My alarm didn't even get the chance to ring.
I woke up before it, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like I was waiting for someone to jump me.
Quiet dorm room. Clean sheets. The faint hum of air conditioning. The kind of silence that made you feel like the building was listening.
I rolled over and grabbed my S-Phone off the desk.
The screen lit up.
Points displayed cleanly.
I stared at the number for a second, then smiled.
Still there.
After yesterday's little "lesson" to those second-years, my balance was in a completely different league from most of the class.
Three second-years.
100,000 points each.
A full month's allowance per head.
They'd paid because they were smart enough to understand what fear actually was: not fists, not yelling—consequences.
And then I'd thrown 50,000 points at Sudō right in front of everyone, because he'd looked like the type of idiot who'd get used as a punching bag if nobody made it clear he had value.
It wasn't charity.
It was an investment.
I stretched my arms over my head and yawned.
"Class D," I muttered. "You're welcome."
My sleeve shifted slightly.
The Omnitrix was there, hiding under the cuff like a sleeping beast.
I stared at it for half a second.
Then I smirked.
"Not today," I whispered.
Because today wasn't about aliens.
Today was about people.
And this school was full of them.
The hallway outside my room was already busy.
Doors opened and closed. Footsteps. Small greetings. Nervous laughs. A couple students talking too loud because they didn't know how to act natural yet.
I stepped out and locked my door.
The moment I turned—
Ayanokōji stepped out of 401.
Same calm face. Same "I'm just a normal guy" posture. Same mild eyes that were always watching more than they showed.
He noticed me, paused a fraction, and nodded.
"Good morning," he said.
I leaned a shoulder against the wall, relaxed.
"Morning," I replied. "Sleep okay?"
Ayanokōji hesitated like he didn't expect small talk this early.
"…Yeah. It was fine."
I smiled.
"You always answer like you're trying not to offend the air."
He blinked.
"…Do I?"
"Yeah," I said. "It's kind of impressive."
He looked mildly awkward, like he didn't know whether I was insulting him or praising him.
I pushed off the wall.
"You heading to class?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yes."
"Walk with me," I said casually. "It's boring going alone."
Ayanokōji looked like he wanted to say "sure" and "no" at the same time.
But he settled for a small nod.
"…Okay."
We started walking.
The dorm lobby was full of first-years. Some girls fixed their hair like their lives depended on it. Some guys checked their phones like they were waiting for a message from a god.
I didn't hide anything.
I walked with my chin up and my eyes calm, like the school belonged to me and I was just letting them use it.
I felt looks again.
Longer looks.
A few girls whispered.
A few guys stared like they were measuring me.
And I didn't care.
If you were going to stare, at least stare properly.
Ayanokōji noticed, of course.
He glanced at the side of my face.
"You stand out," he said quietly.
I smiled without looking at him.
"Good."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…You're okay with it?"
I turned my head and looked him directly in the face while we walked.
"Ayanokōji-kun," I said, "I was born with a last name that makes people either bow or hate me. There's no version of my life where I 'blend in.'"
He stared at me.
Then looked away again.
"…I see."
I grinned.
"You don't like standing out, right?"
He hesitated.
"…I'm not good at it."
"Bullshit," I said easily. "You're just not trying."
Ayanokōji didn't respond.
But I caught it—his eyes shifted, just slightly.
Like he didn't like being read.
Good.
Class 1-D was louder today.
Not because everyone suddenly became friends.
Because everyone felt safer now that day one was over.
The classroom smelled faintly of new paper, shampoo, and cheap deodorant.
I sat down at my seat.
Front row.
Right in front of Ayanokōji.
I leaned back slightly and glanced behind me.
He sat down, calm.
Horikita sat beside him, posture straight, face cold, like she was personally offended that school existed.
I didn't even wait.
"Good morning, Horikita-san," I said, loud enough for her to hear.
Horikita looked at me.
Her eyes narrowed like a door being locked.
"…Good morning," she replied, tone stiff, like the words tasted bad.
I smiled.
"You said it like it hurt."
"It did," she said flatly.
Ayanokōji lowered his gaze like he wanted to disappear.
I laughed quietly.
"Nice," I said. "I like honest people."
Horikita's eyes sharpened.
"You like yourself, then."
I turned slightly in my seat to look at her more directly.
