Every Sin Deserves Punishment - Chapter 1: The Avenger Returns

Chapter 1: The Avenger Returns

Pink petals fall.

The petals, carried away by the wind, put on a light and graceful dance.

The sweet fragrance, reminiscent of sakura mochi, fills the path to school. The girls walking along it smile, their faces brightening.

Their attire is uniform: black blazers over white shirts, the school’s designated uniform. Wrapped in a fresh atmosphere befitting new students, they smile at each other, imagining their future.

 I can’t help but avert my eyes from the dazzling scene.

“Uhm, are you a new student?”

The question comes from my left.

Two girls, whose names I don’t know, are standing there. Their small shoulders are side by side, and though their gazes wander, their mouths curve in a way that can’t conceal their interest.

I force a practiced smile onto my face.

“Yes, I’m a new student.”

I look away from the duo and gaze up at the stylish glass building. This is Tokyo Seiki High School, where I’ll be studying from now on. The noble white exterior, adorned with trees, fills me with a sense of awe.

Seiki High School is known for its laissez-faire approach. Students are free to dye their hair golden and let it flutter in the wind, or to flaunt nails painted in poisonous purple. For students, this school could be considered a paradise.

However, compromise is not tolerated at Seiki High.

The pace of lessons is excessively fast, and the school’s entrance exam includes high school-level problems. If one neglects self-improvement, they will find themselves leaving the school within a year.

The entrance requirement of an over-70 deviation value is a test to see if one has mastered advanced self-management. If one indulges in romance, they must be careful not to become too engrossed in it.

“Really? We are too! If we end up in the same class, let’s be friends!”

Their faces crinkle with smiles, like they’ve seen the spring of their lives. Their expressions overlap with a smile I remember from someone else, and a dark cloud swirls in my chest.

Does that mean they won’t get along with me if we’re not in the same class?

A spiteful retort almost slips out, but I manage to force a smile instead.

“Yeah, let’s get along.”

I cut off the conversation and walked past the girls.

Excited, girlish voices rise behind me, like little birds chirping.

I smile, thinking they were quite cute, as I pass through the school gate.

A crowd has gathered in front of the main entrance. A group of students in black blazers are chatting excitedly in front of a large board. Some are laughing, others are slumping their shoulders as their friends comfort them. It’s so lively that getting too close might result in an accidental hit.

I pull out my smartphone from my slacks pocket and hold up the rectangular device, placing my thumb and index finger on the LCD screen.

I zoom in on the camera by spreading my fingers, enlarging the content of the paper attached to the board and scanning the rows of text.

The hundreds of characters form a boring list of names.

Spotting the name “Ichigaya Yuu,” I confirm my class for the year. I also see the name “Nakiri Yukiha” and head toward the entrance.

Unlike the crowd at the board, the entrance area is relatively empty. I take off my mint-green sneakers and shove them into the locker.

I toss in a pair of the same color sneakers that I prepared as indoor shoes. I slip my feet, wrapped in navy-blue socks, into them and lift my heels. Stomping the hallway floor with my favorite sneakers, I step onto the stairs leading to the upper floors.

At the top, I proceed down a narrow corridor. Windows line both sides like an art gallery. Even though the word “continue” is attached, a school is still a school. A shiver runs down my neck as if brushed by cold air.

I give myself a mental pep talk and step forward to my intended classroom. After confirming the classroom plate, I grasp the door handle and pull with all my strength.

The sound of the sliding door stimulates my eardrums. The slight noise sounds like a cymbal hitting the floor.

The room is dotted with figures. These are the boys and girls who will be my classmates for the next year. Ignoring the flood of their gazes, I stride through the room, check the seating chart, and sit down.a

I grip my smartphone and stare at it, emitting an aura that says, “Don’t talk to me.”

“Hey, can I talk to you for a bit?”

I grimace at the loud voice.

I turn to see a boy with a friendly face, clearly a sports enthusiast. He probably belonged to a sports club in middle school.

I can’t ignore him with my classmates around, so I reluctantly open my mouth.

“What is it?”

“You were talking to some girls in front of the school gate, right?”

Here I thought about what kind of question he would bring up, quite nosy of him. He’s the type I wouldn’t want anything to do with.

As the little man in my heart busily builds a wall, the boy’s face moves closer.

Instinctively, I pull back.

“Don’t tell me… a girlfriend?”

He whispers the question.

I nod with a sigh.

It’s a lie, but I don’t care. I just want this conversation to end.

The boy’s eyes sparkle.

“Really?! You already have a girlfriend before the entrance ceremony?! That’s amazing!”

His voice gets even louder, and I frown.

I’ve heard that sports enthusiasts have large lung capacities, but are they all this noisy?

“Keep your voice down.”

I craft a tone that sounds irritated and protest.

I don’t want him spreading this lie around. If those two girls hear about it, things will get complicated. My attempt to brush him off has backfired.

The boy tilts his head.

“But there were two girls, right? Are you dating both of them?”

I never thought of that. How can someone come up with such a question in a country like Japan, where monogamy is the norm?

Well, I have heard stories about people dating multiple partners. It might be possible somewhere, but European-style dating just doesn’t suit me.  I’m not in the right state of mind for romance anyway.

Contrary to my astonishment, whispers start spreading throughout the classroom. If I leave them be, they might spread false rumors.

I let out an exasperated breath.

“That’s not possible. Don’t just assume I’m dating two girls.”

“Then which one is your girlfriend?”

“Figure it out. I was just joking.”

“Really?! You’re so cool, dating two girls at once!”

“No, that’s not what I meant! I was joking about the two-timing part! Is your head filled with flowers!?”

