Kokoro stood frozen in place, his expression blank with disbelief, as if his face had been chiseled from stone. His eyes, usually bright and expressive, seemed dull and lifeless, frozen in a mixture of shock and incredulity. He was sure he'd misheard, that the words had been jumbled in his mind like a puzzle with missing pieces. Surely, there had to be some mistake, a miscommunication or a misunderstanding that would soon be clarified. His mind reeled, racing to make sense of what he thought he'd heard, but the words lingered, echoing in his brain like a haunting melody that refused to fade away. Time seemed to slow, and the world around him grew quiet, as if holding its breath in anticipation of his reaction. Kokoro's thoughts swirled in confusion, his usual sharp mind clouded by doubt and uncertainty.
"Pardon?" Kokoro asked, blinking slowly, hoping for clarification as he leaned in slightly, his ears straining to recapture the words that had slipped past him like whispers on the wind. "Who was the person you liked again? I didn't quite hear it properly," he repeated, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that seemed to dare her to repeat the answer, as if hoping that this time, he'd somehow misinterpreted the truth.
The brown-haired girl, her cheeks burning a deep shade of red that seemed to spread from her face to the tips of her ears, her eyes shifting away with a mixture of embarrassment and vulnerability, shyly repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, "My sister…" The words tumbled out of her mouth like a confession, hesitant and uncertain, as if she feared his reaction or worried that he'd somehow judge her for her admission. Her gaze remained averted, her lashes casting a delicate shadow on her cheeks, while her lips barely moved, as if the very act of speaking was a struggle against her own shyness.
This time, there was no mistaking it. The words hung in the air like a challenge, and with a jolt, they seemed to snap into place in his mind. Shock washed over him like a cold wave, and his body responded before his brain could catch up. His mouth fell slightly open, his lips parting in a silent gasp, as his brows furrowed deeply, creasing his forehead into a map of confusion and dismay. He took an instinctive step back, his feet moving of their own accord, as if trying to create distance between himself and the words that threatened to overwhelm him. His face contorted into an expression caught between disbelief and repulsion, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and incredulity, as if he was staring at something that defied all logic and reason. The reaction was visceral, primal, and utterly involuntary, a testament to the depth of his shock and discomfort.
"You like… your own sister?" he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth like a mixture of incredulity and revulsion, disgust and surprise thick in his tone, heavy like a palpable fog that clung to every syllable. His voice was laced with a sense of moral outrage, as if the very notion was an affront to everything he believed in. "You've got to be kidding me," he added, the phrase hanging in the air like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down in a battle of perceptions. "I can't believe someone like you actually exists," he spat, the words dripping with disdain and disappointment, his tone implying that such a person was an aberration, a freak of nature that defied understanding. His eyes seemed to bore into the other, as if searching for some sign of sanity or reason, some glimmer of normalcy that would make the words make sense. Instead, he found only silence, a silence that seemed to mock him, to dare him to comprehend the unthinkable.
The gyaru girl's eyes widened in a flash of panic, her pupils dilating as if she'd been thrust into a nightmare from which she couldn't wake up. She quickly flailed her arms in defense, her hands waving wildly like a bird trying to take flight, as if she could physically push away the words that hung in the air like a challenge. Her voice cracked, the sound raw and uneven, like the first crack of ice on a frozen lake, and she stuttered out a desperate protest: "W-Wait! It's not like that! You've got the wrong idea!" The words tumbled out in a rush, each syllable tumbling over the next in a frantic bid to correct the misconception, to stem the tide of his disgust and horror. Her face was a map of distress, her features twisted in a plea for understanding, her eyes darting back and forth as if searching for an escape from the trap she felt herself caught in. Despite her efforts, her voice still trembled, betraying the depth of her agitation, and her words hung in the air, a fragile barrier between her and the judgment she feared.
