Chapter 4: Opposites Collide

Chapter 4: Opposites Collide

I wasn't expecting to run into anyone on my way back to the classroom, much less someone like her.

The hallway was quiet, the echoes of my footsteps mingling with the faint hum of vending machines. My arms were full of books—leadership manuals, campaign strategies, and a few self-help guides I wasn't ready to admit I borrowed. The day had been exhausting, and all I wanted was a moment of peace to sort through my thoughts.

That's when I saw her.

She was standing in front of the vending machine, tapping her foot with an air of irritation that practically radiated off her. Her hair was tied up in an immaculate bun, her uniform spotless, and her expression… sharp. Too sharp.

At first glance, I thought she might be another overachieving perfectionist, the type to complain about even the smallest flaws in the system. But as I got closer, I realized there was something entirely different about her—a certain edge, a smugness that bordered on regal.

She turned, and her piercing gaze landed on me. For a second, I thought she was sizing me up, as if deciding whether I was worth her time.

"You there," she said, her voice clipped. "You're in the way."

I blinked, glancing around the empty hallway. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she said, crossing her arms. "Move."

Move? My irritation flared instantly. "I wasn't aware this hallway belonged to you."

She raised an eyebrow, smirking like I'd just proven her point. "Well, it doesn't. But it might as well."

Who was this girl?

"Listen," I said, gripping my books a little tighter. "I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not going to—"

"Who I think I am?" she interrupted, her voice dripping with mock offense. "I'm Hana Nafutori. That name ring a bell?"

My stomach dropped. Nafutori. The family name that had been irritating me since the moment I stepped into this school.

"So, you're his sister," I muttered, narrowing my eyes.

Her smirk widened. "You've heard of me, then. Good. Makes things easier."

"Trust me," I said, my voice steady. "You're nothing like your brother."

Hana's smug expression faltered for just a second before she tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?"

"For one thing, he's not a spoiled brat," I shot back. "You, on the other hand, seem to think the world revolves around you."

The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop. Hana stepped closer, her glare intensifying. "Let me guess. You're that girl running against him for Student Council President."

"And what if I am?"

Her laugh was sharp and humorless. "Oh, you're serious. That's adorable."

I clenched my teeth. "What's so funny about it?"

"Everything," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Do you honestly think you have a chance against Riser?"

I straightened my back, meeting her glare head-on. "I don't just think it. I know it. Your brother isn't as invincible as everyone makes him out to be."

Her expression darkened, the amusement in her eyes replaced with something colder. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But let me make one thing clear: my brother is the best thing that's ever happened to this school. If you think you can waltz in here and take him down, you're in for a rude awakening."

"And let me make one thing clear," I said, stepping forward. "I don't care what you think of me. I'm not backing down."

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife.

Finally, she scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Good luck, Dolorez. You're going to need it."

With that, she turned on her heel and strutted away, leaving me standing there with my fists clenched and my heart pounding.

If I was going to win, I needed allies.

The school was teeming with students, each one a potential voter. All I had to do was show them why I was the better choice. Easy, right?

I stood by the bulletin board in the hallway, armed with flyers I'd spent half the night designing. They were crisp, professional, and straight to the point—everything Riser Nafutori wasn't.

"Excuse me," I said, handing a flyer to a girl who was pulling books from her locker. "Have you considered supporting my campaign for Student Council President?"

She blinked at me, tilting her head. "Oh, you're the one running against Riser?"

"That's right," I said, smiling. "I believe this school needs structure and real leadership. Don't you agree?"

She hesitated, glancing at the flyer. "I mean… I guess? But Riser's kind of awesome, so…"

"Awesome?" I repeated, my smile faltering. "What exactly is 'awesome' about him?"

"Oh, you know," she said, shrugging. "He's always looking out for us. Like, last week, he brought pizza to the art club because he overheard us saying we were hungry."

"Pizza?" I said flatly.

"Yeah! And it wasn't just any pizza—it was the good kind, with extra toppings!"

"…Right," I muttered, watching her walk off with a dreamy look on her face.

My next attempt wasn't much better.

I approached a group of boys gathered near the gym, handing each of them a flyer. "Gentlemen, have you thought about what kind of leadership this school really needs?"

One of them glanced at the flyer, his brow furrowing. "Oh, you're running against Riser?"

"Yes," I said, keeping my tone even.

"Riser's the man," he said, grinning. "He let us borrow the gym last month when the basketball team kicked us out of practice."

"Wait, what?" I said, blinking.

"Yeah, he showed up, talked to the coach, and got us the gym back. The guy's a legend."

"Legend?" I echoed, my voice rising slightly.