My face heats up as if it’s being burned by a lighter. My raised voice amuses those around me, and they chuckle.

Damn, this guy throws me off. I need to distance myself from him quickly.

“So, what were you talking about?”

“I just said hello. They said, ‘If we’re in the same class, let’s be friends.’”

“Oh, that’s all. How boring.”

The boy looks disappointed.

What a selfish guy, getting excited on his own and then feeling let down.

Then, as if a switch was flipped, his friendly expression returns.

“I’m Katou Yoshiki. What’s your name?”

“Ichigaya Yuu.”

After some thought, I gave him my name. If I push him away too hard, he might cling even more. Maybe keeping a moderate distance will do.

“Ichigaya, huh? I don’t know anyone else at this school, so let’s be friends!”

Katou smiles widely. He calls me a two-timer but is surprisingly eager to be friends with me.

In the student life that awaits us, making friends is inevitable.

Cultural festivals, sports festivals, school trips—there are many troublesome yet enjoyable events that we, as new students, will have to go through.

Having friends makes a significant difference in how we navigate these events. Friends rarely cause trouble.

But should I be friends with this boy?

Do I even have the right to do so?

“I’ll think about it.”

“What? No? Please, I’m begging you! You can call me Yoshiki!”

Katou clasps his hands in front of me.

Is being alone that unbearable in this modern society, where there are countless things one can do alone?

I close my eyes and ponder.

It takes energy to come up with excuses to push him away. It might be wiser to accept him as a friend.

I make my decision and raise the corners of my mouth, smiling.

“Alright, I’ll be your friend, Yoshiki.”

“Yeah, let’s get along!”

As I look at his friendly smile, I imagine a large dog wagging its tail.

His arm, hidden under the blazer sleeve, got raised and fell towards my shoulder with a force greater than I expected, causing me to grimace.

“You’re strong. Did you do something in middle school?”

“I played basketball. I was the ace at my previous school.”

“That’s impressive. You might not even need a girlfriend handed to you; you’ll get one soon enough.”

I’ve heard that having a girlfriend in school is like having an accessory.

Breakups happen for trivial reasons, like cutting your hair short or stepping in dog poop—something my grandfather told me with unusual passion. It might’ve been his personal experience.

Whether that’s true or not, it’s normal for people to be interested in romance. If you think of it as just trying it out, accepting someone’s confession isn’t such a big deal. Once Yoshiki takes that first step, it won’t be long before he becomes a full-fledged “Riajuu.” (T/N: Normie.)

Yoshiki furrows his brows.

“But it’s so nerve-wracking to make the first move, you know?”

As expected, Yoshiki seems to be struggling with taking that first step.

I guess I have no choice but to push him as Friend Number One.

“Gather your courage. Why don’t you talk to her now? Go ahead.”

I point my chin towards a girl in my line of sight.

Yoshiki shakes his head vigorously.

“No way! I’ve been so focused on my club activities until now you know? To the point that I don’t even know how to invite a girl out!”

“Just invite her like you invited me.”

“But you’re a guy.”

That’s true, it’s true but still.

This is incredibly troublesome. He keeps asking questions, trying to expand the conversation with different topics. I honed these conversational skills to achieve my goals, but I never thought I’d end up using them in a situation like this.

The door opens with a loud sound.

My classmates begin to take their seats one by one. A man in a suit steps up to the podium, gives a brief greeting, and then outlines the upcoming schedule. The self-introductions start according to the order on the roster, with each person standing up in alphabetical order by last name.

In the middle of the self-introductions, a different teacher peeked in.

Following the teacher’s instructions, we step onto the hallway floor with our shoes. We form a line in alphabetical order, marching like an army, and descend the stairs with our classmates.

After a few minutes of walking, we reach the door that seems to be hiding a boss behind it, only to find a row of elegant seats inside.

At the back of the auditorium is a wooden stage, with a small staircase extending in front of it. With the lights dimmed, it feels as if a theater troupe might burst forth from behind the curtains at any moment.

I follow my classmates and sit down in a chair.

Soon, an unfamiliar adult starts giving a long-winded speech.

The ceremony ended sooner than I expected. It’s like the time it takes to eat a cup of instant ramen.

As I zone out, the new student representative’s clear voice echoes through the auditorium.

The atmosphere in the auditorium visibly brightens. A girl with slender arms and legs, and a moderately developed chest, strides forward with poise. Her mere walk exudes the grace of an actress. I could almost see a red carpet unfurling at her feet.

A murmur of whispers rises around me. I clench both fists tightly on my lap.

Given the atmosphere, I’d prefer the chorus of bell crickets.

Most of the murmuring is praise for the new student’s appearance. By the time the entrance ceremony is over, her status as the most popular student will be secured.

I feel an urge to expose what that girl did to me right here and now.

I grit my teeth and stare at her retreating back. The dazzling beauty is hard to look at without squinting. If anyone accuses me of staring too intently at Nakiri, I’ll make that my excuse.

Imagining myself making excuses makes me feel sick, and I bite my lower lip.

I can’t stand the thought of anyone misunderstanding my gaze as admiration for her. I glare at her long, milk-tea-colored hair as if to direct a killing intent.

I’ve come back.

I’ve changed my last name, tainted the beautiful black hair I inherited from my mother with dye, and climbed over the high walls of academic achievement to make it here.

It was tough and humiliating.

But all of that was for this moment. To settle the past and reclaim my life as Shikura Yuu. I don’t care if the entire student body ends up despising me for it.

Every Sin Deserves Punishment.

That’s right. I entered Seiki High School to get revenge on Nakiri Yukiha.