Roof top (2)

"You are really daring, aren't you?" She sneered. Her voice carried a sharp edge of sarcasm, cutting through the air like a knife.

I turned toward her, annoyed by the accusation woven into her tone. She stood there, arms crossed, her expression a blend of amusement and disapproval.

Her gaze flicked between Hoshizora and me as if she were judging us, making the moment even more awkward.

Daring?

Was she being serious? Or just teasing?

I couldn't tell, but the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips gave me a bad impression.

Sure, I had patted Hoshizora's head, but that was hardly an act worthy of sarcasm. It wasn't as if we'd done anything flirtatious—at least not from my perspective. 

Hoshizora had simply leaned into the gesture, and I'd used it as a way to calm her down. There wasn't anything wrong with that, was there?

So why was she acting like we'd been caught in the middle of something improper?

I frowned slightly and sighed.

"I don't see how that's daring," I replied, my tone calm but laced with subtle irritation. I turned to face Hoshizora, who was still standing behind me, her wide eyes darting anxiously between us. 

"And why did you come here anyway?" I pressed, narrowing my eyes as I questioned her sudden appearance.

"There's something I want to talk to you about. Alone," she replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. Her sharp gaze bore into Hoshizora, who blinked in surprise but said nothing.

"Alone, huh?" I repeated, my lips curling into a smirk as I crossed my arms, leaning casually against the wall. Her suspiciously cryptic reply had caught my attention. Kurumi Kirishima, of all people, wanted to have a private chat with me?

Now this was interesting.

Very interesting.

I could already feel the corners of my mind scheming. If she was so bold as to interrupt my rare and precious time with Hoshizora, then I would make sure to have a little fun at her expense. 

Yes, I'd tease her mercilessly for barging in like this.

"Fine," I said with exaggerated nonchalance, the smirk on my face refusing to fade. "If you're that desperate to talk, let's hear it."

I shot a glance at Hoshizora, whose warm expression remained as unwavering as ever. I could almost sense her amusement at the situation.

This should be entertaining. But I didn't want her to be involved in this mess.

So I said softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Yuki, you go back to class first. I'll talk to this girl for a bit." My tone was calm and reassuring as if to ease any hesitation she might have.

In a familiar submissive tone, she answered, "...Yes," her voice hardly more than a whisper. She nodded, her movements graceful and subdued, before turning to leave.

But just as she took a step away, she paused, glancing back at me. Her gaze lingered, searching for something—reassurance, perhaps? Permission? I wasn't entirely sure.

I couldn't help but notice the way her presence lingered even after she began walking away. That quiet, almost fragile demeanor of hers—it was one of the things I liked about Yuki. 

She was sweet, always considerate, and never raised her voice. That quiet devotion she had—it warmed me. Yet, at the same time, a faint unease settled in the back of my mind.

Something felt... off.

It wasn't just her obedient nature; it was the way she seemed almost compelled to listen to me as if disobeying wasn't even an option in her mind.

It wasn't fear in the traditional sense—at least, I hoped not—but something was unnerving about how much weight my words seemed to carry for her.

Hm…She seemed to hold me in such high regard.

Strange and a bit alarming.

"Hmm…" Kurumi made a low, thoughtful sound, her crimson gaze lingering on Hoshizora as she walked away. There was something unsettling about the way Kurumi's eyes tracked her, sharp and unyielding like a predator sizing up its prey.

Then, her lips curved into a smirk, subtle but unmistakable, and her narrowed eyes gleamed with a sharper edge than usual. The hostility in her expression was hard to miss, even more pronounced than her usual disdain.

This woman was scheming something—I could feel it.

My eyes stayed locked on her, carefully studying the subtle shifts in her demeanor. 

The way her lips twitched as if suppressing a smirk, the faint glint in her eyes that betrayed her thoughts, even the way she carried herself—it all spoke of someone playing a deeper game.

"...So, now that we're alone, what did you want to say?" I asked, clearing my throat to break the silence, though the tension between us lingered.

She nodded her head slightly at my question, her expression shifting. "It's been a long time, right?" she asked, her voice soft, almost sweet.

It was a stark contrast to the smugness I had seen just moments ago. The smirk was gone, replaced by a mask of innocence so perfectly worn it was almost convincing. Almost.

But I wasn't fooled. Kurumi Kirishima was anything but innocent, and if anyone should know that, it was me. After all, she understood me better than most—maybe even better than I cared to admit.

We were two sides of the same coin, bound by a mutual desire to control everything within the school's walls. I wielded authority and influence, while she thrived on charm and cunning schemes. Together, we kept the balance, though neither of us would ever admit it aloud.

"Cut to the chase," I snapped, my voice cutting through her feigned politeness like a blade. "I don't have time for your games or your fake courtesy."

I leaned forward slightly, my eyes locking onto hers, refusing to let her dodge or deflect. If she had something to say, I was going to make her say it—plain and simple.

"Tch, alright. I want to talk about the student council," she said, clicking her tongue in irritation. Her tone shifted noticeably, dropping the pretense of sweetness.

Ruder, more impolite, and undeniably more natural.

Yes, this was the Kurumi Kirishima I knew—the one I could actually respect, in a twisted sort of way.

"Okay, so what do you want?" I replied, my tone calm but edged with wariness. Despite her brief moment of honesty, I wasn't about to drop my guard.

This girl was a hypocrite at best and a manipulative schemer at worst. Dealing with her required precision—one wrong move, and she'd have you tangled in her web before you even realized it.

And me? I didn't like losing.

Especially not to her.

"Don't try to act dumb, Shinji. The council is missing the secretary, right?" Kurumi said, her voice sharp and direct. She stepped closer, closing the distance between us, her boldness revealing her true intentions without hesitation.

