The boy sighed, raising a hand to adjust his hood as the sun shone down harshly from above, searing his face with its unwelcome light. Granted, he wasn't the type of monster who was actually weak against sunlight - unless you could call a partial hikkikomori a type of monster - but at the same time, he just didn't like it. Fortunately, the hood of his trademark duster served its secondary purpose admirably, which at least meant he could see fine, his enchanting emerald eyes tracing and retracing the path before him as, with a whirr, the motor of his beaten up vespa started again, carrying him down the dusty, unused road towards Yokai Academy. He smirked, glancing down at the small shopping bag hanging from his wrist. The nearest convenience store was miles away, but seriously, did they expect him to live without a least a little good, old-fashioned human junk food? Nonsense.
"With these rations, I can fight for another ten years," The Incubus murmured to himself with a smirk, his voice drowned out by the breeze kicked up by his own passage. Pulling up in the side-yard of the school, he parked his motorscooter - a slightly used birthday present from his adoptive family which he'd taken with him on his little exodus - around the back corner of the main building, locking it to a rather large pipe coming out of an air conditioning unit before strolling back around the other side. Nobody but the groundskeeper ever really came back there, and as it turned out, that old ghoul was actually a major otaku, which meant that the insomniac Incubus and he had hit it off fairly quickly. He never minded Akatsuya's little parking spot.
Slinging his snack bag over his shoulder, he was just coming around the corner of the main building when he thought he heard something. Was that... a girl crying? He stopped in his tracks, and listened more closely. It certainly sounded like it. Granted, it was none of his business, and if he stayed out in the sun much longer, the chocolate bar in his snack bag would probably melt down to a gooey, unappetizing paste, but... oh, damnit. He just had to see what was the matter, didn't he? So, taking an unanticipated turn to his right, he strolled through the partially open door, glancing around to see what the trouble was. Oslin, the rather upbeat member of the welcoming committee, was looking on with a sort of detached resignation at a most unusual scenario. One girl was sitting rather awkwardly on the floor, glaring up at another, who was bawling her eyes out and apologizing profusely. Judging by the dropped baggage and the general situation, Akatsuya supposed that this was one of those scenarios that you saw all the time in fiction, but very rarely in real life. A new student, out of place, hadn't been looking where she was going and had crashed right into somebody.
Normally, he'd probably try to help the girl on the floor up, considering that if she was still sitting there, she was probably hurt somehow. He had a really good line for it, too. Something like, "You know, the whole crashing into someone on your first day thing only really works if you do it to a guy. You could try again on me, if you'd like." Her reaction would probably be priceless. But, sadly, the girl on the floor was probably ashamed enough already by her accident. Rubbing salt in that wound just wasn't really his style, least of all when somebody was crying right next to him.
Turning to the pink haired girl, he strolled up as casually as he could. It would probably be easy enough to calm her down just by making eye contact. A slight charm and she'd become temporarily caught up in impressing him, making her want to relax. But that, too, just wasn't his style. No, he'd do this himself, or he wouldn't do it at all. Still, that was going to be a little difficult...
"Oi, oi," He said somewhat uneasily, scratching his cheek slightly underneath his hood. Crying women always made him nervous. "I'm sure this isn't that big a deal. Everybody has accidents sometimes." Giving his best smile, he turned to the girl on the floor. "Isn't that right?" He asked, grinning as he extended a hand in turn to help her up. Turning back the crying girl, he glanced around uneasily, fishing around in one of his coat's many pockets before withdrawing a featureless white handkerchief. "Here." He grinned sheepishly, offering it to her. "Use this." It was a good thing he carried around so many seemingly useless objects on the off chance that he might encounter a scenario where he'd need them to win over the heart of a girl, or he'd have been woefully unprepared for this situation. A gentleman always had to be ready to be suave, no matter what the time, place, or occasion!
...Granted, that still probably didn't justify the package of dango he always bought at the convenience store every time he went there just so he'd have the chance to make a "Hana yori dango*" quip if the opportunity ever presented itself - it hadn't - despite the fact that he rather disliked the sweet in question, but hey, at least he was prepared.
(*Hana yori dango is an expression meaning "Dango over flowers," equating roughly the English expression "The belly is not filled with fair words.")