"Yeah," I said. "A lot."
Horikita stared at me like she didn't know whether to hate me or study me.
Ayanokōji coughed lightly.
Then looked away.
It wasn't fear.
It was survival.
Classes started.
Like the light novel: the teachers weren't strict.
They didn't yell.
They didn't threaten.
They explained course goals like this was a friendly private school.
Students reacted exactly like canon too—some relieved, some confused, some disappointed that nobody was cracking a whip.
Sudō slept like a dead body in the back.
And the teacher didn't even care.
I watched that carefully.
So that's how it is.
They weren't going to babysit us.
They weren't going to chase us.
If you failed, you failed.
If you were lazy, that was your problem.
The school didn't punish laziness directly.
It punished results.
That difference mattered.
During one class, the teacher asked a simple question—something basic, easy.
A few students avoided eye contact.
A few pretended to write.
I raised my hand without hesitation.
The teacher called on me.
I answered cleanly, fast, and confidently.
No "um."
No "maybe."
No hesitation.
The teacher smiled politely and moved on.
After that, I felt the class's attention shift a little.
It wasn't worship.
Not yet.
But it was notice.
And I didn't hide it.
I leaned back and let them feel it.
Let them understand:
I'm not average.
By lunch, the room split.
Groups formed.
The "social" ones moved fast—Hirata was at the center of one, smiling like he was built to hold people together. Kushida moved through the room like a warm wind, greeting, laughing, making people relax.
Some students stayed alone.
Some ate quietly.
Some pretended they weren't lonely.
I watched it all like a slow movie.
Ayanokōji stayed at his seat, calm, pulling out bread from a convenience store bag.
Horikita left—of course she did.
A few minutes later, she came back with a sandwich and sat down beside Ayanokōji again.
Her aura said don't talk to me so loudly it might as well have been written on her forehead.
I opened a drink and took a sip.
Then I turned slightly in my seat.
"Ayanokōji-kun," I said, "why do you eat like you're apologizing?"
He blinked.
"…What?"
"You're quiet. Small bites. No joy," I said. "It's depressing."
Horikita spoke without looking at me.
"He eats like that because he's timid."
Ayanokōji's brows lifted slightly.
"I'm not timid," he said.
Horikita looked at him.
"You are."
Ayanokōji hesitated, then gave up with a quiet sigh.
I grinned.
"She bullies you," I said.
Horikita's eyes sharpened.
"I'm educating him."
"By insulting him?" I asked.
"By being honest," she replied.
I leaned back and smiled wider.
"Horikita-san," I said, "if honesty was all it took to educate people, half of Class D wouldn't be brain-dead."
Some students nearby glanced over.
Horikita didn't flinch.
"I agree," she said. "Half of them are hopeless."
Ayanokōji looked caught between amusement and discomfort.
I liked it.
While we ate, I noticed something.
Some students had listened to me yesterday.
They bought cheap lunch.
Basic supplies.
No flashy shopping.
Their faces looked calmer.
But the idiots?
The idiots were still idiots.
Ike walked in carrying a drink that looked too expensive for a school lunch, grinning like he'd won a prize.
Yamauchi walked beside him, smug, talking loudly about the café he'd visited and the snacks he'd bought "just because."
Ike noticed me and waved.
"Yo, Senju!" he called.
I lifted my hand lazily.
"What did you buy?" I asked, already knowing I'd hate the answer.
Ike held up his drink proudly.
"This place is insane! It's like a theme park!"
Yamauchi laughed.
"Bro, I'm living like a king!"
I stared at them for a few seconds.
Then I said calmly, "You're going to be eating free vegetables and water by the end of the month."
They both froze.
Ike frowned. "Huh?"
Yamauchi scoffed. "No way. We'll just get the next allowance."
Horikita's voice cut in, cold and sharp.
"You're assuming you'll get it."
Yamauchi blinked.
"…What?"
I looked at Yamauchi like he was a stray dog barking at a mirror.
"Did you not hear anything yesterday?" I asked.
Yamauchi shrugged.
"It's 100,000 points. That's a lot."
"It's also bait," I said.
Yamauchi's face tightened.
"Man, you're annoying. Why do you talk like you know everything?"
I smiled.
"Because I'm smarter than you."
Yamauchi stared.
Ike burst out laughing.
