COTE: Wishing Well

by thann3

Ayanokōji Kiyotaka wants nothing more than to be human. To have wishes to throw into a wishing well. To experience emotions. Joy. Sorrow. Anger. Regret. Love. He understood them perfectly well. But he has yet to feel them himself. This school would be his sandbox of wishes. To do what he wanted, free of restrictions. That was the definition of freedom, wasn't it?

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Glimpse of Us

-o-o-o-

I spent the rest of my peaceful days in a routine of working out at the gym, playing basketball with Sudō, improving my cooking skills, and going to Keyaki Mall with the odd group of Okitani, Chiaki, Mori, Sudō, Satō, and Sotomura.

Kushida came to my room every few days. Sometimes, the suppressed shivering cued her adverse reaction, but, over time, it lessened further and further.

Time passed in the blink of an eye, and it was soon the end of the month. However, my beautiful teacher had a surprise for us.

"Alright everyone, since it is the end of the month, we are going to have a short test. Please pass these to the back. This test is just for future reference. It won't be reflected in your report cards. There is no risk involved, so don't worry. Of course, cheating is prohibited."

Chabashira-sensei began handing out tests. The class quickly silenced itself. Class D's behavior was much, much better than it had been at the beginning of the year. After Chabashira-sensei signaled that we could begin, I flipped the test over, reviewing the questions. There were only four questions per each of the five subjects, making twenty questions total.

The first seventeen of them should have been answerable for students of our grade level, but the last three were of much, much higher difficulty than the first seventeen. They were perhaps early collegiate-level questions. The last three were short answers as well, so that ensured no guesses would happen.

I cast a glance at Kōenji, who was flying through the papers with ease. I decided to answer all my questions a certain way, and I finished my test without issues, choosing to take a nap.

After class ended, I used the excuse of the Student Council to slip past many of my classmates. As I exited the building and turned left, I met Kōenji.

"Demon-boy."

There was only one probable reason that Rokusuke had confronted me. It was surprising that he had noticed. Had he seen and tracked my pencil movements? Since the test was multiple-choice, it was possible. From that angle, it was difficult because his seat was further forward, but it remained something that he could manage by discreetly moving his body. He must have tracked them while I was focusing on the test, during that brief moment when he finished and I hadn't, since I started slightly after him.

"It was a reference test." In my opinion, I hadn't broken the promise of competing with him in exams.

"It remains an exam, Demon-boy."

Neither of our arguments had logical fallacies; instead, we disagreed on the key point, that being whether or not it was a justifiable exam. This meant that consensus couldn't be reached because we disputed the fact.

Kōenji must have followed my line of reasoning because he crossed his arms in a displeased manner and began walking away. My eyes traced his large frame. I shouldn't antagonize him—that would be troublesome. However, it was likely that I couldn't earn his cooperation through any simple means. Except by using private points.

-o-o-o-

The next day was May 1. The morning bell rang, and soon afterward, Chabashira-sensei strode into the room. holding a rolled-up white poster, which probably contained our class point results. Her expression was even sterner than usual. Today, our class results would be revealed—our standing in comparison to other classes, that was. We had all received zero private points this morning.

"I suppose I don't need to give you kids any explanation. Here's the poster." She drew the rubber band off the poster and unrolled it, pinning it to the blackboard using some magnets.

Class D had -600 points. We hadn't lost any ever since we had purchased the S-System explanation. However…

Class C had 710. Class B had 980. Class A had 990.

Ichinose had figured it out at least part of the S-System. She had kept her classmates in place to not lose many points, but could not catch up to Class A. Still, she was extremely close already.

"This is the result of talking or using your phones in class, arriving late or being absent, and oh how could I forget, your two expulsions." Hirata's face darkened at the mention of the two expulsions, and he clenched his fist, trembling in his seat. However, there was nothing he could do to reverse or mitigate this result.

Though we were in last place by a significant margin, this position offered one key benefit. First was the decreased attention by the other three classes; none of them would consider Class D a threat. This meant that Ryūen Kakeru, currently in Class C, was technically the last place class once you excluded Class D. Ryūen would soon execute a gambit against Class A or B, or both.

"Now, I have one more bit of bad news to share with you. Here's your exam performance from yesterday." She stuck another sheet of paper on the board, which listed the names of everyone in the class. A number stood next to each student's name: their score. "Judging from these, I can see that we have quite a few idiots in this class." As her heels clacked on the floor, she glanced at us.

With the exception of a few high scores, almost everyone tested below sixty. The average score was seventy. Sudō had scored fourteen. Horikita had scored eighty-five, meaning that she was not able to solve any of the difficult questions on the test.

Impressively, Kōenji had scored ninety-five, meaning he had answered two of the three difficult questions near the end of the test. However, he must have made a mistake on one of them. I shot him a glance. Though, to most people, he appeared satisfied with his result, a smirk sitting on his lips and his arms crossed over his chest, he seemed perturbed as he gazed at me.

