Modern Weapons Cheat In Another World Kai

What do you mean I'm not dead-dead?

There's nothing satisfying about a good passing grade when you have higher ambitions. So instead of preluding mental exhaustion with a stomach-twisting groan, Nagato Kazuya blew it away with a resigned sigh as he stuffed the written exams into his satchel.

With his wristwatch at sixteen hundred hours, the Westminster chime filled the building with life as he, his class, and every other room rose and bowed their sensei farewell for the day. Kazuya left the room second to the sensei before more dark-blue school uniforms flooded the hallway and turned his trip to the locker into a slog. But for once — with his forgettable face — he blended with the crowd because an average score for each subject was disappointing.

He has to be better; He must be better. As he wore his outdoor shoes, reality came as a slap and firm grip on the shoulder. He turned and saw eyeglasses reflecting before making up the class rep's face.

"Hey, Kazuya. The class' headed to the karaoke to celebrate. Can't have an otaku like you missing out, now can we?"

Kazuya forced a regretful smile. "Is that so? Sorry, but I already made some plans for the evening."

Sealing it with a nervous laugh, his classmate hid a sulk. "Shame. I'll see you around then."

He waved. "Have fun."

As the class rep turned his back, Kazuya dropped his smile. Really, all it took was a clean haircut and peer-pressured to tell which university you'll take to put two and two together. At least it's better than getting called a nationalist. The usual groups of friends left the gates, already talking about what to order to celebrate the exam results, while others looked down in defeat.

He joined the loose group heading to the subway. Kazuya recognized some faces mixed in the crowd and even had names for them. Otaku glasses guy beside him had confidence issues and planned to join Polytechnic University like his life depended on it. Yamato Middle-class Nadeshiko up ahead betrayed his expectations after learning her ambitions required entering National Fisheries University because of her mother's green thumb twiddling in the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries.

To each their own. Every yen spent on cram school is a yen wasted on every absence.

"Ow!"

A bizarre amount of metal clinked, and something thudded on the ground. Stuck in his musings, Kazuya failed to notice his pace and hit a girl, causing her to drop her phone.

"Ah, sorry–"

As he stumbled for a response, an arm swung to his collar and pulled him. Neck chains and dangling earrings dazzled him and then came the color yellow.

"Watch where you're going, you pervert!"

Oh. Kazuya relaxed his body. Dealing with a gyaru with a personality appropriate to societal expectations was already a chore. He allowed a few more seconds of silence for her reflection, provided she was humble enough. The more a person loses control, the less they hear your words — and the more they react to your body language.

"It's my fault for not paying attention," he voiced with sincerity, "but please let go of me," and ended with neutrality, setting his boundaries, never over-reacting, but reminding her she went out of line.

The first step of de-escalation is to empathize. Whether or not it justified the actions, the gyaru's still a person. Maybe she had a rough day, and for her to use the H-word, something must've happened to be abrupt, physical, and scandalizing in this collective society.

She glowered. But beneath its ferocity was crumbling frustration. Insecurity? Perhaps, but there's no reason to involve himself in needless conflict. Bystanders gawked at the scene. CCTVs rolled 24/7, dates and time marked. She'd give up if she was smart enough to know what'll happen to her if he disappeared and reappeared with bruises. Having a JGSDF Major for a father had its benefits.