The weekend drifted in like a breath of reprieve, soft and deceptively light.
Yu found himself stucked at his table Saturday morning, the pages of his notes spread out in neat but cramped handwriting. Every so often, Fumiko leaned over with a tip, Sakura chimed in with a silly mnemonic, and Yamato and Souma bickered across desks about who remembered the history timeline correctly. It was noisy, but Yu smiled despite himself. This, too, was studying.
Later, at the café near the station, the group clustered around steaming cups of tea and thick review books. Taichi hovered near Yu's side like a protective shadow, sneaking glances at the way Yu chewed on the end of his pen and scribbled furiously, sometimes tilting his paper just enough for Yu to copy an answer if he seemed stuck. The girls teased them both for acting like "a married couple even while studying," which only made Yu blush and Taichi beam smugly.
Afternoons Haruka stopped by to give an extra hand in teaching Yu. Yu practiced his stitching with Haruka's gentle corrections, his rows of thread gradually straightening. Haruka praised him for improving fast, and Yu's chest swelled faintly at the approval—though it was Taichi's face he imagined lighting up when he showed progress.
Evenings, it was Yu and Taichi alone. Yu cooking simple meals, Taichi hovering uselessly at his elbow but praising every bite like it was restaurant quality. After dinner, they sprawled on the living room floor with textbooks between them, Taichi's focus flickering constantly toward Yu instead of the equations in front of him. Sometimes Yu scolded him, other times he just sighed and leaned closer until their shoulders touched, warmth spilling quiet and steady.
It was ordinary, almost sweetly mundane—walking home with linked fingers, Yu's bag heavy with books and Taichi carrying it halfway when Yu complained, laughter spilling into twilight. A rhythm, fragile but comforting.
---
Then midterm week begins.
The shift was sharp. Monday morning, the air on school grounds felt heavier, voices hushed, eyes darting toward looming schedules pinned to the board.
"Midterms start tomorrow—don't forget your pencils and erasers!"
A teacher barked, and the whole class groaned.
Study sessions stretched longer, the group antics still there but tinged with nerves. Souma's jokes couldn't quite hide his panic; Sakura doodled hearts on her notes only to scribble them out seconds later. Yu concentrated hard, his lips pressed thin, bouncing between his Harmony Life Club duties and his revision, exhaustion creeping, his skill couldn't keep up the outtake of energy.
And through it all, Isuke lingered. His gaze followed Yu whenever their paths crossed, his tone always polite when he "suggested" tutoring help, but it pressed too close, too insistent. Yu, still raw from Sports Day and still holding onto Taichi's steady warmth, avoided him with practiced deflections—brushing past, claiming he had club work, or simply looking down and pretending not to hear.
DK01, quiet until now, snickered once in Yu's head during study hall.
[The protagonist halo won't save him from failing if he's too busy chasing you.]
Yu didn't answer—his chest was already knotted tight with the weight of exams, Taichi's quiet expectations, and the shadow of Isuke's attention looming at the edge of everything.
---
The week before exams was chaos. The classroom after hours became an impromptu study den:
Yamato and Souma locked in a "who can memorize formulas faster" contest, Sakura sprawled on her stomach doodling equations into cartoon animals, and Fumiko playing "teacher" with a pointer stick she'd brought from who-knows-where.
Yu tried hard to focus, but his neat notes were constantly interrupted—someone asking to borrow a pen, Haruka leaning over to check his math, or Taichi hovering nearby with snacks "to keep your brain sharp." More often than not, the group ended up laughing so loudly the hall monitor had to poke in and scold them.
It was lighthearted, silly, exactly the kind of buffer Yu needed. But once everyone started splitting off for clubs and solo study, the air thinned. That was when Isuke made his move.
Yu was just leaving the office bathroom, before he could touch the stairwell railing, a firm hand suddenly clamped onto his wrist.
"Yu."
The tone was sharp. Too sharp.
He blinked up to find Isuke Sasaki towering over him, his expression carved with polite calm that didn't match the tightness in his grip.
"Wait. You keep ignoring me when I try to talk. This isn't something you can brush off. I'm telling you—I can help you with exams. You need to focus more on your future than…"
His eyes flickered, voice lowering.
"…distractions."
Yu's stomach twisted. He tugged his wrist back.
"Let me go. I don't need your help."
But Isuke's grip only tightened.
"You're not listening."
Yu stumbled, panic flashing in his chest. He shoved back harder than he meant to—his foot caught on the edge of the step behind him.
The world tilted.
"Ah—!"
His ribbons slipped off and flew, his body crumpling as he tumbled down the short flight of stairs. He landed hard, pain spiking up his side and wrist, tears springing instantly to his eyes.
