What Kind of Name Is Yu Juju?
The first-year special class classroom at Felix Academy was absurdly spacious for a mere ten students.
Each desk put a first-class airline seat to shame, and every student was issued both a top-of-the-line tablet and a desktop PC for their studies. And that was only the beginning. The cafeteria rivaled the faculty dining hall in quality, the training room brimmed with well-oiled equipment, and the lounge even came stocked with refreshments and plush beds.
Students in the beginner, intermediate, and advanced classes naturally resented this preferential treatment—but the academy's chairman had no intention of changing course. If you had a problem with it, you simply needed to earn the grades and climb into the special class yourself.
Because the door to the special class stood open to any student willing to earn their place, the entire academy threw itself into getting stronger. And of course, the special-class students fighting to keep their seats were no different.
"Hup!"
"Hah… hah…"
After classes let out, the training room swarmed with special-class students grinding out the foundational hunter virtue of physical fitness. Some gasped for air on the treadmills. Others flushed crimson under the bench press. Still others strained before the mirrors with barbells in hand—every form of effort on full display.
Not everyone, however, was there purely to work.
"Hahaha…"
"No way, for real?"
In one corner of the training room, a cluster of students was busy chatting. They had at least bothered to put on their training gear, but gossiping with newly made friends clearly beat boring exercise in their book.
"That's right, sir! A Skeleton Lord? I'd just smash it with this fist—pow!"
The student in the middle threw a punch at empty air, and the boys around her burst out laughing.
"Hey, Yu Juju, aren't you laying the bragging on a little thick?"
"You said it was only a C-class skill. How are you supposed to beat a Skeleton Lord with that?"
The student in question just shrugged and waved it off.
"Aw, c'mon—I was just talkin', sir."
Small frame, round bob of short hair, sun-kissed copper skin glowing with health. Add a low, androgynous voice, and at a glance it was impossible to tell whether she was a boy or a girl. The name Yu Juju stitched onto her training jacket only deepened the confusion.
"Pffft—!"
"Man, the way you talk is hilarious."
Yu Juju shoved her hands into the pockets of her training jacket and snickered.
One hundred fifty-five centimeters, fifty-three kilos. Placement test rank: tenth overall. Tank position.
Her build was small and fine-boned, her face cute—but the lean, healthy muscle that came with an athletic lifestyle was surprisingly solid underneath. Juju had enrolled at Felix Academy a year early, making her a year younger than her classmates. Thanks to her naturally bright, cheerful personality, though, she never once seemed cowed among the boys around her.
"Yeah, fair. You'd need at least an A-class skill to take down a Lord."
"And where exactly are you supposed to learn an A-class skill?"
"Well… maybe if a top guild scouted you? Though even then, who knows… Hmph. Must be nice for the people who already have one."
At that last remark, every gaze in the group swung toward a single point—toward a girl still pouring sweat on the squat machine.
"…Hoo."
"……"
Hoshikawa Himari racked the bar, exhaled hard, and wiped the sweat from her brow. The boys all swallowed at once. She had stripped down to a tank top.
"Uh—does that lady have, like, zero shame, or what?"
Yu Juju tilted her head.
"What? I think it's great."
"I'm starting Japanese today."
"Hmm."
Juju rubbed her chin as she studied Himari. Himari, apparently oblivious to their stares, was about to start another set.
"Come to think of it, I've never actually talked to her, sir."
"Huh? Really?"
"I'm gonna go say hi!"
Without a second's hesitation, Yu Juju strode toward the squat machine, both hands still buried in her pockets.
"…Hm?"
Only then did Himari seem to register the attention. She set the bar back on the rack and turned to face Juju. Himari had a good handspan of height on her.
"Hello there, Miss Hoshikawa."
"…Good afternoon."
Himari wiped her forehead with the wristband on her arm and returned the greeting with perfect courtesy. There was not the slightest hint of irritation at having her workout interrupted.
"I realized I've never actually spoken with you, Miss Hoshikawa, so I figured I'd come introduce myself, sir."
"Himari is fine. In Korea, people use given names."
"That so, sir? Nice to meet you! I'm Yu Juju!"
Juju pulled her right hand from her pocket and thrust it toward Himari.
"Honestly, you always looked so hard to approach I figured you'd be ice-cold—but you're not like that at all, sir."
"……"
Himari stared blankly at the hand Juju was offering.
"Looking forward to working with you."
"……"
Himari did not take it.
"…What do you think you are doing?"
She simply fixed Juju with a frigid glare and said that.
At the sudden shift in Himari's demeanor, Juju cocked her head.
