With the cultural festival preparations underway, every student council member had their hands full.
Aside from attending classes, Rukia now spent each day following Nobu from one errand to the next. She didn’t find it tiring—on the contrary, having something to do every day made her feel fulfilled.
The president was a genuinely good person, and he often gave her guidance. Deep down, she respected Nobu a great deal.
“These class submissions are all over the place.”
Nobu flipped through a booklet handed to him by the head of the Cultural Committee and couldn’t help but comment.
Rukia peeked at the content over his shoulder: a stage play titled The Fugitive Princess and Her Knight, a music and dance performance called Underground Kagura, a Kidō firework demonstration, and more.
Judging from the titles, she found herself intrigued—wondering what each performance might entail.
“What do you think, Rukia?” Nobu asked suddenly.
“Ah… I think they seem… fine?” she replied, a little uncertain.
Nobu frowned slightly. “That play alone is an hour long. If the performance isn’t up to par, it’ll just bore the audience.”
“You have a point,” Rukia nodded quickly.
“Looks like we’ll need to raise the selection standards a bit,” Nobu mused aloud.
The main venue for the cultural festival would be the Academy’s central courtyard. In addition to a raised performance stage, there would be class-run market booths similar to a flea market—selling snacks, used items, or handmade trinkets.
But the stage shows would undoubtedly draw the most attention.
Nobu set the booklet aside and glanced over at Rukia, smiling suddenly. “What do you say—should the student council put on a performance too?”
“Huh? Us?” Rukia blinked, caught off guard.
“I think you would be great on stage, Rukia.”
Her eyes widened. She quickly shook her head. “I-I can’t, President!”
“How do you know if you haven’t tried?”
Rukia bit her lip and came up with an excuse: “The council’s already so busy every day—we wouldn’t have time to rehearse.”
“We don’t need that many people. Just two or three is enough.” Nobu rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Let me think…”
“You, Hinamori, and Kaisawa. The three of you have very different styles—people won’t be able to look away!”
Their personalities were indeed quite distinct: Kaisawa was stern and stoic, Hinamori cute and sweet with a mischievous edge, and Rukia… was the quiet one. She usually kept to herself, worked hard, and was strikingly self-reliant. She reminded people of still water—calm, reflective, but with a quiet clarity that occasionally revealed her brilliance.
“President…” Rukia still resisted, her eyes large and pleading as she looked at him, hoping he might change his mind.
“It’s settled,” Nobu declared. “Go find Hinamori and Kaisawa and fill them in.”
Rukia wasn’t good at saying no. Even though she wasn’t thrilled by the idea, she could see Nobu wasn’t backing down. She had no choice but to leave and track down Hinamori and Kaisawa.
Thirty minutes later, all three girls were gathered in the student council office.
“What the hell is this about?” Kaisawa asked first, frowning in clear disapproval.
She’d known Nobu longer than the other two, so her tone was far more casual.
Nobu lounged behind his desk, grinning. “What do you mean? Every class is putting on something. It only makes sense for the student council to represent, too.”
“Then pick someone else. I’m not doing it,” Kaisawa said bluntly. She suspected this was just one of Nobu’s whims and had no interest in playing along.
“Kaisawa-san, I must protest,” Nobu said in mock seriousness. “You’re the head of our disciplinary committee—you have a responsibility to stand up for the council.”
“I also have the right to say no,” she retorted. “Why don’t you perform?”
“Let’s be honest—I wouldn’t draw half as much attention as you girls. You’re all beautiful, and this will help attract future recruits to the council.”
“……”
Kaisawa went quiet, fingers subconsciously brushing against her cheek.
Hinamori took the opportunity to speak up. “But President… what would we even perform? I don’t have any particular talents.”
“A skit, a song, a dance—whatever you want. You three can work it out together. In fact, feel free to set aside your council duties for now and focus on preparing.”
Hinamori glanced at Rukia, then at Kaisawa. From their expressions earlier, neither of them seemed eager to participate, so she didn’t know what to say either.
Seeing their hesitation, Nobu added thoughtfully, “How about this? If you agree to do it, I’ll grant each of you one wish afterward. I am the president—I’ve got a little pull, after all.”
That lit up Hinamori’s eyes. “Really?”
“Of course!”
She tugged gently at Rukia’s sleeve, and Rukia finally murmured, “…All right.”
Nobu turned his gaze to Kaisawa.
She stared back.
“…Fine.”
Nobu’s face broke into a smile. “Then I’m counting on you! Show everyone the best of the student council!”
Hinamori clenched her fists and beamed. “We’ll do our best!”
But once they’d left the office, Rukia couldn’t help whispering to Hinamori, “Momo… why did you say yes? I’m still not ready at all, and I really don’t think I’ll do well.”
Hinamori answered gently, “Rukia, you just lack confidence. This is the perfect chance to push yourself. Believe in what you can do.”
Rukia pressed her lips together and said nothing.
Hinamori turned to Kaisawa. “Kaisawa-senpai, do you have any ideas for the performance?”
Kaisawa’s expression remained flat. “You two come up with something. I’ll go along with it.”
And with that, she turned and walked away.
Hinamori watched her go and muttered, “Kaisawa-senpai is really hard to read… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.”
Rukia nodded. “True.”
Among the student council, it seemed only the president and Hisagi-senpai got along well with her.
Still, Hinamori squared her shoulders again. “All right, Rukia, let’s think of something good. The president said we could take a break from our regular work, remember?”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Then I’ll come up with something.”
…
As the cultural festival drew closer, it quickly became the talk of the entire Academy. Decorations went up all over campus—banners, streamers, and cheerful slogans.
Being a Shinigami was serious work—guarding the Seireitei, keeping balance between the three worlds. Shin’ō Academy’s atmosphere had never been particularly relaxed.
But the cultural festival had brought a surge of energy into the school.
Rukia and Hinamori both loved this place, loved the student council, and loved the new lives they were building—so different from anything they’d known before.
—
This is a fan translation of 限制级死神 by 易安z. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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