Kokoro remained unconvinced, his skepticism etched on his face as he folded his arms across his chest with a tight, disapproving frown. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if daring her to try and justify the unjustifiable. "What kind of explanation is going to fix that statement?" he asked, his tone laced with a mix of incredulity and challenge, implying that some things were beyond explanation or redemption. The words hung in the air like a gauntlet, testing her resolve and her ability to defend the indefensible. His posture was rigid, his body language screaming of disbelief and disappointment, as if he was waiting for her to dig herself deeper into the hole she'd already dug.
"It's not what it looks like!" she cried, her voice rising in desperation as her black eyes glimmered nervously, darting back and forth like trapped animals searching for an escape. The words tumbled out in a rush, each syllable urgent and panicked, as if she was racing against time to correct the misconception. "She's my stepsister!" she exclaimed, emphasizing the distinction, her tone laced with a mix of defensiveness and pleading. "And we're not even related by blood!" she added, the clarification hanging in the air like a fragile lifeline, her eyes locked on his, willing him to understand, to believe her. The admission seemed to cost her something, her face twisting in a mixture of anxiety and vulnerability, as if she was exposing a part of herself she'd rather keep hidden.
Kokoro paused. That definitely did not changed a single thing, his face still showed a mix of judgment and disbelief. "So… your crush is your stepsister?"
She nodded profusely. "Y-Yeah! Besides, she's a total tomboy!"
Kokoro sighed, rubbing his temples. "That still doesn't change the fact that you two are sisters—by name or not, it's still weird."
The brown-haired girl's pout deepened, her lips jutting out in a clear sign of frustration as she realized she was losing the argument. But before Kokoro could seize the opportunity to speak again, a sly smirk spread across her face, and she reached into her skirt pocket with a calculated movement. Her hand emerged holding her phone, which she flashed at Kokoro with a triumphant glint in her eye. The image on the screen was unmistakable – a photo of Kokoro and Mika locked in a passionate kiss, their lips and tongues entwined in a compromising moment.
The girl's voice dripped with saccharine sweetness as she reminded him, "Don't forget our deal, Kokoro. You promised to help me. I delete the photos, and you give me some of your dating advices." The words hung in the air like a challenge, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and determination.
Kokoro's glare at the screen turned icy, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of anger and self-reproach as he cursed his own oversight. Why hadn't he been more cautious? He should have ensured she deleted every last photo, every incriminating shot, before daring to ask her any personal questions. The thought of being held hostage by this blackmailing photo was infuriating, and he mentally kicked himself for his lack of foresight. Regret and frustration warred for dominance as he realized he'd walked right into her trap.
Resigned, Kokoro let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. I promised, didn't I? I'll help you make out with your stepsister or whatever."
The gyaru girl raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. "Wait… seriously? You're not just saying that?"
"I'm serious," Kokoro muttered tiredly. "A promise is a promise."
Satisfied, the girl beamed. "Alright, alright! I'll delete everything—except one."
Kokoro's expression twisted again. "What? That wasn't the deal!"
"C'mon," she said with a smug grin. "It's just insurance. I'm not dumb enough to believe everything a high school boy says. Gotta cover my bases, you know?"
Kokoro sighed again. "Fine. But keep it to yourself. Don't show or tell anyone."
She giggled, her expression filled with mischief as she scrolled her phone, then turned the screen toward Kokoro.
It was another picture of them kissing, but this one was even worse—an angle that made it look like they were practically eating each other alive. "You two look like animals in heat," she teased, trying to stifle her laugh.
Kokoro's eye twitched in irritation as a fleeting urge to snatch the phone from her grasp and delete the incriminating photo himself flared to life. But he suppressed the impulse, aware that such a move would only escalate the situation and create more problems than it would solve.
With a heavy sigh, he swallowed his pride, choosing a more cautious approach. At least, he rationalized, she wasn't some reckless individual who would thoughtlessly exploit the situation. She understood the potential fallout of blackmailing someone, particularly one involving Mika, the niece of the school principal and the daughter of a powerful family.
Yet, despite this reassurance, a nagging sense of foreboding lingered, warning Kokoro that he was on the cusp of being dragged into a messy and exhausting ordeal, one that would test his patience and resolve.