"Totally. Anyway, good luck with your campaign!" he said, patting me on the shoulder before walking off with his friends.

I stood there, my fists clenching the stack of flyers.

The pattern repeated itself with almost every student I spoke to.

"Riser helped me pick out a gift for my boyfriend. It was perfect!"

"He gave me advice about dealing with my parents, and it actually worked!"

"He told me to relax before finals, and it really helped me focus!"

Every single one of them seemed to have a story about Riser's so-called greatness.

By the time lunch rolled around, I found myself slumped at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, glaring at my uneaten food.

Are they all sick? I thought, stabbing my salad with unnecessary force. Or do they feel obligated to worship him?

But as I replayed the conversations in my head, I realized it wasn't either of those things.

They genuinely liked him.

Not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. Riser Nafutori was messy, unorganized, and borderline ridiculous. Yet somehow, he'd won over the entire school.

It didn't make sense.

Still, I wasn't about to give up.

I spent the rest of the afternoon plastering the school with posters and talking to anyone who would listen.

To my surprise, a decent number of students joined my campaign. They admired my determination and appreciated my plans for change.

"You're so cool, Saori," one girl said, grinning as she signed up. "Finally, someone who takes things seriously!"

"Thanks," I said, smiling back.

By the end of the day, I had a solid group of supporters. It wasn't as large as Riser's fanbase, but it was a start.

As I packed up my materials, one of my new supporters leaned over. "You've got this, Saori. Riser might be popular, but popularity doesn't win elections. Hard work does."

"Exactly," I said, feeling a surge of confidence. "We'll show them what real leadership looks like."

Saori's POV

The student council office was on the top floor of the school, tucked away in a corner that most students never bothered to visit. As I climbed the stairs, my heart pounded—not from nerves, but from pure, unfiltered determination.

This would be my office soon.

"Finally," I muttered, pausing to catch my breath. "A place to restore order to this chaotic school."

The door to the office was slightly ajar, and I could hear faint music drifting out. Something upbeat and oddly… jazzy?

I pushed the door open and froze.

"What… is this?"

The room in front of me looked nothing like the functional workspace I'd envisioned. Instead, it was a bizarre mix of luxury and utter ridiculousness.

A sleek leather couch stretched across one wall, piled with colorful throw pillows. A minibar stood in the corner, complete with a sparkling water dispenser and a bowl of exotic fruits. A small disco ball hung from the ceiling, casting tiny rainbows across the room. And in the center of it all was a massive beanbag chair, where Riser sat, flipping through a comic book like he didn't have a care in the world.

He looked up as I stepped inside, his grin widening. "Well, well, if it isn't my future replacement. To what do I owe the pleasure, Madam President-in-Training?"

I ignored the smugness in his voice and gestured around the room. "This is the student council office?"

"Sure is," he said, leaning back into the beanbag. "Impressive, right?"

"Impressive isn't the word I'd use," I shot back. "What is this, a hotel lounge? A hangout spot for millionaires? Where's the desk? The filing cabinets? The actual workspace?"

Riser waved a hand dismissively. "Who needs boring desks when you've got beanbags? And the filing cabinet's over there." He pointed to a tiny, half-hidden cabinet in the corner, its surface covered in stickers.

I stared at him, my jaw tightening. "This… this is ridiculous. No wonder this school is a mess."

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it," he said, gesturing to the couch. "That thing's like sitting on a cloud. Go on, give it a shot."

"I'm not here to try your ridiculous furniture," I snapped. "I came to tell you that once I'm elected, this office is going to look like an actual office. No beanbags, no disco balls, and definitely no minibar."

Riser sat up, pretending to look horrified. "No minibar? Saori, have some mercy! What will the poor council members drink during our grueling meetings?"

"Water," I said flatly.

He gasped, clutching his chest. "You're ruthless."

I rolled my eyes, but my gaze lingered on the room. As much as I hated to admit it, it was… well, nice. Cozy, even. The kind of place that made you want to stay and hang out, which was probably why students seemed to love Riser so much.

Still, it wasn't right.

"You don't take this role seriously at all," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

"I take it seriously in my own way," he said, standing up. "But hey, you'll see for yourself soon enough—if you win."

His tone was light, but the challenge in his eyes was unmistakable.

I opened my mouth to respond, but then my eyes caught the corner of the room, where a small bulletin board hung. It was filled with pictures—students laughing, events in full swing, small thank-you notes scribbled in colorful handwriting.

I frowned, my earlier determination faltering.

"What's with the board?" I asked.

Riser followed my gaze and shrugged. "Oh, that? Just some stuff from students. You know, reminders of why I do this."