"Yu—!"
Isuke's mask cracked. He hovered for a beat, face pale, panic clear in his voice.
"I'll get a teacher—!"
And before Yu could say anything, he turned and bolted down the hall, leaving Yu alone, breath shaky and pain blooming like fire.
Footsteps thundered.
"Yu?!"
Taichi rounded the corner—and froze, the blood draining from his face. For one horrible heartbeat, he just stood there, struck cold. Yu curled on the floor, clutching himself, cheeks streaked with tears.
Then instinct tore him forward.
"Yu!"
He dropped to his knees, his hands trembling but his voice steady, soft.
"It's okay—it's okay, I've got you. Don't move too much."
Yu sobbed once, trying to insist.
"I-I'm fine—ah!"
But his wrist throbbed and his ankle burned.
"No, you're not."
Taichi's jaw tightened, eyes blazing with fear and fury both. He slid his arms carefully under Yu's back and knees, lifting him as though he weighed nothing.
"Hold on to me."
Taichi whispered, pressing his cheek briefly to Yu's hair as if grounding himself, then bolted down the hall. He ran with surprising control—fast, urgent, but never jostling Yu, holding him close as though the world could shatter if he loosened his grip.
Straight to the nurse's office, heart hammering, every step a vow in his chest:
I won't let anyone hurt you again.
Taichi practically burst through the nurse's office door. The nurse was about to chastise Taichi before her gaze landed on Yu in his arms, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. The sight was undoubtedly heart-wrenching. Yu looked far too pitiful and small that the nurse immediately forgot Taichi's rudeness and instructed him to place Yu on the cot, gently, while she got ice.
Taichi, chest heaving from the controlled sprint, set Yu down with all the care he could give. The nurse came back quickly with two ice packs.
She helped to leverage Yu's swollen ankle with a pillow and bandaged it and his wrist, then placed the ice pack on it, then tells Yu to rest for now while she goes inform their teacher about their absences.
Yu lay on the cot, small and pale, his wrist wrapped in gauze and an ice pack balanced on top. His bag sat on the chair beside him, phone peeking out from the pocket. He tried to smile, to reassure Taichi, but his eyes were heavy, and every movement tugged at his bruises.
"I'm fine now, really."
Yu mumbled again, though his voice betrayed the sting.
Taichi sat by his side, fists clenched against his knees.
'Fine? You fell down stairs. You're hurt. That's not fine.'
His chest burned, but he bit down on the anger, not wanting to scare Yu. Instead, he leaned closer, brushing Yu's hair back with the gentlest touch.
"Rest. I'll be right here."
Taichi said, his voice soft but threaded with steel.
Yu nodded, drifting, trusting.
The quiet hum of the nurse's office was broken by Yu's phone buzzing in his bag. Yu stirred, murmuring.
"Maybe it's Fumiko or Sakura… can you get it for me?"
"Yeah."
Taichi slipped the phone out.
'No saved name, just a number.'
His brows furrowed.
Still, he answered, stepping quietly into the hall so Yu wouldn't be disturbed.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was frantic, hurried:
"Yu! Where did you go? I'm sorry about the stairs—it was an accident, I swear. Please, just listen to me. If you'd just break things off with Arifukua, this would all be easier. You'd feel better, I know you would. He's not—he's not what you need—"
Taichi froze. His pulse roared in his ears, heat rushing to his face, his grip tightening so hard on the phone it creaked.
'Isuke Sasaki.'
The words weren't meant for him, but every syllable carved deep. Taichi's teeth ground together, fury barely contained. He wanted to storm back into the room, to shout, to drag Yu away from this scheming bastard forever.
But he didn't. Not yet.
He forced his voice low, calm—deadly calm.
"This is Taichi."
Silence. A sharp inhale.
"…Ah."
Isuke's mask cracked, but he quickly tried to recover.
"I—look, that was out of context—"
Click.
Taichi ended the call, hand shaking with restrained rage. He slipped the phone back into Yu's bag as though nothing had happened, then re-entered the nurse's office.
Yu stirred, blinking up at him.
"Who was it?"
Taichi knelt beside him, brushing his bangs back again.
"…Wrong number."
He murmured, steadying his voice, though his heart was far from steady.
Yu smiled faintly, eyes closing again.
"Okay… thank you."
Taichi held his hand lightly, not to disturb his wrist, but to feel the warmth of his skin. His jaw tightened, thoughts burning behind his calm expression.
'Isuke Sasaki… you'll regret ever touching him.'
---
It happened hours later, after the stairwell incident. Yu was taken home, resting his wrist and ankle, and the halls of the school were quieter with midterm pressure closing in. Taichi found Isuke at the far end of the school grounds, by the faculty garden where few students lingered.
