CHAPTER 2: 5 SUBJECTS FAILED.
/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
Miyo was walking to school at the speed of a dying snail—maybe slower. From afar he looked oddly serene, like he was contemplating the mysteries of the universe. In reality, his brain held exactly one thought:
Cream bun.
Cream bun…
Cream bun.
He was thinking about cream buns.
Just cream buns. Specifically, the shiny glaze on top. He even licked his lips unconsciously like a tiny woodland creature remembering food.
That was when Dylan spotted him—Miyo's best friend, unofficial guardian, self claimed big brother and one of the only people Miyo willingly spoke to. A musician alpha boy with the constant aura of 'I am exhausted because of this child.'
Dylan waved warmly.
"Good morning, Miyo—"
Miyo walked right past him.
No reaction.
Not even a blink.
Dylan's smile flattened into the expression of a man who has fought this battle many times. He sighed. "…Of course." Then he launched. Full speed. And grabbed Miyo by the neck (like a mom cat snatching a kitten), and yanked him back.
Miyo choked, limbs flailing like a startled doll. "Miyo," Dylan growled affectionately, smashing their cheeks together like an overenthusiastic aunt. "I said good morning. Our Miyo is looking cute as always, but you need to be a little more conscious on this earth."
Being manhandled, Miyo puffed his cheeks out, voice soft and injured. "Ah… don't… like cheek attacks… Hmph…"
Dylan flicked his forehead lightly. "This is what happens when you have the survival instincts of a rock. You need to focus, okay?" He finally lets go.
Miyo blinked at him calmly… then turned around and resumed walking at the same tragic, drifting pace as before.
A vein popped on Dylan's forehead.
"This little— Oi! I'm talking to you right now, Miyo!"
Miyo lifted a tiny hand and pressed it over his ear. A clear signal: I am ignoring you on purpose.
And he kept walking.
V●ᴥ●V
Luca was already in the gym at an hour no teenager had any business being awake.
But there he was sweaty, energized, and absolutely beaming as he practiced basketball like he was training for the Olympics instead of high school nationals.
The echo of the ball bounced through the empty gym, and every single shot he threw slid cleanly into the net. Of course it did.
He was Luca — zero braincells, maximum muscle memory.
While he was mid–dribble, the door creaked open. Reo, a tall alpha with messy green hair, stepped in and froze. "Huh? Luca, you're practicing this early already?"
Behind him came Jake, a lanky alpha with violet hair and the permanent energy of someone who took competition way too personally. His eyes lit up like someone had injected caffeine directly into his bloodstream. "HEY—HEY! Not fair! You're improving without us?! I'm practicing too!"
Luca's head snapped up. The moment he saw them, his beloved besties #73 and #74—his whole face lit up like a happy puppy whose owners just came home.
He bounced over, grinning widely. "Seniors! Good morning!" he chirped, practically wagging his metaphorical tail. "Mhm… I was practicing! We're going to finals after all!"
Jake and Rhys exchanged a look that said This kid is ridiculous, then burst into chuckles. Rhys ruffled his hair. "Yeah, yeah. You're right. Let's practice harder."
Jake slapped Luca's back so hard he almost lost the ball. "We need to catch up before you accidentally get even better on accident."
Luca puffed up his chest proudly. "Then let's go! We'll get to nationals for sure!"
And the three of them began their morning practice—Luca shining like a golden retriever who somehow learned to dribble.
/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ V●ᴥ●V
Miyo walked into his classroom like a drifting cloud—slow, floaty, expression soft and blank. Today, the teachers were handing back the exam papers. The exam that supposedly "decided their academic future."
Miyo wasn't nervous.
He couldn't be nervous.
His brain simply didn't have the necessary files installed.
Meanwhile, somewhere else in the building, Luca swaggered into his class with the confidence of a man who once proudly spelled "cat" with a K. He was sure he could get at least a double digit score this time. Forty minutes of studying had to count for something… right?
In Class 2–A, The homeroom teachers began handing papers back. The paper landed on Miyo's desk. And He looked down. His expression did not change.
Failed: 5 subjects.
Passed: 1… by pure miracle.
Miyo blinked once.
Then again.
Still no reaction.
Just serene emptiness, like a baby deer who has no idea a truck is coming.
Dylan, sitting beside him, leaned over with a hopeful smile. "Hey? Why are you so… calm? It can't be that bad, we went to the same tutor, after a—"
He saw the paper.
He froze.
He inhaled sharply, choking on nothing but despair. 5 subjects failed meaning, miyo won't be able to give next exam, which basically means repeating the class.
"…Five…? F-five failed? THAT MEANS—"
He stopped himself before his voice cracked like a disappointed mother. "Oh my god… that's why I told you to—" Dylan dragged his hand down his face. Then he tried to gather himself and patted Miyo's back gently. "Haa… okay. Okay. We'll try talking to the homeroom teacher after school, alright?"
Miyo pouted, lips small and trembly.
He nodded.
He didn't like repeating things.
Especially school.
Meanwhile, In class 2–B. Luca's paper slid onto his desk. And He just grinned. He got a two-digit score. And failed 5 subjects.
But that didn't matter. Two digits meant he was officially "improving."
He proudly shoved the paper into the face of his bespectacled friend, bestie #83. "LOOK! Two digits! I studied for like forty minutes! I'm basically a genius!"
#83 stared. Eyes wide. Mouth open.
He looked at Luca.
Then at the paper.
Back at Luca. "You… You know you failed five subjects, right…?"
Luca beamed. Too dumb to know any consequences of his all failed subjects.
"Yeah! I can see that! This big F's are kinda cute."
#83 pinched the bridge of his nose.
This was beyond medical help. "…Luca. Listen carefully. You failed 5 subjects, that means you won't be able to give next exam… And that means, you'll have to repeat this class. And… and you won't be allowed to go to nationals with your team."
Luca's smile froze. He blinked. "…Eh?" Silence. Then the consequences booted into his brain with a three-second delay.
Repeat the class…
No basketball…
No nationals…
No team…
No glory…
No nothing…
His pupils dilated.
"EEHHHHHHHHHHH!!!???"
The whole classroom flinched as his scream rattled the windows.
Someone from the next floor shouted, "WHO DIED!?"
And that was the exact moment both idiots realized: Their futures were about to depend on the single braincell they shared.