So, she wanted the secretary position.

But why?

It was an odd request, to say the least. The role brought nothing but tedious paperwork and endless administrative headaches. Hardly the glamorous or strategic position someone like Kurumi would usually vie for.

Still, there was a bigger issue here.

That spot wasn't truly vacant—it was only temporary. Airi, the council's actual secretary, was dealing with an emotional breakdown. Her absence was creating a mountain of trouble for me, sure, but it wasn't permanent. Airi would eventually come back.

And if I handed the role to Kurumi now, Airi's resentment toward me would grow even stronger. She was already fragile, and this would only deepen the rift between us.

No, as tempting as it might be to solve my immediate workload problem, this wasn't an option.

"No," I said firmly, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. "Don't even think about it."

"Come on, look at those bags under your eyes. You need someone to help, don't you?" Kurumi pressed her tone both teasing and pointed. She wasn't going to back down that easily, not when she sensed a weakness.

She even had the gall to point out my lack of sleep, striking right where it hurt.

"You think I didn't notice?" She added with a sly smirk, her crimson eyes locking onto mine with a knowing gleam.

I met her gaze head-on, unflinching. "Of couse." I replied, my voice steady, refusing to let her see any hesitation.

But I wasn't stopping there. If I wanted to shut her down, I needed to give her a reason she couldn't argue with.

"But Kirishima, that place is for Airi," I stated firmly, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Her smirk faltered for a moment, and I could almost see her calculating her next move. She wouldn't give up so easily, but I wasn't about to give her any ground.

I expected her to come up with a convincing argument. Something logical, even persuasive. But I hadn't anticipated she'd stoop this low.

"Airi? You're not serious, are you? Don't tell me you've forgotten—you're the one who made her quit," Kurumi sneered, her voice laced with venom. She struck where it hurt most, like a viper sinking its fangs into an exposed wound.

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit.

Because, in a way, she wasn't entirely wrong.

Yes, Airi and I had argued. The tension had escalated, and in the end, she quit the student council entirely and even switched classes to get away from me. But that didn't mean I was at fault.

She was the one who had brought up the issue in the first place. She was the one who broke down when the argument didn't go her way. All I did was point out the flaws in her reasoning, the cracks in her logic. If she couldn't handle the truth, that wasn't my problem.

And yet, here was Kurumi, dredging it all up as if this would be the trump card to sway me. The audacity of it—using Airi's weakness against me like this—was infuriating.

I clenched my jaw, barely containing the irritation simmering beneath the surface. This bitch was really testing her luck.

"So what does any of this have to do with you, Kurumi?" I asked, forcing myself to swallow my irritation. My voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. 

"And if you're so eager to apply for the position, why don't you go ask the president or your sister?" I continued, keeping my tone steady. "I'm just the treasurer; what say do I have in this?"

I squinted, narrowing my eyes, and slowly closed the distance between us.

Our gazes were locked, and my head tilted just enough to match her height. We were eye to eye, and for a moment, I allowed the tension to settle between us. 

No more games.

"Everyone knows you control everything. And yes, this has nothing to do with me. But seeing that you're having trouble, I thought I'd offer to help."

She continued to play her game, her response wrapped in logic and calculated detachment. It was clear she was trying to keep things civil, trying to make her words seem reasonable.

Very well. If I were a reasonable person, I might actually consider her proposal and take her at face value.

But I'm not a reasonable person.

I'll do things that don't make sense, things that are illogical, just because I don't like where this conversation is heading.

"You still don't understand, do you?" I asked, my voice low, a hint of annoyance creeping in. I reached out, placing my hand firmly on her shoulder, pressing down in a way that was more forceful than casual.

She froze and trembled a bit. But she still tried to act composed and looked me straight in the eyes, her voice steady as she spoke, "Hey, you're touching me."

Of course, I knew. But right now, I didn't care. The power play was mine, and I was making sure she understood that.

"I appreciated your proposal," I said, my voice cold and clipped, acknowledging her words but offering nothing more.

"But..." I raised a hand, and my fingers brushed against her cheek with a deceptive gentleness, the touch soft but charged with an underlying intent.

"I don't like a cunning girl," I continued, my voice low, steady, and calm—an unsettling calm that carried a hidden warning. My gaze never wavered from hers, locking her in place, ensuring she couldn't look away. I allowed my fingers to tighten slightly, just enough to make her cheek squish under my touch.

Her smirk faltered. I could see it, the slight crack in her facade. Slowly, her face flushed a deep crimson, her once unshakable confidence beginning to melt away under my gaze.

And then, as a final push, I moved my finger toward her lip, barely grazing it with the lightest touch, teasing her.

Kurumi, who had always been in control, crumbled—just like Hoshizora had—under my touch. Her carefully constructed walls faltered in the face of my quiet dominance.

"Ah."

A small, unexpected squeal escaped her lips, and for the first time, I saw the true, flustered expression of Kurumi Kirishima.

It was... cute.

But that didn't change the fact that she was still as annoying as ever.

Yet, for this rare glimpse of vulnerability, I decided to give her something. Just this once.

A smile.

For a moment, her eyes widened in surprise, unable to mask the shift in her composure.

I couldn't resist teasing her. "I liked it when you were honest with yourself more," I said, my voice undoubtedly flirtatious.

Her body tensed, and I could see her trembling slightly at my words, a deeper flush creeping across her face. 

"Oh, this is so embarrassing!" she stammered, her confidence fully shattered now. Unable to handle the moment any longer, Kurumi wriggled free from my presence and ran off, her face flushed red with embarrassment.

Great.

Now, I didn't have to deal with her anymore.