Takumi Nishimura stared out the classroom window, watching cherry blossoms drift lazily on the spring breeze. His life had been pleasantly uneventful until three months ago - before the accident. Before the surgery. Before becoming what his doctor had cheerfully called "a medical eunuch" while explaining the unavoidable complications of his treatment.

  "At least you're alive," his grandmother had said, patting his hand. "And you can still have a normal life."

  Normal. Right.

  He hadn't told anyone at his new school. Why would he? "Hello, I'm Takumi, and I've recently had surgery that rendered me both physically incapable of and completely uninterested in sex" wasn't exactly standard introduction material. Besides, he'd always been somewhat asexual anyway - the surgery had just made it... official.

  "Nishimura!"

  The sharp voice of his homeroom teacher, Saito, jolted him back to the present.

  "Y-yes, sensei?" Takumi straightened in his seat.

  Saito adjusted her glasses. "Since you find the window more interesting than my lesson, perhaps you'd like to solve this equation for the class?"

  Takumi rose from his desk, trying to ignore the ripple of giggles from his classmates. He'd transferred to Sakura Heights Academy after his hospital stay, hoping for a fresh start where nobody knew about his medical history.

  Approaching the chalkboard, he quickly worked through the algebra problem. Math had always come easily to him, and he finished with a neat flick of chalk.

  "Correct," Saito nodded, seeming mildly disappointed that she couldn't further chastise him. "You may sit down."

  As Takumi returned to his seat, he caught a girl with long black hair watching him from the front row. When their eyes met, she didn't look away as most would. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if he were a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. She made a small notation in the margin of her otherwise immaculate notes before returning her attention to the teacher.

  Strange, Takumi thought, but dismissed it. He was here to study quietly and be left alone, not to analyze the behavior of his classmates.

  After class, Takumi was gathering his books when a shadow fell across his desk.

  "Nishimura-kun," said the girl from the front row, pushing her glasses up with one finger. "I'm Mizuki Aoyama, class representative. I'd like to formally welcome you to Sakura Heights Academy. You transferred three weeks ago, but we haven't had a chance to properly speak."

  "Thanks," Takumi replied flatly. "I'm settling in fine."

  Instead of leaving, Mizuki pulled out a small notebook. "I've been assigned to help new students adjust to our school culture. Do you have any questions I could answer? Academic concerns? Social integration difficulties? Neurological adaptation challenges?"

  "Neurological... what?" Takumi frowned. "No, I don't have any questions."

  "Fascinating," Mizuki murmured, jotting something down. "Direct verbal communication style. Minimal social engagement cues. Do you mind if I ask what prompted your transfer mid-semester? Our records show excellent academic performance at your previous school."

  "I do mind," Takumi said, standing up. "That's personal."

  Mizuki's eyes lit up. "Boundary establishment! Wonderful data point. Most transfer students exhibit excessive compliance during initial social interactions. Your assertiveness suggests a highly developed prefrontal cortex function or perhaps alternative socialization patterns."

  "I'm not a research subject," Takumi said, edging toward the door. "I'm just trying to get through school without complications."

  "Of course," Mizuki nodded, still writing. "Avoidance of complexity is a common behavioral trait in subjects with recent life transitions. Would you be willing to fill out a simple 47-page questionnaire about your cognitive-emotional frameworks? For school records only, naturally."

  "No," Takumi replied, now firmly heading for the exit. "I wouldn't."

  "Fascinating rejection pattern!" he heard Mizuki call after him. "I'll make a note for further observation!"

  The library seemed like a safe haven during lunch the next day. Takumi found a secluded table behind the reference stacks, unwrapped his sandwich, and opened a book. The librarian had given him a disapproving look for bringing food, but hadn't stopped him.

  He had just taken his first peaceful bite when the screech of a chair being dragged across the floor shattered the silence. A petite girl with purple hair and oversized sweater sleeves that covered her hands sat down across from him.

  "Excuse me," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Are you Nishimura-kun? The literature teacher showed us your essay from yesterday's class."

  Takumi chewed slowly, hoping she might take the hint and leave. She didn't.

  "I'm Himari Tsubaki, first-year," she introduced herself with a small bow. "Your analysis of 'The Heart of Loneliness' was... it spoke to me."

  Takumi vaguely remembered dashing off an assignment about some depressing poem. "It was just homework."

  "But you captured the essence of isolation so beautifully," Himari whispered, her eyes shining. "The way you described the 'voluntary exile of the soul' felt like you were writing the words directly from my heart."

  "I just wanted to finish the assignment," Takumi explained uncomfortably.