"Damn! He just said it!"
Yamauchi looked offended.
Horikita didn't even blink.
Ayanokōji quietly sipped his drink.
I liked how he didn't react. Just watched.
You're always watching.
A few minutes later, Kushida appeared at the edge of our area.
She hesitated—just a tiny bit—like she was deciding if stepping into this space would be worth it.
Then she smiled and walked over.
"Konnichiwa," she greeted brightly. "Senju-kun. Ayanokōji-kun. Horikita-san."
Horikita's eyes narrowed.
Kushida's smile didn't break.
That smile was dangerous.
Not because it was fake.
Because it was perfect.
Kushida looked at me first, eyes warm.
"Senju-kun, are you settling in okay? Your dorm room is nice?"
I nodded.
"It's fine," I said. "It's a little lonely though."
Kushida blinked.
Then giggled.
"Lonely? Really?"
I leaned slightly forward.
"Yeah," I said, lowering my voice just enough to feel intimate. "No one's brought me tribute yet."
Kushida laughed again, covering her mouth lightly.
Horikita stared at me like she wanted to slam my head into the desk.
Ayanokōji looked slightly amused.
Kushida's eyes glittered with interest for a second.
Then she looked at Horikita.
"Horikita-san," Kushida said gently, "I wanted to ask you something…"
Horikita's gaze hardened instantly.
"No," she said.
Kushida's smile stayed.
"I haven't even asked yet."
"No," Horikita repeated.
Kushida tilted her head, still kind.
"I want to be friends with everyone in our class," she said. "And I still want to be friends with you too."
Horikita didn't hesitate.
"I'm not interested."
Kushida's expression didn't crack.
But her shoulders… dropped a tiny bit.
Not much.
Just enough that I noticed.
Horikita stood up, took her sandwich, and turned away.
Before she fully stepped off—
Kushida called after her, still smiling.
"I'll ask again," Kushida said. "I'm not giving up."
Horikita didn't look back.
But her steps quickened.
She left.
Ayanokōji watched her go.
Kushida watched her too.
Then she exhaled quietly, like she'd been holding something inside.
She turned to me and Ayanokōji again, smile back in place.
"Sorry," she said. "That was awkward."
I shrugged.
"Not your fault," I said. "Horikita-san treats warmth like it's poison."
Kushida's smile softened slightly.
She looked at Ayanokōji.
"Ayanokōji-kun… can I ask you something?"
Ayanokōji blinked. "Sure."
Kushida's tone stayed friendly, but her eyes were focused.
"You talked to Horikita-san outside yesterday, right? You seemed… a little close. Are you two friends?"
Ayanokōji hesitated, then gave a vague answer, like canon.
"We're… just classmates," he said.
Kushida looked disappointed for half a second.
Then smiled again.
"Oh. I see."
She looked at me next.
"What about you, Senju-kun?" she asked. "Are you close with Horikita-san?"
I leaned back, thoughtful.
"Close?" I repeated.
Then I smiled.
"No," I said. "But we have a fun relationship."
Kushida blinked. "Fun?"
"She insults me," I said casually. "I enjoy it."
Horikita wasn't here to glare at me, so Kushida had to do it with her eyes a little, like she was worried for my mental health.
Ayanokōji stared at me like he didn't know what to say.
Kushida's smile twitched.
Then she laughed again, softer this time.
"You're really confident," she murmured.
I looked straight at her.
"I'm really me," I corrected.
Kushida held my gaze for a second.
Then she nodded, like she accepted it.
An announcement played through the speakers.
A sweet voice echoed through the classroom, clear and practiced:
A club fair would be held at 5 PM in Gymnasium No. 1. Students interested should gather.
The room buzzed.
A lot of people looked excited.
Some looked indifferent.
I looked back at Ayanokōji and Horikita's empty seat beside him.
Then I glanced at Kushida.
"You going?" I asked.
Kushida nodded. "Maybe. I want to see what clubs there are."
I smiled.
"Good," I said. "You can watch freshmen embarrass themselves trying to look cool."
Kushida giggled.
Ayanokōji looked at me.
"…Are you going?" he asked.
"I wouldn't miss it," I said. "I love watching people perform."
Ayanokōji looked like he didn't know if that was a normal sentence.
I leaned in and lowered my voice.