Taichi didn't shout. His words were low, sharp, dangerous.
"You touched him. You made him fall."
Isuke's expression flickered—defensive, then calm, like a mask slipping back into place.
"It was an accident. He stumbled."
"You called his phone."
Taichi's eyes burned.
"Told him to break up with me. You think I don't know?"
A silence stretched, heavy, Isuke refusing to deny it.
Taichi took a step closer, shadows cutting across his face.
"I don't care what kind of 'perfect student council president' act you're hiding behind. You ever hurt him again—ever lay a finger on him—I'll end you. Quietly."
For the first time, Isuke's composure faltered. But then, with a faint smile, he leaned back, voice smooth.
"You're awfully possessive for someone who claims to love him. Aren't you worried, Taichi? One day, that might scare him more than protect him."
The words stung, but Taichi turned away without giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. His fists trembled until he shoved them in his pockets.
'Scare him? No. Yu trusts me. Yu chose me.'
---
The days blurred with study marathons and nerves. Yu, one hand bandaged, struggled to keep up with note-taking, but leaned more on group study antics—Sakura doodling instead of revising, Fumiko quizzing everyone like a drill sergeant, Yamato and Souma turning every break into arm-wrestling contests.
Taichi insisted on one-on-one tutoring too, staying late with Yu, coaxing him through formulas and history dates. Yu's wrist ached, but Taichi took over writing for him when needed, murmuring encouragements.
The girls were heartbroken, fluttering around Yu with endless snacks and squeals of sympathy.
"You poor thing, spraining your hand and ankle right before exams!"
"You're so brave, Yu-chan!"
Yu smiled softly, grateful—but still, he quietly skipped Harmony Life Club for now. Too much sewing, too much chopping, and too much Isuke. Instead, he found a rhythm in waiting by the basketball court after school.
And that became its own spectacle.
Yu sat quietly at the sidelines with his books, watching Taichi practice. Every time Taichi wiped sweat from his brow, Yu was already on his feet, offering a fresh towel and cold water. Taichi accepted with a bashful grin every time, his teammates hollering and teasing.
"Man, Arifukua, you've got her trained like a pro manager!"
"No, no—she's more like a wife already!"
Yu flushed crimson, but Taichi only ruffled his hair proudly, his grin unbothered.
---
It came after the last exam, tension high but relief buzzing through the classroom. Students cheered, slumped over desks, chatter rising. Yu sighed in relief, clutching his notes to his chest.
Then a voice cut through the noise.
"Yu."
Isuke stood by the door, sharp as always, eyes flicking to Yu like he was summoning him.
Taichi stiffened immediately. His patience, already frayed by days of holding back, snapped the moment Isuke stepped closer.
"What do you want from him now?"
Taichi's voice carried, sharp enough to silence half the room.
The air froze. Dozens of heads turned. Yu's eyes went wide.
Isuke's calm mask held, though his jaw tightened.
"I wanted to ask about the club. Nothing more."
"Don't lie."
Taichi stood, desk rattling.
"You've been circling him for weeks. You think no one sees it? You think I don't see it?"
Murmurs broke out. The tension was thick, explosive. Yu reached out as if to stop him, but Taichi's glare was locked on Isuke.
Isuke's lips curved in a faint smile, but his words were cutting.
"If you're that insecure, maybe it says more about your relationship than it does about me."
That was the spark. The classroom held its breath as Taichi stepped forward, fists clenched, fury radiating.
The room split in two in an instant. Taichi lunged forward, the scrape of his chair against the floor deafening in the silence, and Isuke didn't flinch—he met him step for step, his polished calm fraying just enough to show teeth.
"Say it again."
Taichi's voice was a growl, his fist already half-raised.
"Maybe I will."
Isuke's tone was cold, but his eyes glimmered with a spark—provocation, challenge.
Desks rattled as classmates scrambled back, whispers hissing through the air like sparks from a fire. Yamato and Souma shouted for Taichi to calm down, but it was useless. The heat in the room was palpable, seconds away from erupting into blows.
And then—
"Stop!"
Yu's voice cut sharper than either of theirs.
He shoved himself forward, heart pounding, sliding between them at the last possible second. Taichi's fist froze mid-swing, trembling just inches from Yu's shoulder. Isuke blinked, startled, his smirk faltering for the first time.
Yu's chest heaved, his good hand clutching Taichi's arm tight.
"No more. Please."
His voice cracked, desperate.
For Taichi, that was enough. His fury broke apart in an instant, replaced by horror at how close he'd come to striking with Yu in the middle. He dropped his hand immediately, stepping back as if burned.