  "Such modest deflection," Himari murmured, opening what Takumi now realized was a notebook. "I've written a response poem. Would you... would you like to hear it?"

  "Not really," Takumi said bluntly. "I'm trying to eat lunch alone."

  "I understand completely," Himari nodded, somehow interpreting his rejection as encouragement. "Poetry is best appreciated in more intimate settings. I've made a copy for you." She extracted a lavender-scented page and offered it with both hands.

  Takumi reluctantly accepted the paper, if only to speed his escape. "Thanks, but I really need to—"

  "The silent warrior whose words flee his lips yet cascade from his pen," Himari whispered, already scribbling in her notebook. "Rejection becomes the sweetest acceptance when filtered through the prism of artistic souls."

  "I'm not rejecting you artistically," Takumi clarified. "I'm rejecting you literally. Please leave me alone."

  "Each denial, a brushstroke on the canvas of inevitable connection," Himari murmured, looking even more inspired. "I'll leave you to your solitude, which speaks louder than any company could."

  She stood, bowed slightly, and drifted away, leaving behind a faint scent of lavender and Takumi's growing sense of unease.

  The next day, Takumi tried the courtyard, finding a bench partially hidden behind a large tree. He had just opened his lunch when a high-pitched squeal made him jump.

  "Oh. My. God. You found the CUTEST lunch spot!"

  A blonde girl in a deliberately shortened uniform skirt bounded toward him, phone already recording video.

  "This is PERFECT for my vlog! 'Secret School Spots with Sakura!'" She dropped down beside him without invitation. "I'm Sakura Hanazono! You're the new transfer student everyone's talking about, right? Takumi... something?"

  "Nishimura," he supplied reluctantly. "And I specifically came here to be alone."

  "Ohmigosh, me too!" Sakura exclaimed, despite the obvious contradiction. "I totally need to escape my followers sometimes. Being a micro-influencer is EXHAUSTING!" She angled her phone to capture both of them in the frame. "Say hi to my followers! They're gonna LOVE the mysterious transfer student angle!"

  "No thanks," Takumi said, moving away and picking up his lunch. "I'll find somewhere else."

  "Playing hard to get?" Sakura giggled, following him. "That's actually perfect! My engagement metrics SPIKE when I include reluctant participants! The algorithm loves conflict!" She stepped in front of him, phone still recording. "What's your deal anyway? You're not super-hot, but you've got this whole brooding loner vibe that's trending right now."

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  "My 'deal' is wanting to eat lunch in peace," Takumi replied, trying to step around her.

  Sakura gasped dramatically. "Wait! Are you one of those tortured artist types? Do you write poetry or play sad guitar songs or something? My followers would DIE for that content!"

  "I'm not an artist. I'm not tortured. I just want to be left alone."

  "So mysterious!" Sakura squealed, typing something on her phone. "Just posted our first meeting! Hashtag 'mysterious transfer student' is already trending on our school's social network!"

  "PLEASE stop filming me," Takumi insisted, holding up a hand to block the camera. "I don't want to be on your vlog."

  "Ohmigosh, your FIRST REJECTION!" Sakura squealed, zooming in on his scowling face. "This is gold content! My followers are going to be obsessed with your tsundere vibes! #RejectMeSenpai is going to be my new brand!"

  Takumi abandoned his lunch and fled, Sakura's enthusiastic narration ("Watch how fast T-kun runs when he's shy! Sooooo kawaii!") following him across the courtyard.

  The hallway outside the student council room seemed deserted the following day. Takumi had discovered an empty classroom in the old wing that promised solitude, but first needed to avoid detection.

  As he crept past the student council door, it suddenly slid open.

  "Nishimura-kun," a cool voice addressed him. "Your shoelaces are untied. This represents a violation of safety regulation 3.7 in the student handbook."

  Takumi looked down at his perfectly tied shoes, then up at the tall, bespectacled girl in the doorway. A student council armband identified her even before she introduced herself.

  "I'm Rei Shirogane, student council president," she stated, consulting a clipboard. "As a transfer student, your compliance with school regulations falls under my direct supervision."

  "My shoelaces are tied," Takumi pointed out.

  Rei adjusted her glasses. "The left lace exhibits a 12% shorter loop than regulation standard. Please come into the office for proper rectification."

  "That's not a real rule," Takumi said flatly.

  "All rules are real rules, Nishimura-kun," Rei replied without a hint of humor. "Your unfamiliarity with our regulatory framework is precisely why you require additional guidance." She consulted her clipboard. "I see you haven't attended any of the transfer student orientation sessions I scheduled for you."

  "I never received any schedule," Takumi protested.

