Going to school and leaving Rinko behind that morning was a real ordeal.
A biblical ordeal.
Like Job, but with more boobs and fewer sheep.
And not just because she was his summoned servant through a spiritual contract and loyalty of the "I'll follow you to Hell and still brew your tea" variety.
But because, for the first time since she appeared in his life with that samurai princess elegance straight out of a historical doujinshi…
She was truly smiling.
And what a smile.
What a smile.
Gentle. Soft. Almost maternal.
One of those perfect Onee-san smiles that makes every otaku search for summoning circles on obscure internet forums.
Onee-san mode activated.
The kind of smile that made even demons stop mid-attack and think, "hmm... am I really living my life right?"
Rinko still carried that aristocratic air of a noblewoman from feudal Japan — only now with a sparkle in her eyes that made everything infinitely more torturous.
It was incredibly hard for Motohama to keep his composure during moments when she knelt to serve tea or adjusted his clothes with fingers way too delicate for the nation's safety, saying things like "Have a good day, Master" in that voice that made every instinct in him scream:
"MARRY HER NOW, YOU FOOL."
Because he was her master, he should be in control… no matter how hard it was.
And that should have given him some kind of moral advantage.
But all he felt was the pressure of not fainting every time she adjusted her maid outfit — which he gave her — with fingers too gentle for their own good.
Or worse… everything nearly fell apart whenever she leaned forward and her generous chest in that maid outfit pressed against him as she straightened his collar with a soft, "Oh no, it's crooked again..."
They were still connected through a firm spiritual bond — master and servant — that let them know each other's location and, thanks to the assimilation of the "Glint" through the Essence of the Heir Yhwach, his Quincy ability package included many powers he had in his past life using the "Glint," including telepathy.
It was basically the perfect modern dating package: loyalty, GPS, and psychic WhatsApp.
He felt that with every passing minute, the barrier between self-control and hormonal apocalypse got thinner.
And then came school. Which, let's be honest, was no oasis of spiritual peace.
Since acquiring the Essence, Motohama had undergone a few changes. A sparkle in the eyes, improved posture, a slight personality shift accompanied by more confident energy.
But everything went off the rails when, during one of the many times he was killed by Kurogane — again — his Re:Start ability copied a beauty coupon (yes, a COUPON) from Kurogane, and Motohama went from "nerd with pervy side character vibes" to Japanese dating sim cover model.
One day after using the coupon and rewinding time, life changed — he looked like a gacha game SSR protagonist: sharp face, flawless skin, and anime hair fresh out of the shower.
Even with his opaque-lensed glasses that hid his eyes and especially his Quincy aura, Motohama was now the "mysterious crush of 4th year."
At first, it was just the first- and second-year girls whispering.
Then the third years.
But things got messier due to one new factor: the haircut Rinko gave him herself.
The new cut and style she gave him was like tossing gasoline on the hormonal fire of the student body. He was probably now the "mysterious crush of 2nd year" too.
He never imagined something so small would have such a big impact.
But now, every time a girl stared at him, he felt more threatened than when facing Kurogane or Shirou.
And that was a problem. A problem with boobs, citrus shampoo scent, and a desire to touch his glasses.
Trying to maintain the "normal student" disguise, Motohama fought an epic battle every morning: not to panic every time a girl walked up and said, "Can you take off your glasses just for a second~?" — it was like a mini-boss showing up in the RPG that was his life.
The problem? The glasses were now his spiritual camouflage tool. Removing them would be like lighting up a neon sign blinking "I'M THE SOURCE OF THAT AURA THAT DROVE THE SUPERNATURAL WORLD CRAZY — COME EAT ME."
So he needed to:
Not let anyone remove his glasses unless he was prepared;Not use too much power;Stick to the daily schedule without altering the timeline;And above all, not give in to his inner pervert — who now shouted in ALL CAPS: "TAKE THEM TO THE STORAGE ROOM RIGHT NOW, PLEASE!!!"
He was exhausted before lunch break.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Motohama?" — the teacher asked, frowning.