I had scored 100. There were numerous gazes on me, but I felt nothing. I couldn't help but wonder if my decision to join the Student Council had been a mistake.

"I'm so glad," Chabashira-sensei's voice was practically dripping with sarcasm. "If this were an actual test, then eight of you would've been expelled." She took a red marker, drawing a red line which marked the difference between failing and passing. "If you fail on a midterm or final exam in this school, then you have to drop out. If we applied that rule to this test, anyone who scored below thirty-five points would drop out."

Among those eight people, Kikuchi had scored the highest, with thirty-one points. The students left in red were dejected. However, there was an easter egg of sorts. Scanning the expressions of my black-haired seatmate and Okitani, it was Horikita who noticed it first. She raised her hand.

"Sensei, why is the cutoff thirty-five points?" For the first time today, Chabashira-sensei smiled.

"I cannot say."

Normally, a pass would be either seventy points or fifty points, depending on the school. However, it was arbitrarily set at thirty-five points, which prompted Horikita to look into a different method for determining pass or fail—namely, percentage. By hazarding an educated guess, Horikita could argue with ninety percent certainty that the pass or fail mark was dependent on the class exam average, which was seventy. If you divided seventy by two, you would get thirty-five. This was Horikita's thought process.

"What are the other class averages? Do you know?" Okitani asked. Quickly, he had caught onto Horikita's thinking and wanted to make sure that it was half of Class D's average, not half of the total grade's average. Still smiling, Chabashira-sensei answered his question.

"Class C's average was sixty. Class B's was seventy-six, and Class A's was eighty-one."

With that, it was confirmed that the failing mark was simply half of our class average.

"By the way, your midterm exams are in three weeks. Please think things over, and be careful not to drop out. I have confidence that you can find a way to avoid getting red marks on your report cards. If at all possible, challenge yourself to act in a way befitting a skilled individual."

"I will leave you guys homeroom time for deliberation." Chabashira moved to the side, ceding the podium as she left the room. Horikita strode up to the stand in order to make her case. Okitani accompanied her.

Horikita began explaining her thought process to the class, which, thankfully, everyone readily accepted, even though this was a novel situation for Horikita to be the one explaining. She had been icy cold at first; however, now that the leadership of the class was just within her reach, she decided to help. If Class D had just been confronted with the reality of this school, they likely would not have accepted this explanation so easily.

"Then, what should we do? We have midterms coming up!" Karuizawa cried, with several of the girls nodding in agreement with her. Horikita nodded.

"One possibility is for everyone to score zero on the midterm so that everyone will pass. But Kōenji wouldn't cooperate." All eyes turned to Rokusuke, who had his legs propped up on the desk and his arms crossed. He smirked without opening his eyes.

"You're correct, Horikita-girl." Remarkably, Horikita didn't even blink at his response. Her anticipation of Kōenji's character was crucial to keeping control of the class.

"What the hell, Kōenji!" Sudō and several of the other boys started yelling at Kōenji, cursing him for his uncooperative nature.

"Everyone, please quiet down!" Once Horikita and Hirata had calmed everyone, she began speaking again. "I think we should begin implementing weekly study groups, led by members of the Academic Committee. There are still several weeks from the midterms, so we should be prepared for anything."

Horikita's words were sound, and she turned the podium over to Okitani.

"We should appoint students to the Academic Committee. Ayanokōji-kun, given your score on the exam, would you be willing to lead it?"

"I don't want to sound selfish, but I'm already leading the Strategy Committee," I pointed out. My meaning was clear: even if there was nothing for the Strategy Committee to currently handle, something may appear in the future that would require the committee's immediate attention. If that appeared, it would jeopardize the leadership of the Academic Committee if I were to lead it as well.

"That is true. I don't want to overwork you. Would you be willing to lead a tutoring group for this midterm then?" Okitani modified his offer.

"Yes, I would." Okitani nodded.

"Horikita-san, Keisei-san, Hirata-kun, Matsushita-san, and Kushida-san are you willing to act as tutors?" Okitani wisely skipped over Kōenji, who would have likely declined anyway.

"Yes!" Kushida was the first one to respond, and the others soon acquiesced as well. After discussing group assignments with the others, it was determined that I was to lead a group consisting of Sudō, Sotomura, Okitani, Satō, and Mori. This was my usual friend group with the exception of Chiaki, so there was no issue with it.

Soon enough, classes ended, and we agreed to go to the library to study later in the afternoon. First, I went to my room. I used my laptop to create some study materials and test sheets based on concepts taught in class. I sent the files over to Sotomura for printing and asked him to bring them to the library later. Thanks to this, there was no need to run to the electronics store.

