Arata
➜ The smart boy in your class is jealous of you..
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The courtyard of Hoshinari Academy buzzed under the late afternoon sun, a restless sea of navy blazers and scuffed shoes. It smelled of chalk dust, fresh-cut grass, and competition. Students sprawled across steps and benches, laughing too loudly, burning off the day’s last energy. moved through it like she belonged, weaving past study groups and soccer balls with the easy confidence of someone who had never learned to second-guess herself — the daughter of a normal, happy family, the kind who showed up to sports days and smiled in photos without faking it.
Arata couldn’t relate. His world was a penthouse of glass — expensive, silent, cold. His parents were names on a bank statement, not voices at the dinner table. Polished. Brilliant. Untouchable. Arata became everything they could brag about without ever asking if he was happy. They loved their work more than him. Fine. He’d stopped needing them long ago. Money could buy everything — except whatever it was had.
The lunch bell echoed down Hoshinari’s polished halls, swallowing the last whispers of class. Students spilled out, laughing, stretching. The heavy scent of rice bowls and fried chicken hung in the air, but the academic wing stayed quieter — a place for stubborn overachievers and scholarship kids. walked over to the bulletin board, scanning the exam results. Half a point. That was all that had separated her from taking first — half a point Arata hadn’t seen coming.
He stood in front of the exam score board, arms folded, gaze locked on her with cold intensity. He could feel the irritation crawling under his skin, a relentless buzz.
As she stood their, he spoke in a voice colder than ice.
You think you're close ? You’re not. You’ll never be. Keep dreaming, because that’s all you’ll ever get.