He looked up slowly. And before he could say a word, the girl sitting behind him leaned forward, smiling with the boldness of someone who thought she was in a shoujo anime episode:
"Teacher! He's just hot! I think he should take off his glasses to cool down!"
A chorus of giggles followed. Whispers. A girl in front literally bit her pen and murmured, "ah, my type..."
"NO, THAT WON'T HELP! THE CLASS WILL BECOME TARGET OF SUPERNATURAL BEINGS IN A FRENZY!" — Motohama screamed internally.
He was sweating cold. Forced a smile that looked more like a facial glitch, which only worsened the girls' reactions.
To him, it was a nervous, tense smile... almost clinical. He could feel the burning stares of the other boys in the class on the back of his neck. It was like being trapped between keeping his cover and the imminent threat of a mutiny.
— "That bastard's using some kind of cheat!"
— "I bet he made a pact with a boob goddess!"
— "Let's glue those glasses to his face during lunch!"
And as if the universe wanted to mess with him one more time, Rinko's voice echoed in his mind — subtle, with a touch of humor and perfectly timed:
"Hmm… seems you're struggling to keep your composure, Motohama-kun~"
"YOU'RE ENJOYING MY SUFFERING!"
"Of course not, Master… just admiring your progress. And your hormonal resistance."
Motohama closed his eyes and used his powers to locate her.
"You're drinking tea with my money while I suffer here, aren't you?"
"With two sugar cubes. And imported biscuits."
"YOU'RE THE DEVIL."
"I'm your servant, my Master. Just fulfilling your destiny… surrounded by girls in heat."
"You've changed so much…"
"I think... I'm just returning to who I really am. Thank you."
"I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die horny with no outlet."
"Hmm… at least you'll die in style~"
"DYING WITH A HARD-ON IS… uh… better than soft… I guess..."
Motohama bit his lower lip. Hard.
This was getting dangerous.
And not just because girls were now calling him the "Dark Prince of Glasses" in secret school group chats...
He could also sense dark presences moving.
Before, the familiars of the school's devils seemed focused on Shirou or Kurogane.
Now… they were watching him too.
The hallway was emptier than usual that morning, but Motohama felt like he was carrying three invisible backpacks: one of hormones, one of spiritual pressure, and one of pure social despair.
He had to repeat all the actions he had taken the other times he lived through this day, and one of them was going to the restroom during a class.
He turned the hallway corner, trying to keep his "just a normal student" look, even if inside he was screaming for no one to come close.
Then the air grew… heavier.
As if the school had swapped the AC for a sulfur-scented oven.
Demonic presence.
Strong.
Refined.
Stinky.
Motohama froze.
There they were.
Sona Shitori.
Student Council President. Queen of composure. Pure-blooded devil.
Beside her was Shinra Tsubaki, Student Council Vice-President.
Motohama forced a smile.
(Probably the kind a McDonald's employee gives a customer at 11:59 PM.)
Sona walked with measured grace, like she glided across the floor. Her cold violet eyes landed on him.
For a second — just one second — her eyes narrowed slightly.
Suspicion.
Her instincts told her something was different about him.
Or at least… something bothered her.
"Mr. Motohama," she said, voice as neutral as a ceremonial sword strike. "I would like to ask you to keep your… friends in check."
Motohama blinked, feigning surprise.
"My friends...?"
"We've received an excessive number of complaints involving 'indecent behavior,' 'peeking in locker rooms,' and..." she consulted a small notepad, "an unwilling volleyball team photo shoot."
"Ah… that..."
He scratched his neck, sweating cold. The sulfur smell from Sona was so strong it felt like it scorched his nostrils.
Inside, his Quincy instincts reacted like a cat with raised fur.
"She smells like distilled Hell. Dear God. No wait... technically she doesn't smell, her presence does... and boy, does it stink."
He took a deep breath, struggling just to stabilize his energy and maintain the camouflage that hid his Quincy nature while keeping a calm expression.
"Of course, of course... we'll act with more... moderation... we'll try," he said with a trembling smile.
