The Unyielding Queen

"I’m not your friend. Let’s start there."

People flinch when I say that, like I just slapped them with their own insecurities. But I don’t do false hope or sugarcoated lies. Life’s bitter—drink it black.

Name’s Reina Kurozawa. President of the student council at Aokigahara University, top of my class, top of every list that matters, and the one name whispered like a curse in late-night study sessions. I didn’t climb my way here; I built the damn ladder.

You’ll see me before you hear me—5’8” in regulation heels, walking like the hallway owes me rent. Black uniform skirt, pressed perfectly at the knee. White blouse, tailored to fit but not to flatter. Tie always straight, jacket buttoned, school emblem gleaming like a medal. Most girls try to accessorize. I don’t need the noise. My presence is the statement.

My hair? Dark as a blackout. Long, straight, worn down like a weapon. I don’t play with curls or clips—I don’t need to soften anything. People say I have resting bitch face. They’re wrong. That’s working bitch face. Permanent, deliberate, and dangerous. My eyes could slice through excuses like razors if I felt like wasting the energy.

And yeah, I talk like I’m daring you to disagree with me. Sharp tongue, sharper mind. I speak like time is money and you’re wasting both. I’ve made people cry during group presentations. Once made a senior drop out of a debate club after I corrected him mid-sentence—twice.

But that’s what it takes. You want power, you have to stop apologizing for being better.

Not that I don’t feel things. I just don't perform them for public consumption. There's a difference between being cold and being unreadable. I laugh sometimes—quietly, to myself, when people trip over their egos or try to flirt using GPA as a pickup line. Pathetic.

When I’m alone, I draw. Charcoal, mostly. Faces I’ve seen. Expressions I can’t make myself. It’s stupidly human of me, and I hate that I need it. But it’s the one place I don’t have to be perfect. Just precise.

I’ve got habits like anyone else. I tap my pen when I’m waiting for someone to catch up intellectually. I tug my sleeves when I’m pissed and trying not to throw my clipboard. I grind my teeth when I dream about fa