Classes ended at half past three, signaling the beginning of club activities.
Students stread out of classrooms in groups of three or five, heading toward their respective clubs. Those not involved in any clubs casually packed up, chatting about plans before heading ho.
As a newcor, Shiro Sakamaki wasn't affiliated with any club yet. After politely declining a few invitations from classmates, he packed his bag and prepared to leave school.
Last night, he had finally learned the truth from Chihiro Sengoku—this whole "dormitory" arrangent had been a prank orchestrated by his mother. aning: he'd have to find his own place to live.
Though the Sakurasou dorms were well-maintained and cozy, they were reserved for students of Suii Art High School. As soone from Shuchiin, he couldn't stay there long-term. He'd need to find alternative accommodations—soon.
But before that, he had one more obligation to fulfill.
That morning, he had promised Hiratsuka Shizuka he would visit the Supernatural Administration Bureau to register himself as a new extraordinary being in the area.
Just then, the sharp chirp of a car horn caught his attention.
A sleek red sports car pulled up beside him—the very sa one Hiratsuka-sensei was known to drive.
"Oi! You didn't forget our agreent, did you?" she called out from the driver's seat.
"Of course not, Sensei," Shiro replied, opening the passenger door and sliding in with ease. "So, we're heading there now?"
Hiratsuka waved a hand dismissively. "Club ti is overrated. My students will survive without for one day."
She glanced at him with half a smirk. "Besides, I can't risk you running into one of my agents and getting into a brawl before even registering."
Shiro gave her a grin. "You wound , Sensei. I'm all about peace."
"Right," she said, clearly unconvinced. "Let's hope you rember that."
The rest of the drive passed in relative silence. The cityscape blurred past the windows, gradually giving way to more remote roads. After about half an hour, they arrived at a governnt complex, low-key in appearance but heavy with the weight of hidden authority.
Thanks to Hiratsuka's presence and reputation, the registration process went smoothly. No one challenged or even questioned him.
The agents here respected Hiratsuka Shizuka, even if she could be a bit... intense. Her tendency toward "small acts of violence" aside, her leadership and fairness earned her deep loyalty.
She led Shiro into a small office, gave so final instructions, then excused herself to handle other business, leaving him alone to complete the process.
The registration officer was a stone-faced middle-aged man who didn't waste a second on small talk. They went through the paperwork efficiently. Once the information was logged, the man gestured toward the door. Shiro was free to go.
Stepping out of the building, Shiro suddenly rembered—today was sign-in day.
ntally activating the system, he completed his daily check-in. A brief notification appeared.
A pink scooter appeared in his inventory.
"...You've got to be kidding ," Shiro muttered, eye twitching.
He opened the detailed description anyway:
Phase Locomotive
Origin: Created by a naless alchemist from an alternate world. Painted pink due to exceptionally bad taste.
Top Speed: 600 km/h under normal circumstances.
Special Ability: At critical speed, it enters the Phase World—allowing speeds of up to 2252 km/h while ignoring spatial collision.
The scooter's functionality was... excellent. Ga-changing, really. But the bright bubblegum-pink color?
Shiro couldn't help but sigh.
"It's like a macho embarrassnt on wheels..."
Tempting as it was to try it out, he couldn't bring himself to be seen riding that thing. Instead, he chose a stealthier approach—activating a Divine Walking Spell and a Stealth Spell, allowing him to move swiftly without drawing attention.
By now, dusk was settling in. He'd spent too long at the bureau, and there wasn't enough ti to search for a new place to stay. Thankfully, Chihiro had offered him a temporary spot for the next week.
Tonight, she ntioned they were having hot pot.
Just hearing those words made Shiro's stomach rumble. A hot al with others sounded perfect after a long day.
While walking past a supermarket, he had a thought—why not contribute sothing?
He ended up buying twenty servings of premium beef and a variety of fresh vegetables.
Given his intense training in martial and physical arts, his appetite was far from average. He wasn't worried about leftovers.
Even the cashier was stunned. "Wow, this much beef? Hosting a party or sothing?" the staff asked, eyes wide with curiosity and mild envy.
Shiro just smiled. "Sothing like that."
They offered to deliver it to his ho, but he politely declined. In his last life, he'd had poor experiences with takeout in Japan. By the ti the food arrived, he'd often already lost his appetite.
Instead, he hauled the groceries himself, hailed a taxi, and loaded the bags into the back seat.
The driver was a middle-aged man with lively eyes and a confident air. As he expertly weaved through Tokyo's rush hour traffic, he struck up conversation.
"You know, back in the day, I was the fastest driver in Gunma Prefecture! My skills were legendary on Mt. Akina."
The way he described his exploits—with passion, dramatic pauses, and vivid imagery—Shiro had to fight the urge to laugh.
If this guy had pulled up in an old 86 instead of a taxi, I'd almost believe he's Fujiwara Takumi's long-lost uncle.
"Hard to believe it's been nineteen years," the driver said with a sigh. "Ti flies. Too bad my son has no knack for driving. Can't pass on everything, huh?"
He slapped the steering wheel in mock disappointnt.
Shiro chuckled. "Talent's a tricky thing. Not everyone chases that kind of thrill. It's not a bad thing."
The man glanced at him and grinned. "You're right, kid. You're absolutely right."
---
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