My chest tightened, though I didn't know why. I turned away quickly, my mind spinning.

For a brief moment, I wondered again who Riser really was. I'd seen him in that run-down part of town, handing out food and money like he was someone who understood struggle. And yet here he was, lounging in a room that looked like it belonged in a five-star resort.

He's impossible to figure out, I thought. But it doesn't matter. He's still wrong for this role, and I'm going to prove it.

"Well," I said, forcing a smirk. "Enjoy your little kingdom while it lasts, Nafutori. It won't be yours for long."

"Looking forward to it," he said, grinning.

With that, I spun on my heel and marched out, ignoring the way his laughter followed me down the hall.

Riser's POV

After Saori stormed out of the student council office, muttering something about "restoring order," I leaned back in my beanbag, letting out a long sigh.

The disco ball spun lazily overhead, casting tiny rainbows across the walls. It wasn't the most professional setup, but it was mine. And honestly? It worked.

Still, her words lingered in my mind. "You don't take this role seriously at all."

I didn't blame her for thinking that. On the surface, it probably looked like I was just goofing off, running the school like some kind of personal playground. But that wasn't the whole story. Not even close.

I closed my eyes, and the memories came flooding back.

It was two years ago, the first time I walked into this school as a transfer student. The halls were quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that felt heavy, like everyone was afraid to speak too loudly or step out of line.

I'd heard the rumors before I arrived. Strict rules, joyless teachers, a student body that dragged itself through each day like it was a punishment.

And I hated it immediately.

"Hey, you're the new kid, right?"

I turned to see a boy about my height with glasses so thick they could have doubled as magnifying glasses.

"Yep, that's me," I said, grinning. "Riser Nafutori, at your service."

"I'm Raiku," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Good luck surviving here. The teachers are nightmares, and the student council is even worse."

"Oh yeah?" I said, tilting my head. "What's so bad about the student council?"

"They're like mini-dictators," he said, lowering his voice. "If you're even a little late to class, you'll get detention. They'll write you up for having your shirt untucked. I heard they once banned a girl for laughing too loudly in the library."

I blinked. "Seriously?"

He nodded solemnly. "It's a hellscape."

I laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Sounds like fun. Maybe I'll join."

"…Are you insane?"

Fast forward a few months, and somehow, I'd found myself running for Student Council President.

It wasn't part of some grand plan. It just sort of… happened.

One day, I saw a group of students sitting in the courtyard, their heads down, whispering about how much they hated the rules. So I walked over, sat down with them, and asked, "What would you change if you could?"

At first, they didn't take me seriously. But by the end of the conversation, they were laughing, throwing out ideas about what the school could be if it wasn't so suffocating.

"Why don't you run for president?" one of them joked.

And just like that, a spark was lit.

Of course, the campaign wasn't easy. The other candidates were all about maintaining "order" and "tradition." They promised stricter rules, more discipline, and longer study hours.

I, on the other hand, promised pizza parties, game nights, and a student council office with a disco ball.

"Is this a joke to you?" one of my opponents sneered during a debate.

"Nope," I said, smiling. "It's called fun. You should try it sometime."

The crowd erupted in laughter, and the rest was history.

"President Nafutori!"

The voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see a first-year girl standing in the doorway of the student council office, tears streaming down her face.

"What's wrong, kid?" I asked, sitting up.

"My—my club is getting disbanded!" she sobbed. "They said we don't have enough members, but we've been working so hard! I don't know what to do!"

I gestured for her to sit down, handing her a tissue. "Okay, deep breaths. Tell me about your club."

"It's the creative writing club," she said, sniffing. "We only have three members, but it's important to us. Writing is all we have!"

I nodded, thinking for a moment. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do. First, you're gonna write the best damn short story this school has ever seen. Something so good it'll make the principal cry."

She blinked, her tears slowing. "Cry?"

"Exactly," I said, grinning. "Then we'll use that story to recruit more members. Once people see how awesome your club is, they'll be lining up to join."

"But… what if it doesn't work?" she whispered.

"Then we'll figure something else out," I said, leaning forward. "You're not alone in this, okay? We've got your back."

She stared at me for a moment before breaking into a small, shaky smile.

"Thank you, President Nafutori," she said, her voice cracking.

"No problem," I said, ruffling her hair. "Now, go out there and write something amazing."

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about the countless moments like this—students coming to me with their problems, their fears, their hopes.

I didn't always have the answers. Hell, most of the time, I was winging it. But seeing their faces light up, watching them go from sadness to joy…

That was why I did it.

"People are complicated," I murmured, staring at the ceiling. "But happy people? They're worth the chaos."