  "The schedule was posted on the official notice board by the third-floor water fountain between 2:17 and 2:32 PM last Thursday, in accordance with Communication Protocol 5.4.B for non-emergency student notifications."

  "That's absurd," Takumi said. "How could anyone be expected to see that?"

  "Proper monitoring of official communication channels is the responsibility of all students," Rei stated, making a note on her clipboard. "I've documented your procedural deficit for inclusion in your permanent record. Perhaps you would benefit from... private tutoring on school regulations. I could assist you after classes."

  Was it his imagination or had her voice softened slightly?

  "No thank you," Takumi said firmly. "I can read the student handbook myself."

  "Such admirable initiative," Rei nodded, making another note. "However, personalized regulatory orientation is standard protocol for all transfer students. I've already drafted a comprehensive schedule." She handed him a meticulous document with daily meetings outlined in different colors.

  "I didn't agree to this," Takumi protested.

  "Compliance with student council guidance is outlined in section 7.3 of the enrollment agreement," Rei stated. "I've taken the liberty of reserving Study Room B for our sessions. We'll begin tomorrow."

  "I won't be there," Takumi said bluntly.

  "Non-compliance will be documented in triplicate and forwarded to the administration," Rei informed him, though Takumi could have sworn he saw the faintest hint of a smile. "I look forward to our first regulatory alignment session, Nishimura-kun."

  The gymnasium seemed like the perfect hiding spot during Friday's lunch period – the basketball team had an away game, and the volleyball team usually practiced on the outdoor courts.

  Takumi settled on the bottom row of the bleachers, finally unwrapping his lunch in peace. The quiet was blissful.

  The peace lasted exactly thirty-seven seconds before a volleyball sailed through the air, missing his head by inches.

  "REFLEXES CHECK!" boomed a voice from across the gym. A tall, athletic girl in a volleyball team uniform jogged toward him, stopwatch in hand. "Zero-point-three seconds response time! Not bad for a civilian!"

  "You nearly hit me in the head!" Takumi protested.

  "That was the point," the girl grinned, retrieving her ball. "I'm Yui Nakamura, volleyball team captain. You're the transfer student who walked past our practice last week like we weren't even worth noticing!"

  "I... what?" Takumi tried to remember if he'd ever seen a volleyball practice.

  "Our team was in the middle of a perfect formation drill when you walked by the open gym door," Yui explained, bouncing her volleyball aggressively. "Three players missed their serves because they were watching you! Coach made us do extra drills for an hour!"

  "I just walked past," Takumi protested. "I didn't do anything."

  "Exactly!" Yui exclaimed, pointing accusingly. "You just walked by, not even glancing at our practice, like it wasn't worth your attention! Such arrogance cannot go unchallenged!"

  "I'm sorry for... not watching your practice?" Takumi offered, baffled by the accusation.

  "Apologies are meaningless without action!" Yui declared. "As captain of the volleyball team, I challenge you to a match! One-on-one! If I win, you have to attend all our practices and show proper appreciation for our athletic excellence!"

  "And if I win?" Takumi asked, immediately regretting engaging with this absurdity.

  "You won't," Yui grinned confidently. "But if by some miracle you did, I'd... I'd leave you alone for a whole day."

  "Just one day?" Takumi asked incredulously.

  "Don't push your luck," Yui warned.

  "I decline your challenge," Takumi stated firmly. "I have no interest in volleyball or any competition."

  Yui's eyes widened. "You... refuse to compete? Even when directly challenged?" Instead of being offended, a gleam of excitement lit her eyes. "Such confidence! Such dismissal of my obviously superior athletic skills! This makes victory over you even more alluring!"

  "I'm not being confident," Takumi clarified desperately. "I genuinely don't want to participate in any competition with you."

  "The ultimate opponent," Yui whispered, seemingly to herself. "One who resists the very framework of competition itself. I must conquer this new challenge!"

  Takumi stood, abandoning his lunch yet again. "I'm leaving."

  "EVASION TACTICS!" Yui shouted, already scribbling in a small notebook. "First encounter: subject demonstrates immediate retreat strategy! This will require advanced pursuit protocols!"

  After four failed lunch attempts, Takumi decided to try the school roof. It was technically off-limits to students, but the rule was rarely enforced. The stairwell door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing an empty rooftop bathed in spring sunshine.

  He sighed with relief, settling against the wall. Finally, some peace. He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite, savoring both the food and the solitude.

  The roof door banged open.

  "THERE you are!" Yui pointed triumphantly. "Stopwatch says it took me only 4 minutes and 37 seconds to track you! A new personal best!"

