Renji walked into class with his backpack slung over one shoulder and an invisible cloud of superiority trailing behind him. He didn’t even sit—he posted up near the window, staring into nothing like an anime character who’s been through exactly zero trauma but pretends otherwise.

  Ayame waved at him from across the room.

  “Yo, morning, Renji!”

  He slowly raised his hand like a Jedi doing the Force.

  “Don't.”

  She blinked. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t talk to me. I’ve ascended.”

  He fixed his hoodie like he was adjusting a crown.

  “I’m sigma now.”

  Ayame squinted. “Sigma what?”

  “I don’t chase baddies. I chase inner peace.”

  He pulled out a notebook titled ‘Mission: Focus on the Bag’ and flipped it open dramatically.

  “Love is a side quest. I’m on main storyline only.”

  Ayame stifled a laugh. “Bro, are you okay?”

  “I’m more than okay.”

  He looked at the wall like it betrayed him once.

  “I’m enlightened. I’ve reached fanemtax mode.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  She paused. “That’s not even a word.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Exactly. You wouldn’t get it.”

  He put on sunglasses. Indoors.

  Someone asked him if he was joining the group project.

  He replied, “Nah, group work is for NPCs. I solo grind.”

  A teacher walked in. “Renji, take a seat.”

  “I only sit for profits,” he mumbled, then slowly sat down anyway because he didn’t want detention.

  Ayame passed him a note that said “You’ve lost your mind.”

  He wrote back:

  “I’ve lost distractions. I’ve found the grind.”

  Lunch break. Ayame offered him chips. He slapped them away in slow motion.

  “Snacks are a weakness. I fast now. Mentally and emotionally.”

  “You cried when you lost your charger yesterday.”

  “That was a test from the grind gods.”

  He chugged water like it was potion. “I edge emotions now. Pure focus.”

  Ayame tried not to laugh as Renji stood in the hallway during break, pacing like a philosopher who just got ghosted by the gym.

  “I’ve deleted social media,” he announced to no one.

  “Except YouTube Shorts. That doesn’t count. It’s for educational motivation.”

  A group of girls walked past him.

  He muttered, “Distractions. Distractions everywhere.”

  Then dramatically looked at his watch.

  “Time is money, and I’m broke in neither.”

  Ayame watched him spiral deeper into the sigma pit, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

  “Are you seriously not going to talk to me the whole day just because you saw a ‘Grindset’ video at 3am?”

  He turned to her, pointed at the sky.

  “I don’t talk to girls anymore. I only talk to destiny.”

  Then tripped over his own shoe and fell flat on his back.

  Ayame leaned over him.

  “You good, Mr. Destiny?”

  Lying there on the floor, he sighed deeply.

  “I’m fine. Pain builds character. And abs.”

  “…I don’t have either yet.”

  Ayame just walked off chuckling, muttering,

  “Sigma my foot…”