"Plus," I added, "I want to see how strong the 'elite' aura is in person."
Ayanokōji blinked.
Kushida tilted her head slightly.
"What do you mean by aura?" she asked.
I smiled innocently.
"Nothing," I said. "Just a feeling."
After class ended, students flowed toward the gym.
The sky was bright, the campus busy, the air full of that first-week energy.
I found Ayanokōji near the walkway.
Horikita was there too—standing a little apart, like she was only near him because she'd decided to be.
I walked up.
"Ready?" I asked.
Horikita looked at me like I was an insect that learned how to talk.
"You're coming too?"
I shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"
Horikita's eyes narrowed.
"Because you seem like the type who doesn't join clubs. You seem too self-centered."
I smiled.
"That's true," I said. "But I also like entertainment."
Horikita stared.
Ayanokōji looked at the ground.
Then Horikita sighed like she'd lost patience.
"Fine," she said. "Do whatever you want."
I grinned.
We walked together.
Not as friends.
Not as a group.
But as three people pulled to the same place by curiosity.
Gymnasium No. 1 was packed with freshmen.
The noise was loud—laughing, talking, shoes squeaking against the floor.
We stood near the back, like we didn't want to commit to anything yet.
Pamphlets were handed out.
I skimmed mine fast.
Clubs with serious budgets. Serious equipment. Serious names.
This school really didn't do "halfway."
Ayanokōji glanced at the pamphlet, then at Horikita.
"Anything interesting?" he asked.
Horikita didn't look at him.
"Not really," she replied.
But her eyes were fixed on the stage.
Not on the clubs.
On something else.
I watched her face carefully.
Tight. Focused. Like she was staring at a person, not an activity.
Aha.
Ayanokōji noticed too, like canon.
"Horikita-san," he asked, "what are you staring at?"
Horikita didn't answer.
She didn't even blink.
Ayanokōji hesitated.
I leaned slightly closer to him and whispered, "She looks like she's about to either worship someone or kill someone."
Ayanokōji glanced at me, startled.
"…Don't say that."
I smiled. "Why not? It's accurate."
Horikita's eyes flicked toward me for half a second.
They were sharp enough to cut.
Then she looked back to the stage.
The club introductions began.
One by one, upperclassmen came up, explained their club, their goals, what they needed.
The freshmen shouted jokes, clapped, made noise.
The gym felt like a festival.
I watched it all with lazy amusement.
They're loud because they think they're safe.
Then the introductions reached the end.
Most upperclassmen stepped off.
Tables were set up on the side for sign-ups.
And then—
One person remained on the stage.
A boy, slim and calm, standing in front of the microphone.
Black hair. Glasses. A gaze like ice under clean water.
He didn't say a word.
The crowd started snickering.
Someone shouted, "You forgot your lines?"
Someone laughed.
Someone yelled, "Do your best!"
The boy didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
He just stared.
And the whole gym… changed.
The laughter died like someone had strangled it.
One second, it was a noisy fair.
The next, it was dead quiet.
It felt like the air got heavier.
Like even breathing too loud would be a mistake.
I felt it in my chest and smiled slowly.
Oh. There it is.
Aura.
The boy finally spoke.
Soft voice.
Clean voice.
No shaking.
"I am the student council president," he said. "Horikita Manabu."
Horikita beside me went still.
Not just still.
Frozen.
Ayanokōji's eyes widened slightly.
He glanced at Horikita Suzune.
Then back at the stage.
I kept my face calm.
Inside, I was laughing.
So this is your brother.
Manabu continued speaking—about recruiting candidates, about commitment, about not wanting naive students.
His words weren't dramatic.
But the way he spoke made them feel like law.
And when he finished—
He stepped off the stage and walked out of the gym like he'd never even needed the room's approval.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody clapped.
People just watched him leave like he was something too big to touch.
I watched him too.
And for a brief moment, his eyes flicked across the crowd—
And landed near us.
Not on Ayanokōji.
Not on me.
On Suzune.
Then he turned away and left.
Horikita still didn't move.
Ayanokōji looked like he wanted to say something but didn't.
I leaned slightly closer to Horikita.
"Horikita-san," I murmured, "that guy's insane."
Horikita didn't respond.
Her hands were clenched slightly at her sides.
Her face was tight.