Tsubaki next to Sona kept her gaze fixed on him. Not aggressive, but… analytical. Like they were trying to sniff out something beneath his mysterious nice-guy façade.
Motohama bowed slightly, just to be polite.
"And thank you for the warning, President Shitori. I'll keep… what you said in mind," he said, a drop of sweat trailing down his face, his stomach turning from the overwhelming presence and stench of the two.
Sona looked at him for another second.
An uncomfortable silence followed.
Then, she nodded — and turned away with the grace of a demonic empress returning to her throne.
The two of them walked away. But until they disappeared at the end of the hallway, Motohama's skin tingled.
As soon as they turned the corner, he exhaled like someone emerging from a tsunami.
Rinko popped into his head:
"Hee~ did you meet your first 'demonic department boss,' Master?"
"She's made of sulfur and passive-aggressive judgment. My stomach is trying to leave my body."
"I'm glad you're socializing~"
"SOCIALIZING?! I WAS JUST WARNED BY HELL IN STUDENT COUNCIL FORM."
"You're doing great. Now you just need to chat with Lucifer in the principal's office."
"....."
He adjusted his glasses and walked forward, determined.
Keeping the act.
Even if every cell in his body screamed:
"EVERYONE CAN FEEL IT! YOU STINK! GO TAKE A SHOWER!"
Still...
He was winning. One day at a time... after running to vomit in the bathroom.
Somehow, Motohama managed to survive the rest of the school day… with more unexpected events than he liked.
He tried his best to speak to the same people and repeat the same actions… even though he ended up talking to way more girls than anticipated.
The cafeteria scene, however — much to Motohama's relief — played out almost identically to before.
He noticed that Shirou and Kurogane kept glancing at him throughout the day with subtle suspicion, as if they were comparing his current appearance to faint memories from their past lives in the anime he had once appeared in.
But in the end, they seemed to ignore it.
After the final bell echoed through the halls of Kuoh Academy, students began to scatter — or at least, they should have. That was what normally happened.
But that afternoon felt… off.
Motohama noticed it first.
There was something in the air.
Something that froze feet and opened mouths in murmurs.
Instead of the usual stampede of tired students racing for the main gate, there was a small crowd — boys and girls from all grades — grouped together like zombies hypnotized by a divine lighthouse.
Their eyes whispered among each other, curious, hungry. And all of them, without exception, were looking in the same direction.
Motohama, standing with Issei and Matsuda, followed the trail of stares.
And then… he stopped.
His heart jumped so hard it almost knocked his glasses off.
Outside, leaning casually against the school wall like she was in a luxury perfume commercial… was her.
Akiyama Rinko.
She didn't need to move to hypnotize. Her very presence made gravity hesitate.
The breeze that toyed with her long purple hair tied in a high ponytail seemed choreographed by a movie director.
The golden sunset wrapped her so perfectly that not even Instagram filters could compete.
She wore a sleeveless green turtleneck that hugged her chest like it had been sculpted by Florentine artisans.
Light jeans hugged her curves with architectural precision.
And the white sneakers? Simple. Perfect.
As if her casualness had signed a contract with the gods of aesthetics.
She was smiling.
A smile that seemed to say: "Yes, I'm aware of the effect I have. And no, I'm not in a hurry."
And then… that smile locked directly onto Motohama.
A delicate wave followed.
As if nothing — and no one — else existed.
Students around them reacted in stunned silence.
Some pointed to themselves in disbelief, like "Wait, she's waving at me? Did I… get chosen?"
One boy dropped his backpack.
A girl choked on her gum.
Motohama swallowed hard and walked forward, ignoring the murmurs popping around him like poorly-hidden fireworks.
— "H-Hey… M-Motohama… what are you doing?!" — Issei followed him like Motohama was about to leap off a cliff. Matsuda trailed behind, trembling.
Motohama stopped in front of Rinko and took a deep breath.
— "You… didn't say you were coming here," he said, trying to keep a calm tone while the world stopped around them.
Rinko tilted her head slightly.
