Chapter 15: The Riser Syndrome

Sayori's POV

The day of the election arrived faster than I expected. My campaign room, once full of buzzing energy and excited voices, felt eerily quiet as we prepared for the results to be announced.

Everyone had told me I had this in the bag.

"You're the obvious choice, Sayori."

"No way Riser's winning. He hasn't even done anything!"

"You're exactly what this school needs."

Their words should've been comforting, but they felt hollow. Something about the way people said, "We'll see what happens," lingered in the back of my mind like an ominous shadow.

The entire school gathered in the auditorium, and I could feel the weight of every gaze on me. Hana was beside me, her arms crossed and her usual mischievous smirk replaced with an unreadable expression.

"Don't worry, Princess," she said, nudging me lightly. "You've got this."

I wanted to believe her. I really did.

But then I glanced toward the other side of the room.

There he was—Riser Nafutori.

Leaning against the wall, hands casually in his pockets, his signature grin plastered across his face. He wasn't even looking at the stage where the principal stood, ready to announce the results. No, he was chatting with some first-year students like this was just another ordinary day.

How can he be so calm?

The principal cleared his throat, and the room fell silent.

"Students, the results of this year's election for Student Council President are in!"

I clenched my fists, my heart pounding in my chest.

"The winner, by an overwhelming majority…"

I held my breath.

"…is Riser Nafutori!"

The auditorium erupted into cheers. Students were clapping, whistling, and chanting his name like he was some kind of rock star.

I stood frozen, my mind struggling to process what I'd just heard.

What? No… no, that's not possible.

My gaze darted around the room, searching for anyone—anyone—who might look even slightly disappointed. But all I saw were bright, smiling faces.

And then it hit me.

Not a single person voted for me.

The realization was like a punch to the gut. My knees felt weak, and I gripped the edge of the podium for support.

"Sayori?" Hana's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts.

I turned to her, my voice barely a whisper. "Not even one vote?"

Her eyes softened, and for once, she didn't have a snarky comeback.

As the celebration continued, I stumbled out of the auditorium, desperate for air.

I didn't make it far before someone fell into step beside me.

"Rough day?"

I turned to find a tall boy with messy black hair and equally dark eyes staring at me with what could only be described as a permanently unimpressed expression. His uniform was slightly disheveled, and he carried an air of indifference that was almost infuriating.

"Who are you?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

"Raikou Yukimura," he said casually, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Friend of the guy who just crushed your dreams."

I glared at him, too emotionally drained to deal with his nonsense. "What do you want?"

He tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle.

"You're wondering why you lost," he said. It wasn't a question.

I didn't answer, but the look on my face must've said enough.

Raikou let out a low chuckle. "It's not that people don't like you. They just love Riser more. You could've been perfect—flawless, even—and it wouldn't have mattered."

I crossed my arms, irritation bubbling up again. "And why's that?"

He stopped walking, turning to face me fully. "Because it's not about qualifications or logic. It's about the way he makes people feel."

I frowned, trying to make sense of his words. "What does that even mean?"

Raikou leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable. "I call it the Riser Syndrome."

I blinked. "The what?"

"The Riser Syndrome," he repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's this… effect he has on people. Once you get a taste of it, you're hooked. It's not magic or anything. It's just him. He makes people happy, even when they don't realize they're unhappy. And they stick around because they want more of that feeling."

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. "So you're telling me the entire school is… addicted to him?"

"Basically," Raikou said with a shrug. "But it's a good addiction. He doesn't manipulate anyone. He just… brings out the best in people. That's why they love him so much."

I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong. But as his words sank in, I couldn't help but think about everything I'd seen over the past few weeks.

The students who smiled just being around him. The problems he solved in his own chaotic way. The way he made me question everything I thought I knew about leadership.

And then, to my surprise, I started laughing.

It wasn't a bitter laugh or a sarcastic one. It was real.

"What's so funny?" Raikou asked, raising an eyebrow.

I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, my laughter subsiding into a quiet chuckle. "I spent so much time trying to prove I was better than him, and now you're telling me I never even had a chance?"

Raikou smirked. "Pretty much."

The absurdity of it all hit me at once, and I laughed again, louder this time.

For the first time since the campaign started, I didn't feel angry or frustrated. Just… relieved.

"Thanks for the reality check, Raikou," I said, finally catching my breath.

He shrugged, already turning to leave. "Don't mention it. Seriously, don't."

