Hello everyone! I'm back!

Please give me some time with 'TMTwist?' as i am stuck on it for a bit.

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 1: The Advent.

Misaki's POV

I was at the door, waiting for her arrival. And it had already been 10 minutes since the class should have started.

I hate people who aren't punctual.

Sighing to myself, I walked to the principal's cabin to get her.

Myself, Misaki Ayuzawa. The first female president of Seika high, also known as the demon president of the school. I had reputed myself in the sight of every teacher by being sincere, hardworking and punctual to attain this post.

My life outside school, though, is different.

The hopeless father of mine ran off due to the burden of debts, leaving my mother, sister and me to fend for ourselves. And that led me to hate men in general. However, money constraints forced me to join this school, with eighty percent of the population being males.

"Is this the manners you depict in your school? No wonder the school lies in shambles." I heard a voice.

A harmonious voice, with a harsh touch to the words.

I turned to the source of the voice.

And it was a teacher, one I hadn't seen around before. Maybe the new teacher I had come looking for. It was finally good to see a student being brought to the best of behavior by a teacher. I smiled to myself, looking at her.

She looked young, around twenty years of age. New to profession, but determined to succeed.

She looked beautiful as well. Dark brown hair, deep blue eyes, a suit and skirt suited for work. A nude shade of lipstick, slight foundation and eye liner, with expertise, enhancing her facial features. Really slim, tall, held a proud composure, a professional aura. In a nutshell, a perfect woman.

Any person could fall for her.

'What did I even think?'

I blushed to myself and walked to her, trying to make a good first impression.

And she turned to me.

"And what are you doing outside the classroom after the start of the lecture, dear?" She asked me.

"Oh. I came looking for our new homeroom teacher. I thought she might have lost her way so . . ."

And she did the unexpected.

She ruffled my hair.

"Then you must be Ayuzawa Misaki, right?" She spoke sweetly.

And I couldn't help but smile.

"Yes sensei! I am Misaki Ayuzawa. Please take care of me!" I said in glee, as I bowed in front of her.

"Okay dear. Now take me to class. It's already late."

I turned to the direction of the classroom and the new teacher followed me, her heels clanking on the hard floor as we walked.

And the class was in extreme chaos when I opened the door.

"And this is why a male dominant school should not have a female council president." The teacher loudly thought.

And completely furious, I walked back to my seat right next to the window.

"Hello everyone, I am Yumiko Katsura and I will be your homeroom teacher from now on. I'll be in charge of your Biology lessons this year. And I absolutely DO NOT like any sort of mischief. So be on your best behaviour around me." She finished her sharp introduction and took out the attendance sheets.

And finishing with the roll call, she began with the lessons.

"Biology is the science of life, of growth, nurturing and well-being of ourselves, and our body functions. . ." and so went her lecture.

However, my focus was not on the lesson, but on her words.

"And this is why a male dominant school should not have a female council president."

I was angry on how she could be so sure of something on the first day of school, let alone blame the person responsible without even knowing the person's qualities. She didn't have the right to hold me responsible for the misbehavior of the entire class.

I turned around to look at the class.

The now, completely, pin-drop silent class.

Everyone looking at the board, with a pencil, the textbook or a rough book in hand, taking down notes, with full attention at the teacher.

And for the first time, our classroom, seemed like one.

I turned to see the other side of students.

And as I turned, I saw a white spot, growing larger.

Until the chalk hit me.

"Focus, Ayuzawa. Or you may go out."

"Sorry, sensei. I won't space out again." I said and turned my eyes to the board.

To the neatly drawn, clearly labelled image of the cranium, on the blackboard, almost as clear as a real skull.

Touching points on the diagram with a stick, she put out the functions, and the peculiarities of it.

"The mandible, or the jaw bone, is the only bone that remains separated from the rest of the fused cranium, thus being the only motile bone in the facial region, helping in the functions of chewing, bolus formation and movement of the lower jaw, thus helping in speech."

And I studied that diagram, taking in her every word, and noted down labels in my textbook for the rest of her forty minutes, until the bell rang.

"Students, I want you to mind yourselves whenever you are in school premises. And tomorrow I want all of you in proper uniform."

And almost simultaneously came an uproar of words. "Yes ma'am!"

"Good. So I'll meet you all tomorrow."

And then the unimaginable happened.

All the students stood up and wished her. Together. And there was no voice out of pitch.

Her footwear clanked as she walked with complete grace, with a hand around reference books, holding those to her chest.

"Misaki Ayuzawa." She called out at the door.

And my words reflexed back. "Yes Sensei!"

"Come with me."

I angrily yet diligently walked out of the class, slid the door close behind me and followed her, her heels sounding, echoing through the daunting corridors.

Though, for her 6' height, I don't think she even needed those.

"I heard you were the first ranker last year." She began, with a smile on her face.

"Yes sensei."

"Weren't you also the rank holder this trimester?" Her clanks stopped, and so did my soled feet.

"Yes sensei."

I turned to look at where we had stopped.

And it was the staff room.

"Come along." She gestured her words with her hand, and as a reflex, I followed her. Her light cherry perfume eased my nerves to a slight extent.

"Here. Take a seat." She said, motioning to the chair opposite to her, her wrist in a fluid movement, almost with the air of an interviewer.

And I stared at her with disbelief, as did the other staff present around.

"Oh, sorry. My bad." She lazily spoke up, and I stood up. She continued. "So, tell me how far you have gotten with your syllabus."

My bad, it wasn't the air of an interviewer. She practically IS an interviewer!

And after an hour-long questionnaire, and a bizarre session of detailed syllabus extraction, she finally allowed me to leave.

With no more time left, I decided to leave for my part time job.