Unfortunately, I ran slightly late due to a sink issue in my room. Once I arrived, I saw the table where my group was sitting. In fact, there weren't many people there, so they had easily picked out a table to sit at.

But there seemed to be some trouble. A group of three boys, probably from a different class, were causing a ruckus near the study group.

"Ha ha ha, look at you shitty Class D defects! How is it possible that you guys went negative!?"

"Right, that's never even been done before!"

"Hey! That's enough of that, you shitheads!" Sudō shot up from his seat, the rattling of the chair triggering a loud noise in the library.

"You guys are making history in all the wrong ways!" they taunted, before noticing me.

"Hey, speaking of that, how did this clown get into the Student Council?"

"Pfft, his class is definitely dragging him down!" They jeered.

"Worst Class D in history!"

"I'll make you pay, you fucks!" he roared. As he reached out and attempted to grab one of their collars, I caught his right wrist with my left hand. Just to make sure that he would obey, I exerted a little force and then let him go.

"Ow, ow, Kōji—" he grimaced slightly as he began rubbing his wrist. The three male students seemed befuddled as they watched the exchange.

"Stop harassing us," I told them. "Or I'll have to call the librarian. You might even receive some disciplinary action."

Even though our class had perhaps the least authority out of anyone, I was still a vice president of the Student Council. The small display of physical force also helped strengthen my case, and they decided to call it quits.

"Tch, whatever." They turned away.

"Yeah. Go tutor your defects, maybe with some luck you won't sink even lower into the negatives."

Once they were out of earshot, I turned back to the table, where everyone still seemed shaken from the encounter. Somehow, the librarian hadn't come to kick us out; maybe they had been using the restroom or something.

"No problem. That's what friends do, right?"

A chorus of nods came around the table.

"Yeah. I can't believe those assholes!" Sudō gritted his teeth. Although the altercation had gotten the red-haired boy fired up, the others were troubled. Okitani in particular was oddly silent, even though he had taken a larger role in the class today.

"This is what the school is really like, I guess," Mori said despondently. "We can't really make friends from other classes." The others nodded in agreement.

We had known that our class was Class D several weeks ago. However, some students had held onto the hope that they could keep their relationships and friendships with students from other classes. Now, that hope had diminished greatly. It continued to be possible to maintain friendships, but it would be incredibly difficult. The relationships that had previously been built were now shaky at the slightest sign of inter-class trouble.

"Ayanokōji-kun, is everything alright?" A pink-haired girl had ventured near our table, and her question drew everyone's eyes toward her.

"Oh, hello, Ichinose-san." I nodded my head back in greeting. "Are you also studying?"

"Ha ha, yeah, I'm leading a study group for Class B."

Ichinose, like me, was leading a tutoring group consisting of Class B. She must have also realized the importance of studying and improving her classmates' grades in order to pass the midterms.

"I'm sorry about…" she tried to search for the right words, "That, you know. That you have to endure that."

"We'll get used to it. It's just the normal hierarchy of this school."

Upon hearing my words, Ichinose only seemed to get more fired up. "Well, I don't think it's fair at all! I mean, how can you be content with being treated this way?"

"Technically, we earned it. We earned our class points or lack of them. Of course, we aren't happy getting treated this way, but it's how it is."

The pink-haired girl gave me a sad look and sighed, shaking her head. "I just don't get it. Can't you guys file a complaint to the school or something?"

Sudō seemed to snap. "Look woman, that's how it is. You aren't in Class D so of course you don't get it—"

"Sudō."

The red-haired boy scratched the back of his head, looking away and scowling. At least he was heeding my words.

"Sorry for my classmate. He didn't mean any harm, he's just a bit hot-headed at times."

Ichinose nodded understandingly. "I would also be angry if I was in your position."

"Well, what can we do but work our way up? Speaking of which, I heard that the midterms can help with class points."

"Oh, right!" Ichinose laughed awkwardly, "Sorry for distracting you guys, we'll get back to work, too." She left our table, returning to hers, where her classmates waited expectantly.

I had Sotomura pass out each of the papers and set a time limit for everyone to begin working as I supervised them. However, around halfway through our session, I noticed something.

There were gazes again—not on us, but this time on Ichinose's table, which wasn't too far from ours. A group of three male students were chatting while hovering around their table, loudly snacking on chips and drinking soda. They weren't the same people from before; instead, it seemed like these students were undergoing specific instructions rather than just harassing people out of spite.

One of them slammed one of the cans onto the table right beside Ichinose's. The noise wasn't so loud as to alert the librarian, but it was more than enough to disrupt the Class B students, who, like us, were taking a practice test.

These male students looked to be from Class C. Just as I had surmised, Ryūen had made his move. From the average scores of each class that Chabashira-sensei had mentioned earlier today, Class C was far worse at studying than the other two classes were.

Ichinose did not tolerate it, however. She stood up, glaring fiercely at the three students. "What do you think you are doing?"

