The pale morning light streamed through the curtains, spilling across my room.It was quiet, except for the faint rhythm of Ibuki's breathing.
I blinked awake on the floor, body aching slightly from the hard surface. A folded blanket half-slipped off my chest, and I turned my head lazily toward the bed. There she was — sprawled sideways across my mattress, a pillow clutched against her chest, one leg dangling dangerously close to the edge. Her hair, messy from sleep, covered half her face.
"Oi…" I murmured, my voice raspy. "You drooled again."
She stirred slightly, groaning. "Mmm… shut up…"
I sighed and sat up, scratching my head. "Unbelievable. You come to my room, steal my bed, and still tell me to shut up."
She didn't answer, just turned her back toward me and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "too loud."
I shook my head and stood, stretching my arms until my joints popped. "Guess I'm officially your servant now," I muttered under my breath.
Despite my grumbling, I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. It was strange — having someone around like this. Annoying, yes, but also… not lonely.
I left a note on my desk before heading out for class:
Don't break anything. Eat the onigiri in the fridge. And next time, bring your own pillow.
Classes passed uneventfully. The afternoon sun filtered weakly through the windows as the teacher dismissed us. Just as I was about to pack up, a soft vibration came from my pocket — a message notification.
It was from Haruka Hasebe.
To Miyamoto gang & Kiyopon: Usual place. Mall. Be there.
I smirked.Beside me, Ayanokōji checked his phone too, clearly getting the same message. Our eyes met briefly, and I gave him a small nod.
Horikita, who had just finished arranging her notes, looked up and narrowed her eyes. "Why are you grinning like that?"
"I'm not," Ayanokōji replied.
"You are," she said flatly. "It's subtle, but it's there. Creepy, actually."
"I don't recall grinning."
"That's because your self-awareness is nonexistent," she said, shouldering her bag. "I suppose even you have moments of joy… but please, try not to make that face. It's unnerving."
He sighed. "It's normal to feel good after being contacted by a friend, isn't it?"
Horikita paused mid-step, then gave him a look of quiet disapproval. "You're growing soft."
"Or maybe," he countered, "you're too used to being alone."
Her lips twitched slightly — not quite a smile, not quite irritation. "Just don't come crying when people disappoint you," she said before leaving the classroom.
As her footsteps faded, Ayanokōji closed his bag and glanced at me. "Ready?"
I grinned. "Always."
The "usual place" was a corner café inside the mall — a cozy, semi-secluded spot we'd practically claimed as our base. When we arrived, the rest of the gang was already there: Yukimura, Hasebe, Airi, Miyake, Mei Yu Wang, Okitani, Ijuin, and Maezono.
Miyake had even skipped club practice to join, which told me this wasn't just a casual hangout.
"Yo," I said, sliding into a chair. "What's with the urgent call?"
Hasebe leaned forward with that mischievous smile of hers. "We need to talk."
Ayanokōji raised an eyebrow. "About?"
"About you, Kiyopon," she said, tapping her phone screen dramatically. "And a certain Class C girl."
"…Shiina?" he guessed calmly.
The group collectively nodded, their expressions ranging from mock outrage to mild curiosity.
Airi fidgeted with her hands, her cheeks slightly red. "W-We saw you two together… at the library… and then lunch…"
Miyake whistled. "So it's true, huh? Our quiet friend's finally breaking his cold act."
"It's not like that," Ayanokōji said, tone flat.
Hasebe smirked. "Oh come on, you expect us to believe it's nothing? You were eating together. You even took the same meal."
"She insisted," he replied.
Haruka gasped exaggeratedly. "He's even defending her!"
"That's not what I—"
"Confirmed!" she declared. "Our boy Kiyopon has fallen."
The table erupted in laughter. Even Yukimura cracked a small grin. Airi, however, looked flustered, fumbling with her straw.
Sensing her discomfort, Ayanokōji sighed. "She's from Class C. Ryūen's class. It's possible she was acting under his orders."
That sobered them immediately. Yukimura adjusted his glasses. "So, information gathering?"
"Maybe," Ayanokōji said. "I can't be certain."
Airi visibly relaxed at that, letting out a soft "Ah… thank goodness…" before catching herself. Haruka elbowed her lightly and grinned. "Relieved much?"
"N-No! I just… thought…"
"Sure you did," Haruka teased.
I chuckled quietly, arms crossed. "What, no one's suspecting me? You know, the charming guy who gets along with everyone?"
Okitani snorted. "You? The mastermind? Bro, you literally lost to your own alarm clock this morning."
"Harsh," I said, pretending to clutch my heart.
Miyake leaned back. "Actually, now that you mention it… the mastermind—'X'—could be anyone. Maybe Horikita. Maybe Hirata."
"Or Ayanokōji," Sakura said softly, almost teasingly.
The table fell silent for a beat.
Ayanokōji looked mildly amused. "That's quite the leap."
"Just a thought," she murmured. "You're… calm about everything. Like you always know what's happening."
"Then I'll clear myself," he said. "I'm not 'X.'"
