Tomorrow came.
The golden warmth of a new day spilled across Tokyo's skyline, touching down on Sakura High School's rooftop gardens, glinting through the classroom windows, and stretching into the long hallways filled with youthful chatter.
To most, it was just another Tuesday.
But not for Watanabe Mika.
And not for Kokoro.
As always, Sakura High buzzed with life. First-years poured into the building—some still yawning, some chatting about their club plans, others checking the hallway bulletin for new updates. Class 1-A was no exception. The atmosphere felt bright, noisy, and… oddly natural. Kokoro had found his place, little by little.
That morning, Sayori Kojima wasted no time sitting next to him, her bright orange eyes locked onto him like a cat staring at a toy. She bounced in her seat, fidgeted with her phone, then leaned over.
"So, Raven," she whispered with a smug smirk, "Working on your next big masterpiece already?"
Kokoro groaned under his breath. "Can we not do this during homeroom?"
"Nope. You're stuck with me now."
Despite his exasperation, Kokoro felt a strange warmth in her presence.
As the day passed, Sayori clung to him more than usual—sharing snacks at lunch, sneaking drawings under the desk, and even claiming his eraser just to annoy him. A few of their classmates whispered and chuckled, throwing glances their way.
Meanwhile, Mika watched.
From her seat by the window, her white eyes glinted under the light. Her short, silver hair was perfectly brushed today, and she didn't even flinch when someone tripped near her desk. She was focused on one thing only.
And when the final bell rang, she made her move.
While the rest of the class began preparing for their daily cleaning duty, Mika approached Kokoro. Her voice was smooth and calm.
"Kokoro, can I ask for your help?"
He looked up from his broom. "Uh, sure. What's up?"
"I need someone to help me carry some volleyball gear to the court's storage room. You're strong—and tall." She added that last part with a subtle glance at his broad shoulders.
"Oh… okay. I don't mind," Kokoro replied, brushing off his hands.
Sayori narrowed her eyes, but didn't say anything. Just stared.
Mika turned without another word, expecting Kokoro to follow.
And so he did.
The two walked out of Class 1-A and into the afternoon hallway, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.
The windows lining the corridor glowed amber. Tree shadows danced across the floor, and a peaceful quiet fell over the hall despite distant laughter and the occasional shout from sports clubs warming up outside. Students were scattered about—some near shoe lockers changing shoes, others loitering by the staircases discussing their new club plans. The scent of polished wood and spring air filled the building.
Kokoro glanced around, casually taking in the moment.
"This school's kind of beautiful in the afternoon, huh?" he muttered.
Mika nodded without looking at him. "It is. Especially… when it's quiet like this."
They passed the drama club's practice room, where students were rehearsing a sword fight with exaggerated grunts. Further ahead, a group of seniors lounged near a bulletin board, their chatter echoing faintly as they compared club rosters.
As they approached the rear wing of the school, the volleyball court and storage area came into view—its steel door half-open, the shadows inside stretching long and dark.
Kokoro, still unaware of the true intention behind Mika's request, stepped forward without hesitation.
And behind him, Mika's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"This time… you'll finally see me," she thought.
__________________________________________
The volleyball storage room was dimly lit, its only light source coming from the slitted windows high up the wall. Dust floated in the golden shafts of fading sunlight, casting faint glimmers across boxes, racks of nets, and stacked equipment.
Kokoro stepped inside, glancing around at the cramped interior. The faint scent of rubber, wood polish, and something sweet in the air—maybe Mika's perfume—tickled his nose.
"So, uh… which ones do you want me to carry?" he asked casually, stepping toward a stack of wrapped volleyballs and cones.
But there was no answer.
Instead, what he heard was the low, solid click of the door locking behind him.
His heart skipped.
He turned, a slow pivot of confusion.
And there she was—Watanabe Mika, the ice queen of Sakura High—standing against the door, hand still on the lock, her fingers trailing off it like she was sealing something far more intense than a metal bolt.
A smile played on her lips—not her usual cold, polite smile.
But something… mischievous.
Her sharp, beautiful white eyes squinted slightly with amusement, her cheeks dusted with a warm pink blush that stood out vividly against her porcelain skin. Her short silver hair shimmered under the dusty sunlight filtering through the window. She leaned back slightly, her body language relaxed—seductive even. Her hands slid behind her, clasping at her lower back in a lazy arch.
It was an entirely different Mika.
Gone was the aloof, emotionless gaze she always wore in class.
What stood before Kokoro now was a girl alive with expression, excitement dancing across her face, and most of all—intent.
Kokoro stiffened, eyes wide.
His heart thumped. Hard.
He wasn't dumb. He was a writer, a manga artist. He's drawn girls with that exact expression before.
**Flushed cheeks, narrowed eyes, the curl of a knowing smile—**a look that said "I have you right where I want you."
And it was beautiful.
Devastatingly beautiful.
This wasn't the graceful, distant Mika that students admired from afar.
This Mika was real—dangerous, vulnerable, and bold.
And that's what made it ten times more disarming.
"W-Why did you lock the door…?" Kokoro asked, his voice cracking slightly.
Mika tilted her head, lips parting slightly in mock innocence.
"So no one interrupts."
Her voice—normally calm and soft—carried a sly edge now, silk wrapped around a blade.
Kokoro took a half step back, bumping into a volleyball cart. His breath hitched as she slowly walked forward, each step echoing faintly in the quiet room.
"Y-You could've just said that from the start…" he muttered, eyes darting around the room, then settling on her approaching figure.
Mika stopped just a foot away from him.
Up close, her beauty became overwhelming—flawless skin, the soft glint of her white eyes, the way her short hair framed her face, and the tiny trembling breath she let out as she watched his expression.
Kokoro's mind spun.
Why does she look like that…? Why now?
Mika took a breath, her gaze trailing slowly over Kokoro's face.
"I like this expression on you," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.
"H-Huh?"
"Your flustered face," she whispered, a sly smile deepening as she leaned a little closer.
"You're always so calm in class… but right now, you look like you're about to explode."
Kokoro swallowed, visibly sweating now.
"Y-You planned this, didn't you…"
Mika shrugged, her smile widening.
"Maybe."
Inside, Mika's heart was thundering just as loudly.
He's reacting… He's actually flustered because of me…!
For someone who barely showed expression in public, the excitement and euphoria of breaking character just for him—it was intoxicating. Seeing Kokoro, usually calm and composed, visibly trembling under her gaze felt like her greatest victory yet.
He draws girls like this… but now he's facing one in real life.
"Don't worry," she said, softly now. "I just wanted some time alone with you."
There was a brief silence.
Both could hear their own heartbeats echo in the quiet of the storage room.
Outside, the sun continued to set, painting long orange streaks across the high windows.
The volleyballs sat untouched.
The heavy silence wasn't awkward—it was loaded.
With tension.
With emotion.
With something that neither of them dared to name.