"We're just eating," one of them shrugged. "You can't do anything."

"You're disrupting others in the library. We can have you removed." Ichinose was staunch in her defense.

"What's going on over here?" The librarian finally came over to investigate the ruckus.

"Hello," Ichinose quickly bowed, "Sorry for the commotion. These three were loudly eating snacks and intentionally slamming drinks down in the library," she gestured to them. "Could you please have them removed?"

"We weren't causing any commotion!" They protested, but the librarian shook her head. It was obvious that they had been disturbing everyone, given the drinks and snacks in their hands. Ichinose's statement aligned with the truth, and it was simple for the librarian to make a decision.

"Please leave, or I'll have to call the campus security."

With that threat, Ichinose managed to successfully remove the intruders from the library, and everyone returned to studying. However, there were other presences from Class C, which continued to observe and stalk members of Class B, even when they tried moving to a different table. Any time a Class B student confronted them, they waved them off, claiming that they were reading a book or staring at a certain spot within the library. Since the library was a public place, there was no way that Class B could monopolize it for themselves, they argued.

Class B and Ichinose were at a standstill. If Ichinose once again complained to the librarian, she would be seen as a nuisance or a troublemaker and may be removed from the library herself. This was why she chose to instead brave the stares.

Speaking of my own group, I noted that they had all completed their tests. Looking over them, I noted that Sudō had the lowest score in every subject. He undoubtedly required the most attention. His math and English were on the level of a middle school student, and I had to catch him up to make sure that he wouldn't fail the midterms.

Sotomura was good at social studies and Japanese, and average in science and math, but especially weak in English. In fact, English seemed to be the most common denominator that was difficult for all of my classmates. Thankfully, in the other subjects, everyone was average in everything, which made designing test sheets easier.

Time passed quickly as I reviewed each person's results with them and discussed how to best tackle their weaknesses—especially with Sudō. Soon, we disbanded, and we began to go our separate ways for dinner.

"Ayanokōji-kun, would you mind discussing something?"

From his tone, it seemed sensitive, so I nodded. I followed Okitani as he left the library building, circling around to the back, where there was no one around to eavesdrop on our conversation.

It was fifteen minutes to seven, and the sun was in the midst of setting. The rays cast a warm glow on the concrete wall.

"Ayanokōji-kun. About us dragging you down… do you really believe that?" Okitani asked quietly.

Okitani was concerned about the comments that other classes made.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"…Well, I don't know. You're a vice president of the Student Council. President Horikita saw something in you, and you're the head of our newly-formed Strategy Committee," Okitani threw his hands up. "Point is, you're pretty damn smart."

"But we aren't." He leaned against the concrete wall and sighed. "Let's be real, was anything they said wrong? We're the worst Class D in history. We probably don't even have a chance of reaching Class A, and because of that, you won't reach it, either." He finished his spiel and looked directly at me.

"That's why I'm asking. You can be honest with me," he said. "I wouldn't fault you for believing that we were dragging you down."

Okitani laid out the details in front of me truthfully. He wanted my truthful opinion.

For someone like Okitani, trust and hope were intangibles. He wasn't a natural-born leader. He was someone who needed to be molded into the position. That was why I needed to choose my words carefully in order to accomplish that objective.

After pondering over what to say, I answered him.

"While you might think it true, I don't believe it. Our class is our class; there's no changing that."

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Trust is the most important thing. Without it, we begin to doubt each other. When doubt settles in, there is potential for other classes to infiltrate our ranks. I'm sure you've heard the saying: A house divided against itself cannot stand."

The purple-haired boy let out a chuckle. "Abraham Lincoln, the US President. Even now, you're thinking of strategy. But I guess you're right. I trust you, Kōji."

"And I trust you as well, both as a friend and as a leader. I trust you to lead the class and handle everything that comes your way. Including what happened earlier."

"Ah, well… sorry, I just didn't know what to do in that situation," the purple-haired boy said, referring to the incident earlier. "I'm not super good with being authoritative and dealing with people I don't know, you see. Maybe Hirata or you would be better at that kind of thing."

Okitani didn't have the necessary tools to handle external pressure from other classes. Observing him led me to that conclusion; if I set him as the sole leader of the class, he would crumble. Sakayanagi and Ryūen would see him as easy prey, low-hanging fruit.

Our class was uniquely structured in a way where we could make up for each other's mistakes. However, having such a weak-willed leader represent our class would not be satisfactory.

If push came to shove, I would finish him off myself.

"That's true," I paused. "However, Hirata, although he's an integral part of our class…"

"He doesn't have the tools to hold himself up in front of adversity," Okitani finished for me. "It's not a knock on him or anything, but that's just how it is. I get the sense that, if there was a class dispute of some sort, he wouldn't be able to put his foot down."

