Highschool Of The Dead: Dead Man’s Tale.

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Saya Takagi’s world often teetered on the brink of monochrome—dull, predictable, and excruciatingly ordinary. For someone who breathed and thrived on intellectual challenges, the lack of them rendered her existence lackluster. As she sat in the back of the moving car, her mind wandered, not out of curiosity but from a familiar ennui that clung to her like a second skin.

With a sigh that barely disturbed the air, Saya reached up to adjust her contact lenses, her fingers deft and practiced. It was a small, almost inconsequential task that she performed mechanically, yet with the precision of a surgeon. Her eyes, a fierce orange, mirrored the frustration of a caged intellect; they darted to the window, seeking perhaps, something, anything, that might kindle a spark of interest in her.

She then turned her attention to her hair, long and pink, which she kept styled in two ponytails on either side of her head. The strands felt smooth and cool between her fingers as she fussed with them, arranging the two thin, long bangs that framed her face. There was a ritualistic quality to it, each movement deliberate, each adjustment a tiny declaration of control in a world that offered her little challenge.

Her driver navigated through the traffic seamlessly, the hum of the car engine a constant, almost soothing backdrop to her thoughts. The vehicle swayed gently with each turn, each movement prompting a subtle shift in her posture. She leaned slightly against the plush seat, her gaze reflecting off the window, catching her own image in the glass.

Why does everything have to be so painfully easy?

“The curse of the gifted,” she whispered to herself, the words barely audible.

Adjusting her ponytail one last time, Saya leaned back, allowing her hands to rest in her lap. 

The Bentley Mulliner Batur glided to a smooth stop in front of the high school, an oasis of luxury amid the more mundane vehicles that typically frequented the student drop-off zone. Even after several weeks, the sight of such a high-end car at a local high school continued to turn heads. While her parents had advised subtlety, Saya delighted in the ripple effect her daily arrival caused, observing her peers with a detached curiosity that bordered on scientific.

How many of them will try to get close to me today? 

And how many will end up fighting among themselves just to be called my friend? 

It’s all just a part of my daily entertainment.

“Miss, we have arrived.”

“I have eyes, Sebastian.”

“I am aware, but you are an hour late,” Sebastian continued, his tone unchanged. He nodded towards the school entrance where the principal stood waiting. 

From the thinning crowd of smaller students scurrying into the school, it was evident that the morning assembly had just concluded. 

“Good.”

With a leisurely grace, she picked up her coffee and a glazed donut. Swinging her legs out of the car, she stood and closed the door with a soft but firm click.

As she approached the gates, her fierce orange eyes fixed on the principal. He was a large man, his suit straining against his girth, and his face glistened with sweat even in the mild morning air. 

“Hello there, young Saya.” 

He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief.

Saya’s response was a look of undisguised disgust, her orange eyes narrowing slightly. To her, he was nothing more than a puppet, his strings pulled by the unspoken influence of her family’s wealth. The power dynamics were clear; he was the strict principal to everyone but her, reduced to a mere puppy wagging its tail in her presence.

Ignoring his greeting, Saya loudly slurped her coffee and walked past him without a word.

“Well then, Saya, since you have missed assembly for the last few weeks… I don’t think you ever attended the assembly… I think you need to be punished,” the principal stammered, his voice wavering as if the words themselves were reluctant to come out. He was sweating bullets, the handkerchief now hopelessly soaked as he awaited her reaction.

This was different. 

Usually, he wouldn’t dare challenge her, but today, there was an edge to his voice that hinted at a backbone she hadn’t seen before. Saya turned sharply to face him, her gaze piercing. Her mind raced—what had changed?

Glancing back at Sebastian, she caught him giving her a subtle thumbs-up. 

Ah, so he was behind this change. 

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Sebastian knew her well enough to understand that she thrived on challenges, and this unexpected twist was his doing—a new game for her to play.

“Is that so?” Saya’s voice was calm, almost dangerously sweet as she faced the principal. “And what sort of punishment did you have in mind?” 

As the principal proposed the task of guiding the new students, Saya shrugged nonchalantly. The prospect was mildly more appealing than her usual escapades in the science lab, where her boredom often led her to recreate—and occasionally reinvent—famous experiments, not always with the intended outcomes.

“Okay.”

“I know this…” The principal paused, “Wait, what?” 

“I’ll do it, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“Yeah, after you blew up the science lab last Tuesday,” the principal muttered under his breath, believing his words were masked by his quiet tone.

Saya caught every word, her sharp ears missing nothing but ultimately she didn’t care enough to engage with the comment.

Saya’s interest piqued as she entered the principal’s office and laid eyes on the two newcomers. Her gaze swiftly bypassed the shorter, rounder boy, settling instead on the taller, black student whose confident demeanor and striking appearance commanded attention. Saya, always adept at controlling her expressions, smoothed her features into a friendly smile, an accessory she wore only when absolutely necessary.

“Hey, you two must be the new students. The principal asked me to show you around.”

“Nice to meet you, I am Kozen, and this is my friend Kohta,” the black kid replied confidently, introducing both himself and his friend.

Saya’s interest deepened, not just at Kozen’s confidence but also at the visible blush and the subtle shyness of Kohta, who turned his head, revealing bandages on his face. The sight was oddly intriguing, adding layers to what she had initially pegged as a simple first meeting.

“How did that happen?” 

“Oh, these are nothing,” Kohta said, his voice shy, his fingers tapping together nervously.

“Nah, these are battle scars. Kohta here fought a group of bullies,” Kozen interjected, his tone proud and supportive.

Okay, these boys are more interesting than most of the soyboys in this school, she thought to herself. 

Saya suppressed a smirk as she clapped lightly, her gesture intended as encouragement but possibly perceived as sarcastic given Kohta’s visibly increased embarrassment. Kozen, perhaps sensing the tension, coughed subtly into his fist.

“Oh, yeah, the tour—let’s go,” Saya chirped, her tone brightening as she decided to move forward. She did a little twirl, indicating the principal’s office with a flourish. Kozen couldn’t help but snort in amusement, which prompted a gentle nudge from Kohta.

“What, it was cute?” 

Saya caught the look on Kohta’s face, reading the layers of teenager’s body language.

Interesting, she mused internally. It seemed Kohta was struck by love at first sight for her, while Kozen might unknowingly pose a threat to his friend’s fledgling crush.

Jealousy over little old me?

She noted Kohta’s glare directed at Kozen, a silent plea that screamed, Dude, come on. The dynamic between the two boys was clearer now, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to add a proverbial log to the fire.

She responded with a shy smile, her answer deliberately ambiguous, feeding into the brewing rivalry. Kozen, oblivious to the undercurrents, simply whistled.

Oh, this is going to be a fun year,” Saya thought to herself.