It can hardly be called a victory; it is simply that we have not yet been defeated.

“Does our school still have a junior high section? There’s a middle school brat running around here.”
“What?! I’m a bona fide first-year high school student!”
Because the other party mocked her height right off the bat, Yagami Yo was already on the verge of exploding with anger. If it had been Shinguji Tsukiyo who made fun of her, perhaps she could have endured it, but for this random nobody she’d just met to jeer at her—how dare he?
“You! You! And you! All of you don’t meet the standard. Fix your ties before you come in!” The little creature unceremoniously pointed between two boys and a girl.
“Ugh, what a pain. I’ll tie it once I’m in the classroom.” The leading boy scratched his head impatiently, looking down at Yagami Yo as if he had no intention of backing off.
“No! You! May! Not!”
She might be short, but her presence was overwhelming. Even Shinguji Tsukiyo, standing by, almost wanted to applaud her.
At this moment, the boy stepped forward, placing himself beside Yagami Yo and meeting the gaze of the group of three boys and two girls.
Even within Class 2-A, they were a troublesome clique. Their grades were decent enough that the teachers often turned a blind eye to their behavior.
Shinguji Tsukiyo found it hard to understand. According to the usual manga tropes, shouldn’t they be delinquents with terrible grades? The reality was baffling.
“Yamashita, Iwasaki, please put on your ties. This is a student council duty. Don’t make things difficult for me.”
“Huh? Who are you—oh wait, if I look closely, isn’t this Shinguji?”
“Since when were delinquents with suspension records allowed into the student council? That’s really discouraging for us model students, don’t you think?”
Shinguji Tsukiyo listened expressionlessly until he finished: “If you have objections to my joining the student council, you’re free to report me. But for now, I hope you’ll cooperate with our work.”
“Tch! Acting all high and mighty!”
Impossible to reason with.
Shinguji Tsukiyo turned his attention to the girl at the edge of the group, her skin slightly tanned, all ten fingers sporting pink acrylic nails. He gestured to his own collar.
“Sorry, please button your shirt up to the second button from the top and tie your ribbon.”
Even if she loved to dress up, for a high school girl to expose her cleavage was too much—especially at school.
“Oh, but my chest is my best feature! Come on, Shinguji, cut me some slack. We’re classmates, aren’t we?”
No wonder she was a Shibuya-style gyaru. From her tone, her expression, to the massive bunch of colorful trinkets hanging from her bag, she embodied it fully.

So this is what they call a Shibuya-type gyaru?
It’s like a renaissance, nothing like the pseudo-gyaru Sakurakoji Sazakura pretends to be.
No, to begin with, Sakurakoji Sazakura isn’t a gyaru at all, but a cheerful, athletic childhood friend. When it comes to slender, toned waists, she’s in a league of her own compared to this gyaru.
Even those brazenly exposed curves couldn’t compare to the student council president’s, so there was nothing here to tempt the boy’s resolve.
Besides, if Shinguji Tsukiyo backed down now, the little creature beside him would surely look down on him.
She might start calling him “the tanned-girl-fan upperclassman” someday. Just imagining such a scene made Shinguji’s stomach ache.
Having accepted student council duties, Shinguji Tsukiyo had no intention of retreating here. Even if he had a thousand reasons not to get involved with them, he had no choice but to step forward.
“Appearance is the most basic rule, Tsuchiya. You wouldn’t want people to see you as a careless kind of girl, would you?”
“But showing a bit really gets the boys’ attention this time.”
“If you can’t catch a boy’s eye without unbuttoning your shirt, then that’s not real charm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Nonsense! Am I really getting lectured by a playboy? That’s hilarious.
“Hey, I heard from the girls you used to mess around a lot in Shibuya.
“Why not come out with me next time? I can introduce you to some girls.”
Shinguji Tsukiyo frowned. “Sorry, I’m not interested.”
“Ha! Playing the stoic type now? You know your stuff, Shinguji. A lot of my friends are into that.”
Another one who’s impossible to communicate with.
“What about you, Yamashita?” Shinguji turned to the other boy.
“Huh?”
Yamashita was the boy who almost hit Shinguji in the face with a basketball in the gym the other day. Shinguji noticed his hands were in his pockets—probably where his tie was.
Among this group, he seemed the most reasonable.
“I’m not looking to give you all a hard time. If possible, I’d like to get along as classmates…”

“Who’d want to get along with a delinquent like you!”
Iwasaki interrupted Shinguji, who paused but kept his calm gaze on Yamashita.
Yamashita didn’t say much. He simply pulled the tie from his pocket and quietly put it on.
“Hey, Yamashita, why are you listening to that guy…” Iwasaki protested.
“I don’t want to get lectured by Hasebe in the morning homeroom. That guy might look harmless, but his lectures are endless.
“If you don’t want to get scolded, you’d better just do as he says. Don’t forget, Shinguji’s in our class—if he rats us out in homeroom…”
Iwasaki hesitated for a long time, glared at Shinguji, and then reluctantly went to put on his tie.
As for the Shibuya-style gyaru, seeing the two boys comply, she gave up resisting and buttoned her shirt without a word.
Once they’d moved on, Shinguji Tsukiyo let out a weary sigh. He truly wasn’t cut out for dealing with those people.
“Senpai, thank you for your hard work.”
Shinguji glanced at the little creature beside him. He was about to pat her head but thought better of it, since they were at the school gate.
In any case, this sort of thing happened more than once.
Besides Yamashita and Iwasaki’s group, every grade—first through third—had students with dress code issues.
Perhaps because it was still early in the second semester, and no one had checked in the first two weeks, students had grown lax.
When the warning bell for homeroom finally rang, Shinguji Tsukiyo and Yagami Yo sipped their mineral water and prepared to wrap up.
Shinguji was fine, but Yagami Yo looked utterly exhausted.
He figured it was because upperclassmen from the second and third years had stared at her, mistaking her for a middle schooler. So this was what “exhausted in body and mind” really meant.
If any students still hadn’t arrived by now, they’d be considered late once the gate closed.
So, just as Shinguji Tsukiyo thought no more students would appear, in the distance, two girls emerged, chatting and laughing together as they walked up the hill toward them.