The final bell chimed, signaling the end of another school day.
Right on time, Masao slid open the door to the Service Clubroom.
As usual, Yukinoshita Yukino was already there, seated primly at her desk with a book. The afternoon sun streaming through the window lit her hair like a halo.
"Good afternoon, Yukinoshita-san."
"Good afternoon Masao-kun," she replied, not looking up from her page. It was a rote response, a product of her family's strict upbringing, but Masao found a certain comfort in its predictability.
He dropped his backpack onto a chair with a soft thud and unzipped it.
"Yukinoshita, I went to Tokyo over the weekend. I brought you back a souvenir."
Her eyes flickered up from her book, a polite refusal already forming on her lips.
"That's quite unnecessa—" The words died in her throat.
In his hands, Masao held a small, impeccably crafted plushie of a pure white kitten, its head tilted in a gesture of innocent curiosity.
Yukinoshita Yukino, renowned for her icy composure, had one well-known weakness: an absolute, unreserved love for cats. The sight of the adorable toy short-circuited her defenses. She stared, her desire warring visibly with her pride.
A knowing smile touched Masao's lips. He had been counting on this. He walked over and placed the plushie gently in the center of her otherwise immaculate desk.
"Please, take it. Consider it a token of my gratitude for all your help."
That was the final push. The internal struggle behind her cool eyes resolved itself.
"...I see. If you're offering it under that pretext, then I have no grounds to refuse. I'll accept it."
She reached out, her fingers brushing against the soft fur with a hint of reverence. The texture was delightful.
It couldn't compare to a real cat, of course, but for someone living in an apartment that forbids having pets, it was a worthy consolation.
With immense self-control, she resisted the urge to cradle it then and there, instead carefully placing it inside her own bag. She cleared her throat softly, the faintest hint of pink on her cheeks.
"Now, I believe it's time for your training. We've wasted enough time," she said, her tone cool and efficient, a complete reversion to form.
Perhaps it was a sense of obligation after accepting his gift, or perhaps it was her relentless drive for perfection. Whatever the reason, Yukinoshita was even more focused and demanding than usual during their session.
The result was a pure agony for Masao. Where a typical session left his legs feeling like jelly, this one left him as a puddle on the polished clubroom floor. He lay on his back spent, a weak groan escaping his lips.
"I'm done... Seriously… I can't move a single muscle..."
Seeing him in such a state, Yukinoshita finally seemed to realize the extent of her zeal.
"It appears my calculations regarding your endurance were slightly off." She checked the clock on the wall. "We still have time. Rest for thirty minutes. I will bring a beverage for you."
"Oh, thank you... then a cola, please," Masao managed, his voice raspy.
Her gaze sharpened into a piercing stare.
"Do you truly believe that consuming a liquid sugar bomb is conducive to the fitness goals you claim to have? The very idea is illogical."
"Just as a one-time reward? For nearly dying?"
"The concept of 'rewarding' self-destruction with further self-sabotage is fundamentally flawed," she stated, her voice flat and definitive. "I will bring you a sports drink. Its electrolyte composition is what your body actually requires."
Without another word, she turned and left the room.
—
She returned a few minutes later and placed a cold bottle of Pocari Sweat (a popular drink in Japan) in front of him.
"Here. Drink this"
Masao didn't have the energy for further argument. He fumbled the bottle open and drank, the slightly sweet, electrolyte-rich liquid feeling like a lifeline.
"Ahhh... I've been resurrected."
As he recovered, his eyes drifted to Yukinoshita. She had resumed her seat by the window, the soft light illuminating her profile as she read.
In that moment, Masao felt an unexpected swell of contentment. Here he was, exhausted but accomplished, being cared for by the most beautiful girl in school. The quiet intimacy of the scene, the gentle rustle of the turning pages, the shared silence—it was profoundly warm.
As president of the Service club, Yukinoshita had to lock up the clubroom when she left, so she had to wait for him. And Masao, for his part, was in no hurry to break the spell.
But reality eventually called. Once he could stand without wobbling, the two packed their things and parted ways at their usual spot.
—
"I'm home," Masao called out, his voice heavy with fatigue as he entered his house.
Every muscle screamed in protest, but his resolve was strong. Change required sacrifice.
He forced himself straight to the bathroom for a shower; good hygiene was a non-negotiable part of shedding his old, slovenly self.
After scrubbing away the sweat and exhaustion, he stepped onto the bathroom scale. A slow grin spread across his face.
"Another three hundred grams gone."
His efforts were bearing fruit. In just over a week, he had gone from a heavy 100 kilograms (220 Ibs) down to 97.5 (214 Ibs).
The number was a tangible reward, a shot of adrenaline to his motivation.
"Alright!" he whispered to his reflection, pumping a fist. "Keep it up! Soon, I'll be that chiseled guy with the eight-pack!"
He was so lost in his triumphant daydream that he didn't notice the small figure who had slipped into the bathroom.
"What are you grinning at?" a voice asked.
Masao turned to see Jahy, the self-proclaimed demon realm's no. 2, staring at him with unabashed curiosity.
"Sneaking in right after my bath?" Masao raised an eyebrow. "Confess, were you trying to get a peek?"
"Ha? Me? Peek at you?" Jahy jabbed a finger at her own chest, her expression a mix of outrage and insult. The very notion was beneath her dignity.
In truth, she had been intrigued by his state of near-total collapse upon returning home. If she could uncover the source of such weakness, it might be a useful tool against him.
So, she had followed him, with all the stealth a diminutive demon could muster.
"I am the magnificent Jahy-sama! My observations are strategic reconnaissance, not 'peeking'!"
"Right, right," Masao said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And a scholar's 'borrowing' can't be called 'theft.'"
Jahy didn't fully understand the reference, but she recognized mockery when she heard it. She decided the best response was a haughty ignore.
"You told me you were going to school," she pressed, changing the subject. "So why do you return looking like a corpse? Don't tell me you were fighting battles there?"
Masao couldn't help but chuckle.
"Battles? What's next? You think I'm learning assassination techniques? Look, if you want the bath, it's all yours. I'm going to rest a bit"
Too tired to entertain her, he waved a dismissive hand and headed for the living room, dreaming of the sofa, the T.V., and a tall glass of milk.
Jahy, however, remained rooted to the spot, stroking her chin as a theory solidified in her mind.
"I see... It all makes sense now," she murmured to herself. "A human institution couldn't possibly be limited to the mundane subjects he mentioned. They teach advanced combat... and clandestine arts! It's no wonder Masao is so powerful. I am no match for him... yet. He has clearly been honing his skills at this 'school.'"
She watched his retreating back, a triumphant, cunning smile spreading across her face.
"Kukuku... You cannot deceive me, mortal," she whispered, a low chuckle escaping her. "I, too, must infiltrate this 'school.' Once I have mastered humanity's most lethal arts, my power will be absolute! On that day, Masao will have no choice but to kneel before me! Wahahahaha! WAHHAHAHAHA!"
"Jahy-chan! Did something good happen?" a warm voice called from the kitchen. "Dinner is ready!"
The grandiose laughter was cut off.
"Y-Yes! I'm coming, Kazumi!" Jahy called back, her regal demeanor replaced by an eager scramble as she darted towards the promise of a home-cooked meal.
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[email protected]/Raven_scroll (30+ Advance Chapters)