Shiina quickly grasped what he meant by "doesn't look good," and the subtle flush on her cheeks deepened to a crimson hue. She gave him a light, protesting punch on the arm, no longer the gentle, airy girl she usually was. "This is all your fault! Ibuki-san totally misunderstood. Go explain things to her, while I wash this paint off my face."
She tapped him a few more times before letting out a quiet laugh—like a rare snow lotus blooming on a frosty mountaintop, beautiful and tinged with an air of fragility.
Yukio looked at her with a mix of concern and affection—or guilt and fondness. Shielded by the canvas, just as Ibuki had feared, he leaned in and brushed a light kiss against her cheek before standing up to leave. They'd long since established a certain understanding between them—no words needed.
The art teacher didn't mind students coming or going—it was common for someone to get oil paint on themselves and leave briefly to clean up. So she didn't inquire about Ibuki or Yukio slipping out one by one.
Ibuki, meanwhile, wandered aimlessly through an empty hallway. That part of the school near the art classroom was generally deserted when there were no lessons scheduled there. Unsure where to go, she simply wanted to escape.
But her mind kept looping back to the image of Shiina's blush and that spot of "white paint" trailing down her cheek. It felt as though an invisible hand had seized Ibuki's heart, not just leaving it bitter but actually making it hurt physically.
Her usually bright, confident eyes had never appeared so dull, and she moved like a lifeless shell, all energy drained. While descending the stairs, she nearly lost her footing. Thanks to her martial-arts instincts, she reflexively braced herself, preventing a nasty tumble, but it left her even more exhausted.
She ended up half-collapsing on the steps, arms going limp, lying listlessly with her legs draped over one stair and the rest of her on another. 'Why? Why can't it be me? Does Yukio really like doing… those kinds of things right in class? And how does sweet, gentle Shiina even allow it?'
If it were her, she'd never let him do that, right? But there her head spun, thoughts crashing into each other until her mind ached.
When Yukio came after her, he discovered Ibuki sprawled awkwardly on the stairs, her head propped on an arm and a leg on the upper step, one hand and one leg on the lower. From above, he could tell her pleated uniform skirt was dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction, giving an unexpected hint of allure not usually associated with the brash and tomboyish Ibuki.
But there was no time to dwell on that. He hurried down. "Hey, please tell me you didn't fall down the stairs?"
"?" Ibuki slowly turned her head to look at him. He came after me—'he must want me to keep quiet about what I saw, right? That indecent scene…'
At the thought, Ibuki's heart tightened painfully. She didn't bother getting up. "Don't worry. I'll keep quiet about it. I won't tell anyone."
Relieved that she wasn't injured, Yukio sighed. She seemed more drained than hurt. "Anyway, you might want to get off the stairs—you're practically flashing everyone."
"!" That comment jolted Ibuki upright. Under normal circumstances, she might have ignored him completely but recalling how perverted he could apparently be, she sprang to her feet and spun around, pressing her skirt down with both hands, looking highly defensive.
Yukio couldn't help grinning at how comically fast she moved. "I really don't know what's going on in your head. For the record, that stuff on Shiina's face was just paint, oil paint, from the art class. That's all."
"Huh?" Ibuki's full attention had been on defending her personal space, preparing to retaliate if he tried anything. Hearing him mention it was only paint, she pictured the palette the art teacher had provided. 'Come to think of it, that white color probably matched. And, yes… if she thought about it rationally, a guy's… uh, that… probably wouldn't be pure white.'
Ibuki realized she'd made a huge, ridiculous mistake.
"Uh… you… I… that… you…" Words spluttered out of her mouth like a broken tape reel, each syllable coming out piecemeal, failing to form a coherent sentence.
Her eyes darted frantically, and she subconsciously backed away, step by step, until she hit the wall of the stairwell. Her scalp tingled with embarrassment. If it was all just her misunderstanding—just paint—then this really was a huge mistake on her part!
Thinking carefully, even if Yukio were that perverted, there was no way Shiina—so mild and gentle—would agree to do something like that in the art room, surrounded by other students. Not to mention, from the time she'd seen Shiina shift the canvas to block the view, it hardly seemed long enough for them to have done anything so brazen. She must have jumped to conclusions.
The more she thought about it, the redder her face became, to the point she could no longer meet Yukio's gaze.
On the other hand, Yukio had to fight the urge to burst out laughing. Ibuki's current reaction was simply too entertaining. His shoulders twitched slightly, and despite managing not to laugh outright, his grin gave him away. "You know," he teased, "if you don't believe me, I can always prove it by dabbing some white paint on you, too."
"W-why on earth would I let you do that?!" Ibuki blurted, raising her voice defensively. In typical Ibuki fashion, the louder she got, the more flustered she was inside.
Yukio simply stepped forward until he was standing in front of her, resting an elbow against the wall in a half-kabedon pose. "So tell me," he said, voice dropping to a more serious tone, "since when have you had these feelings for me?"
Ibuki's reaction said it all—her face just now, her jealous outburst over the paint, the way she'd trailed him into the art room. Yukio had been aware for some time that she liked him, but he'd kept quiet, mainly out of consideration for Shiina's feelings.
Even Shiina had noticed something amiss earlier. Back when Yukio wanted to explain the situation with Kushida to Shiina, Shiina had initially guessed it might be about Ibuki or Ichinose. Now, with a subtle sign of approval in her smile, Shiina was essentially telling Yukio that he could handle this however he wanted.
He figured it was best to address the matter head-on. If Ibuki really had feelings for him, continuing to ignore them wouldn't help. He was also curious: How did such a combative, prickly person end up liking him in the first place? With Karuizawa or Kushida, he could point to certain triggers, but with Ibuki, he was utterly baffled.
But contrary to expectations, Ibuki's cheeks turned scarlet as she blurted out a denial. "Wh-what kind of joke is that? Who—who could possibly like you? I—I don't!"
***
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