"Huh? Why? I was just tryin' to shake hands, sir…"
Himari's expression curdled as if she had just laid eyes on some grotesque monster. Sensing she must have made some kind of mistake, Juju withdrew her hand—but the damage was already done.
"Get out of my sight. Immediately."
"…Uh? Wh-why, though?"
Still baffled, Juju nonetheless fled the razor edge of Himari's gaze and retreated to her original spot.
She asked her friends about it afterward, but no one had the faintest idea why Himari had reacted that way.
The nurse's office.
"Whew. That should do it for the privacy screen."
A massive sheet of corrugated cardboard stood in the middle of the nurse's office—something Lua had hauled in herself, scavenged from several boxes in the dumpster and taped together.
Its purpose?
"—Contactless treatment…!"
After working the nurse's office since the entrance ceremony, Lua had identified several problems. Chief among them: far more students dropped by than expected. With so many classes involving hands-on physical training, injuries piled up. For someone who found meeting strangers anything but pleasant, that was a crisis demanding an immediate solution.
And so this was the brilliant method she had devised.
"Alright—stand this up beside the desk…"
Once the towering panel was upright, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling, the nurse's office was cleanly split in two: the inner zone holding Lua's precious sanctuary of a desk, and the outer zone by the entrance.
—Skritch.
She took out a box cutter and carved a small square hole at a convenient height.
—Squeak, scrawl.
Then, in bold permanent marker, she wrote across it in large letters:
Place injured area here
"Yep. Perfect."
Lua immediately slipped behind the barrier and began a test run. Settling into her now fully sealed-off, cozy desk, she poked one hand out through the hole.
Healing requires palm contact with the wound, after all.
Students would simply walk in and press whatever hurt against Lua's hand. The moment she felt something touch her, she would cast Healing, and that would be that.
A masterstroke that let her treat people without ever having to look them in the face. Privacy preserved; Lua free to enjoy a blissful shut-in lifestyle even on the clock. Scotch candy on the side, naturally.
"Ahh. This is the life."
Lua fixed herself a cup of coffee, retreated behind the barrier, and smiled.
Yeah. From in here, I can plan without anyone interrupting me.
With one hand still extended through the cardboard, she pulled out her tablet and stylus and began taking notes. Creating this space had also been about drafting her future plans in secret.
—Swoosh.
Lua drew four circles on the blank white screen.
I can't raise every single student in this place with my own two hands.
Selection and focus were essential. In the game, only one party ever entered the final battle—the protagonist's. She intended to identify those members early, approach them, raise their affection, and grow them.
The standard party in Hunter Hunting Academy is four people.
A tank up front to soak enemy aggro.
A dealer behind them to put out real damage on the monsters.
A healer to mend injuries.
And a mage to dish out buffs and ranged attack skills as needed.
Two of those seats were already spoken for, of course.
—Scratch, scratch.
In the rear healer slot, Lua wrote her own name. In the dealer slot, Himari's.
It's better if I take part in combat myself.
Lua's healing ability ranked among the very best even compared to active hunters. Factor in her game knowledge, and she was non-negotiable.
And Himari's a flawless dealer in her own right.
She might not have been the single irreplaceable best dealer available—but after the bond (?) they'd forged in the bathroom a few days ago, recruiting her should be straightforward enough.
As for the tank… right. There was someone among the third-years I could bring in.
Sifting through her memories, Lua snapped her fingers. There was a high-performance tank in the third year with a personal quest attached. If she could somehow meet the quest conditions and pull them in, that would be ideal.
I'll keep them on the back burner for now.
That left the mage. A versatile role, which meant the gap between students was enormous. She would have to weigh whether each candidate leaned toward direct offense or party buffs first, and…
This is going to be a pain…
Lua sighed. Come to think of it, the main story was about due to start moving soon—
—Click.
While Lua was still pressing a hand to her forehead, the sound of the door opening carried from beyond the cardboard. Another student, apparently.
Ordinarily she would have shot bolt upright in a cold sweat—but not this time. She had her state-of-the-art contactless treatment apparatus, after all.
—Step, step.
Footsteps drew closer. Something touched Lua's hand. Still staring at her tablet, she murmured,
"Healing."
Reality, however, diverged slightly from expectation.
"What on earth is this, Nurse Han?"
"……?!"
A middle-aged man's voice that absolutely should not have been there. Lua jolted upright, shoved the cardboard aside, and stared at her visitor's face.
"Is this how you've been conducting your duties?"
"Eep…!"
It was the vice principal—infamous for being a stickler.