"I agree with you. With myself, I'm not particularly good at speaking," I explained. "Maybe someone like Horikita or Chiaki would be better. Horikita is certainly the more… aggressive option."

My antisocial, black-haired seatmate handling those kinds of situations felt like the perfect fit. However, if you needed more dexterity and flexibility, perhaps Chiaki was indeed the better option.

"I'll consider it," Okitani agreed. "I feel like our class has so many options for leadership that we're all just kind of one group winging it through."

"I understand. I trust your decision, Okitani."

"Thanks. I'll think it over, then. There's one last thing I wanted to ask."

"What is it?"

Pushing himself off the wall, Okitani faced me. "Did you lead me to the S-System?"

"Why do you think that?"

"You were the first one to save our group from trouble with the upperclassmen that day. You also received private points from them in exchange for deleting the recording," he looked at me pointedly. "Also, at the convenience store, you were staring at the free items section when I came over. Did you plan all of this?"

"I see," I closed my eyes. "It's probably fair to assume that, but I didn't do any of that intentionally." I looked at him again.

"Okitani, I'm Class D's strategist. You're the leader, the head. If I were to attempt to convince you of something, I wouldn't take such a convoluted method. It would be much easier to talk to you and explain my reasoning."

"That's true."

"You came up with the idea yourself. Don't discredit your own contributions."

"You're right, maybe I was just overthinking," Okitani mused, a hand on his chin. "I just wanted to double-check."

"Anyway, see you around, then, Kōji."

"See you."

-o-o-o-

There was a knock on the door. It was 11:10 PM, almost midnight, and certainly past curfew. Who would come to my room in the middle of the night?

I opened it with a twist of the handle. A head of blonde hair was the first thing my brain registered.

"Can I come in?" Kushida was still dressed in her uniform, while I was dressed in my night clothes. I nodded.

After stepping aside to let her in the room, I closed the door behind me with a soft click. She wasted no time and wordlessly walked up to me, rubbing her hands across my clothes to check for any devices. I allowed her to do so, and when she was satisfied, she moved over to the room to check for anything, including my phone and laptop. She meticulously checked every corner, her slender fingers brushing over fabrics and surfaces, searching for any hidden devices or traces of surveillance. It took her almost thirty minutes, and while she was doing so, I wandered over to the kitchen to prepare something for tomorrow's breakfast.

Her late-night visits had become something of a regular occurrence, happening every few nights. During these visits, it had become routine for me to be her emotional dumpster. She sat a short distance away from me on the couch—far enough so that we did not touch, but close enough so that I could feel the cushions dip with the combined weight of our bodies.

She still had nightmares and panic attacks every now and then, usually in my presence. By exposing her to me, I gradually tuned down her reactions, until the point where the naked eye couldn't tell that she had a reaction at all. Soon, she would get over her fear of me entirely. She would realize that I meant her no harm—that I dealt her the carrot and stick fairly in correlation to her own acts.

It was simple operant conditioning: associating a voluntary behavior with a consequence, either positive or negative.

Ultimately, this setback was to be expected, as it took time to get over a significant amount of trauma like I had caused to her. She had almost died. But this time spent rebuilding her was insignificant in comparison to the value I obtained by pulling the strings of Class D's angel.

She began ranting again, and I tuned her out, just nodding every time she looked in my direction.

It was about Hondō and some other people that she had to tutor today at the Pallet Cafe. Hondō and the other boys were perverts, while the girls were gossipers and 'pick-me-girls'. None of them could focus on academics, and they had accomplished nothing during the session.

"What a fucking waste of time that was!" Kushida huffed, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. Her chest was heaving up and down, and she was breathing heavily after her rant.

"Feeling better?" At my words, Kushida turned her gaze in my direction, looking me up and down.

"…Yeah. Definitely. You're not an idiot like them, for fuck's sake," she sighed and closed her eyes. "You're really a lot easier to talk to, that's for sure."

My hand clasped her right shoulder. She made a noise of surprise, and I drew our bodies together, which made her pause. I hadn't drawn her too close; we weren't so close that we were overlapping or crammed—just touching, the lines of our legs melting into one, our shoulders connected by some static friction. Her shoulder was somewhat cold, and I felt it through the thin fabric of my white shirt.

She didn't resist my touch; however, she was still a bit stiff. I released my hold on her right shoulder, withdrawing my arm. She didn't move.

"What are you doing?"

"It's more comfortable like this, isn't it?"

Kushida didn't respond, her eyes downcast on her lap, her figure frozen. I took it as a yes.

We sat like that for a minute. And then two. Finally, she shuffled her weight away from me, back to the original position. She lifted her head, meeting my gaze. There was curiosity, mixed with some small dose of fear in her pink orbs. The touch of my hand on her shoulder had reminded her of the touch of my hand on her throat. She remembered that night.

"You… Is there anything you want me to do?" she asked carefully.