Isuke straightened, smoothing his uniform, regaining his composure with a thin smile.
"How dramatic."
He turned for the door, leaving the classroom buzzing in his wake.
The silence lasted only seconds. Then the whispers burst loose like wildfire.
"Did you see that? He was going to fight Isuke for her—!"
"The president and Arifukua… over Yu-chan?!"
"Princess Yu's got the School Prince and the Beast fighting for her hand!"
"I'll bet she ends up with Isuke, no way she'd choose Arifukua."
"No, no, you saw the way she held him back—she's clearly his already!"
Rumors spread faster than Yu could breathe, names flying—School Prince. School Beast. Princess Yu. Sides were already forming, bets made in hushed tones, speculation thick in the air.
Yu's knees trembled, his face burning with shame and fear. But even as the storm swirled, Taichi bent close, his hand hovering just above Yu's back, voice low and trembling.
"…I'm sorry. I almost—"
Yu shook his head quickly, cutting him off.
"It's okay. You stopped."
But as the noise of their classmates swelled around them, both of them knew it was too late. What had been private tension was now public spectacle.
The stage was set.
---
By the next morning, the rumors had already grown legs and wings.
In the hallway, students clustered like bees, voices buzzing low but pointed.
"Princess Yu—did you hear?"
"They're saying she's caught between the Prince and the Beast!"
"Pfft, no contest. President Sasaki would treat her like royalty."
"Are you blind? Did you see Arifukua nearly tear the room apart for her? That's real love."
Everywhere Yu went, eyes followed. Some curious, some jealous, some envious. He kept his gaze low, clutching the strap of his bag as if it could anchor him, but the whispers still crept under his skin.
Even his friends couldn't escape it.
Fumiko Fujimori and Sakura Sato hissed at anyone who dared gossip too loudly within earshot, swatting them away like flies. Yamato Yamada and Souma Satou teased Taichi about having to "fight for his princess's hand" until Taichi nearly snapped at them.
Yu's heart squeezed. He hadn't asked for any of this.
[You've become the center of a love triangle.]
DK01 mused in his head, voice dripping with wry amusement.
[Congratulations. Not every host manages to stir this much chaos so quickly. The world is aligning around you, princess.]
Yu bit down on his lip.
'I don't want it to be like this.'
[Careful. You need Taichi Arifukua to fall completely, utterly in love with you. That's the mission. The Tragic Target's soul scrap is your true objective.]
Yu's grip on his bag tightened.
'But—'
DK01's tone shifted, sly, calculating.
[Should you wish to expand your net… the protagonist halo around Sasaki makes him an ideal candidate for your harem. With him, you'd guarantee more stability for yourself across this world. It is permitted. So long as Taichi Arifukua accepts it.]
Yu's breath caught, his face burning scarlet.
'A—harem?!'
He nearly tripped over his own feet.
'That's ridiculous! Taichi is the only one I need! The only one I want!'
The declaration roared so loud in his heart that DK01 actually went silent.
For once, the mechanical voice gave no reply.
But the rumors didn't quiet. They spread like fire through dry grass, climbing higher and higher until Yu could feel the heat licking at his heels. And no matter how many times he whispered to himself that Taichi was all he needed, the world itself seemed determined to cast him in someone else's play.
---
The fallout became institutional.
By the next day, it wasn't just whispers anymore — it was logistics.
"Yu should be the class representative, right? She's neutral, gentle, and everyone loves her!"
One girl chirped.
"Yeah, plus—if President Sasaki is class president, wouldn't it make sense for our princess to represent us?"
A boy added, sending ripples of agreement through the classroom.
Yu's protest caught in his throat before he could even lift a hand. When the vote was called, his name carried overwhelmingly — not out of duty, but spectacle. And because he was Yu, he could only bow, cheeks pink, whispering.
"I'll do my best."
The next day it was errands.
"Yu, can you take these forms to the office? Oh, President Sasaki, could you show her the way?"
The teacher said without a thought.
The entire class gasped like an audience watching their favorite ship come true. Yu's knees nearly buckled. Isuke Sasaki only smiled, too perfect, too polished, offering his hand like the prince they all thought he was. Yu's chest twisted.
By Thursday, every small activity seemed rigged. Group projects, volunteer tasks, even clean-up duty — Yu found himself paired again and again with Sasaki, his classmates grinning like matchmakers every time.
Fumiko Fujimori muttered furiously, Sakura Sato fanned Yu protectively like he might faint, and Taichi… Taichi clenched his jaw, forced a grin, and told Yu he trusted him. But Yu could see the shadows in his eyes.