Chapter 12: Yuna’s Game

Monday rolled in with a buzz of excitement—Yamato High's cultural festival was a week away, and the school thrummed with preparations. Riku trudged through the halls, dodging students hauling decorations and shouting about booth setups. He'd hoped to coast through unnoticed, but his luck had run dry days ago.

He was halfway to Class 2-B when Yuna Ono ambushed him, her blonde hair glinting under the fluorescent lights. She wore a black headband with cat ears—a festival prop, probably—and her grin was pure mischief. "There you are!" she said, slinging an arm around his shoulders before he could dodge. "My favorite second-year!"

"Yuna-senpai," he said, ducking out from under her arm. "What now?"

"Game time," she declared, steering him toward the third-year wing despite his protests. "You're helping me with the haunted house. No arguing—you owe me for the vending machine."

"I don't owe you anything!" he said, but she just laughed, dragging him along. Her grip was firm, her pace relentless, and he stumbled after her, resigned to his fate.

The haunted house setup was a mess of cardboard coffins, fake cobwebs, and dangling plastic skeletons. Yuna's classmates bustled around, taping up black curtains and testing a fog machine that coughed out weak puffs of smoke. She shoved a roll of duct tape into Riku's hands. "Fix those tombstones," she ordered, pointing to a row of leaning cardboard slabs. "They keep falling over."

Sighing, he knelt and started taping, securing the bases with more effort than they deserved. Yuna hovered, offering unhelpful commentary—"Ooh, nice hands," and "You're too cute when you concentrate"—until he was red-faced and muttering under his breath. He finished the last tombstone, standing to stretch, when she clapped her hands.

"Perfect! Now, reward time." Before he could protest, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a corner of the setup—a cramped space behind a curtain, dark and cluttered with props. She spun him around, pinning him against a wall with a grin. "Truth or dare, Riku-kun."

"What?" he yelped, his back pressed to the cardboard. "This isn't—"

"Truth or dare," she repeated, leaning close. Her cat ears tilted forward, and her bubblegum scent filled the tiny space. "Pick, or I pick for you."

"Uh… dare?" he said, regretting it instantly.

Her eyes gleamed. "Hug me."

"H-hug you?" His voice shot up an octave. "Why?"

"Because it's fun," she said, stepping closer until their shoes bumped. "Come on, don't be shy."

Riku's brain scrambled for an exit, but the curtain boxed him in, and Yuna's expectant stare left no room to wiggle out. He raised his arms stiffly, barely brushing her shoulders in the world's most awkward hug. She laughed, wrapping her arms around him fully, pressing against him with a warmth that turned his face into a furnace.

"See? Not so bad," she teased, her chin resting on his shoulder. The curtain rustled, and he caught a glimpse of movement—Aiko, standing just outside, her arms crossed and her jaw tight.

"Yuna-senpai," Aiko said, her voice cutting through the dark like a blade. "Borrowing my cousin again?"

Yuna pulled back, unfazed. "Yup! He's a natural at this haunted house stuff. Right, Riku?"

"Uh, sure," he mumbled, stepping away as fast as he could. His shirt clung to him, sweaty from nerves, and Aiko's glare made it worse.

"Great," Aiko said, her tone flat. "He's got other stuff to do, though. Like walking home with me."

"Duty calls," Yuna said, winking at Riku. "Catch you later, cutie."

Aiko grabbed Riku's arm, pulling him out of the setup with a force that brooked no argument. "What was that?" she demanded as they hit the hallway, her grip still tight.

"She dared me!" he said, wrenching free. "It's just a game!"

"A game," she echoed, stopping to face him. Her eyes flicked over him—his flushed face, his rumpled shirt—and her lips pressed into a thin line. "You're too nice, Riku. People take advantage."

"She's not—I mean, it's fine," he said, flustered. "Why do you care so much?"

Aiko didn't answer, just turned and marched off, leaving him to trail behind. The walk home was silent, her pace brisk and her shoulders stiff. Riku's head spun—first Mika, now Yuna, and always Aiko, hovering like a storm cloud he couldn't escape. What was her deal?