"Do you want tea?" I asked, instead of answering her question.

"Sure."

She willingly sat. After I had finished brewing the tea, I poured the steaming tea out into cups for us to drink. I had made sure there was no caffeine in it so that it would be safe to drink at night. I regarded her as she drank. This wasn't her mask, oddly enough. We sat in silence as we sipped.

"This is really good, Ayanokōji-kun."

"Thank you."

A sudden silence befell us. I didn't know if my blonde-haired classmate thought the silence was awkward, but she didn't move to leave. I allowed her the choice of dictating the interaction between us: she could choose whether she wanted to rant to me, sit in silence, leave, or perhaps even do something else. Within the gilded cage, allowing her this level of control was essential.

The splendor of the ethereal garden grew ever more, but the walls grasping for the heavens grew ever higher.

However, if your gaze did not ever wander to the walls reaching the sky, then the walls did not exist at all.

"Ayanokōji-kun, I didn't know you had a piano. Do you play?"

I had recently purchased a black, upright piano, which sat in the corner of my room, facing the bed. Of course, it wasn't the largest model, but it was still a somewhat costly purchase for the average student, with around 160,000 private points. I played it occasionally as a hobby,

"I do play sometimes."

"That's amazing!" my endearing classmate exclaimed, "I played as a child, but I haven't tried it in a while. Can I…?"

Kushida's sudden interest in piano caught me off-guard, but it wasn't exactly unwelcome.

"Go ahead," I replied.

She stepped over to the piano, where she took a seat on the small bench. "I haven't played in a fucking while, so…"

"It's alright."

"Hm? What's this?" She began scanning her eyes over the sheet music in front of her that I had placed on the stand.

"It's a piece that I composed myself, actually."

"Goddamn, you're crazy," she muttered her choice words, as she examined the parchment. "Thirty-two fucking pages? Are you serious?"

"Well, half of it is meant to be played solo, and the other half is meant to be played in duet. With a violin, specifically."

"Do you play violin too?" Kushida eyed a black, violin-shaped case in the corner. "W-Wait, did you mean for us to play this together?"

"Well, yeah. If you knew how to play, that is."

She turned and glared at me, a hint of pink on her cheeks. "You didn't have to do this in such a roundabout way, idiot! Obviously, you could have just told me!"

"My bad, my bad."

"Whatever," she paused. "So… get your violin out, dummy."

I retrieved the violin case from the corner, feeling the familiar weight of the instrument within. It wasn't a Stradivarius by any means, but it was a fine instrument nonetheless, its polished wood gleaming in the soft light of the room. I opened the case, revealing the violin nestled inside, and took a moment to tune it, the soft notes blending into the silence.

As I was tuning the instrument, my endearing, blond-haired classmate began flipping through the pages of notes, humming to the melody to herself. Luckily, since these rooms were soundproof, it was safe to play music even at night, when it was past curfew.

"This seems really good, Ayanokōji-kun! Were you a musical prodigy growing up?" she asked, her eyes still on the white parchment. "You know how to play violin, and piano, and compose music?"

"You could say something like that."

"There's still so much I don't know about you," her sentiment lingered in the air, "Will you ever tell me?"

"I will. I'm just not ready right now."

She hummed satisfactorily, "Okay."

Without further ado, she began playing. The piece started with a gentle piano melody, each note falling like a delicate raindrop. Kushida's fingers moved with a grace that belied her earlier claim of not having played in a while. My cute classmate was no slouch.

This was the first time I was witnessing my own music being played from a spectator's viewpoint. The melody was soft and soothing, yet tinged with an undercurrent of melancholy.

It seemed like the emotional notes that I had composed were enchanting Kushida, too. The blonde-haired girl had her eyes closed, her ears mesmerized by the sound.

As she played, I joined in with the violin, weaving a complementary harmony that rose and fell in time with the piano. My bow danced across the strings, producing a sound that was rich and vibrant, yet sorrowful. The notes we played intertwined, each instrument enhancing the other, creating a symphony that filled the room.

The music built gradually once more, the gentle lullaby giving way to a more intense, emotive section. Kushida's playing grew more passionate, her fingers moving with increasing speed and precision. I matched her intensity, my violin singing in response, the notes soaring and dipping, then soaring again, echoing the complex emotions embedded within the composition.

Then, without warning, a sudden silence descended. We both stopped playing, the abrupt halt creating a palpable tension in the room.

The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity.

I was the first to break the silence, resuming the piece with a series of staccato chords on the violin. The rapid, punctuated notes built a sense of urgency and tension, a stark contrast to the earlier soothing melody. Kushida quickly joined in, her piano providing a powerful accompaniment that underscored the growing intensity.

As we played, the music reached a crescendo, a powerful, emotive climax that was both exhilarating and exhausting.

