“Who is this?” the father demanded, looking at Mana’s glittery phone case and bleached hair as if she were a natural disaster.
“I don’t understand,” Kaito said, staring at the differential equation like it had personally insulted his ancestors. They were in his family’s sterile, minimalist penthouse. “The limit approaches infinity, but the function… it just breaks.” Mana Izumi Gal Tutor
Mana smiled, pulled out her pink gel pen, and wrote a single equation on the whiteboard—one so elegant and cruel that it had stumped PhD candidates. Then she handed the pen to Kaito. “Who is this
But the real trouble started a week later. Kaito’s father, a stern parliament member, walked in early from a business trip. He found his pristine son on the floor, surrounded by pink sticky notes, laughing—actually laughing —as Mana taught him calculus using the rhythm of a J-pop song. “The limit approaches infinity, but the function… it
“You’ve got this, prez. Remember—the function is just nervous. Be smooth.”
“Told ya. Gyaru magic.”
Which was ironic, because Mana was also a mathematical prodigy.