and 'surprisingly calm' appeared consistently. First-year students in particular reported a greater sense of ease and confidence adapting to high school life."
He adjusted his glasses. "This may correlate with Natsuki Ren's visible presence across campus, frequent movement between floors and clubrooms. His involvement, though unofficial, created a ripple effect."
Uzui-senpai kept his eyes on the screen, tone steady as ever. "This effect extends beyond first-year students. Based on anecdotal feedback from upperclassmen, the gap between senior and junior students has shortened. Many second- and third-years reported feeling more comfortable interacting with first-years… and vice versa. Less formality. More familiarity."
He clicked to the next slide. "This kind of cross-year dynamic is uncommon in early semesters. The speed of adjustment observed here is significantly faster than in previous years."
There was a brief pause as he scrolled.
"Of course," he added, "a major contributing factor is the precedent set by the current president."
Bossun-senpai blinked. "Huh? Me?"
Uzui-senpai didn't look up. "Your personality, unconventional behavior, and the fact that you... despite said behavior, were still elected president, sends a clear message to new students. It softens the pressure. Encourages authenticity, within reasonable bounds."
Bossun-senpai stand up straighter, clearly touched. "Aw, look at you Switch, saying all that nice stuff."
Uzui-senpai didn't respond, but a subtle curve at the corner of his lips betrayed a smile.
Then he returned to his usual tone, deadpan and focused. "However, that balance is contingent on tangible results. Freedom of expression without achievement holds no value, and that makes this system only tolerates chaos when the output is efficient."
Uzui-senpai turned slightly toward the principal. "That concludes the data review."
Principal Tsukishima gave a nod, the corners of his eyes crinkling with approval. "Thank you, Kazuyoshi. Truly, if anyone still had doubts, I hope you realize by now, you've just heard it from the most precise and accurate treasurer Suimei High has ever had... so yes, you can trust those numbers."
There was a ripple of quiet laughter, mostly from the upperclassmen who knew Uzui-senpai's reputation.
The principal adjusted his mic slightly, his voice still calm but firmer now. "And many of you may not even realize it, but you've probably felt the effects of this change yourselves. It may not be loud or obvious... but think back.
Some of you first-years were already talking and laughing with your senpai on the first week. I saw it myself through my office. That kind of ease is a sign of a healthy, growing school environment."
A hush settled over the auditorium.
Gradually, the students began to glance around. It wasn't immediately obvious, but the more they looked, the more they noticed.
The seating was mixed.
First-years were sitting next to second-years. Third-years leaned over to chat with underclassmen. A few girls whispered to their senpai like they'd known each other for weeks.
Some boys shared snacks and quiet laughs with students from different classes. The usual divide between years had softened.
You could feel it. The atmosphere was more relaxed than usual.
The principal gave a small nod, as if satisfied by the realization settling in the room.
"If you're still not convinced," he said, "I understand. It's not easy to believe something so unprecedented without evidence."
He gestured subtly toward the council members standing behind him.
"But remember, the student council at Suimei has always been filled with people who've already started walking their path to success."
He turned to glance at Bossun-senpai, who gave a small, sheepish wave.
"Take our current president, for example. Fujisaki here. you may know him from certain variety segments or short TV specials. That's right, he's worked behind the scenes on writing and production for late-night comedy programs, even before entering his third year. And he's not the only one."
He nodded toward Sumiji.
"Sumiji has performed in national stage productions since his first year. He's been connected to the professional theatre world since middle school."
There was a slight stir of awe from some of the first-year.
"In a way," the principal continued, "each member of the core council has already taken the hardest first step. They've entered the path toward their dreams, and they're walking it with purpose."
He paused, eyes scanning the room.
"And now… we have Natsuki Ren."
He smiled.
"What exactly has he accomplished?"
The principal let the laughter fade before continuing, his tone shifting slightly—more curious now, as if inviting everyone to look closer.
"Natsuki Ren is... difficult to define on paper. Not because he lacks ability, but because he doesn't seem interested in being seen."
He paused, scanning the students quietly.
"But Suimei is a well-connected institution, and our reach in the creative world is broad. So I did some digging."
