VOLUME #1 - EPISODE 1
[NARRATOR: Some mornings are quiet. Gentle. The kind where traffic hums and pigeons exist peacefully and nobody gets challenged to a pineapple duel. And then there are mornings like this one. Where the sidewalk becomes a stage and the city becomes an audience and a teenager with gravity-defying purple hair and a red bow tie comes charging down the street like he personally invented the concept of entrance. Where destiny doesn't knock politely on the door—it kicks it open so hard it rebounds off the stopper. Where a school that has survived earthquakes, typhoons, and festivals involving suspicious amounts of fireworks is about to meet the one thing it was never prepared for. His name is Riyura Shiko. And this is where everything begins.]
The Bow-Tied Hurricane Arrives!
The city of Onamikawa had seen its share of earthquakes, typhoons, and local festivals involving suspicious amounts of fireworks, but it had never—ever—prepared for Riyura Shiko.
At exactly 7:42 a.m., the peaceful hum of morning traffic shattered under the rhythm of squeaky sneakers and a voice yelling, "GOOD MORNING, WORLD! YOUR FAVORITE NATURAL DISASTER IS BACK IN BUSINESS!"
Pedestrians scattered like extras in an action movie. A cat dove into a gutter. And there he was—Riyura himself—charging down the sidewalk like a comet that had decided jogging was beneath it. His dark-purple hair jutted out in angles that defied gravity, reason, and several hair-care laws. Emerald-green eyes glittered beneath them, the kind of eyes that said something chaotic is about to happen, and it's already too late to stop it.
His uniform was regulation—technically. His tie, however, was a bright red bow that looked far too formal for the rest of him. It flapped wildly in the wind as if it had its own character arc.
He sang as he ran. Not a song anyone knew—just a string of improvised lyrics about toast, destiny, and how his backpack was "probably sentient by now."
"Jeremy High!" he shouted, leaping over a puddle. "Brace yourself! For I, Riyura Shiko, bring forth... academic mayhem!" Somewhere in the city, a teacher sneezed. Destiny stirred.
The Transfer Nobody Asked For
Riyura's parents had insisted this would be a "fresh start." After The Incident at Yakamiko High—now immortalized online under the nickname "The Great Pudding Trampoline Ferret Fiasco"—the Shikos thought a new environment might help their son "find focus."
Riyura wasn't sure what "focus" was. He suspected it was something adults invented to sell planners.
His parents hugged him that morning with forced optimism, whispering, "Just... try to act normal today." Riyura, ever sincere, had nodded and replied, "Define normal."
They'd chosen silence instead.
Now, as he approached Jeremy High, Riyura stopped in the middle of the street and looked up. The school towered like a castle, sunlight glinting off its windows in dramatic lens flare. Students streamed in through the gates, chatting, laughing, existing peacefully.
Not for long.
He struck a pose so heroic it nearly dislocated his shoulder and shouted, "JEREMY HIGH! I'M HOME—SORT OF—BUT EMOTIONALLY—WE'LL GET THERE!"
Every head turned. A senior dropped his coffee. A student whispered, "Is he filming something?" Another answered, "I think he might be filming."
Unfazed, Riyura winked at a confused pigeon perched on the gatepost. "You get it, bird. You see the vision."
The Hallway Catastrophe
The first ten minutes inside Jeremy High were a masterclass in chaos theory.
Riyura tried to find the staff office and instead walked into the basketball club meeting, where he challenged the captain to "a duel of destiny—using pineapples." He then met the school's top honor student, bowed solemnly, and pulled a kazoo from his pocket. He blew a single ominous note, whispered, "Our fates are intertwined," and walked away.
He left behind a confused silence and the faint smell of pineapple.
When a teacher finally intercepted him, Riyura was mid-conversation with a vending machine, trying to convince it to dispense friendship instead of soda.
"Riyura Shiko, correct?" said the teacher, sighing as if his soul were aging by the second. "You're in Class 1-B. Please, just... try not to make an entrance."
"Understood!" Riyura said, saluting. "I'll make a grand entrance." That was not reassurance.
The Locker War
At his new locker, Riyura discovered that reality itself seemed determined to test him. The door jammed. He tugged once. Twice. Then, eyes narrowing like a professional wrestler entering an arena, he pointed dramatically at the metal.
"So, it's combat you want, huh?"
Within seconds, he was performing a full monologue about "the eternal rivalry between human kind and the pure will of hardened metal." Students gathered. Bets were placed. Someone began filming.
"Witness!" Riyura cried, wrenching at the handle. "This battle shall echo through the halls of history!" The locker opened. A burst of confetti exploded out.
The crowd screamed. The phone camera caught Riyura grinning triumphantly, as if he had orchestrated it—which, disturbingly, he probably had.
"Victory belongs to the persistent!" he declared. "Also, to whoever packed that confetti—impeccable touch."
Rumor later claimed he'd planted it there earlier that morning, predicting he'd struggle with the lock. Evidence: inconclusive. Entertainment value: maximum.
The First Lesson
Class 1-B buzzed with anticipation. Word of the new transfer student had spread faster than gossip about the cafeteria menu.
Then the door slammed open so hard it rebounded off the stopper. Riyura Shiko entered—not walked, not strolled—slid across the floor on his knees, arms wide like a rock star finishing an encore.
"Greetings, comrades of academic warfare!" he bellowed. "I am Riyura Shiko! Transferred, transformed, and fully caffeinated! Together we shall conquer the tyrant known as homework!"
A pencil dropped somewhere. A teenager in the front row whispered, "What is happening?" The teacher closed his eyes, muttering a quiet prayer to any deity listening.
