About half a century ago, cases began to appear around the world where some young people awakened—if only slightly—to the traits of imaginary beings spoken of in legends and epics.
These traits, not strong enough to impact the world, always manifested during puberty and naturally faded away by the time one reached their thirties.
Even now, the cause remains unknown.
But collectively, they have come to be known as the “Students (Students)” of “Myth (Mythos)”—
――In short, “Myudents”—
And all of them are simply enjoying a perfectly normal youth.
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Prologue: Let’s Talk About the “Succubus” from now on
“I believe humanity should explore the potential of succubi even further.”
“Uh… yeah, sure.”
My Senpai’s statement, delivered with her usual exasperating flair, left me no choice but to respond with a vague, noncommittal nod.
It was an ordinary afternoon in March, the kind where amber sunlight streamed through the windows, hinting at spring’s arrival.
The literary club room—or rather, the former literary club room—was cramped with books that overflowed from the steel shelves, devouring what little floor space remained. To make matters worse, the tea sets and electric kettle my Senpai had brought in had practically staged an invasion, leaving even the barest semblance of order on the verge of collapse.
As I futilely tried tidying up (like pouring water on a hot stone), her opening line hit me. If you’ve got time to ramble, help me out instead—but I knew better than to expect logic from her.
“What brought this on all of a sudden?”
I asked, sorting through the mountain of books while at least pretending to engage.
“Nothing in particular. It’s just that succubi have always been so one-note throughout history.”
“‘Humanity,’ ‘history’—you’re awfully grandiose today.”
“It’s the truth. Especially in Japan, that amazing country of ours.”
“Well, this is the land of a certain breed of perverts…”
“Exactly. Look, this is a prime example.”
With that, she brandished a book like it was Exhibit A. I expected some scholarly tome, but no—the pastel-colored cover featured a scantily clad woman with thorny wings, goat-like horns, and a devilish tail. You know, that kind of thing.
“This manga—[My Sex Life Is Ruined by a Shy, Virgin Potential Sex Maniac of an H-Cup Succubus Who Insists She’s Plain and Has Zero Knowledge or Experience]—was an impulse buy based on the title alone.”
“Is that even legal for minors?”
“It’s the all-ages version, so relax.”
“Somehow, that makes it worse…”
My ears felt dirtied just hearing the title. I shot her a disapproving look, but—
“Stop giving me those ‘discounted mackerel left to rot’ eyes.”
“Just call them ‘dead fish eyes’ like a normal person.”
“I was going for something murkier. ‘Fresh fish’ is a stretch.”
“…The only thing murky here is your mind.”
Honestly, she was a walking contradiction—or just plain hopeless.
Objectively speaking, my Senpai was beautiful.
Her large, determined eyes, a straight nose, and glossy lips gave her an air of elegance. Her long, raven-black hair shimmered as if woven with flecks of light. Seated by the window in a pipe chair (with her mouth shut), she could pass for a noblewoman straight out of a classic novel.
And her H-cup—well, maybe not quite that, but undeniably impressive—strained against her school blazer and shirt, making her look like she was cosplaying. For someone only a year older than me, she radiated a maturity that made me doubt our ages—yet somehow, it left me utterly unfazed. Proof that personality trumps all.
“Back on topic, this manga is a moral catastrophe—”
“Defending succubi’s honor is noble, but getting worked up over every little thing is pointless. That title’s just bait for clicks—”
“No, no! It’s the title that’s misleading! The story itself is anything but trash—it’s a masterpiece of pure romance!”
“Wait, you’re praising it now?”
“The gap between the heroine’s lewd appearance and her reserved personality, the protagonist who genuinely understands her, the frustrating will-they-won’t-they tension—and the succubus’s inner turmoil is brilliant. I even related to some of it.”
“If you say it’s good, it must be.”
“Absolutely. The author, [Peko-ojisan: Champion of Flat-Chests, Lolis, and Monstergirls Alike], deserves every accolade.”
“That pen name just killed all credibility… Wait, hold on. Weren’t you just complaining about succubus stereotypes? Now you’re gushing?”
From what I gathered, this “Peko-ojisan” had avoided the usual “succubus = sex incarnate” trope, instead portraying one that felt real (relatively speaking).
“Oh, you sweet summer child.”
She clicked her tongue theatrically, her refinement crumbling with every word.
“This series is already on its umpteenth reprint, and there’s talk of an anime. But its success hinges on one thing: the disconnect from reality. Readers think, ‘No succubus would actually be like this,’ because they’re shackled by preconceptions!”
“…That’s not just plausible—it’s obvious.”
“Right?! Subversion only works when there’s a norm to subvert! Hence, humanity must—”
Her rant escalated until she finally shot up, fist raised like a revolutionary leader.
“This world assumes every succubus is a buxom, confident, sex-savvy seductress with H-cups or larger! That they’re all lustful, insatiable, and shameless! It’s bigotry!”
Her soul-burning declaration shook the stale air of the clubroom. I half-expected the stacks of books to topple.
“Passionate, aren’t we…”
What I wanted to say was, “Shut the hell up.”
[Succubus]—a supernatural entity associated with sexual allure and dreams.
Why was she so hell-bent on defending them? Outsiders might wonder. But she did have the right to speak. This wasn’t some shallow, faux-intellectual phase—like debating the trolley problem after skimming a philosophy book.
“That’s why we must establish a new standard for the Reiwa-era succubus!”
“Such as?”
“A succubus who’s too shy to talk to store clerks! A succubus who’s technically an F-cup but leans G! A succubus who’s all theory, no practice! A homebody succubus who lazes around on weekends! A succubus who still can’t figure out how to order at Starbucks!”
“You’re just describing yourself.”
“A succubus who only feels alive when teasing her childhood junior! A succubus who dumps all her work on said junior while she goofs off! A succubus who ‘forgets’ to pay back borrowed money—”
“NO! Change now! Give me my damn money back!!”
“The point is, as a modern succubus, I propose these possibilities!”
“Every succubus in Japan just felt a chill down their spine!!”
If she wanted to be their advocate, she’d need responsibility and dedication—neither of which she possessed.
My Senpai—Saiin Sakuya, one year my elder—was a girl known by another name: Succubus.
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