A few murmurs rose again, curious now.
"You won't find his name in flashy headlines or plastered on magazine covers. But those of you who frequent indie music scenes might've heard of a profile named 'EmoBento.'"
Several students stirred at that name—one or two visibly perked up.
"His work... just five tracks, all uploaded quietly over a course three years, has been picked up and used in various media. Some were featured in short films, one appeared in the background of a late-night anime ED, and another was included in an award-winning indie game."
A few murmurs spread across the auditorium.
"Now, this didn't happen by accident," he went on. "Back in middle school, Ren submitted an original piece to a national radio arrangement competition. He won. The judges were impressed enough to broadcast his work... anonymously, at his request, and from there, things started moving."
He looked out over the rows of students, many of whom were now more attentive than before.
"After that, he began uploading the tracks to NicoNico Douga, Spotify, and YouTube under the same name he submitted his work 'EmoBento.'
He gave a small smile.
"It may not be NHK primetime. But it's there, in the heart of the culture many of you engage with daily. And for someone who avoids attention as deliberately as he does... that's quite the accomplishment."
Somewhere near the front, a boy suddenly shot up in his seat—phone in hand, eyes wide.
"Wait wait, I've heard this before! This song... this one was in Hajime no Ippo! That insane climax fight with the counterpunch!" He waved his phone like a torch. "The violin drop, holy crap, I get goosebumps every time. That tension, that adrenaline... it was perfect!"
A group of second-year girls nearby gasped.
"No way... this one's from that late-night drama that made me cry like an idiot!"
"You mean the one with the horrible writing?"
"Yeah! But the second-to-last episode suddenly hit like a truck... this exact song played during the final montage!"
All around the auditorium, the quiet hum of chatter turned into a rising wave. Students stared at their phones, flipping through streaming apps, NicoNico, and YouTube.
Even the student council members were now glancing down at their phones. Some furrowed their brows. Some looked surprised. Hime-senpai blinked rapidly, Yonagi-senpai raised an eyebrow, and Uzui-senpai muttered something under his breath and typing on the laptop.
The principal just smiled softly at the chaos.
I let out a quiet sigh. I'd expected this eventually. Suimei was too well-connected, too plugged into the art and media circuits. If you so much as touched a frame of a storyboard, you probably knew someone who knew someone who'd used one of my tracks.
Tomoya glanced at me, then looked back down at his phone. His brows drew together, his eyes narrowing.
He froze.
"No way..." he whispered. "No freaking way. This is that track... from that visual novel. The one with the raining in the park scene. You know... the one that won all those local indie awards?"
His mouth dropped open.
"I've had this song in my playlist for like... two years."
He turned slowly to stare at me.
"Goddammit, Ren," he whispered, voice half awe, half accusation. "I knew your name sounded familiar. I've literally looped that track a hundred times and never once thought it could be you."
I smiled, a little resigned. "Well... now you know."
Tomoya stared at me, still trying to process everything, but I glanced back toward the stage... just in time to see the principal step forward, his hand moving toward the microphone..
I calmly raised both hands and covered my ears.
Tomoya squinted at me. "What are you—"
And then it happened.
That piercing screech—ngiiiiiing!—ripped through the auditorium, loud and sharp enough to make the walls vibrate.
A collective wince swept through the room. Students flinched. Some hunched down. Others slapped their palms over their ears like it would help.
Tomoya jolted in his seat, eyes wide. "What the hell was that?!"
I just looked at him with a calm smile, then turned back toward the stage like it was nothing.
He gave me a silent glare, eyes narrowing in betrayal.
I shrugged.
You learn to expect things from this school.
Especially that principal.
"Now that you know who Natsuki Ren is," the principal said, his voice calm but firm, "I trust there are no more doubts."
The auditorium was silent. No murmurs, no objections.
He nodded once, then drew in a quiet breath before continuing.
"The student council members standing on this stage today... each of them has outstanding qualifications. Their portfolios are impressive, their accomplishments proven. Many already have ties to the professional world they're working toward."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"But I want all of you to remember something important; if you have a bad personality, if your attitude is rotten, if you don't know how to treat others, then even with all those talents, you won't be accepted. Not here. Not at Suimei."
