<div> Chapter 6: Nao
 {Nao}
 The gym's ancient equipment groans under my weight as I push through another set. Sweat drips down my dark skin, rolling over tiger stripes that mark me as different even among feynals. My tail - orange and black, just like my ears - twitches with each rep as I force my muscles to obey.
 "Grrr... Come on..."
 The place is empty, just like always at this hour. Just me, these weights, and this scratchy-ass radio playing from the corner like it's still the last century.
 [One more. Just one fucking more.]
 My biceps scream as I curl the weights. They're enchanted to be heavier than the "50 lbs" marked on them - a cheap knockoff of what those prissy bitches at Crescent Moon get to use. But I like it this way. Feels more real.
 "And in today's news," the radio crackles like it's dying, "Crescent Moon University's newest sensation, S-Class Mage Akari Nakamura, continues to make waves..."
 My ears - orange and striped just like the rest of me - twitch at that name. I set the weights down with a thud that echoes through the empty gym.
 [The S-Class, huh? Little miss perfect...]
 I grab my towel, wiping sweat from my face as I move to the practice area. The floor here's marked with basic spell circles - nothing fancy like the gold-inlaid ones at school. Just simple chalk lines I drew myself, redrawing them every morning before my workout.
 "...unprecedented magical ability," the radio won't shut up about her, "with some experts suggesting she might be the most naturally gifted mage of her generation. With that being said..."
 I stretch my arms above my head, my worn tank top riding up to show abs I've earned through years of work. Not talent. Not natural gifts. Just pure fucking grind. Magic crackles between my fingers as I take my stance, feeling the familiar disappointment already building.
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 </div> [We'll see about that, princess.]
 I thrust my palm forward, channeling mana into a basic attack spell. The kind the other first-years master in their sleep.
 The energy sparks and fizzles like a dying lightbulb, barely making it halfway across the room before giving up.
 [Damn it. DAMN IT.]
 Again. Another thrust, another pathetic fizzle.
 [AGAIN, DAMN YOU!]
 The radio keeps twisting the knife:
 "Sources say Nakamura scored the highest marks ever recorded on the Arcane Assessment Test..."
 A growl rips from my throat, my tail lashing behind me as I pour everything I have into the next attempt. This time the spell actually holds, shooting across the room in a bright arc before hitting the reinforced wall.
 But it's not good enough. Nowhere fucking near good enough.
 I barely scraped into Class 2, and everyone knows it. Average power, average control, average everything. The kind of mage nobody looks twice at, nobody expects anything from.
 Thing is, as good as my body looks, it's not much. In this world we live in, magic has effectively closed the gap between people who work out and people who don't. A fat-ass dude who barely leaves his desk could turn a jacked athlete into a pile of dust with a flick of his wrist.
 So, really, all my muscles say is that I work hard. And, I do. I work very hard.
 I grab my phone, pulling up ManaGram. Akari's latest post is trending, of course. I study her image, memorizing that cocky smile, that casual confidence that comes from never having to doubt yourself.
 [This girl. This is my new benchmark.]
 Setting the phone down, I face the practice area again. My reflection shows exactly what I am: tall, muscular, marked with tiger stripes that run down my arms like nature's tattoos. My orange ears need brushing, and determination burns in my golden eyes like a fever.
 Average isn't going to cut it anymore. Not by a long fucking shot.
 I take my stance, feeling the mana flow through my body like a rusty pipe that needs forcing. If raw talent isn't on my side, I'll work twice as hard. Three times. Whatever it takes until my body gives out.
 [S-Class, huh? Show me what you've got, princess.]
 The spell circle beneath my feet starts to glow as I gather power. The radio fades to white noise as I focus, pushing past burning muscles and years of being told I'm not good enough.
 "Watch me," I growl, echoing her caption as I unleash another spell. "I'm gonna make them all watch me."
 This time, when the magic releases, it doesn't fizzle. It's not perfect, not S-Class, but it's stronger than before.
 [Progress. Keep fucking going.]
 I'll be back tomorrow. And the next day. And every day after that until "average" is just another word I've left in the dust.
 After all, if some gyaru princess can do it...
 [Why not me?]
 ---
 "Nao-chaaan! Don't forget your lunch!"
 I look down - way fucking down - at my tiny tiger-eared mother, who's holding up a bento wrapped in the most aggressively cute cat-print cloth I've ever seen. Dad's beaming beside her, both of them barely reaching my chest despite being full-grown feynals.
 [Sometimes I seriously wonder if I was switched at birth.]
 "Thanks, Mom." My voice comes out in its usual growl as I carefully take the bento, trying not to crush it in hands built for breaking things.