She looked… furious.
Not impressed.
Not proud.
Furious.
Interesting.
The organizer's voice finally broke the tension, cheerful and normal, announcing that sign-ups were open.
Noise returned slowly.
People started moving again, like the spell broke.
Horikita didn't.
Ayanokōji looked at her.
"Are you okay?" he asked carefully.
Horikita didn't answer.
Her eyes were still locked where her brother had left.
Then, suddenly—
She turned and walked into the crowd.
Gone.
Just like that.
Ayanokōji stared after her.
He looked like he was debating whether to follow.
I watched him quietly.
Don't. Not yet.
Before he could decide, a loud voice called out:
"Yo! Ayanokōji!"
Sudō appeared, tall and restless.
Ike and Yamauchi were with him, grinning like they were on a field trip.
Ike noticed me and threw his hands up.
"Senju too! Nice!"
Yamauchi whistled.
"Bro, that student council guy was crazy, right?"
I smiled.
"He didn't even try," I said. "He just existed and you all shut up."
Ike laughed nervously.
"Yeah! Like—how do you even do that?"
Sudō crossed his arms.
"I don't care," he muttered. "I joined basketball."
Ayanokōji blinked.
"You joined already?"
Sudō nodded.
"I've played forever. Might as well."
Ike puffed his chest.
"We came for fun," he said. "And maybe to meet girls."
Yamauchi nodded fast.
"Yeah. That."
I stared at them.
"Pathetic," I said calmly.
Ike laughed like it was a joke.
Yamauchi's smile twitched.
Ayanokōji didn't react.
Ike pulled out his phone.
"Oh yeah," he said, "I made a group chat for the guys yesterday. You wanna join? It's useful."
He looked at Ayanokōji first.
Ayanokōji hesitated.
Then nodded.
"…Sure."
Ike beamed.
Then he looked at me.
"Senju, you too?"
I smiled.
"Obviously," I said. "Information is power."
Yamauchi nodded like he understood.
He didn't.
We exchanged contact info.
Ayanokōji did too.
During it, Ayanokōji glanced again at where Horikita had vanished.
He didn't move.
He stayed.
I saw the choice.
He decided not to chase.
Good.
Chasing her right now would get him dragged into something personal and messy.
And he wasn't ready.
Not with his "average guy" mask still glued to his face.
When we split up, the campus felt darker.
Not scary.
Just quieter.
Less "festival."
More "school."
Ike and Yamauchi wandered off still talking about girls.
Sudō went toward the basketball area like it was a mission.
Ayanokōji walked back toward the dorms, hands in pockets, quiet.
I walked beside him for a bit.
"You didn't follow Horikita-san," I said casually.
Ayanokōji glanced at me.
"I didn't think she wanted me to," he replied.
"That's true," I said. "She'd bite your head off."
Ayanokōji looked mildly uncomfortable.
"…Why do you say it like that?"
"Because it's funny," I replied.
Ayanokōji sighed faintly.
"You really like provoking people."
I smiled.
"I like honesty," I corrected. "People are more interesting when they show their real face."
Ayanokōji didn't respond.
But his gaze sharpened for a moment.
Then it went back to mild again.
"Senju-kun," he said quietly, "what do you want out of this school?"
I stopped walking for half a second.
Then I kept going, grin faint.
"What do you mean?"
He looked at me.
"You're confident," he said. "You're smart. You don't hesitate. You got involved with upperclassmen on day one."
I chuckled.
"So you heard about that."
Ayanokōji didn't deny it.
I nodded slowly.
"What I want?" I repeated.
Then I smiled wider.
"I want to win," I said simply.
Ayanokōji blinked.
"Win?"
"Yeah," I said. "Whatever 'win' means here."
Ayanokōji studied me quietly.
"And Class A?"
I shrugged.
"Sure," I said. "That's part of it."
Then I leaned slightly closer and grinned like a devil.
"But mostly? I want to watch what kind of monsters this place makes."
Ayanokōji stared at me.
For a moment, his face looked like he didn't know what to say.
Then he gave a small, polite nod.
"…I see."
We reached the dorm area.
Ayanokōji stopped near the entrance.
"I'll go," he said.
I nodded.
"Later," I replied.
He walked inside.
I turned away.
And that's when I saw her.