A murmur of surprise ran through a few students. The principal rarely spoke this bluntly.
"That's why," he said, softer now, "we begin entrance interviews all the way back in January. We meet each student who wants to enter this school to understand who they are."
His eyes moved across the crowd, almost fatherly. "Because when you wear the Suimei name, you carry its weight. It must never be used to bring others down."
Then his shoulders lowered a bit. A long, quiet sigh followed. For a moment, he looked like just another tired old man.
"I've seen what the professional world can do. Ask your senpai on this stage, they've glimpsed it too. The creative industry isn't all inspiration and applause. It's politics. Pressure. People willing to burn others out to keep their place."
He looked up again, eyes clear.
"That's why I hope Suimei stays as it is. Not naive, but bright. A place that can grow students into lights strong enough to shine even in the darkest corners of the industry."
He looked toward Ren in the crowd.
"And if you truly see Natsuki Ren's heart, his quiet, consistent actions, his way of supporting others without needing the spotlight... can any of you still say he doesn't belong as Suimei's vice president?"
The silence that followed said it all.
The principal's gaze swept once more across the hall, then settled with a calm smile.
"And that," he said, voice firm yet warm, "is my clarification, on why Natsuki Ren was called in, and why, despite how unconventional it may seem, I appointed him as Suimei's vice president."
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"Some actions may seem unusual on the surface… but sometimes, it is precisely those quiet, consistent efforts that move the heart of a school. I simply recognized it."
A long pause.
Then—
Applause.
It started small... polite, almost hesitant. But it grew. Row by row, more students stood. The ones Ren had helped, the ones who had only heard about him, and even those who had doubted him moments before.
Tomoya stood too, still half in shock, clapping slowly with a lopsided smile. "What the hell, Ren…" he muttered under his breath.
Up on stage, the principal stepped down from the podium, his part of the announcement complete. The mic he had used remained in its stand.
Chiyoko-senpai, who had been holding a handheld mic the entire time, stepped forward with her usual calm poise. She offered a slight bow in the principal's direction before addressing the crowd.
"Thank you, Principal Tsukishima, for the announcement," she said clearly. Then she turned slightly, facing the audience more directly.
"And now," her voice carried through the silent auditorium, "Vice President of Suimei High—Natsuki Ren from Class 1-B. Please come forward to give your address."
The room went still again, more focused than ever. Curiosity, surprise, and a strange kind of anticipation buzzed in the air.
All eyes turned to the back of the auditorium.
I stood up from my seat.
Tomoya was still staring at me, somewhere between shock and denial. His mouth opened, then closed again like he was trying to form a thought that just wouldn't come out.
Then he caught my eyes, and saw my expression.
He let out a breath and smiled, tired but genuine. "Give 'em hell, Ren," he muttered, lifting his fist toward me.
I cracked a rare grin and bumped it with mine.
Then I turned and began walking toward the stage.
I could feel it... the weight of a few hundred gazes tracking every step I took. But I didn't flinch.
'It's kind of nostalgic, but nothing compared to the humiliation from my old life.'
The mocking eyes, the empty pity, the jealous whispers... Here, it felt different. There was curiosity, yes. Even skepticism. But it came with something else... respect. Admiration. Maybe even hope.
I kept walking, steady and sure.
As I made my way down the aisle, I caught a glimpse of Nanami-senpai near the middle rows. Her eyes widened slightly when she recognized me. Just beside her, Sorata-senpai looked equally stunned, like he hadn't quite processed what was happening.
I raised a hand slightly, a casual wave in their direction. Nanami-senpai blinked, then gave a small, uncertain smile back. Sorata-senpai just stared, mouth slightly open.
Beside him, Mashiro-senpai sat quietly, head tilted down as she stared at her phone. But suddenly, as I walked past, our eyes met.
Blank.
Still.
But… maybe... just maybe, there was a flicker. The faintest glint in her gaze. I couldn't be sure if it was real or just wishful thinking. But if even one of my music reached her heart, or her soul like when she playing Undertale...
Then maybe that was enough.
I turned away and climbed the steps to the stage.