The staccato rhythm gave way to a sweeping, legato passage, the notes flowing together in a seamless, almost lyrical fashion. The tension built and built and built, until it finally released in a triumphant, harmonious resolution.

When we finished, the room was filled with a charged silence, the echoes of the final notes lingering in the air. We both sat there, breathing heavily, the intensity of the performance still coursing through us.

"That was incredible, Ayanokōji-kun! You're really fucking good with the violin, wow…"

"You played beautifully," I replied honestly. "I didn't know you had this side to you."

She side-eyed me, "And I didn't know that about you, either. You almost never talk about yourself, Ayanokōji-kun. What are you, a shitty therapist?"

"I guess that's a weakness of mine. I'll work on it, I promise."

"Sure, sure, whatever." She rolled her eyes, as she plopped herself back onto the couch beside me.

And just like before, it felt as if the conversation had dried out. But still, Kushida didn't move to leave the room. Her gaze was transfixed on her lap, as though she was collecting her thoughts.

Our shoulders brushed against one another, but she didn't seem to register it. I took a moment to trail my eyes over her voluptuous chest and fruitful hips, amounting to a cute figure, which I couldn't help but compare to Fūka's slender, salacious curves. In the end, I concluded that she was no match for the second-year vixen, however.

Kushida continued to ponder over something. Her right knee bounced up and down, and her fingers were clenched around the hem of her skirt. Even now, the signs of what had happened that night on the rooftop were there; or perhaps she was thinking about something else. Over time, moisture had accumulated on her eyelashes and the drop fell.

We had unexpectedly bonded over music, and I had been able to bring out an unfeigned side of her that wasn't displayed to anyone else. She liked playing piano. She was certainly no slouch at it.

During that time spent together playing a piece of music that I had composed, she seemed completely at ease, even in my presence. She had grown accustomed to me.

"Ayanokōji-kun…" her voice was small and hesitant, "I'm your queen, right…?" she looked up at me, her pink eyes shimmering with emotion. "That hasn't changed, right?"

My endearing classmate's sudden timidness was a clear sign that she needed reassurance. She leaned against me, her small hands clutching at the white fabric of my shirt. Her head was pressed gently against my shoulder, the soft blonde strands of her hair brushing against my neck—I recognized the scent of her shampoo.

"Of course not. That's what I said, didn't I?" she shivered, perhaps feeling my breath on her right ear. "Do you need me to say it again?"

"P-Please, Ayanokōji-kun," her grip on my shirt tightened as her voice betrayed her.

This intimacy was something only reserved for moments like these, behind closed doors. It was a temporary reprieve for Kushida from the stresses and tensions of her daily interactions with other students. Only I offered her this sanctuary.

"You're my queen."

I regarded her as my words washed over her, sending an addictive feeling coursing through her veins—the noticeable hit of dopamine. Goosebumps rose on her creamy skin, and she started to giggle uncontrollably while kicking her feet.

She shifted her weight, coming even closer to me and nestling her head in the curve of my neck. A dozen seconds, however, and it must have been unsatisfactory for her; instead, she lifted her head, and her lips came close to my cheek.

"Then, Ayanokōji-kun…" she trailed off, her warm breath caressing my skin."Since I'm your queen… can I… do this…?"

"Of course."

My endearing classmate's breath tickled my cheek, warm and hesitant, before she closed the distance. Her lips brushed softly against my skin, a tentative touch that lingered for just a moment before she pulled away. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes darted away from mine after the action.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, even in the silence of the room. The vulnerability in her tone was a stark contrast to the bright and bubbly mask she usually wore.

She eventually shifted her position, leaning back against the couch but staying close enough so that our shoulders still touched. She wrapped her arms around my left arm, her body caressing mine—she didn't want to let go. Her expression was pensive, however.

"I guess no one knows we exist, huh?" Kushida muttered despondently. "No one can ever know." She glanced up at me, her pink gaze bright and intense. "Not any of those bitches around you—Ichinose, Matsushita, Horikita, Kiryūin…"

Jealousy and envy wound up inside her. Her grip on my arm tightened, and she leaned her head against my shoulder once more. I could feel the subtle tremors in her body, the lingering traces of fear and anxiety that she tried so hard to hide from the world. She needed this reassurance, this moment of closeness, to ground herself.

Perhaps she, of all people, was feeling slightly insecure, slightly undone. Maybe she wanted to show off this secret side of us, but knew that it wouldn't work with her system of popularity—it was completely contradictory. In this moment, she was stripped of all pretense in front of my eyes; she wasn't Kushida the angel, or Kushida the two-faced girl. In this fleeting, vulnerable moment, she was only Kushida, the high school girl. That was why I had to compensate for that insecurity. I would bear the weight of her strife because she did not believe in the words of people, but in the words of me.

"No one needs to know," I replied softly, keeping my gaze steady on her. "You're my queen. What we have here is ours, and ours only. That alone makes it special."

