Every eye in the room watched as Makoto opened the bento box.
Inside were his favorite Sichuan dishes: twice-cooked pork, Shredded pork in garlic sauce, and a small rice cake tucked in the corner for dessert.
Four years under the same roof. Yui knew his palate inside and out.
"Heh, if I served something like that, I'd have already killed my....."
Terunori Kuga, lurking near the back, craned his neck to peer at the contents. A sneer curled his lip. As the Elite Ten's resident Sichuan specialist, he didn't even need to taste it. One glance at the color, one whiff of the aroma, and he could tell: in his restaurant, this would go straight in the trash.
Smack.
Before the last syllable left his mouth, an open palm cracked across his face hard enough to send him spinning in a Thomas flair before he hit the floor.
Kuga clutched his burning cheek, staring in disbelief at the person standing over him.
Rindo Kobayashi.
Of everyone on the Elite Ten, she was his closest ally. Not lovers, more like an older sister and her idiot little brother.
"Rindo, what the..."
Another slap cut him off.
As the Elite Ten's foremost wild-game specialist, Rindo spent her days hunting in tropical jungles. Most grown men couldn't match her in a fight. This second blow sent Kuga's vision dark, and he crumpled unconscious.
Sensing Makoto's group glancing her way, Rindo forced out an awkward laugh. "Ahaha, sorry about that. I think he had too much to drink..."
The moment Makoto looked away, she kicked Kuga's limp body for good measure.
Damn it. Being socially hopeless on a normal day is one thing, but running your mouth NOW?
That girl obviously means something to Makoto. Even if her cooking tasted like cardboard, who the hell asked you?
Under Yui's nervous, hopeful gaze, Makoto picked up the bento and polished it off in a few swift bites. Then he set down his chopsticks.
"Still plenty of room to improve."
Yui missed the subtext entirely. She took it as pure praise, and her face lit up like a sunrise, radiating so much happiness she practically glowed.
"Sensei-kun really is something else," Utaha Kasumigaoka murmured, clicking her tongue in quiet admiration.
Megumi Kato and the others nodded in silent agreement, as if they could see the words "AFFECTION: MAX" floating above Yui's head.
The last period that afternoon for Class 1-F was, as always, Ms. Shizuka Hiratsuka's Japanese language class.
Near the end, Makoto felt a light poke against his back.
He half-turned and glanced at Sonoko Suzuki sitting behind him. "What's up?"
Since taking Makoto's advice and letting her bangs down, Sonoko's looks had jumped up considerably. She leaned in, voice low. "Makoto, what if we started a club?"
"A club?"
"You said monsters like that crab thing from this morning might show up again, right? We can't slack off on training even in the real world. If we start a club, we'd have a place to train together. I can use my allowance to build a training ground like the ones in Konoha."
"A club..." The idea turned over in his mind.
Student life in Japan was incomparably better than his previous existence. School let out by three or four, leaving whole afternoons free. Most students joined clubs of some kind; only a handful went straight home.
For Airi and Marina Akizuki, Megumi Kato, Utaha Kasumigaoka, and the other girls close to him, Makoto had already mapped out individual training regimens.
They could practice on their own at home easily enough. But training together would be more efficient.
He leaned back and smiled. "So what's this club called?"
Sonoko scooted closer until her lips were practically at his ear, their faces inches apart.
"Combat Club? Ninja Club? The Makoto Club?"
She rattled off names in rapid succession.
Makoto laughed. Their whispering had already drawn half the classroom's attention.
Up at the podium, Shizuka Hiratsuka snapped another piece of chalk in her grip. She'd lost count of how many that made.
Oh, wonderful. They really think I can't see them, don't they?
The old Shizuka would've shut this down with her fists. But she was dealing with the heiress of one of Japan's Big Four conglomerates and a psychic who'd carved a bloody path across half the planet. So... never mind. Carry on.
She chose silence and pretended to see nothing.
Finally, the bell rang.
Shizuka exhaled. "That's all for today. Be careful on your way home." She gathered her notes and left.
"Sensei-kun, what were you and Sonoko whispering about?" Utaha was the first to pounce, followed by Chizuru Ichinose, Yumiko Miura, and the rest.
None of them had paid Sonoko much attention before. Money meant nothing to them now, just numbers on a screen. But once she'd let her bangs down, they'd all done a double-take. The plain girl was this pretty?
Makoto repeated what they'd discussed.
"Training together? That sounds fun."
"Having company would keep everyone motivated."
"But I already joined the karate club..."
"Ran, with your strength? You'd accidentally kill someone in a normal club."
The girls chattered back and forth, mostly in favor. After the crab monster incident, they understood that the real world wasn't safe either. They needed to grow stronger. They couldn't depend on Makoto forever.
In the middle of the commotion, a respectful voice called from the doorway. Senzaemon Nakiri, Totsuki Academy's Director, stood bowing at the entrance, his gaze fixed on Makoto with undisguised reverence.
"Nishikado-sama, might I have a word in private?"
Makoto's eyebrow twitched. He waved for the girls to wait, then followed Senzaemon out.
Inside the Director's office, at Senzaemon's insistence, Makoto settled into the Director's own chair.
The old man placed a document before him and spoke respectfully. "Nishikado-sama, yesterday at Haneda Airport you dispatched Former Prime Minister Ooka. His crimes warranted death, of course, but a nation cannot go without a leader. I'm here to ask you to choose the next Prime Minister."
He opened the first page and began his introductions.