Bossun-senpai reached me first, hands on his hips, his trademark goggles resting on his forehead. He looked me up and down like he was about to crack a joke, then leaned in slightly.
"Well, well, our ghost member's out in the daylight," he said, grinning. "Welcome aboard, Vice President."
He offered a hand, casual and confident.
I took it.
"Try not to outshine me too much, yeah?" he added with a wink. "It'd hurt my delicate ego."
I raised an eyebrow. "I'll try, President. No promises, though."
He burst out laughing. "Ooh, cheeky already! I like you."
Behind him, Sumiji-senpai adjusted his glasses with a faint sigh, muttering, "We don't need two of you."
Bossun-senpai threw an exaggerated arm around his shoulder. "Oh, come on, Sumiji. You love me."
"I tolerate you."
Hime-senpai stepped in next, crossing her arms with a long-suffering sigh. "Bossun~ please, don't drag our newest member into your antics already. Just dealing with you and Switch is more than enough."
Bossun gave her an exaggerated hurt look. "Aw, c'mon Himeko, I'm just being welcoming!"
From the back, Uzui-senpai didn't even lift his gaze from his laptop. A robotic voice crackled from a text-to-speech program:
"Statistical prediction: chaos level will increase by 22%."
Sumiji-senpai sighed deeply. "Why did I think becoming vice president meant I'd have mature seniors?" Then he turned to me, his eyes sharp but not unkind. His hand landed firmly on my shoulder, steady and oddly reassuring.
"You'll help me keep them in check, right?"
Before I could answer, Chiyoko-senpai laughed softly, one hand covering her mouth. "Oh, Kuro-kun, you say that, but you'd be bored without them."
Yonagi-senpai, serene and composed as ever, added in her gentle tone, "You just enjoy the chaos Chiyoko… as long as it doesn't target you directly. Remember when Bossun-senpai—?"
"Yonagi-chan~" Chiyoko-senpai sang sweetly, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Kouhai present."
I watched all of them, that controlled storm of personalities, each one distinct yet somehow in harmony. My lips curved in a small, amused smile.
I gave a polite bow. "I hope we can work well together."
Bossun-senpai threw both arms into the air dramatically. "Alright! Let's not scare the new vice prez too much on his first day... leave that to me."
He strutted over to the podium like it was his personal comedy stage, turned to the crowd with his usual over-the-top grin, and gave a short, impromptu speech.
"Everyone! Let's give a proper Suimei welcome to our new vice president, Natsuki Ren! He may not have entered through the usual door, but he practically rebuilt the hallway on his way in, so give him a break."
Some students laughed, some cheered, and a few just looked more confused, but Bossun-senpai gave a mock salute and stepped aside.
It was my turn.
I walked toward the podium slowly, the lights casting soft shadows across the auditorium. From up here, the sea of students felt overwhelming, some faces I recognized, many I didn't.
A thousand different expressions, a hundred emotions.
I gripped the edge of the podium, steadying my breath.
I adjusted the mic just slightly, and let a brief silence settle before speaking.
"…Well, I didn't expect to be standing here today," I began, my voice calm but clear. "Honestly, I just wanted to be a ghost member. You know... join a club, never show up, politely disappear when competitions roll around."
A few chuckles rippled through the crowd.
"I thought I had it figured out. Stay helpful, stay quiet, avoid commitment," I continued, a slight smile tugging at my lips. "That's why I pitched the whole ghost member idea."
I glanced toward the student council.
"Unfortunately... or maybe fortunately, Suimei isn't the kind of place that lets you stay in the background for long. I only meant to help people as a way to keep my freedom. But somewhere along the way, I realized... this school's different."
I let my eyes sweep across the hall for a moment.
"In just three weeks, I've seen how wildly chaotic this school can be. But in that chaos, there's something unmistakable—creativity. A spark in every corner. Even the smallest problems are… weirdly unique here.
And maybe that's why I enjoyed helping. Because the people here? They're never boring."
"In a sense," I said, letting the words settle for a beat, "I think I've kind of… fallen in love with this school."
A soft ripple of laughter echoed through the hall when I added, deadpan, "Should I get that checked? Is there a name for this kind of illness?"
