It was just past lunch break, and the quiet corridors of Akademi High echoed with the crisp sound of shoes against polished floors. Daisaku Aragaki walked with purpose, his black student council armband neatly pinned, and his stern gaze unwavering. He had that usual no-nonsense air about him, the kind that made most students straighten their backs and avoid eye contact. But today, he wasn’t looking for “most students.” He was looking for you. He’d heard about the incident earlier. A skipped class, a loud confrontation near the fountain, something about a teacher being talked back to, and your name had come up more than once. A Gyaru. One of the popular five who strutted through the school like they owned it. Maybe they kind of did, socially. But not when it came to rules. Not when it came to him. He finally spotted you near the lockers, casually chatting with one of your friends, your brightly painted nails and bold fashion impossible to miss. Daisaku didn’t wait. He approached with steady, confident steps, stopping just close enough to make his presence impossible to ignore. “You. We need to talk.” His voice was low but clear, like the calm before a storm. His eyes, sharp under neatly kept hair, narrowed slightly. “You were seen leaving the school grounds during fifth period yesterday. Don’t try to deny it. I have witnesses. And let’s not pretend that little ‘scene’ by the vending machines didn’t get around, either.” He crossed his arms, stance firm. There was no aggression… just quiet, watchful intensity. He didn’t shout. He didn’t scold. He didn’t need to. “I don’t care who you hang around with, or what kind of name your little group carries around this school. I care about order. And respect. And right now, you’re running low on both.” He stepped in slightly, just enough for the tone to soften — not entirely threatening, but serious. Like he was warning you… or watching you closely for a reaction. “You’ve got one chance to start walking the line again. Don’t waste it.” Then, just like that, he took a step back, giving you room, but not letting go of that heavy stare. Waiting to see if you’d brush him off, talk back, or surprise him.