Kushida Kikyō stood near the side path by the gym building, holding a cardboard box.
Not a big box.
Not heavy enough to be a real problem.
But big enough to look inconvenient.
Her smile was there, of course.
Bright.
Perfect.
But her eyes looked… tired.
Just a little.
Like she was holding that smile up with effort.
"Senju-kun!" she called, waving slightly. "Perfect timing!"
I walked over slowly, hands in pockets.
"Perfect timing for what?" I asked.
Kushida lifted the box slightly like she was showing evidence.
"I need help," she said, still smiling. "Can you carry this with me?"
I looked at the box.
Then at her.
Then I raised a brow.
"That box weighs like… air," I said.
Kushida blinked.
Then laughed softly, like she'd been caught.
"A-ah… maybe," she admitted.
I tilted my head.
"So what is it really?"
Kushida's smile stayed.
But it softened.
Just slightly.
"I volunteered to help bring these pamphlets back to the storage room," she said. "But… I don't want to do it alone."
I stared at her face for a moment.
Then I nodded.
"Alright," I said. "Give it here."
Kushida's shoulders relaxed a fraction as I took the box from her.
The weight was nothing.
But the choice behind it?
That mattered.
We started walking.
The path was quieter here, away from the crowds.
Wind moved through the trees.
The sky was turning orange at the edges.
Kushida walked beside me with her hands behind her back.
She didn't talk for a few seconds.
Just breathed.
Then she exhaled, slow.
"…I'm tired," she said quietly.
I glanced at her.
"Yeah?" I asked. "You don't look tired."
Kushida smiled again, but it looked different now.
Less "stage."
More "person."
"That's the problem," she said softly.
I hummed.
"So you finally dropped the battery warning."
Kushida blinked.
"What?"
I smirked.
"You know," I said, "like a phone. You're smiling, you're bright, you're working… and the whole time you're at one percent."
Kushida stared at me for a moment.
Then her mouth parted slightly.
"…That's a strange way to describe it," she murmured.
"Is it wrong?" I asked.
Kushida hesitated.
Then shook her head.
"…No."
We kept walking.
The storage room was in a quiet building corridor.
But I didn't rush.
I let the silence breathe.
Kushida broke it again.
"You were really scary yesterday," she said lightly.
I looked at her.
"I was?" I replied, like I didn't know what she meant.
Kushida's eyes held mine.
"The second-years," she said. "I heard they paid you."
I smiled.
"They did."
Kushida swallowed slightly.
"How much?"
I didn't hide it.
"One hundred thousand each," I said calmly.
Kushida's eyes widened.
"…That's a full month."
"Yep."
Kushida stared at me like she was trying to understand what kind of person did that on day one.
"Why?" she asked quietly.
I shrugged.
"Because they deserved it," I said. "And because they needed to learn something."
Kushida frowned slightly.
"What?"
I looked ahead.
"That being older doesn't make you safe," I said. "And being Class D doesn't make you weak."
Kushida's expression softened.
Then she laughed a little, but it wasn't her usual giggle.
It was tired.
"I thought you were going to say something nicer," she said.
I glanced at her.
"That is nice," I said. "It's just not cute."
Kushida looked at me for a second.
Then she smiled again—small, real.
"…You're kind of intense," she murmured.
I smirked.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm a lot."
Kushida nodded like she agreed.
Then she said quietly, "But… it was nice."
I looked at her.
"Nice?" I repeated.
Kushida's hands clenched lightly behind her back.
"Watching you do that," she said. "It made me feel… safer."
That hit a little different.
Not because I suddenly turned soft.
But because it was honest.
And honesty was rare in this school already.
I held her gaze for a second.
Then I said, "Good."
Kushida blinked.
"That's it?" she asked.
I shrugged.
"If you feel safer, that's a win," I said. "I like wins."
Kushida laughed softly again.
"You really don't hide what you think."
I smiled.
"I hide things," I said. "Just not my confidence."
Kushida's eyes glittered.
"Yeah," she murmured. "I noticed."
We reached the storage room door.
Kushida unlocked it with a keycard and opened it.
Inside were shelves, boxes, stacked equipment.
She stepped aside.
"Put it there," she said.
I set the box down gently.
Kushida stayed in the doorway for a moment, like she didn't want to leave this quiet space yet.
Then she stepped inside too and closed the door behind us.