The chuckles that followed loosened the tension a little. I smiled, but my voice steadied again.
"I'm joking, kind of. But I'm not kidding when I say I've grown attached... to the school, to the people, even in just three weeks. I came in with this ghost member idea, thinking I could help quietly from the sidelines, avoid getting tied down. But what I found was something else entirely."
I let my gaze sweep across the student council leaders standing nearby before turning back to the crowd.
"And maybe… I'm not the only one who's a little in love with this school."
That earned a few curious murmurs.
"I mean, look at your student council. These people are seriously busy... they've got their own careers, projects, deadlines most of us can't even imagine. But they're here. They still show up, still care enough to guide this school and wrangle the chaos we create every day."
I gave a half-smile.
"People don't take on that kind of responsibility unless they care. Unless something about this school made them want to protect it."
I let my eyes drift over the crowd.
"Maybe they also think that every corner of Suimei is buzzing with stories. The loud ones, the quiet ones. Even the smallest moments felt like they mattered. That's what pulled them in. That's why I stayed."
I paused, then spoke with more weight.
"Maybe you're someone who still doesn't know your dream yet. Maybe you're a third-year and you still feel lost. That's okay. Because in life, what matters isn't always where you end up... sometimes it's the choices you make along the way. Even the small ones."
I glanced at the front row, at the student council, then back out to everyone else.
"I'm not a prodigy. I'm not trying to win every competition. But I believe everyone has something to give. Even if it's not flashy. Even if no one notices right away. Sometimes, just being there for others is enough to matter."
A soft hush followed... quiet, but warm.
I let my gaze drift again, this time slower.
"But I won't stand here and say it's always easy. Because even when you do know your dream... when you chase it with everything you have, it still might not go the way you hoped."
The room fell quiet again.
"Sometimes they break you," I said. "Sometimes you give everything, and it still slips away. I've seen it. I've lived parts of it. The long nights, the quiet failures no one sees, the moments where you wonder if it was all worth it."
I paused for a second, not out of hesitation... just to let the weight of the words settle.
"But even knowing that, you're all here. You chose Suimei. A school where the competition is intense, the bar is high, and the pressure? It doesn't go away. So why?"
I met their eyes, one row at a time.
"Is it just for the prestige? For the chance to say you made it in? Or maybe… maybe it's because deep down, all of you still want to try. You want to hope... even if the dream might fail."
I smiled faintly.
"And that's brave."
I took a slow breath.
"I haven't been here long. Just three weeks, really. But even in that short time… I've seen something. Maybe not all of it... but enough to wonder."
I let my gaze drift gently across the room.
"Senpai who take time to guide. Clubs that welcome everyone. Teachers who actually listen. It's quiet… but it's there."
"I don't know if Suimei protects everyone. I can't promise that. But I want to believe it does. That even if you stumble... or fail, someone here will still care."
I smiled to myself, voice calm but steady.
"And maybe that's enough to keep trying."
There was a pause. A stillness in the air.
Then I looked back toward them all, toward faces still holding their breath.
"So whether you already know your dream, or you're still searching… whether you're standing tall or barely holding on… remember this,,, your choices matter. Even the small ones. Even the ones that don't look like much now."
I placed a hand gently on my chest.
"As vice president, I'll do my best to honor those choices. To see them, support them, whether you succeed or not. Because you're the protagonist of your own story. You choose how it's written, what route you take. And even if it's messy, I'll remember it."
A faint smile curled at my lips.
"This might not be the ghost member route I imagined… but maybe this one's more worthwhile. So keep choosing. Keep trying. You might just find something worth chasing."
I gave a respectful bow.
"And that's all from me."
The silence broke in an instant... an eruption of applause, loud and rising, filling the entire auditorium.
Behind me, Bossun-senpai stepped up and held out a hand high, his grin wide. "Vice Prez, that was killer."
I raised my hand and met his in a firm high five.
"Well," I said with a soft exhale, "it's done, President. I hope you'll show me what it means to carry the real responsibilities after school."
Bossun-senpai laughed. "Oof, another diligent one. I'm doomed."
I just smiled.