— "I thought it would be a nice surprise… Was I wrong?" — her voice softened at the end, eyes looking away like a shy shoujo heroine.
Motohama frowned slightly.
He reached out and gently tapped her forehead with two fingers.
— "Baka. It was a good surprise. You're beautiful as always. But today… even more so."
Rinko touched the spot on her forehead where he had tapped, realizing that such a simple gesture carried far more meaning than it appeared. She blushed.
— "T-Thank you, Motohama-kun..." — she whispered, glancing away, red as a bashful strawberry.
— "Ah! Are these your friends?"
Matsuda and Issei stood like museum statues. Their brains blue-screened the moment they were acknowledged.
— "I-I'm... Matsuda..." — he mumbled, trying to subtly hide a growing nosebleed.
— "I-I'm Issei! NICE TO MEET YOU!" — he bowed so quickly he nearly spun like a top.
Rinko changed. Her expression firmed. Posture straightened.
She shifted from "casual schoolgirl" to… noble lady of an ancient clan.
Placing her hands together in front of her, she bowed with ceremonial grace.
— "I am Akiyama Rinko. First-ranked candidate to Kusanagi-sama's harem." — she declared, like she was announcing the dawn of a new era.
— "Thank you very much for being friends with Kusanagi-sama. He's told me how long you've been close and how much he values your friendship."
— "Ah, Motohama, you said that? Man, you're like a... uh..." — Issei said with a grin, scratching the back of his neck, until the words "harem candidate" processed and his mind short-circuited.
— "Yeah dude, like a brother... uh—" Matsuda added, only to freeze as the realization hit.
For a second, the entire area went dead silent — you could hear the wind carrying the leaves.
Someone in the back dropped a juice box.
Another student fainted.
— "Did... she say harem?" — someone whispered.
— "HAREM?!" — Issei and Matsuda shouted in perfect sync, like they'd been struck by lightning.
— "YOU HAVE A HAREM?!" — Issei grabbed Motohama's collar, shaking him like a betrayed soldier. — "WHY DID YOU HIDE THIS FROM US?! I THOUGHT WE WERE BREAST BROTHERS!"
— "HAREM MASTER! HAREM MASTER!!" — Matsuda cried, spinning on the ground hugging his knees, then dropping to them like Mo
— "H-Hey! I don't have a harem!" — Motohama tried to explain, panicking as he was shaken — "Not yet, at least!!"
— "'Not yet,' he says!" — shouted Issei, letting go as if struck by divine revelation. — "HE'S ALREADY IN THE EARLY STAGES! THE PLAN IS ALREADY IN MOTION!"
Rinko blinked, placing a finger on her chin with a serene smile.
— "Of course it's not a functioning harem yet. Declaring something unearned would be dishonorable... But..."
She turned to Motohama, eyes gleaming with barely hidden amusement —
"...all candidates must pass my personal evaluation, naturally."
Her smile was as sweet as it was threatening.
Motohama was sweating buckets.
Issei was writing furiously in his notebook: "Harem screening — samurai
Matsuda remained on his knees, praying to Motohama.
In the background, the crowd of students — still silently watching — began to spread rumors.
Boys began murmuring:
— "She said harem..."
— "Who the hell is this ikemen?!"
— "I bet he's a disguised demon… or an exiled prince..."
— "You think he's a virgin?"
— "With that girlfriend? No way."
Girls began murmuring:
— "Harem? Him?"
— "Wait… he has that silent charm..."
— "No! It's always the quiet ones… they have secrets!"
— "I just wanted to go home and now I want to join the harem…"
— "You think there's an application?"
Motohama tried not to spontaneously combust.
Rinko leaned in, her voice brushing his ear like warm velvet.
— "Master~... you're blushing. How cute."
— "You're doing this on purpose…" — he whispered back, breathless, watching her take a step back and speak louder:
— "Of course I am. I'm competing for your attention, after all."
In the distance, the mental sound of a thousand brains exploding echoed like fireworks.
The war had begun.
And Rinko...
Was already winning.