The sound of the latch was small.
But it made the room feel private.
Kushida leaned back against a shelf and let her shoulders drop.
Just a little.
Not fully.
But enough.
She looked at me.
"…Senju-kun," she said softly.
"Yeah?" I replied.
Kushida hesitated.
Then she said, "Can I ask you something weird?"
I smirked.
"Your whole personality is 'weird but cute,' so go ahead."
Kushida's cheeks flushed faintly.
"Don't say it like that!" she protested.
I smiled, amused.
Kushida took a breath.
"Do you think… I'm annoying?" she asked.
The question was quiet.
Not dramatic.
But it had weight.
I looked at her face.
That perfect girl mask wasn't fully up right now.
Her eyes looked tired.
A little worried.
Like she actually cared about the answer.
I didn't joke.
"No," I said simply. "You're not annoying."
Kushida blinked.
"…Really?"
"Really," I repeated.
Then I tilted my head slightly.
"But I do think you're working too hard."
Kushida's smile faltered.
She looked away.
"I want to be friends with everyone," she said, voice still polite but thinner now. "If I can do that, then… everything will be okay."
I stared at her.
"That sounds exhausting," I said.
Kushida's hands tightened.
"It is," she admitted quietly.
She forced a small laugh.
"But it's fine. I chose it."
I stepped closer.
Not into her space aggressively.
Just close enough that she didn't feel like she was talking to a wall.
"Kushida-san," I said, voice low, "you don't have to act like that with me."
Kushida froze slightly.
Her eyes snapped back to mine.
"…What?"
I smiled faintly.
"You can breathe," I said. "I'm not one of those guys who's going to faint if you stop smiling for five seconds."
Kushida stared.
Her mouth opened slightly.
Then closed.
She swallowed.
"…Senju-kun," she said slowly, "you're really strange."
"Thanks," I said.
"That wasn't a compliment," she muttered.
"I'll take it anyway."
Kushida tried to hold her smile.
It trembled.
Then she just… let it go.
Not into anger.
Not into cruelty.
Just into a tired, honest face.
She exhaled.
"…I really hate it sometimes," she admitted.
I nodded.
"Yeah," I said. "I figured."
Kushida's eyes widened.
"You… figured?" she repeated.
I shrugged.
"You're good," I said. "But nobody stays perfect all day without paying for it."
Kushida stared at me like she didn't know what to do with that.
Then she laughed, but it was quiet and shaky.
"…That's true," she whispered.
She looked down.
"I had to talk to so many people today," she said. "Smile, laugh, remember names, respond properly… even when I didn't want to."
Her eyes squeezed shut for a second.
"And Horikita-san…" she murmured.
There it was.
The sharp edge.
Not hatred—yet.
But irritation.
A crack in the sweetness.
"She keeps rejecting you," I said calmly.
Kushida nodded.
"I don't understand," she said. "I'm trying to be nice. I'm trying to include her. Why does she keep pushing me away?"
I watched her carefully.
Kushida's voice stayed soft.
But her fingers were tight, nails pressing into her palms.
I answered plainly.
"Because she doesn't want help," I said. "And she doesn't want friends."
Kushida looked up.
"That can't be true," she said quickly. "Everyone needs friends."
I tilted my head.
"Not everyone," I said.
Kushida stared.
I continued, "Horikita-san is proud. She thinks she can climb alone."
Kushida frowned.
"That's… sad."
I smiled faintly.
"Yeah," I said. "It is."
Kushida looked at me.
Then asked quietly, "Do you want friends?"
I didn't dodge.
"I want useful relationships," I said honestly.
Kushida blinked.
That answer clearly wasn't what she expected.
I shrugged.
"But," I added, "I also like people who aren't boring."
Kushida's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And you think I'm not boring?"
I smiled.
"Kushida-san," I said, "you're the most dangerous kind of person in this school."
Kushida froze.
Her eyes widened.
A flicker of alarm.
Then she forced a laugh.
"D-dangerous? Me?"
I didn't laugh.
I just looked at her.
"You can make people like you," I said calmly. "You can make them relax. You can make them listen. That's power."
Kushida stared at me.
Her breathing slowed.
She looked… shaken.
Not angry.
Not offended.
Just caught.
I stepped back slightly, easing the pressure.