As I watched him walk away, I realized something.

Who really was that guy??

...….

The Vice President's Seat

Riser's POV

Watching Sayori laugh like that, even after the crushing results of the election, was something I didn't expect. She had just learned about the "Riser Syndrome" from Raikou—who really needs to stop using my name for weird diagnoses—and yet here she was, chuckling like she wasn't just dealt a heavy blow.

But even though I was glad she could find humor in the situation, I couldn't shake the pang of guilt sitting in my chest.

Zero votes. Not a single one.

I knew the school loved me. I knew they'd never pick anyone else as president. But for her to get zero? That wasn't just a loss—it was a full-on rejection.

Was it too much? Did I push her too far by letting her go through with this?

I found myself frowning—a rare thing for me. I had always believed in letting people make their own choices, even if they failed. But seeing Sayori sitting there, shoulders tense and eyes distant despite her forced laughter, I realized I had to make this right.

Before I knew it, my feet were carrying me toward her.

"Sayori," I called out.

She looked up, her pale blue eyes narrowing immediately. "What do you want, President?" she asked, emphasizing the title with a bitterness that made me wince.

"Just wanted to talk," I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender. "No need to get defensive."

She crossed her arms. "What could we possibly have to talk about?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," I said with a grin. "World peace, the meaning of life, and… your new role as vice president."

Her expression froze. "What?"

"You heard me," I said, leaning casually against the wall. "I want you to be the new vice president of the student council."

Sayori blinked at me, then frowned. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"No joke," I said. "You've got the skills, the passion, and—"

"—zero votes," she interrupted, her voice sharp.

"Well, yeah, there's that," I admitted with a shrug. "But the way I see it, the election results don't define your value. You're exactly what this school needs—someone who can balance out my… carefree approach."

She stared at me, her expression unreadable. "Why would I want to be your vice president? After everything that just happened?"

Before I could answer, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She doesn't want to," Hana said, sauntering up with her usual smirk. "But she needs to."

"Hana, stay out of this," Sayori snapped.

"Oh, no, no, no," Hana said, waving her finger. "I'm very much in this. You two as president and vice president? It's a match made in heaven. Or hell. Either way, I'm here for it."

The argument escalated quickly, with Hana throwing out ridiculous reasons why Sayori should accept the position, and Sayori firing back with increasingly dramatic refusals.

"Think of the glory!" Hana said, climbing onto a nearby bench for emphasis.

"I don't need glory," Sayori shot back.

"Think of the power!"

"I don't want power!"

"Think of the free snacks in the student council room!"

Sayori paused, glaring at Hana. "There are free snacks?"

"Focus!" I said, cutting in before the conversation spiraled any further.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of bickering, Sayori let out a heavy sigh.

"Fine," she said, her voice dripping with reluctant acceptance. "I'll do it. But don't think for a second that I'm doing this for you."

I grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."

A New Dynamic in the Student Council

The moment Sayori stepped into the student council room for her first official day, her expression shifted from reluctant acceptance to pure disbelief.

"What… is this?" she asked, her voice flat.

"This," I said proudly, "is my masterpiece."

The room was decked out like a luxury hotel suite. Plush chairs, a coffee machine that looked more expensive than some cars, and a mini-fridge stocked with every snack imaginable.

Sayori stared at it all, her eye twitching slightly. "This is the new student council room?"

"Yup," I said, popping a piece of candy into my mouth. "Cool, right?"

"No, not cool," she snapped. "This is… this is ridiculous!"

"Oh, come on," I said, leaning back in one of the plush chairs. "You've gotta admit it's comfy."

She rubbed her temples, muttering something about "redecorating" and "destroying all evidence of this insanity."

The rest of the student council watched us with amused expressions as we bickered. One of them—a second-year named Kenta—leaned over to Hana.

"They're already fighting," he whispered.

Hana grinned. "Oh, they're gonna be amazing together."

Sayori's POV

That night, as I sat in my room, my thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the day.

The election results, Riser's offer, Hana's chaotic interference, the ridiculous student council room…

And yet, despite everything, I didn't feel shunned or rejected.

In my past, losing meant failure. It meant disappointment, judgment, and isolation. But this time was different.

This time, I was being brought into something bigger. I wasn't being cast aside—I was being embraced.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled.

"Maybe," I whispered to myself, "I've caught a little bit of Riser's Syndrome after all."