  Before Takumi could respond, another voice called from the doorway.

  "T-kun! I've been looking EVERYWHERE!" Sakura bounded across the roof, phone already recording. "This is PERFECT for my 'Secret Hideaway with the Mysterious Transfer Student' episode!"

  "I believe this area is off-limits during lunch period," came Rei's cool voice as she emerged onto the roof, clipboard in hand. "I should write all of you up for a violation."

  "Nishimura-senpai?" Himari peeked around Rei's shoulder. "The librarian said you might be here. I've written seven new poems about your empty lunch seat."

  "Nishimura-kun, your brain activity during solitude-seeking behavior shows fascinating patterns," Mizuki noted, stepping onto the roof with measurement equipment in hand. "I've been tracking your lunch location variables all week. The data suggests increasing desperation for isolation, which paradoxically increases social pursuit responses."

  Takumi stared in disbelief as all five girls who had been stalking him individually somehow converged on his supposedly secret location simultaneously.

  "Ladies!" boomed a male voice from the doorway. "Such beauty surrounding my rival! It is as I feared!"

  A boy in a kendo uniform struck a dramatic pose, pointing directly at Takumi. "Nishimura! I challenge you! The winner shall have the honor of walking these fair maidens home!"

  "Who are you?" Takumi asked wearily.

  "You don't know me? I am Daisuke Masamune, captain of the kendo club and your destined rival in all matters of love and honor!"

  "I've been here three weeks and we've never spoken," Takumi pointed out.

  "Our souls have communicated beyond mere words!" Daisuke declared grandly. "I have observed your mysterious aura capturing the hearts of Sakura Heights' most exceptional maidens! As the previous recipient of their admiration, it is my duty to challenge you directly!"

  "Take them! Please! Walk them all home!" Takumi begged, gesturing wildly at the girls. "I forfeit! I refuse! Whatever gets me out of this situation!"

  "Such noble self-sacrifice!" Daisuke gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Giving up your harem to spare them from a battle you fear you might lose! I cannot accept such honorable surrender!"

  "Is anyone even listening to me?" Takumi asked the sky in desperation.

  The roof door opened yet again, and a young teacher appeared, looking confused at the gathering. "What's going on here? This area is off-limits to students."

  "Kimura-sensei!" Takumi had never been so relieved to see a teacher. "I was trying to eat alone and all these people kept showing up and now they won't leave me alone!"

  "Actually, I believe Takumi is genuinely requesting solitude," Kimura said, glancing around at the group.

  "With all due respect, sensei," Mizuki adjusted her glasses, "my research on adolescent communication patterns suggests that verbal rejection often masks a deeper desire for connection. Takumi's behavior displays classic markers of attachment avoidance syndrome where statements like 'leave me alone' are actually subconscious calls for emotional support."

  "I'm pretty sure that's not the case here," Kimura said gently. "He seems quite explicit about—"

  "Kimura-sensei!" Sakura bounced over, phone ready to record. "Could you give a statement for my 'Teachers' Perspective on New Love' series? My followers would love to hear an educator's take on our blossoming relationship with Takumi-kun!"

  "Relationship? But I just heard him say—"

  Rei stepped forward, clipboard at the ready. "Kimura-sensei, all student gatherings have been properly documented according to regulation 4.2.C. The timing of this interaction falls within acceptable parameters for social engagement during the transition phase between authorized lunch period and afternoon classes."

  Kimura looked genuinely conflicted. "I'll... mention this to the guidance counselor. Perhaps she can—"

  "No need," Mizuki interrupted smoothly. "The guidance counselor is already supervising our Official Takumi Study Group on Thursdays. She's very supportive of our cognitive-emotional development research."

  "DON'T LEAVE ME!" Takumi cried, but the teacher had already disappeared, clearly overwhelmed by the determined group.

  Takumi closed his eyes and silently prayed for the roof to collapse.

  I should have stayed in the hospital with the painkillers.

  As he trudged home that afternoon, Takumi reflected on his bizarre predicament. Before his accident, girls barely noticed him. Now he couldn't seem to shake them despite explicit, borderline rude rejections. Was it some kind of cosmic joke? Give the eunuch a harem?

  "I should just tell them," he muttered to himself. "Hey, ladies, great news: I'm physically incapable of being interested in what you're offering!"

  But every time he considered coming clean, something stopped him. Partly embarrassment - who wanted to discuss their medical history with virtual strangers? Partly fear - would they pity him? Treat him differently? Mostly, he was certain they'd somehow twist it into yet another reason to pursue him.

  They'd probably start a support group or something equally horrifying...