Every candidate was backed by sprawling political networks. Sprawling by their standards, at least.
Makoto flipped through the names with mounting impatience.
Not a single one he recognized.
But the words "Japanese Prime Minister" triggered something, and a very specific image surfaced in his mind: a certain pink-haired cancer cell.
"Chika Fujiwara."
Senzaemon's brain stalled.
Fu... Fujiwara Chika? Who?
He'd never heard of anyone by that name in Japanese politics.
There was the Fujiwara political dynasty, certainly. One of them, Daichi Fujiwara, was even on his shortlist.
Wait.
A memory surfaced: a girl he'd once seen at a banquet, one whose figure rivaled even his own granddaughter's...
No. It couldn't be her.
Ten minutes later, in Shuchiin Academy's Student Council temporary office.
Chika Fujiwara, serving as Secretary, felt her phone buzz. It was her grandfather, a former Prime Minister himself, who doted on her endlessly and was always slipping her pocket money.
She assumed he just wanted to chat. But after she hit accept, her expression slowly froze.
"Fujiwara, what's wrong?" Kaguya Shinomiya, the Student Council President, approached with concern.
"Kaguya, I might not be able to stay on as your secretary."
"Huh?"
"I'm going to be Prime Minister."
"HUH???"
Shortly after Makoto and Senzaemon left, another visitor arrived at Class 1-F.
A familiar figure appeared in the doorway.
Eriri Spencer Sawamura, a fellow player enrolled in Class 1-B.
"Eriri? What brings you here?" Chizuru Ichinose asked. They'd been squadmates as genin.
Yumiko Miura chimed in. "Want to transfer to our class?"
"I... I'll think about it." Eriri managed a stiff smile, then turned to Megumi Kato and Utaha Kasumigaoka. She fidgeted for a moment before speaking up in a small voice. "Um... are you two still going to come to the club?"
Both of them blinked, and it took a moment before the memory surfaced. Right. Before the last crossover, they'd joined Tomoya Aki's doujin circle.
They'd spent so long in the Naruto world that the whole thing had been buried and forgotten.
Then they noticed the figure lurking behind Eriri: Tomoya Aki, head bowed, silent.
It clicked instantly. He didn't have the courage to ask himself, so he'd dragged his childhood friend along as a mouthpiece.
How pathetic can you get? Utaha thought.
Tomoya hung back, fingers white-knuckled on the hem of his shirt, heart slamming against his ribs. Utaha had guessed right.
He hadn't been able to face them, so he'd gone to Class B and pulled Eriri along. Seeing that Makoto wasn't here, he'd let himself relax just a fraction. A faint, desperate hope still flickered.
Utaha crossed her arms. "Sorry. I'll pass."
Megumi gave a small nod, her voice gentle but final. "Same. We have more important things now. You should find someone else, Aki."
After the crab monster, she had zero interest in gal games. If she'd been an orphan with nothing to lose, maybe. But she had both parents, people to protect. She didn't have the luxury of playing make-believe with Tomoya Aki.
Eriri opened her mouth to try again, but before she could, Tomoya dropped.
In front of everyone's stunned eyes, he fell to his knees in a full dogeza before Utaha and Megumi.
"I know you're busy, but this is my dream! You promised me, didn't you?" His eyes were red, tears pooling and threatening to spill, his voice cracking with barely contained hysteria. "We made a pact to create the greatest gal game ever! How can you just give up like that?!"
The outburst drew attention from the hallway. Students gathered, whispering.
"What's glasses-boy doing?"
"Those two are Nishikado's girls, aren't they?"
"Holy shit, he's got a death wish. Harassing Nishikado's women."
"I'm out. After what happened to Eizan, I couldn't eat for three days. I don't need to see another corpse."
The murmuring only made Utaha and Megumi's expressions colder. Tomoya's grand display hadn't softened them.
If anything, it repulsed them.
This is just emotional blackmail.
Then the hallway went quiet.
Not gradually. All at once, like someone had hit mute on the world.
The silence was so total it sent a chill through the room.
Makoto walked in.
His gaze dropped to Tomoya, still on his knees, then swept the room. "What's going on?"
Sonoko stepped forward and gave him a quick summary.
Everyone braced for the kill. Half the spectators were already edging toward the exits, not wanting the image of what came next burned into their dreams.
But after hearing Sonoko out, Makoto's reaction was unexpectedly calm. He simply beckoned to Megumi.
Megumi seemed to read his mind. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she walked over. His arm slid around her waist, and she leaned into him without resistance.
Tomoya went rigid.
Then, right before his eyes, Megumi rose on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Makoto's mouth.
Tomoya's chest heaved. Every breath felt like inhaling broken glass.
Before he could recover, Makoto's other hand gestured toward Utaha.
She rolled her eyes at him but came anyway, looping her arms around his neck, pulling him close, and planting a crisp, audible kiss on his cheek.
His two club members. Right there in front of him. Not hiding a thing, draped against Makoto, intimate as lovers.
Something in Tomoya Aki's skull, the wire labeled "sanity," snapped clean.
"AAAAAGH!!"
The scream tore out of him, raw and wretched. He scrambled to his feet, tripping over himself, and staggered out of the classroom.
That anguished wailing echoed down the busy corridor, turning heads left and right.
What's wrong with that guy?
Eriri stood rooted to the spot, utterly lost on what to do.
The students outside who hadn't escaped in time stared in collective shock.
Kill the body, then kill the soul. The man was thorough.