It was the next day. Daiki continued his classes as usual, slipping effortlessly into the role of the quiet and unremarkable student. It was routine by now—keeping his head down, avoiding unnecessary attention, and responding with only the bare minimum when spoken to.
Just like its always been. He thought.
Despite his dull exterior, there were moments when his real self threatened to slip through. Arts, physical education, and cooking—these were the subjects he genuinely enjoyed. Yet, he was an expert at masking his enthusiasm, keeping his expression neutral even when his favorite classes approached.
During art class, he worked in silence, his brush gliding smoothly across the canvas. His strokes were precise, controlled—almost too perfect for someone who supposedly had no passion for it. But no one questioned him. After all, Daiki Akezawa was the type to do things mechanically, without emotion.
In P.E., he held back just enough to blend in. He was fast, stronger than most of his classmates, but never enough to stand out. He kept his movements calculated, ensuring no one would suspect how naturally athletic he was.
Cooking class was where he had to be the most careful. He enjoyed the process too much, his hands moving with practiced ease as he prepared ingredients. But when he received quiet praise from the teacher, he simply nodded, acting as though it didn't matter to him.
Even as the day continued, he could always feel eyes on him—whether it was Yuki's subtle glances or Haruka watching him from a distance. It was tiring, keeping up the act, but necessary.
Because no matter how much he enjoyed these small moments, at the end of the day, he wasn't supposed to be anything more than Daiki Akezawa.
English class arrived, and Daiki took his seat near the back, resting his chin against his palm. He had long since decided that this subject was a waste of time. He already knew English well enough to maintain a persona online, and that was all he needed.
But then the teacher spoke.
"Alright, today's activity is charades."
Daiki's entire body stiffened. His fingers clenched slightly around his pen as a quiet horror settled in.
Charades.
Of all the things they could have done, it had to be this?
Acting wasn't the issue—he was a master at pretending. But the problem was that everyone would be watching. There was no mask to hide behind, no anonymity. Just him, standing in front of his classmates, forced to perform like an idiot.
He wanted to sink into the floor.
"Alright, I'll be calling students up one by one," the teacher continued, shuffling a stack of cards. "Let's start with…"
Daiki held his breath.
Please. Anyone but—
"Akezawa-kun."
His stomach dropped.
Suppressing the overwhelming urge to groan, Daiki pushed back his chair and stood, his face carefully neutral. But inside?
He was already praying for the ground to swallow him whole.
The teacher took a moment to explain the rules of charades, going over how students would have to act out a word or phrase without speaking while the rest of the class guessed. It was a simple enough concept, and she made sure to be thorough, likely to be considerate of anyone unfamiliar with the game.
Surprisingly, that eased Daiki's mind—just a little.
Maybe the thought that he wouldn't be the only one standing in front of everyone looking ridiculous made it a bit easier to bear.
Still, as the teacher finished the explanation and gestured for him to come forward, he felt a sharp wave of discomfort settle in his stomach. He wasn't nervous—he was used to performing, after all. But this was different. There was no character to slip into, no scripted reactions or mask to wear.
Just Daiki Akezawa.
And that was the part that unsettled him the most.
He approached the front of the classroom with slow, measured steps, keeping his face carefully blank. The teacher took out a basket full of cards and rustled through it. The teacher got a piece, and Daiki reached for it, his fingers brushing against the paper.
Then, he turned it over and read the word.
His eye twitched.
You've got to be kidding me.
Daiki stared at the card in his hand, his mind going blank for a solid second.
He could practically hear the universe laughing at him. His fingers tightened slightly around the edges of the card, but his expression remained unreadable. Years of practice had made sure of that. Still, a sharp, almost panicked thought echoed in his mind.
How the hell am I supposed to act this out without making it obvious?
He felt the weight of the class's anticipation settling on him like a thick, suffocating blanket. Students leaned forward slightly, some already whispering to each other, eager to see how the quiet, unremarkable Daiki Akezawa would handle this.
He could already imagine the worst-case scenario—making a fool of himself, drawing attention in a way he never intended, someone connecting the dots.
His fingers twitched slightly as he processed the cruel twist of fate that had just landed in his lap. His first instinct? Play dumb.
He blinked once, twice, before tilting his head slightly, feigning confusion. Then, as naturally as he could manage, he turned around, looking up as if searching for an answer in the ceiling tiles.
Okay. Think. How do I make this not obvious?
His mind raced. He could half-heartedly throw something together, but then he'd get called out for not trying. If he went too far, though… He didn't even want to imagine that possibility.
Behind him, a few students exchanged puzzled glances, waiting for him to start.
"Uh… Akezawa?" the teacher prompted, amusement laced in her voice.
No way out. He had to act.
With an internal sigh, he slowly turned back around.
Daiki kept his expression neutral as he turned back to face the class, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look.
"Sorry, I was thinking of how to express it," he said, his voice carrying just the right amount of hesitation to sell the lie.
A few students chuckled, and the teacher simply nodded, motioning for him to continue.
Internally, Daiki let out a breath of relief. At the very least, no one was suspicious—yet. But now, he actually had to act it out.
Stop overthinking. Just do it.
He adjusted his stance and started again, miming putting on something on his head, this time making it a little clumsier to keep up the act. He tapped at an imaginary surface with exaggerated strokes and moved his other hand around like he was clicking a mouse.
The class murmured among themselves, throwing out guesses.
"Gamer?"
"Typing?"
"Office worker?"
Daiki fought the urge to sigh. This was going to be a long round.
Daiki forced himself to push further, exaggerating his motions. He leaned forward as if reading an imaginary chat, nodded in acknowledgment, and even threw in a thumbs-up, the same way KZ would when interacting with viewers. He hesitated at the last second before adding a more dramatic reaction—one hand flying to his head as if he'd just witnessed something insane on-screen.
Laughter bubbled up in the room.
"A MeTuber?" someone called.
"Vlogger?"
"Online Teacher?"
Another student snapped their fingers. "Wait—A streamer?"
The teacher clapped her hands together. "That's correct!"
A brief wave of relief washed over him, but it was quickly drowned out by the mortifying realization of what he had just done.
His hands dropped immediately. Without another word, he strode back to his seat, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He could still hear the lingering murmurs, the amused chuckles, but he ignored them, focusing instead on keeping his expression completely blank.