I grinned and raised a hand. "I second that. But if anyone's gonna suspect someone, I want my name on the list too. Can't let Kiyopon steal all the mystery points."
They laughed again, the tension dissolving.
Yukimura sighed. "In any case, it's likely Ryūen's trying to identify whoever's been outsmarting him. It would explain the tailing and the sudden friendliness from Class C."
Ayanokōji nodded slightly. "Agreed."
The discussion carried on — from exam rumors to point differences. Yukimura mentioned that Class C had lost a hundred points recently, while Class D had slowly climbed. The gap was now only fifty.
"That's… pretty close," Mei Yu noted. "Think they're fighting among themselves?"
"Wouldn't surprise me," Miyake said. "Ryūen's not exactly a team-player type."
We talked for another half hour, our laughter mingling with the faint hum of café music.Moments like this — just sitting around, teasing each other, half serious and half childish — made the cold December days feel warmer somehow.
The following afternoon, classes ended under the pale winter sun.Students began filtering out, eager to escape the monotony of lessons. I stayed behind, chatting with Yukimura about game rankings, when I noticed something curious.
Satō Maya — bright, popular, and usually surrounded by friends — stood near Ayanokōji's desk, fidgeting nervously. Her fingers twisted around her phone strap as she glanced his way.
When he noticed her, she took a deep breath and approached.
"Um… Ayanokōji-kun?"
He looked up calmly. "Yes?"
"C-Could we… hang out? Just the two of us? Maybe this weekend?"
The entire class froze for a moment — or at least it felt that way.Even Horikita, who had been packing her notes, looked mildly surprised before quickly schooling her expression into indifference.
"Ah," Ayanokōji said simply.
Around us, the whispers began.
"Wait, is she… asking him out?""No way—Ayanokōji?""Seriously?"
I couldn't help myself — I leaned toward Haruka, grinning. "This is better than live TV."
She smacked my arm. "Shh! Don't ruin the moment!"
Airi, on the other hand, was clutching her bag tightly, eyes darting between them.
Horikita stood up, sighed softly, and said, "This has nothing to do with me," before walking out. But not before shooting Ayanokōji a fleeting, unreadable glance.
Ayanokōji looked conflicted for once — a rare expression for him. "Satō," he began carefully. "Thank you. But… now might not be a good time."
Her face fell slightly. "Oh… I see."
He hesitated, then added, "It's not that I don't want to. There's just someone… making things complicated."
I raised an eyebrow. "Someone?" I mouthed.
He didn't elaborate — but then I noticed where his gaze shifted: to the back of the classroom.There, pretending to organize some paperwork, was Chabashira-sensei. Her sharp eyes occasionally flicked toward Ayanokōji, quickly looking away whenever he noticed.
Oh.So that was the "someone."
She had been watching him all day — discreetly, but not enough to go unnoticed by someone as perceptive as him.
Her expression was unreadable. Calm. Professional. But there was an edge there — curiosity? Concern? Perhaps even suspicion.
Satō bowed politely and left the room, trying to hide her disappointment. As she passed me, I gave her a small, encouraging smile. "Cheer up, Satō. Timing's just bad."
She nodded weakly before disappearing into the hallway.
Ayanokōji packed his bag slowly, as though in thought.Chabashira remained by the teacher's desk, flipping through a pile of documents she clearly wasn't reading.
When the room finally emptied, only the two of them remained.
Her voice broke the silence first. "You've been… quite sociable lately."
"Have I?" he asked mildly.
"It's unusual. For someone like you."
He didn't reply, only slung his bag over his shoulder.
She looked up then, her gaze sharp. "I hope you understand something, Ayanokōji. Whatever you're planning — whatever game you're playing — this school isn't so easily deceived."
He met her eyes evenly. "You sound worried."
"Should I be?" she asked.
"Not unless you've done something worth worrying about," he said quietly, and with that, walked past her.
She didn't stop him, but her expression hardened ever so slightly — the faintest flicker of unease crossing her face.
From the doorway, I caught the tail end of their conversation. I'd been pretending to wait for Yukimura, but honestly, curiosity got the better of me.
As Ayanokōji stepped out, I walked beside him.
"She's watching you," I said simply.
"I noticed," he replied.
"What do you think she wants?"
"Answers," he said. "But I doubt she'll find the ones she's looking for."
That night, back in my dorm, the room was lit only by the glow of my desk lamp. Ibuki sat on the bed again — this time, wide awake, munching on potato chips like she owned the place.
"Welcome back," she said flatly. "You look tired."
"People talk too much," I replied, flopping onto the floor cushion.
"Don't tell me you were dragged into another class meeting."
"Worse," I said. "Love drama."
She raised an eyebrow. "Yours?"
"Someone else's. But I was an enthusiastic audience."
Ibuki snorted. "Figures."
"By the way," I said, eyeing the crumbs on her lap. "That's my blanket you're ruining."
She looked down. "It's fine."
"It's not."
"…Too bad."
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "You're impossible."
She smirked slightly. "And yet, you keep letting me in."
I paused for a second, then chuckled softly. "Yeah. Guess I do."