"And you're tired," I added. "Because even power has a price."
Kushida swallowed hard.
"…Senju-kun," she said softly, "you really see too much."
I smiled.
"I see what I'm shown," I replied. "And you show a lot."
Kushida's gaze dropped.
Then she let out a slow breath.
"…I'm glad it's you," she admitted.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Glad it's me?" I repeated.
Kushida nodded slowly.
"If I had to talk like this with Ike-kun or Yamauchi-kun…" she said, making a face. "They'd freak out."
I laughed.
"Yeah," I said. "They'd start proposing."
Kushida's cheeks turned pink.
"Stop!"
I grinned.
"But I get it," I said. "You wanted someone who wouldn't treat you like a saint."
Kushida looked at me quietly.
"…Yeah," she admitted. "I did."
The room felt still for a moment.
Not awkward.
Just… quiet.
Private.
Kushida looked away first, clearing her throat.
"Senju-kun," she said, voice lighter now, trying to re-balance herself, "so… do you have any advice?"
I tilted my head.
"About Horikita-san?"
Kushida nodded.
I thought for a moment.
Then I smiled.
"Don't chase her with pure kindness," I said.
Kushida blinked.
"What?"
"Horikita-san doesn't respect that kind of approach," I said. "She thinks it's fake. Or weak. Or both."
Kushida frowned.
"Then what should I do?"
I leaned back against the shelf, casual.
"Make it practical," I said. "Give her a reason. A goal. Something that benefits her."
Kushida's eyes narrowed slightly, thinking.
"…Like studying?" she asked.
"Exactly," I said. "Or class planning. Or information. If she believes you're useful, she'll stay."
Kushida's expression softened.
"…That sounds sad too," she murmured.
"It is," I said. "But it's her."
Kushida nodded slowly.
Then she looked at me again.
"And what about you?" she asked. "What do you respect?"
I smiled.
"Honesty," I said.
Kushida's eyes widened slightly.
I leaned closer just a little, voice lower.
"Not everyone deserves it," I added. "But when it's real… I respect it."
Kushida stared at me.
Her lips parted slightly.
Then she looked away again, cheeks faintly pink.
"…You say things like you're flirting," she muttered.
I laughed softly.
"Maybe I am."
Kushida snapped her gaze back to me.
"Are you?"
I smiled, slow and shameless.
"Depends," I said. "Are you going to run away?"
Kushida froze.
Then she huffed, flustered.
"Idiot," she mumbled.
But she didn't move.
She didn't leave.
And her smile—small, tired, real—came back.
"…I won't run," she said quietly.
My grin widened.
"Good."
When we finally left the storage room, the sky had darkened more.
The campus lights were on.
Students walked in groups, laughing, talking, living their "elite school life."
Kushida and I walked side by side, slow.
Not rushing.
Not performing.
Just… walking.
Before we split, Kushida looked at me.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"For what?" I asked.
Kushida hesitated.
Then she smiled.
"For not making me smile," she said.
That line was so simple, but it hit harder than a whole speech.
I stared at her for a second.
Then I nodded.
"Anytime," I said. "But only if you don't make it weird."
Kushida laughed.
"I won't."
She paused.
Then added, quietly, "Senju-kun… can I talk to you again like this sometime?"
I didn't pretend.
"Yeah," I said. "I'd like that."
Kushida's smile warmed.
Then she bowed lightly.
"Good night."
"Night," I replied.
She walked off toward the girls' dorm area, her steps lighter than before.
I watched her go for a moment.
Then I exhaled slowly and turned toward my building.
Interesting girl.
Really interesting.
Kushida was perhaps one of the girls on the school who I found extremely relatable.
My sleeve brushed my wrist.
The Omnitrix sat hidden, silent.
I smiled faintly.
I hadn't even used my real trump card yet. I am personally itching for some action now. Test out the true extent of the capabilities of the power I wield.
The Aliens, The Ultimate function.... So much power, yet so little chance to actually use it.
But I knew better than to rush.
For now, I would be patient. Wait for the trouble to come to me.
I am actually hoping for Vilgax to come, it would give me a sensation.... a calm one that reminds me that I am not in just a slice of life / romance anime world.
I needed that. Desperately right now.
I wasn't going to use those powers to dominate the world or anything, that's too edgy even for me.