"Please write your name on the board," the teacher said finally. Riyura nodded gravely, grabbed a piece of chalk, and proceeded to draw his name—in bubble letters shaped like dancing chickens.
"Artistic integrity matters," he said, dusting his hands. The teacher stared at the board, then at Riyura. "...Sit down."
Lunchtime Lunacy
Most students spend lunch eating. Riyura treated it like the opening night at an opera.
His lunchbox was a masterpiece of effort and confusion—rice balls shaped like penguins, egg rolls dressed as samurai, even a small flag reading "You can do it!" stuck in the mashed potatoes.
"Is... is that food cheering for him?" one student asked.
Halfway through the meal, Riyura climbed atop the table, took a deep breath, and announced, "Everyone! I dedicate this next aria to the noble dumpling who fell in battle!" He began singing a heartfelt, off-key ballad about soy sauce and destiny.
Half the cafeteria cried laughing. The other half pretended not to know him. Even the lunch worker clapped at the finale.
When the teacher's whistle finally ordered him down, Riyura bowed dramatically and whispered to his dumpling, "They weren't ready for your flavor."
The Quiet After the Storm
But chaos can't roar forever.
After classes, Riyura volunteered for cleaning duty—mostly because no one else would share a broom with him. The hallways were emptying out when a shy first-year stumbled on the stairs, sending their books cascading like dominoes.
Riyura didn't hesitate. He leapt from halfway up the steps, slid down the railing with perfect reckless grace, and caught the books before they hit the ground.
"Gotcha!" he said, landing in a position straight out of a superhero movie.
The younger student blinked, speechless. Riyura handed back the books and smiled—not his stage smile, not his grin of mischief, but something gentler.
"You gotta watch your step, yeah?" he said softly. "The ground's greedy—it'll take anything you drop." The student laughed nervously. "You're... kinda weird."
"Correct," Riyura said cheerfully. "But weirdness keeps the world spinning." The kid smiled, thanked him, and ran off. Riyura watched them go, eyes softer than usual.
The Emotional Break
After cleaning, Riyura drifted through the empty halls. For the first time all day, there was no audience. No laughter. Just the hum of fluorescent lights and the echo of his own footsteps.
He stopped by a classroom window, looking out at the courtyard below. Students laughed together in little groups—familiar circles he wasn't part of. His reflection in the glass smiled, but it looked faintly tired around the edges.
He touched the red bow tie at his throat. It had been a gift from his parents on his first day of elementary school. He'd refused to take it off ever since, a small promise to "always be himself." Somewhere along the way, that had become his armor—loud colors, loud voice, loud everything—to hide the quiet thought that maybe he was too much.
"Fitting in's overrated anyway," he muttered, trying to sound casual even to himself.
He remembered the looks at Yakamiko High—the laughter, yes, but not the good kind. The way teachers sighed like he was an equation that wouldn't balance. The moment the pudding incident spiraled out of control and everyone finally had an excuse to get rid of him.
For a second, he wondered if Jeremy High would be any different. Then he shook his head. If he couldn't fit the world's mold, he'd just make his own shape—bigger, louder, stranger, but real.
He smiled again, genuinely this time. "Let's cause some beautiful trouble."
Rooftop Reflections
As twilight painted the sky in lazy orange, Riyura climbed onto the school roof—because of course he did. He lay flat on his back, hands behind his head, bow tie fluttering in the breeze.
Below him, the school pulsed with life—clubs, chatter, plans for tomorrow. Above him, clouds drifted like unbothered thoughts. "They think I'm weird," he murmured. "Good. Means they're paying attention."
He laughed to himself—quietly, almost shyly. For all his antics, Riyura wasn't trying to annoy anyone. He just wanted people to feel alive. To remember that ordinary days could be wild and strange and full of laughter. He believed in joy like some people believed in religion.
"Tomorrow," he said, pointing dramatically at the setting sun, "I will conquer the art club. And possibly physics. Depends on who's more dangerous."
A gust of wind carried his voice into the distance. Somewhere on the grounds below, a janitor looked up and sighed. "We're doomed." Riyura grinned wider.
The Ending Sequence (In Your Imagination)
Cue the pastel-colored ending theme: Riyura running through a field of dancing octopuses, his bow tie flapping, his laughter echoing over the credits. Snapshots flash—him sharing lunch with new friends, him accidentally setting off a fire alarm with enthusiasm, him looking at the stars from the roof, whispering something only he can hear.
The words "TO BE CONTINUED..." shimmer across the sky.
And just like that, Jeremy High's most unpredictable student begins his legend—not as a delinquent or a clown, but as a reminder that sometimes, the world needs someone willing to make a little noise.
Because in a city that had grown used to quiet mornings, Riyura Shiko was a hurricane—and somehow, that felt like hope.
[NARRATOR-RIYURA: Riyura Shiko here. First day at Jeremy High officially survived. Legend status currently unconfirmed but trending upward. The locker lost. The dumpling was mourned with full honors. The kazoo was deployed responsibly. And somewhere in this school there is a pigeon who understood the vision completely. Nobody asked for a transfer student who slides into classrooms on his knees and challenges vending machines to philosophical debates. Nobody prepared for a teenager whose armor is a red bow tie and whose weapon is the kind of joy that makes ordinary days feel like they matter. But that's the thing about hurricanes. Nobody asks for those either. And yet somehow—somehow—they change everything they touch. Jeremy High has no idea what's coming next. Honestly? Neither do I. Stay tuned, dear readers. The bow tie is just getting started.]
TO BE CONTINUED...