 "Show them what our little kitten can do!" Dad actually fucking bounces on his toes, his tiny tiger ears twitching with excitement.
 My striped tail lashes behind me.
 "Dad, I'm literally six feet tall."
 "Still our tiny baby!" They both attack-hug my legs, and I have to fight back the urge to die of embarrassment right there.
 [Why are they like this? WHY???]
 "Okay, okay, I'm going to be late." I extract myself from their grip with the delicacy of someone handling explosives, smoothing down my perfectly pressed uniform.
 "Have fun storming the castle!" Dad calls after me, waving like I'm going off to war instead of school.
 "That's not what- nevermind."
 First period hits me with Advanced Theoretical Magic. I sit ramrod straight, three different colored pens lined up on my desk with military precision. My notebook lies open to a fresh page, the date written in handwriting that would make a calligraphy master weep.
 [Note to self: research optimal pen colors for retention. Maybe make a spreadsheet...]
 Second period brings Practical Applications. More notes. More perfect diagrams. My tail wraps around my chair leg so tight I might need magic to untangle it later, but every spell formation Professor Chen demonstrates gets sketched out in perfect detail.
 [If I copy it exactly right, maybe... maybe this time...]
 Then comes third period, and my carefully ordered world implodes.
 I've just finished drawing a perfect grid for my notes when someone drops into the seat next to me like a bomb of pure chaos.
 "Damn girl, you're built like a whole snack! What's your workout routine?"
 My orange ears flatten against my head as I turn to face...
 Oh gods. This girl.
 I'd noticed her yesterday, but hadn't spoken to her. How could you not notice when someone's tits are basically declaring war on their uniform buttons? Her bleached hair's styled in perfect waves, and she's looking at me with this smile that promises trouble.
 "I... what?"
 Pure poetry from me, I know.
 "I said what I said! Look at these arms!" She reaches out to squeeze my bicep without warning, then whistles. "Girl, you're serving bodyguard realness!"
 [What is happening right now?] I blink rapidly. [Is she... is she hitting on me?]
 That's never happened before. I'm the type of girl who, when people walk in my direction, people look away from and make sure not to make eye contact.
 Needless to say, I am thoroughly unprepared for this.
 "I'm trying to take notes," I manage, ears still flat against my head.
 "Honey, your notes are color-coded. You need a break." She grins like we're already best friends. "I'm Haruka. And you're..."
 "Nao."
 "Nao! Love that for you. Very strong name. Very tiger energy."
 Despite myself, my lips twitch.
 "Tiger... energy?"
 "Yeah! Like, raaawr and shit!" She makes little claw motions with perfectly manicured nails, and I'm torn between wanting to die and wanting to laugh.
The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ. "..."
 The professor walks in, and I gratefully turn back to my notes. But Haruka keeps up a running commentary the whole time, whispering things that I absolutely do not find funny. Not at all.
 When class ends, I pack up with my usual precision, every pen back in its designated spot. I'm just standing when-
 "Haruka-chaaan~!" A flash of blonde hair and pink eyes enters my periphery.
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 </div> [Wait. That voice...]
 Akari fucking Nakamura herself, the S-Class mage, saunters in like she owns the air we breathe.
 [What the actual fuck is she-]
 "Oh, there you are," Nakamura says, walking toward the very girl who's been destroying my concentration all hour.
 "Damn bitch, missed me?"
 "Hell yeah," Nakamura replies and then - without warning, without mercy, without so much as a fucking content warning - they start making out right there in the classroom.
 "..."
 I stand there in disbelief, my perfectly organized brain short-circuiting.
 But in the back of my mind, watching the S-Class mage currently trying to eat her friend's face, a thought crystallizes like a fist.
 [You,] I narrow my eyes at Nakamura, [I will destroy you. S-Class or not, I. Will. Be. The. Best!]
 And so determination surges through me like lightning, while the sounds of their makeout session provide the world's most inappropriate background music.
 [Mom, Dad... your "little kitten" is about to become a tiger.]</div>
 
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Chapter 6: Nao

Chapter 6: Nao {Nao} The gym's ancient equipment groans under my weight as I push through another set. Sweat drips down my dark skin, rolling over tiger stripes that mark me as different even among feynals. My tail - orange and black, just like my ears - twitches with each rep as I force my muscles to obey. "Grrr... Come on..." The place is empty, just like always at this hour. Just me, these weights, and this scratchy-ass radio playing from the corner like it's still the last century. [One...

The S-Class Mage is a Gyaru!?

Chapter 6: Nao

The S-Class Mage is a Gyaru!? - Chapter 6: Nao