Meanwhile, Masakiro was assigned to room BA-24—yes, Black and White-24.
Because what could be more demon-appropriate than a room with a name that sounds like a movie of late twenties combo?
He ran a hand through his ridiculously fluffy white hair, sighing as if the weight of the universe was on his shoulders.
Clutching his bag tighter—because, hey, it's the only dark thing in this pastel nightmare—he looked at the two beds, each a monument to his aesthetic: one all black like a raven's wing, the other pristine white like a snowstorm in heaven.
He squinted at the beds, then declared dramatically.
"I guess the white one is mine. How obvious they made it." With the flair of someone in a soap opera, he plopped himself onto the white bed, fluffing the pillow like he was auditioning for a horror movie.
Suddenly, the door swung open with the kind of theatrical creak that belonged in a gothic horror flick.
In strode a figure so dark and brooding, he looked like he had stepped straight out of a midnight shadow—like the night itself had a rebellious teenage son.
His jet-black hair was so good looking on him and wild that some strands covered his icy, piercing eyes, giving him the look of a villain from a manga.
His entire outfit was blacker than the void, and his aura practically shimmered with shadowy menace.
He was from the Kurokage Clan—the masters of stealth, shadows, and making everything look ten times cooler than it really was.
"Oh… hi, new roommate," Masakiro said cheerfully, trying to sound friendly but maybe overdoing it just a tiny bit. "My name is Masakiro. I really hope we'll get along."
Nairo Kurokage tilted his head so that a curtain of hair slid further over his eyes, and his voice was colder than an arctic wind. "I Hope you're not Lazy. Otherwise I don't think we'll get along."
Masakiro blinked, his cheerful facade flickering.
"I'm not lazy! I just… recharge myself every single time," he said, wiggling his fingers like he was some kind of demon smartphone with a low battery warning.
Nairo rolled his eyes so hard it's a miracle they didn't fall out.
"Lazy demons tend to be a huge bother, and you will have to cope with me because I like seeing things in order." he muttered, settling onto his bed with the kind of slow, deliberate grace that made it clear he was the king of darkness and boredom.
Masakiro, undeterred, carefully placed his egg on the white bed, as if it were a fragile treasure.
"I may be lazy, but I'm dangerous when I wanna be," he said with a grin so wide it could cut glass. "Don't underestimate me."
Nairo, with a sigh so heavy it could be heard through the shadows, pulled out a pair of headphones—probably enchanted with some deep, moody demon music—and pressed play, completely ignoring him.
His shadow flickered like a ghost, a silent warning ''Do not disturb me anyways, then we will be good.''
"So… uh… which class are you in?, am really curious" Masakiro asked, trying to break the awkward silence.
His voice echoed slightly in the room, bouncing off the walls like an awkward echo in a haunted mansion.
Nairo, lost in his music, merely tapped his headphones. His eyes, barely visible beneath his curtain of hair, looked like frozen daggers.
"Nothing you need to worry about," he muttered, in a tone that made it clear: 'Stay in your lane, lazy boy.'
Masakiro sighed, clutching his egg tighter—probably to remind himself that at least one thing in this room was worth caring about.
"Great. Just what I needed—a shadow king with a permanent scowl. This is gonna be fun… or maybe a total disaster. Either way, I'm ready."
-----
Two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye, but Tsuramo's egg still hadn't hatched.
He sat quietly, watching the other class members proudly show off their adorable, snuggly baby dragons, bears, dinosaurs, and demons—all so cute they could make even the coldest shadows melt.
Meanwhile, Tsuramo looked down at his own unhatched egg with a long, dramatic sigh.
"Guess it hates me so much, Maybe it couldnit hatch because of Kijin's snoring?"
''Damn I take it back Kijin's snoring it a lot annoying then Masakiro's'' he muttered to himself, voice dripping with despair.
He looked like a tragic hero in a soap opera, waiting for his moment of dramatic destiny.
Just then, Masakiro strutted into the classroom, already showing off his own hatchling—a tiny, fluffball white cat with wings, long hair that shimmered in the light, sharp little fangs, and deep black eyes that looked like endless night.
The cat had a cute pink bow glued to its head, and embroidered on the bow was the name: "Snugglepuff." Masakiro beamed proudly, holding it up like a trophy.
"Hey, Tsuramo! Meet my companion cat," Masakiro said with a grin, walking enthusiastically toward him. "His name is Snugglepuff. How does it sound?"
Tsuramo rolled his eyes so hard it was almost a comic sound effect.
"Am I really going to get eliminated? because of an egg?" he wondered silently, watching as a few demon girls stopped petting Snugglepuff, squealing over how adorable he was.
Mrs. Kurohana suddenly appeared in the classroom without a sound, like a shadow slipping in.
No one noticed her at first—except for the way she clapped her hands slowly, like a teacher ready to deliver a lecture from the shadows.
"Settle down, kids," she said, her voice smooth and slow, like dark honey. "I hope all your eggs have hatched." Her eyes gleamed faintly, as if she knew a secret that no one else did.
"Yes, ma'am!" the class cheered in unison, some kids holding up their tiny, adorable hatchlings like trophies.
Tsuramo stared at his still-unhatched egg, feeling the weight of the world—or at least, the weight of his terrible luck.
"Great," he muttered under his breath. "I'm probably the only one left with a stubborn egg… or maybe I'm just cursed."
Mrs. Kurohana's calm, commanding voice echoed through the classroom, commanding everyone's attention as she stepped forward with an air of authority that made shadows seem to bend around her.
She raised a hand, and the class fell silent.
"Then I will be honored to announce," she began, her voice slow and deliberate, "That these little cutelings—your companions—are not just adorable creatures. They are quite dangerous." She paused for dramatic effect, her eyes glinting with a mysterious light.
"Every time you unlock a new ability, your companion will grow bigger, stronger, and more powerful. They will be your source of strength, your growth, and your success."
The class gasped, eyes wide with awe and anticipation. Mrs. Kurohana's gaze swept over them like a dark comet. "Remember, these creatures are more than mere pets. They are your partners in battle, your allies against the darkness that lurks beyond these walls."
She continued with a serious tone, "Some of you will face enemies— and part-beasts that look like demons but refuse to bow to Lord Malakar's cruel reign. These enemies are fierce, cunning, and dangerous. But know this as you train and grow stronger, so will your companions. They are your key to victory, your shield, and your sword."
Mrs. Kurohana's voice softened just a little, but the strength behind her words remained unshaken. "Lord Malakar himself is cruel, yes. But his sons—those who refuse his tyranny—are not. They fight for freedom, for justice. And one day, you may stand with them, fighting alongside your companions to bring a new dawn."
The class was silent, absorbing her words like a spell. Some students exchanged determined looks; others clenched their fists, ready to face whatever challenges awaited.
Masakiro looked down at Snugglepuff, whose tiny wings fluttered as if sensing the importance of the moment. Tsuramo, clutching his unhatched egg, felt a flicker of hope ignite inside him.