"Special… Special… " she repeated as if testing the word on her tongue. "You're right, I guess it is."

"You and I know we exist. That's all that matters."

Although she gave no immediate verbal response, I felt her pull me even closer, to the point where every curve and part of our bodies was touching, her heartbeat in tandem with mine. Our warm breaths intermingled in the air, the rhythms somehow once again in conjunction.

"Thank you, Ayanokōji-kun," her voice shuddered imperceptibly at the end of her sentence. "Thank you."

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us in this quiet, shared space. It was a fragile, frangible peace, one that could be easily shattered, but for now, it was enough.

I didn't press her further. I understood the need for silence, the comfort that could be found in simply being present with someone else. We didn't always need words to communicate; sometimes, the quiet moments spoke volumes.

"Hey, Ayanokōji-kun… would you mind calling me by my first name from now on?" she requested suddenly, breaking the quietude. "I'll call you by your first name, too. Since people are going to see us together more, especially with Student Council duties," she explained. Her reasoning was solid, and I saw no reason to deny her request.

"Okay, Kikyō."

She gave me a satisfied, bubbly smile. Something reminiscent of her facade, but not exactly that. It was entirely unfeigned. Perhaps it was a genuine happiness, an authentic joy at our close proximity, both physically and emotionally.

"Thanks, Kiyotaka-kun. Really, I mean it," she repeated. "Thanks."

"That reminds me. I have something for you. A gift, of sorts."

"A gift?" her eyebrows furrowed cutely in confusion.

"Follow me to lunch tomorrow. I'll explain there."

With that cryptic message, Kushida furrowed her brows but then shrugged her shoulders. Rather than skeptically questioning my intentions, she trusted me.

"Then, it's getting late, so I should probably get going. Good night, Kiyotaka-kun," she said softly, finally standing up to leave.

"Good night, Kikyō."

She paused at the door, turning back to look at me one last time. There was something unreadable in her gaze, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something more complex. Then she was gone, the door clicking softly shut behind her as she left behind a sense of quiet contentment and contemplation.

Tonight, our relationship had taken a significant step forward. I had given her a glimpse of us. A glimpse of what could be.

Hope was the most irrational, unreasonable feeling. So long as I provided her with a simple glimpse, she would cling to it, clasp at it, just as all humans did.

Kushida Kikyō's fatal mistake was to believe in the words of me, rather than in the words of humans. This was a world ruled by heartless numbers.

A world ruled by efficiency. There was no space for the worthless.

I saw them. Those who weren't even given a name, the discarded.

Naturally, it was easy to imagine it. The white walls of my dormitory did not change; only the furniture was removed.

The blonde-haired 4-02 shouting at me for abandoning her during the teamwork test. The brown-haired 4-11 who died of asphyxia during wrestling. The raven-haired 4-91 who wailed tears and pounded his fists against the metallic white desk as he was taken away. I remembered that one vividly because the table had to be cleaned of its crimson spots afterward, wiped down and sterilized.

Then, and even now, I couldn't help but think: What an inconvenience.

Thoughts and feelings were fundamentally distinct and separate.

Perhaps, over time, I would become a young student who would take care of Kushida. Someone who would treat her correctly, who would love all of her imperfections and flaws. Someone who could truly help the two-faced angel regain her wings.

Please.

I silently prayed that it would happen.

Then, just as soon as that sentiment was there, it was gone from my mind.

A fleeting desire, a transient wish.

Where did it go? Why was it gone so suddenly?

It wasn't my fault—I was a person. I was human. I could bleed.

I wanted to laugh.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to shout in anger.

I wanted to feel guilty.

I wanted to shrink in torment.

Despite these following strings of thoughts, the sentiment did not return. The loss of the feeling was like a terrible flaw; I hunched over not due to the desire, but to the absence of the desire. I clutched at my left chest, grabbing a fistful of white fabric.

It wasn't me. It wasn't my fault.

The sterile, white walls had driven the utmost bargain, and I had accepted it.

Now, I had the sudden desire to reverse that arrangement. Maybe, just maybe, it could be done. My right fist tightened its grip.

No, no, what was I thinking? In that kind of strict agreement, it was impossible to alter the transaction, much less undo it. It was common sense.

What was given could never be returned.

The ultimate price.

As if acting of its own accord, my fist released itself and returned to my side. The internal debate was over, and I didn't feel a hollow ache in my chest like before. Everything was back to normal.

I dropped myself onto my bed, preparing to sleep.

I abruptly remembered that I had one last thing to do before going to bed. I called someone and asked them if I could borrow some bodily supplements since I wanted to enhance my gym training.

At first, they declined, but after I specified that I only wanted a sample, they happily accepted. If I wanted the real thing, I would have to purchase it myself.

-o-o-o-

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Next Chapter: September 16th

-thann